writing times.

I've been thinking about regrets lately. about living with no regrets. does it mean that you live however you want to, but agree with yourself that you won't wish you'd never done it. or does no regrets mean you live in such a way that you would not regret your actions. I have lived with no regrets in the latter sense. but recently I have some regrets. and I wonder, am I to live with no regrets in the former? it seems like pretending to me. I will not let my regrets impede me from what I want to do in the future. I refuse to let my regrets become my baggage.

in 3rd grade, everyone who could do their times-tables in under 3 minutes (or was it 2?) by a certain date was invited to a pool party at Mrs. Cowley's house. I was the best times-table champion there was, and made it to the pool party. but we had to wear lifejackets. at 8 and 9 years old. I was so annoyed. I also remember confusion with who was driving me there, and something happening to my Aunt E. on the same day. after the party we were asked to write up how we enjoyed the party. well of course, I showed my true colors. and of course again, Mrs. Cowley read them all out loud. I was merciless in my account of the day and she was crushed. I remember going outside for recess and my friends wondering who wrote that. I was grateful they didn't know it was mine. I regret writing that. and maybe my future therapist can work it out with me. but there isn't much that I've written that I regret writing. I love writing.

my sister Melissa plays the piano devastatingly well. and when she plays, sometimes my heart breaks and my fingers ache to be able to do the same thing. but I simply can't. I am not free because I never paid the price of practicing the piano. indeed, a regret. but oh how I want to just sit down and have the freedom to play whatever I want. I think a lot of people feel this way about musical instruments. I have pondered deeply at my choice to not pursue the violin professionally, and we all wonder at times, is it enough to simply spectate? for now, I have come to terms with the reality that I cannot play the piano with the liberty I once wished to. and I listen with my whole heart, because that is all I can do.

I have made up my mind that there are some things that I cannot simply spectate. I want to write, because of what I have read. just as I want to play, because of what I have heard. because what Melissa plinks out on the piano has the capacity to capture my every emotion, I wish I could express the way she does. and the more I read, the more I must express. and there is often that overlap. what I want to say has already been said. but what I hope for is to be that for someone else. play the piano for people who can't. express my feelings, and capture others' emotions in a way they had never considered. when you almost kick yourself for not thinking of it on your own. (like when they invented the iPod!) I have experienced that, and want to create the experience for the rest of my life.

while summer is upon us, I am sorry that I blog seldom. not much sparks thoughts worth sharing, and when they do, I have found an alternate outlet. this blog has been a motivation for me to write; a kind of writing that I love and want to do for the rest of my life. it is more interesting, productive, worthy, to write for a reader. but lately, I have chosen to make my thoughts more private than public. writing in a journal has suddenly become rewarding for me. my past diaries are not much to read--only instances and happenings. but to fill them with my thoughts has now consumed me. I'm sorry that their public version is lacking.