At 12:41am, I walked back to my computer so that I could write. They were the first words of poetry that I’ve written in… a very long time.
Score one for you, 2012.
I will spare you guys any more retrospective navel gazing and just say – 2011, don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out. Happy 2012, everyone! May it be filled with win and awesome, sweetness and strength, kindness and compassion, creativity and innovation, prosperity and good health, unicorns, rainbows, and unicorns farting rainbows.

Having a disjointed, anxious, weird sort of night. It’s not a bad night, just a strange one — sort of like my vertical needs to be adjusted.
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Do not believe those who try to persuade you that composition is only a cold exercise of the intellect. The only music capable of moving and touching us is that which flows from the depths of a composer’s soul when he is stirred by inspiration. There is no doubt that even the greatest musical geniuses have sometimes worked without inspiration. This guest does not always respond to the first invitation. We must always work, and a self-respecting artist must not fold his hands on the pretext that he is not in the mood. If we wait for the mood, without endeavouring to meet it half-way, we easily become indolent and apathetic. We must be patient, and believe that inspiration will come to those who can master their disinclination.
A few days ago I told you I was working every day without any real inspiration. Had I given way to my disinclination, undoubtedly I should have drifted into a long period of idleness. But my patience and faith did not fail me, and to-day I felt that inexplicable glow of inspiration of which I told you; thanks to which I know beforehand that whatever I write to-day will have power to make an impression, and to touch the hearts of those who hear it. I hope you will not think I am indulging in self-laudation, if I tell you that I very seldom suffer from this disinclination to work. I believe the reason for this is that I am naturally patient. I have learnt to master myself, and I am glad I have not followed in the steps of some of my Russian colleagues, who have no self-confidence and are so impatient that at the least difficulty they are ready to throw up the sponge. This is why, in spite of great gifts, they accomplish so little, and that in an amateur way.
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I’m antsy for the year to end, and I hate that feeling. I truly believe that life is something to be savored and appreciated, if not always enjoyed, and I always feel lousy whenever I want to rush through a day to get it over with, so to speak. I’ve had a lot of those days these past few months: days that you wish would hurry up and end so you could maybe get a fresh start on things the next morning, days that you rush through in the hopes that the next dawn will be brighter.
I hate making generalizations, but… 2011, you were brutal. I don’t know if there really is some magical celestial clock that resets all of our spirits on New Year’s morning, whatever calendar you follow, but I hope there is. Gregorian New Year, please be kind, and please bring a bright, beautiful dawn for all of us.
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