Barely Breathing

I have been teaching piano for all of two weeks, now. And I feel like I need to come up for air.

I had forgotten how busy life can be. I had forgotten what it was like to have regular commitments.

It is a lot of work keeping your house guest-ready for three out of seven days a week, when you have little tornadoes capable of destroying the calm zen of a tidy room in point-zero-three seconds flat.

To bulk up the work load (as if I needed that!), I am basically creating my own "primer level" for the older beginners among my students (which 90% of them are), so this is adding several more hours a week. Also, when I was teaching before, it was for a studio, and all the accounting paperwork was looked after for me--all I had to do was deposit my paycheque every two weeks.

Being a "self-employed teacher" now, I am making more per lesson, but not per hour when I factor in the amount of time spent on books and lesson plans and creating theory sheets.

"Down through another stroke, picking up speed as we go, rising up the other side--higher every time. Inertia slows, until we hang there, seemingly suspended in air at the peak of the stroke, then we are plunging back down, in free-fall. My knuckles get whiter."

I was referring to a different aspect of my life when I wrote this a few weeks ago, but right now, as I go speeding along in my life, with the G-force winds making my cheeks flap unbecomingly and my eyeballs fight to stay in their sockets, I am feeling

*gasping, gulping*

a little