contented and restless

On the evening of my birthday, Jon came through the door with a beautiful vegan cake and a gift I never expected . .
First I received two clues: 1. It's nothing big.
2. I had it shipped to my (Jon's) work (Nanosys).

At the time, those clues meant very little to me. But looking back, I realize how clever they were. I literally screamed when I opened the package and found my very own iPod nano! He remembered that when we visited a Mac store with friends last fall, he found me standing over the black nano with a goofy look on my face. Now I have one all to myself. He even had it engraved (happy birthday, songbird).



It's been such a lovely weekend. Friday night we went up to the city for a beautiful dinner at Alive, then out for drinks in Palo Alto. Saturday after walking down to the Farmer's Market, we went to the park across the street for a lazy picnic lunch. The sun was so comforting and warm on our backs. After we grew too sleepy to read, we watched a man teaching his young son how to fly a kite. Today we went down the street to the music shop and lusted after keyboards and guitars. Now we're just trying to figure out where we can find an extra $3,000 or so.



We spent the rest of the afternoon in one of our favorite coffee shops in Palo Alto, reading our books and eavesdropping on conversations. The only thing I don't like about Coupa Cafe is how the man who makes the drinks shouts the names of the customers when their orders are ready. I can't tell you how many times I was kicked out of a state of deep thought by a startlingly barked, "ROBERT!"



I also received a much needed wake-up call about what I need and want to do with my life. One of the books I'm reading, "To Be Told" is explaining how we are to have an active role in where our individual stories are going, and how they will end. I'm amazed (and somewhat disgusted) at how passive I have been in regards to the things that matter most to me. I do not fully understand why this has been the case. Here I am, another year older and spending more time cooking meals than I do trying to write songs. Jon alerted me to the fact that if being a musician is something I truly want, then I need to go after that with everthing I have. If I have free time, I should not be surfing the internet, shopping, or even decorating the house. I don't want to spend my life inside those walls, so does it really matter if they're painted nice colors? Being awakened out of a sort of sleep is usually not a pleasant thing. But how else will we get up, step out, and move closer to those satisfying culminations that our stories were meant to reach?