What I'm going on about is this: life never stops, even when you've worked your brains out for months on end, performing, writing, studying. I know it may sound like a naive observation, but it's something that I've been figuring out over the past few days. I just finished my 6th semester at Berklee and it was probably the hardest so far. As well as this being the 6th in a row with no breaks, I also took on extra credits; compound that with competitions, traveling and awards, and you have the recipe for HolycowIneedarest syndrome.
So, I've been taking time off, watching Band of Brothers, catching up on TV series', sleeping and going out for the occasional walk in Boston. And yet I've felt oddly uncomfortable doing relatively nothing. On the one hand I am aware that I need a rest and another semester of work will be starting in thirteen days, but on the other I know that there are things to be done.
I can, however, comfort myself in this state of ultimate relaxation; an album name came to me last night, on a walk back to the apartment, and I knew it was right because I've never felt so happy about a name:
