I dragged myself up and out to a Princeton Symphony Orchestra concert at Richardson which I had been interested in. It was a choice between that and a concert at Nassau Presbyterian Church, but I decided Beethoven's "Eroica" would be more moving and uplifting.
Actually, I was wrong. I did successfully resist the desire to remain nestled in my comfy rut, but sometimes the only reward is the reinforced self-discipline, not actual pleasure or enjoyment. First of all, it turned out that I was really tired, so I kept on furtively digging my fingernails into my hand and wrist to keep myself from lapsing into a coma. Second of all, the marimba piece, which sounded really interesting, was all in minor key, which I find depressing, and it was thoroughly modern in a strenuous, atonal way, with nothing to connect with.
Then, third of all, the somewhat eagerly-anticipated "Eroica" turned out not to be as transcendently moving as I had hoped. As I was walking out of the auditorium and beginning my homeward stroll, I heard an older woman express my feelings to her companion: "I didn't know that last piece - what was it? 'Eroica'? - as well as I thought I did."
The last two movements were quite familiar; and the rest of it was vaguely familiar, but altogether, I realised I don't know "Eroica" very well, and until I really hear it several more times, it isn't going to be a favorite.
Nonetheless, to concentrate on the positive, I did climb out of my rut. But when I got home, I jumped right back in again, and no apologies for that. It's comfy in there.
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