>I watched a programme this evening about the musician Barbara Thompson who has Parkinson’s and how she tried to balance her condition and her career – trying to find treatments which allowed her to do both and improve her quality of life. It was really interesting even though the eternal quest for a cure isn’t something I’m interested in. That’s where having a life long condition sets me apart from a lot of other disabled people I think. I don’t dream of a cure as I’ve never known any different.
After the programme ended they showed a fifteen minute concert of her music (Jazz). I wrote the following whilst listening to it.
Today is day 32 of 100. My first piece of writing for this project was on 19th January. One whole month of writing daily! I am so proud of myself. And more than a little amazed.
Lying in the dark she watches the pink and purple glow of the wax floating around in her giant lava lamp. Stretching out even further on the bed, cat like she puts some music on. Someone had been at her cd player again though. Instead of the cheesy pop sound of the latest songs from glee that she could sing along to it was something else. Something she couldn’t identify. She was really angry now. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand it was people messing with her music and all her housemates knew that. But she let the music keep playing. Mostly because she was too tired to get up and change the disc.
She was into music, she always had been. But she wasn’t musical. That was one of her biggest regrets, it must be amazing to have that sort of talent and lose yourself in music of your own making. Piano lessons were one of the few things she hadn’t mastered. And as for her recorder lessons – calling them a disaster doesn’t even begin to cover it. She was lucky to be able to sing. But not lucky enough to do so in tune and without scaring away anyone unlucky enough to listen.
A few minutes later it finally dawned on her that this was jazz. Or at least she thought it was. And that? That was a saxophone. Then something else hit her. The realisation that despite saying she’d always hate any music she couldn’t sing along to she was actually quite enjoying it.