So...

Yes, I've been casually discussing the utilization of this summer to quote-unquote put my life back together - since that phrase seems to be abstract at best, let me tangibilize it. Here's my day.

I wake up in the morning, and cook myself breakfast.
I head to Juilliard and practice for a few hours.
I go to the YMCA where I pound out an hour of cardio and some light weights, before hitting the sauna to discuss America's constantly-declining hegemony in the wake of the recession, with half a dozen 50+ naked men.
I come home, and I attempt to memorize a few more opus numbers and finish the Vonnegut book I started months ago. Have a drink.
Sleep.

No woman, no cry; the corollary implication being that the existence of woman (singular) necessitates crying. Thanks, Marley.

Professor Ronald Takaki, the chief pioneer of Ethnic Studies and the professor most responsible for the intellectualization of my otherwise complete distaste for beer-drinking white frat boys, committed suicide last week. RIP.