simplicity is confusing

George Frideric Handel was a genius.

We're playing his piece, Sarabande, in concert band and it is fantastic. Our arrangement is really simple, but really, really beautiful. If you've never heard it, check it out right here.

I think that the simple things are often the most beautiful. I know that's not exactly an original idea--everyone's always saying, "Enjoy the simple things in life!"--but right now I feel the undeniable truth in it so strongly that I wanted to share. Like Handel's piece (although I'm sure a lot went in to writing it) a few notes strung together can say more than a whole orchestra. And don't get me started on Ode to Joy.

But some things can't be simple.

My favorite part of a horror movie has always been the beginning, when everyone is going about their normal lives, with no sign of the gruesome murder or deadly monsters to come. The tension is building, but no one is spurting blood.

I think that's a bad sign. How can you be a writer, how can you thrive off creating problems and obstacles for characters to overcome, when you breathe a sigh of relief when nothing is going wrong?

But now, I've come to an understanding. There's nothing wrong with enjoying a little down time. That being said, I need to know how to wreak some havoc, and toss in a few violins. Or trumpets. I do adore trumpets.

I'm sorry, I think I went off on about fifty different tangents right there.

Have a terrific Tuesday,

Erika