//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: Yearning for the Intangible // Story: Journey to Hope // by Not Enough Coffee //------------------------------// Dear Journal, This is rather strange, really. In all my years, I've never thought of keeping a journal, but right now I feel strangely compelled to do so. I will, however, give it my best effort. It’s like having a weight tied to your core, and it only gets heavier with time the more and more you ignore its calling. Waking up every morning only to feel the compulsion grow stronger and stronger to the point where it feels like it's about to crawl its way out, and consume you whole. Rather bleak when I put it that way, but it’s not so bad. To me, I guess, it would be harder not to have this feeling; It would be a hellish form of existence to only feel complacency for yourself, and all that surrounds you. This is what boggles me when I interact with other ponies in a similar position as I. They seem content, not having the same desire for more like I do. At least, that’s what I pick up on during our conversations. It could be that we all feel this way, and it is only I who is so vocal? That is actually a pleasant thought, that we all have this inner desire for more, and that we can’t help ourselves but to indulge on such feelings. Imagine if we all just put aside all our troubles, or whatever it is that stops us from striving forward towards our sudden vigorous urges, we could have some completely new society, for better or worse. Obligations may be cumbersome, but they aren’t obligations if they needn't be done. Can’t have a working society with no pony to work for it. That being said, I bring up this issue because I don’t feel this desire like I once used to. Before it was all about my passion in life, music. Yes, there was once a time when I would spend day in and day out working tirelessly on that which brought me the most joy in life. Well, besides family and loved ones, of course. That isn’t to say I don’t work on my music anymore, au contraire, I am now recognized as one of the forefront musicians in all of Equestria. Well, at least for the classics, since I mostly play the cello. If I was asked to describe this yearning from an earlier point in my career, I would have said it was my obsessive-compulsion to create music, and nothing more. Now, however, it has gotten much more complicated. Now it is all muddled up, filled with some sort of murky, foggy presence. Trying to make sense of it all only confuses me more and more, often to me asking myself if this was normal or not? However, I never let it stop me from creating music, it just happens to make my work uninspired. It is rather nice that most ponies who listen to my music happen to like the uninspired dribble. That is definitely one of my driving motivators to continue. There is also Vinyl, my roommate, and best friend. She may be quiet, but trust me, when she speaks it’s the only thing you can hear, engulfing all other sounds. This is getting rather silly, if a bit verbose on my part. Writing about my troubles rather than finding a solution to the problem. Well, if I can get the thoughts down on paper, then I should at least be able to address them in my daily life. I guess that’s what this journal will be used for more than anything, as a reminder to myself to solve these thoughts and impulses. I think I’ve drabbled on long enough on this subject to satisfy me for now, and I really must get back to work. With my performance for Dinky’s birthday tomorrow, I must be at my best. * * * * Octavia closed her journal, setting it off to the side of her desk as it’s leather bound touch left her feeling content. She then scooted her chair back, departing it, and tidying up her room before leaving for the living room of her shared home. What was nice with living with another pony who had a shared passion for music was the ability to take liberties with how one would properly organize a main living quarters. For one, the room was split down the middle with a clear distinction of whose side was whose. The left side filled with soundboards, turntables, and other devices for electronic music. The other side was much more organized, and brandished many different classical instruments, such as a piano, and of most importance a cello. A rather polished, and expensive looking cello at that. Looking to the left, Octavia noticed Vinyl sitting down at her equipment, already at work with her latest creation. “I see one is up early today,” Octavia said, followed by a prolonged yawn. “It’s… unusual to see you up anytime before noon, to say the least.” Vinyl merely shrugged in response, quickly going back to what she was doing before. “I take it this latest work of yours is truly something?” Octavia questioned, circling her hoof in the air as to show she was interested in what the mare had to say. The pony in question nodded vigorously, smiling as to let Octavia know that she wasn’t trying to dismiss her presence. “Well, it’s good to know that at least one of us has an idea of what they’re doing.” Octavia yawned once more, more forceful than the last. ”It’s been too long since I produced anything of real significance. Heavens me, I need some coffee.” She walked groggily out of the room, realizing that she’d need a proper dosage of caffeine before practicing for the birthday tomorrow. She went up to the coffee maker, it already having some delicious bean nectar inside as Vinyl had prepared some earlier that morning. “I’ll have to thank her for this.” Octavia said to herself, pouring a cup three quarters of a way full, before adding three tablespoons of sugar, and a moderate amount of prench vanilla creamer. She took a sip of the beverage, savoring it, before looking over at the clock on the wall. It read 11:25, letting her know it was still morning, but barely. “Slept in a bit longer than I’d like, but I was up later than usual last night.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Well, nothing I can do about it now.” Taking another swig of her drink, she hummed to herself softly before entering back into the living room. She gave a satisfied look towards Vinyl, raising her glass in the air as thanks. The DJ nodded back, a smile of her own adorning her face. Taking one more, albeit large swig of her coffee, Octavia set it down on the table in the center of the room before heading over to her cherished instrument. The finely made spruce top, accompanied by the maple back, sides, and neck giving it an elegant, and refined appearance. The smell of the resin she applied to her bow filling her with most pleasant memories. “I may not be as inspired as before, or have that same drive I once did, but I sure do still have a love for playing you.” She looked fondly at her favorite instrument. A giggle was heard from across the room, as Vinyl raised an eyebrow at Octavia’s action towards her instrument. Octavia’s face reddened slightly from embarrassment. “Oh hush, I see the looks you give your equipment, so don’t mock the looks I give mine.” Octavia quickly let out, almost certain she saw the DJ roll her eyes behind her rose colored glasses. Turning back to her cello she stuck her tongue out, shaking her head in a taunting manner. After finishing her ritual-esque process, she finally stood up to test whether the strings needed to be tuned. Noticing that the A and D string needed to be adjusted, she used the tuning pegs on the headstock. There was no need to use her piano to test whether the sound was two octaves below middle C, since she was able to tune by ear alone, a skill acquired over many years of practice. “Much better,” she quietly whispered to herself. Playing a simple musical trill that rose to a crescendo. She did this for each string, A through C. Afterwards she reversed the trill with a diminuendo, as to fully test her flexibility. Vinyl stopped what she was currently working on to admire the form in which Octavia played, even if it was simple warm-up exercise, followed by a scale of which she played every morning. She made her fascination prevalent as she let out a quick whistle in admiration. “Hmmm, oh, well thank’s Vinyl, but it was only a warm-up.” Octavia softly rolled her eyes, but in a humble way, rather than mocking. “Though, if you could be as so kind to look over this arrangement of Vivaldi’s spring from his four seasons, I would be most appreciative.” The piece typically focusing on a violin, but she figured the bass of the cello could add a new breath of life to the song. The song was filled with the fertility, and health of spring, one of joy and wonder. It was a party favorite, at least for those who preferred their parties to be more relaxing, rather than thrashing around in ecstasy. Not that Octavia minded parties as such, she was friends with Pinkie Pie after all, it was just nice to know somepony as young as Dinky enjoyed the same sort of music as she did, and was pleasantly surprised when her mother asked personally if she could be hired to play for her daughter's birthday. “You know, Vinyl, Ditzy Doo is a rather pleasant mother, don’t you think?” Octavia didn’t wait for a response, she just continued on with her thought. “I know it must be hard taking care of a child alone, but I think she does a fantastic job, especially considering they are part of different pony tribes.” Octavia thought back to her own childhood. “It was difficult for my parents to raise me as they did, considering they were both unicorns. Who would have guessed that their was a trace of earth pony blood that ran on my mother's side of the family, and even more astonishing the odds of me being born as such.” The skill of being able to converse and play at the same time astounded Vinyl to no end, never ceasing to impress her each time. Octavia, as humble as she was, never let it go to her head—her head was too far into the clouds to let her thoughts dwell onto herself. “Vinyl, dear.” Octavia slowly let out, taking a rather deep breath before continuing her comment. “Do you ever, oh how should I put this?” She looked up in thought, than back down towards her hind hooves as if to bring herself back down to the ground. “Do you ever feel like what you once wanted in life has vanished, or that it has changed, and morphed into a shape you no longer recognize?” Vinyl’s face contorted, deep in thought. “Not to say that I don’t adore what I do for a living, nor to say that I am unthankful for all the admiration people have shown my work over the years, it’s just I can’t stop this certain feeling from arising in my chest each and every morning.” Octavia faltered in her song, uncharacteristically stopping for just the briefest of moments. “Do you ever feel like what you do is never enough? Not to say in a bad depressing way, but in a gleeful type of melancholy, however much of a oxymoron that is, but that’s how I feel as of late.” She continued on with her song, simply admiring the youthful bliss of the piece itself. “I would be lying if this song didn’t amplify these thoughts. It is rather fitting, is it not?” Vinyl, to best of her ability, mustered up the will to speak on the heavy topic her friend presented to her. “Yeah, I guess it does fit, Tavi.” She sighed, the weight of it all crashing down upon her. “Here, let me answer your question with this.” She started to use her turntable to create a low hum, slowly rising in pitch before it dropped entirely welcoming itself to a soft tune that synced up spotlessly with what Octavia was playing. It was like their two minds melding in a musical bliss that only they could understand. “You know I’m not much for words, but this is the least I can do.” Vinyl smiled to her friend, letting the warmth of it enrapture her in its comforting glaze. “I can't say that I know exactly what you’re going through, at least I think I don’t, but what I do know is that you're doing well for yourself with all that baggage, so chin up.” Octavia was a loss with words, funny enough considering she couldn’t get enough of them before. “Vinyl, I.” She stopped, unable to form a complete sentence. She then sighed, but in a relieved way. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Vinyl, have I ever told you that?” She nodded in return, having lost her voice once again, or maybe just knew that no more words were needed to be said. “So.” Octavia started. “What did you think of the piece? Was it too rushed, or too slow, or maybe I lost the essence behind the piece by going off on my tangent?” She stared into the reflective glasses of vinyl’s, desperately hoping for the answer she desired. Vinyl, to the best of her ability, suppressed a smile before taking off her glasses, and giving Octavia the ‘really’ look that she has grown all too familiar. “Yes, I suppose it will do. Thanks again, Vinyl, I appreciate the invitation back to reality.” Octavia skittishly smiled with what could be best described as half-hearted. The embarrassment of her silly fumbles bringing much joy to her surprisingly wise roommate.