At a meeting this afternoon, I talked with one of my senior colleagues, who is beginning to make plans for his eventual retirement.
Even though I have experienced him to be something of an obscurantist and obstructionist at times, there are other times when I feel that we see some things similarly. Today was one of those times.
He skipped out on the concert I attended on Tuesday evening. (I told him that, if I ever promote to full professor, one of the things I look forward to is skipping out on concerts I'd rather not attend. For now, however, I feel obligated to put in polite appearances.) We talked about the jazz pieces, and I told him how I felt nothing when I listened to them. He said that the jazz professor's music all sounds the same to him. He finds that the jazz professor takes himself very seriously, but his original compositions don't seem very inspiring. I told my colleague that I wondered, on my way home after the concert, whether I was beginning to progress into clinical depression: maybe it was just the music itself. ;-)
Some things were accomplished this week, but for now I think I'm going to wind down. I'll turn 52 in a few hours.