Maddening. I spent all day feeling incredibly creative, and then, by the time I am home and able to use said creative energies, they're gone. *Poof*
I did spend most of the work day doodling at my desk because we hardly have any work to do right now. That's something anyway. But instead of doing anything much of anything, I ended up just walking Frank for a bit and then here we are. Matt is off cheffing it up Coq au Vin style for Katy and Nathan tonight, and I'm trying to force myself to do something other than sit here nibbling my paws. So far it's not working.
On a completely unrelated note, I was listening to Pandora just now when this guy came up. His album is called "I Don't Know What I'm Doing". Hilarious, yet apparently true. Brad does suck. So much so that he's giving most of his tracks away as free downloads. I get the impression his musical career began while playing Truth or Dare...
Speaking of people with no musical talent, I started contemplating the possibility of selling my euphonium while Frank and I were walking. I've had a bit of buyer's remorse over the practice mute we bought a few months ago. I've played all of twice since we bought it, and I fear it may have been a waste of $200. Every time I think of practicing, I decide there are numerous other things I'd rather be doing. Even if those things are grimy chores like scrubbing my toilet.
I have come to a couple of realizations:
1. I am no longer in possession of any "chops". My range and playing ability are around that of a fifth grader. (*A fifth grader who has just spent the last 3 weeks learning the song flute, not a 5th grade prodigy who has been in lessons since the age of 4.)
2. I lack discipline. I never was able to make myself practice, even in school. By my senior year I was taking (I believe) 5 hours of band classes a day, and never touching my horn at home.
I've been lugging this horn with me from place to place for almost 10 years now. I have played it maybe 1-2 times each year during that time. Since high school, I have lived in a dorm, 2 apartments and now a condo. Nearly every time I have tried to play I've received a noise complaint from someone. Now that I finally have a mute, I find I am so bad I don't have the drive or desire to make myself practice in order to become good again.
It was a wonderful, beautiful, exciting, shiny high school graduation present from my parents, and has remained the single most expensive thing I own beyond my house and my car. Every time I look at it I feel a mixture of pride and shame at the same time. I don't think I will ever be able to play the way someone who owns an instrument this perfect should. And yet I am afraid that if I were to actually go through with selling it I would regret it forever. I could never afford something like it again.
In 3 days, I turn 27. I've spent the past month, and especially the past week, reflecting on who I am, where I'm going, and what I want to do with myself. General pre-birthday putting one's self in order type stuff. And it has begun to occur to me that perhaps I am not meant to be a music maker. Or, if I am, perhaps I've been trying to play the wrong instrument all along.
I do still feel a connection to my euphonium that tells me there is still something between us even after a 10 year hiatus. After the previous paragraph, I went and played for about 15 minutes, and I was just slightly less shit than I was the last time I tried. I find that encouraging, though I think I may require lessons if I hope to ever be anything worth anything again.
Always with the lessons she's saying! Oy! Do my pockets look like they're lined with gold?!
I am nearly 27.
I still have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.
I am still filled with a thousand imagined possibilities.
And I am not finished yet.