Friday, November 28, 2008
Category: Fashion, Style, Shopping
I can't help it, but here we go again with the music scene thing. I'm leaving rehearsal tonight when I notice that *C* left her cello bow on the pew to be buried under all the choir folders. Folders that should not have been allowed to go there, I mean, I'm just sayin'...
I pick it up, being the gracious observer that I am, and give a shout out to its owner in the back of the church, who positively identifies her possession. My sole and solitary purpose is to unearth the delicate bow from under the folders where it lay, place it on top of the piano in the church, right there, one step away from where I am standing, and remove it from harm's way.
Now, let me side track by saying that in this moment, I recall a story from the recesses of a high school band concert where I was allowed the play the bass flute for a winter piece we played. After our concert, we all had to take our chairs and stands off the stage in the auditorium and put them back in the band room, which was through the door at the back of backstage. In wanting to be efficient, I set both my flute and the bass flute down. On the floor. Of the bandroom. Where people (60-piece band, namely) are walking back and forth. With stands. On tiered floors. Jumping, flying, wrestling, scuffling, scurrying, and all other various sorts of banging around, trying to clang and clunk their way into reassembling the band room.
Without warning and coming through that upper band room door with a stand and chair in each of my hands, the first chair flute player (we'll call her KG), starts reaming me out from down in front, in the presence of all, about having the bass flute on the floor. She is unglued and her tirade comes out in peals of maniacal outbursts that mention expense, irresponsibility, et al.; and with anger that 'might' have made someone wonder, at that moment or even now, what her investment was. Embarrassed for being dumb and pissed as hell for the censure, I move the flute ipso facto and put it in its case. Then I go home.
I was so pissed at her absolute lack of tact and ability to deal with it in a way that we could both keep our dignity, but in the end she was right. I left a multi-hundred (maybe thousand?) -dollar instrument on the floor in a moment of poor judgment to get stepped on, crushed, maybe bent. And who would have had to pay for it? It was completely reckless. But I learned my lesson.
Fast forward to the current story. This bass flute story flashes through my mind in a fleeting milisecond as I turn around with the bow in my hand. The husband of said bow owner is there, just there, in a moment, in between me and the piano. Just as momentarily, I am stopped in my tracks of realization, realizing I have his wife's bow in my hand and knowing it is an expensive piece that I really have no basis in holding.
I offer a piddling, half-instantly-intimidated explanation. I am just about ready to get worked up in my mind about this. This is the same Super Talent of the north, who is known "far and wide" for the music he has written, the instruments he has played (namely, the piano), and overall ability to wow the crowds with his alleged greatness; and who, in the matter of one and a half years, I've been able to work with alongside (and in spite of) and learn a great deal from.
I also really enjoy the change and challenge of working with him when I have the opportunity to as I always push myself more than I would on my own when I know he's right there and several steps (and years) ahead of me; but this element is lost when the territorial superiority comes creeping in and I am "reminded" that I am just an insecure peon in the life and wake of the who's who in the musical community. In other words, I let it get to me at ALL and read far much into things that no one else does and just figure that everyone else buys into his diplomatic b.s.
Yes I know.
But as I offer explanation to the husband (*Y*), I also regain (remember) my confidence, set the bow on the piano, and get a less-than-there "ok" from him. Actually it sounds more like a half-laugh at a less-than-pathetic joke.
And then I notice everyone is quiet!
Super quiet. Like if everyone is watching me; and then suddenly I'm aware that they may or may not be waiting for me. So I book it. But I'm just as instantly aware that I was half-lingering, just gathering up papers and books that other people had left laying around, and making sure I had all my own stuff; and it makes me self-consious and feeling loser-ish. I have just executed a move that I have laughed at other people for, dwelling after practice because they have nowhere to go or want to get invited to stay or whatever or however it works.
So it adds up in my head faster than a locomotive gaining speed and the half-laugh "ok" combined with people waiting for me to go, people who have been in this group, a group I fleetingly expressed an interest for once upon a time, people I've associated with, people I've mingled and associated with musically and socially who, although reasonably wait for me to leave, somehow make me feel not good enough. Ousted. And even though I wouldn't have time to be in that specific group nor would I be so unreasonable as to think I could join them so close to the concert or be of accompanying assistance when they have *Y* there, I can't help but feel inadequate or unnecessary just the same.
That being said, it's over. Situation done, gone, and past. Life goes on. I just can't help feeling unappreciated or pushed aside because this is not the first time this has happened. It makes me doubt my ability and gives me justification to be angsty, which I don't like and is cause for me to eat crow when I go back into these kinds of groups, made of up of the same people, in a small town, where there is rarely any deviation from the status quo, and where deviation is met with the same kind of reaction a bitter cashew might have; and where none of that kind of negativity has any place in who I am right now or ever. This rant has far more to do with reaction (of others) than it does my sense of self and ability. But maybe it has to do with how I read into things, too. I just know I sense things others do not, even though it gets me into trouble when I take it too far.
End of rant.
*** I'd like to comment here that it's crazy what the mind will do to itself. Especially mine. I think it's even crazier to illustrate it on paper (or virtual space, as it were) because writing in a style or a way that will help people understand makes my craziness all that more concrete, but it still doesn't generally make sense to the general whole and it's still left out there not making sense to the average person; but my point is that the main point THEN was about being in this ridiculous, absolutely heedless position of having this bow in my hand because I was trying to take care of something the other gal should have been taking care of. It was ludicrous. And as my friend, Celia, pointed out, it should have never been left there to begin with as any competent string player knows damn better than to leave their bow unattended and at risk.