PG-13, mild language post
I thought I’d blog here again, you know, just to prove that I exist. I haven’t been online in a while. I thought that when I was working at the cigar shop – that there would be this wide expanse of faff-off time where I would sit with my laptop on the counter and just write and surf and get shit done. It is not to be. I’ve been a busy girl. Cleanin’ and scrubbin’ and stockin’ and ringin’ up and organizin’ and DOin’ and all kinds of cigar-y nonsense.
I don’t know about this. But I like it. When you voluntarily go back to work to hang out, I suppose that’s not such a bad thing.
The thing is, I don’t know who my “hangout” people are. I am really in a state of flux. I don’t who my friends are and I don’t know that they’re going to stay that way. Things are really good with the husband right now. But I’m not writing much. That’s never a good sign.
I tested for another belt stripe, but I’m not losing any weight. I don’t seem to be coalescing in my career – which to me is still more important than my job. I was so busy that I didn’t get the regular “too much” practicing that I am usually accustomed to. So the latter part of the weekend was spent just throwing myself at the piano and not really looking at tasks that need to be completed. And I do have list items. Such as “finish the damn song” and “practice the entire folder worth of things you can’t play” and “pick up guitar” and “turn on amplifier.” Plus: “record something, anything – for Pete’s sake ..!” I was just reacting, hacking at Chopin nocturnes that no one really needs me to do and I will never play live in front of anyone. This is just for me and my technique. This is self-practice, just-for-me, intellectual frotteurism that is not really doing any good for my ultimate goals or anything. It’s not really going to get me Out There. I rationalize and say it’s Good for My Technique.
So I can’t just sit here and write cigar reviews and be all smoky. I’ve got work to do. I’ve been noticing more and more that the people that sit around that coffee house and the shop … the musicians – they don’t know anything about what I really do … I don’t really put myself out there. I guess I’m afraid. The times when I do try to put myself out there have just really been going downhill more and more. The thing that happened with He Who Shall Not Be Named being the worst of all. The reason that I say I can’t play in this town (or, at least the most recent one). That’s the reason that no one there would hear me unless I booked myself somehow.
And another “He Who Shall Not Be Named” seems to get booked there easily and flawlessly. I don’t know quite how this works, exactly. I’m not sure who you have to blow to get on these things. All I know is that I need to not get distracted by my job from getting this CD done – so that I can get the work out there. The work speaks for itself, I know. Then I don’t have to blow anyone – I already know that no one wants that out of me anyway. Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind …
Just kidding … maybe …
Anyway, I practice and practice. I don’t know why I do it. I do it because I am trained to. I will do it always – no matter how successful I get or don’t get. I think it’s in my bones now. It’s just the way that it is. I think that it’s just something for me now. I think that I’d play even if no one would ever hear me, ever again.
Maybe that’s how you “know.”