I almost always start writing these things with the thought that I don't know what to say. I should go to bed. I should because I have to be at a meeting tomorrow morning and I won't be able to catch up properly if I don't sleep now.
I don't feel like sleeping. I don't feel like writing. I don't feel like cleaning anything up.
I'm worried about something stupid. I've been asked to play the piano at the last minute. For me, not having three or four weeks to learn a piece is last minute. They want me to play on Sunday. They want me to accompany the choir. Oh man. I am a poor sight-reader at best. Someday, I'll tell you the story of my blind piano teacher. He was a wonderful man, and though he tried, I resisted every attempt of his to teach me to sight read. It could be a good joke if it weren't so rude to him. I had the same piano teacher for eleven and a half years. There are so many stories for me to tell about him. I miss him. I know I could learn this piece. It isn't difficult, but I have meetings and appointments to keep me from practicing and I don't want to do it.
The worse thing is that while I fret and moan about this challenge, the director is trying to find an alternate for me. That means that I could go through all the trouble of learning the music in just four days and then on Saturday afternoon, be called and let off the hook. I hate having to prepare for something and finding out that I'm not needed after I put all the work into getting ready.
I also hate the idea that I could embarrass myself thoroughly if I have to play and am not prepared. I still get nervous in front of the people in my tiny church. I do. I sing for them sometimes, and it usually goes well, but after all these years, I'm still afraid I'll stand up in front of them and ...
fart.
That is my worst fear. After that fear, everything else is secondary. I've gone a little flat once. I've run out of breath at an inopportune time. I've begun an a cappella piece too low and had to sing as a tenor. I've made every mistake in front of them except that one.
You'd think I'd be okay messing up on the piano in front of them. The dreaded ...
fart
is still a possibility, but add to it that I could miss a lot of notes. I could get out of step with the voices. I could lose my place entirely and stop playing. Oh, that is a pretty fearsome possibility, almost as dreadful as a ...
fart.
And I know I could forget where I was and stop playing and the congregation would laugh with me later and either like or dislike me anyway as they already had before my faux pas. It works that way, you know. Can you see me trying to screw up my courage? People who like me will feel sorry for my discomfort, making a mistake up in front of everyone. People who already don't like me will feel a thrill of glee. It won't change anything, really. So why am I still nervous?
I want to get started practicing, but everyone is asleep and I can't afford to wake them up.
Thank you for listening, jb
I don't feel like sleeping. I don't feel like writing. I don't feel like cleaning anything up.
I'm worried about something stupid. I've been asked to play the piano at the last minute. For me, not having three or four weeks to learn a piece is last minute. They want me to play on Sunday. They want me to accompany the choir. Oh man. I am a poor sight-reader at best. Someday, I'll tell you the story of my blind piano teacher. He was a wonderful man, and though he tried, I resisted every attempt of his to teach me to sight read. It could be a good joke if it weren't so rude to him. I had the same piano teacher for eleven and a half years. There are so many stories for me to tell about him. I miss him. I know I could learn this piece. It isn't difficult, but I have meetings and appointments to keep me from practicing and I don't want to do it.
The worse thing is that while I fret and moan about this challenge, the director is trying to find an alternate for me. That means that I could go through all the trouble of learning the music in just four days and then on Saturday afternoon, be called and let off the hook. I hate having to prepare for something and finding out that I'm not needed after I put all the work into getting ready.
I also hate the idea that I could embarrass myself thoroughly if I have to play and am not prepared. I still get nervous in front of the people in my tiny church. I do. I sing for them sometimes, and it usually goes well, but after all these years, I'm still afraid I'll stand up in front of them and ...
fart.
That is my worst fear. After that fear, everything else is secondary. I've gone a little flat once. I've run out of breath at an inopportune time. I've begun an a cappella piece too low and had to sing as a tenor. I've made every mistake in front of them except that one.
You'd think I'd be okay messing up on the piano in front of them. The dreaded ...
fart
is still a possibility, but add to it that I could miss a lot of notes. I could get out of step with the voices. I could lose my place entirely and stop playing. Oh, that is a pretty fearsome possibility, almost as dreadful as a ...
fart.
And I know I could forget where I was and stop playing and the congregation would laugh with me later and either like or dislike me anyway as they already had before my faux pas. It works that way, you know. Can you see me trying to screw up my courage? People who like me will feel sorry for my discomfort, making a mistake up in front of everyone. People who already don't like me will feel a thrill of glee. It won't change anything, really. So why am I still nervous?
I want to get started practicing, but everyone is asleep and I can't afford to wake them up.
Thank you for listening, jb
No comments:
Post a Comment