Second Class

(Father has a business, strictly second hand…)

Second Class

Oh gosh. It happened again. Darn. I met someone, we started chatting… he says to me, “How about if we have dinner?” I say…”..Oh, yeah..” Then, after we set a date, exchange phone numbers, I start to think this could be something to pursue? Maybe. MMM. Then, as the date comes around, we are chatting and he makes it clear that his interest is platonic, exclusively. The de-gassing is subtle but real and I make a sound like some balloon that is retreating to its original shape. Ha. In my head, I had us in the south of France, married, a couple of goats and a windmill for energy…grapes growing, les fenetres s’ouvrent… etc. Sigh.

This scene reminded me of the last ‘date’ I went on. It was a Plenty of Fish arranged date. I was early and nestled in at a comfortable table with a nice glass of iced tea. Then, in strides my appointment. He frowns, visibly, sits down and immediately states that he is not looking for anything, not sex, not love, not friendship. Sigh. I have to tell you that my picture on the app was up to date, I looked no different in person. I just didn’t have that certain glow, in person? Yeah.

Second class

Oh gosh. New folks showed up this evening at choir practice. Much excitement, names shared, status shared… turns out one of the new folks ‘reads music, can sight sing well’ according to them. Uhoh. My brief turn as star singer at St. John’s is over, just like that. Sigh. Yeah.

Second class

I struggle, I rehearse, I argue with myself…I still can’t play to my satisfaction after more than ten years of piano lessons. It/they is/are complex, the reason/s why. I am never satisfied that I have applied myself properly (a hold over from youth, when a thing I couldn’t do well was because I didn’t try hard enough). No, actually, I am not very good. The arthritis is a real thing, it really does slow me but the inability to play is deeper than just that. I don’t want to believe it… but I think now that music is a thing I don’t do well and can’t do well. A ‘friend’ once told me that those who can’t play well shouldn’t play. This same friend once cancelled a song circle that I was part of ‘because too many total amateurs were soiling the event’. Yikes. Singing isn’t great, piano isn’t great, guitar is also not great. I suppose that it is possible I am expecting too much, too soon but when? When and how do you develop the confidence to hit the right position consistently for clean chords, clean notes? I can strum, but that doesn’t cut it. I can almost play easy piano but that doesn’t cut it. I can sing in a chorus but that isn’t enough. Sigh.

Second class

I was sort-of passed over as a soloist in both of my choirs. It was subtle, but real. It may have been accidental but it reflects the fact that I am not thought of as a quality singer. I am not a quality singer. Shit. Why does any of this matter to me? Why do I insist on perfection? Well, I don’t feel important – that is why. I am second class, always. It bothers me. I don’t know how to let it go. I could and should let it go and just do what I do. I can’t. There is a woman who does Facebook reels at her piano. She has an odd clothing sense and only plays chords in both hands on piano. Still? She plays more reliably and more relaxed than I do. She is successful to herself and far less than perfect. Somehow, I cannot relax and let people see me bashing away at a half-tuned piano. I am not sure what the source of my self consciousness, my perfectionism is. Was it growing up second class in a small town?

I said something to a friend of mine that really cuts to the core of how I feel about my music-making. I said, “Unfortunately, I have eaten fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil.” Yeah, I know what is good music-making and I ain’t there yet. When? I am getting long in the tooth and too fat for the piano bench.