This has been a killer week.
I had an EXcellent lesson with a Symphony colleague. I'd forgotten how much I love a good lesson. Nothing like it, really. My favorite moment in this one was when he said, "See- play it like I just did, but without the sucking." Musician humor! Ha!
I miss learning, and felt I was spinning my wheels trying to maintain my playing without the connections of school, a contract gig or even the free time and cash to go to all the great concerts coming to PDX. (I even missed my precious Takacs.)
Freelancing sounds so romantic, doesn't it? Design your own schedule, choose only the gigs you enjoy so you can respect yourself while playing them. La-dee-dah-do-dee. Thing is, if you say no to stuff they stop calling you. And just when you feel all comfy and can play with a section the exact way the conductor prefers, they go and hire more players so they need fewer subs. And every time you play a new gig, it's a whole new group of ears you would like to have like you. I'm not a particularly insecure person, but these thoughts do percolate.
The symphony here has yearly sub auditions, which is great when you're the new kid and you can instantly get in on some jobs. This unusual fairness means that there are no years off from that audition, though. And there could always be a newer kid.
Anyway, the lesson was good and I got a glimmer of that lovely feeling. The one where I don't care what approval I get, I just know what I want from my playing and the path is clear before me.
And then my parents came up and painted our bathrooms with me. It was like, if your coolest college friends just happened to stop by and were completely smitten with every move your toddler makes and brought paint supplies and Starbucks with them. Like that, but better.