Need for Human Interaction

I suppose that’s the "danger" of doing what you love for a living – the possibility of it becoming routine.   ~ Avalon
 
"Next," encapsulate what it’s like for me to photograph sometimes. When I’m shooting, I’m doing my job. When it’s over… there’s sometimes a hollowness there; something always feels missing until the next time. Perhaps we don’t know how NOT to be artists. Unless we have our instruments with us, there is a hesistation there about what we should be doing. Mmm, Sunday musings. ~ Shazar

I’ve been thinking about those notes from the last entry, and they didn’t really ring true with me.  I mean, I don’t think performing has become too routine or that I have a hollowness when its done.  Its just become a part of life or something for me.  I’m not sure I can explain it properly, but I think its important that I try.

After my junior recital, I was elated and high on intense adrenaline.  Shazar will remember that night and how I celebrated.  But if I were a professional who did that every night, or even just on the weekends, I think I would burn out.  I know I would.  The concert on Saturday was absolutely amazing and I lived inside each moment of it.  It was wonderful and I didn’t want the concert to end.  But it did, and that was okay.  Yes, performances should be celebrated, but to a large degree – for me, at least – it has become less about the jubilation after the concert and more about sharing the music during the concert.  I’m elated in the performance, to be connected with those people around me and to be communicating with the audience.  Solo performances wear me out.  The require enormous amounts of energy and stage-presence.  But in an ensemble, there is more "down time."  Measures and movements were I can just sit and relax while those around me play.

The end of the concert didn’t make me feel hollow or empty or even worn out.  Neither did I feel like it was "just another day at the office."  The concert was special and the performance was amazing.  It was a good feeling, but not manic.  I definetely was ready for what was next, and I think that is something I have lacking right now.  Performances take place and then things are over.  Its forever until the next performance.  For professionals, they have a week or maybe two.  Their folders are filled with music they are expected to know and prepare.  It is a feeling of time moving on.  I didn’t want to stand still after the concert, nor did I want to go back.  I was just ready to move forward.

Ehh, I’m not explaining this properly.  Then again, I seem to have lost the ability to explain anything properly lately.  This is what happens when I lock myself up in my apartment and avoid contact with other humans.  I start to talk like my cat and forget how to form complete sentences.

EDIT: I remember now part of the point I wanted to make.  My parents both have jobs/careers that they love.  My mother gets that "high" out of teaching and my father does enjoy his job as well.  Do they love every second of every moment?  Of course not!  And neither do I as a musician.  There are days when nothing goes right and when I don’t want to be in rehearsal and when playing is just not enjoyable.  And I have days that are "golden moments" when I feel wonderful and flying high and well, basically could fly to Never Never Land if I tried.  But every day can not be that extreme.  There are days in between when it wasn’t orgasmic and mind-blowing, but didn’t make me want to kill myself either.  I think that’s what the Carmina concert was to me.  It wasn’t orgasmic, but it didn’t suck either.  Yes, it was a job and felt somewhat ordinary, but on another level I know that for the audience it was anything but ordinary.  And that’s part of the job.  I had days when rehearsals were orgasmically mind-blowing.  It just didn’t happen at the concert for me.

I don’t play for the audience.  This doesn’t mean I don’t care if the audience approves or not.  I do want them to enjoy themselves.  But they are not the reason I go to rehearsals every day.  I go to the rehearsals because I do love to play.  I don’t always like to play, but I always love it.  (If you don’t get that, think about relationships.  I will always love Manny.  Doesn’t mean I always like him!)

I think this is partly why I know I’ll never completely give up playing.  My parents don’t always like their jobs, but they love what they are doing.  Its the difference between a job and a career.  You do a job to pay the bills, to get through life.  You do a career because you truly love it.  And its wonderful when your job and career are the same thing.