Dearest,
Happy Sunday. The following was written from earlier in the week, prior to an event and my thoughts after the event.
Wednesday eve: I am placing my practice on pause and writing this on the eve before I turn 29. I won’t post this until after an important event on Friday. If it goes poorly, maybe I’ll rewrite this.
A lot as happened in the last year, and especially in the last 3 months. The biggest decisions and the most transformation happened this last quarter of my 28th year. I’m exhausted. But I have one final push.
I’m moving to New York City in a week - for how long, I don’t know. A lot of people have egged me on and I thank them for it. But every time they say it’s going to be exciting, it’s hard to relate, because I have my mind on something else.
Here was the last 3 months: dumped for the nth time by the same dude who had been dumping me all year, disowned by a family member, decided to move across the country, and rode the financial rollercoaster of contract work. But most importantly….
… I finally learned this f’n solo.
Who knows why I care so much? I don’t understand it myself.
The last few months my favorite and most difficult task has been working at music problems- rhythm and ear training, mostly. Progress felt slow and incredibly slight, like collecting individual straw needles for a haystack. Until I looked back and saw three quarters of a haystack. Often I thought (and still think): maybe I should just stop trying. My life would be a whole lot easier if I didn’t care about this. I could focus on work and do something that actually makes money.
The technical exercises felt so out of context. Why can’t I just do this right? I didn’t feel things were clicking together and the work wasn’t translating into anything creative. I had little moments of satisfaction, but not enough. Then one day my teacher said I was good at the aural transcriptions, and that we should double down on my strengths instead. Then something changed. I felt a lot more trust in my own process. A few days later, an older gentleman pianist I admire (Mark Massey) who’d been watching me grow told me I had 2x-ed myself since the last time he heard me, and that whatever I was doing was working.
By external measure, I suppose the last three months look like the darkest of my 2022, but I feel the opposite. They have been difficult, at times like trudging through molasses, but I feel my thousands of tiny iterations have finally broken through. And they came in tiny doses.
The Friday night musicians noticed progress on an issue.
My teacher identified a strength.
For the first time, I think maybe I am capable of doing music the way I want to do it, and actually ask for the opportunity I want.
So this Friday I have a gig with the people I really enjoy being around. I’ve declined plans just to listen and hang out with these folks. And although it’s just a fish joint, it kind of isn’t. Because I’m trying to surpass a personal best. It’s my first and probably last gig of the year. I had several gigs in 2022 and although most were enjoyable, I don’t feel they went well.
It isn’t wise to place so much pressure on a fish performance, and I’m trying to balance these two ideas in my mind: 1) that it doesn’t matter if it all goes poorly. It’s a few laughs in my face, at worst. 2) That it does matter, because it’s me, and I need to stop being so scared of everything. And if you step up to the plate, sometimes you’re pleasantly surprised with new experiences and thus, new beliefs. That chance needs to be taken. The alternative (doing nothing) is too big a fine to pay.
I had the best time. Socially and emotionally, I couldn’t have guessed it would have gone so well. It was so great to be amongst friends, feel the love in the room, and for the first time, present my real self on stage. About the guy who dumped me over, and over again? Yeah, I told that story, a little bit. I sung the songs. No details nor identity need be revealed. But I’ve been sitting on that piece of history for a long time, and oo baby I feel like I got my poetic justice. Talk about catharsis. The best part is when you see people can relate.
The caveat is that I watched a little bit of the footage and I’m not happy with my performance. Like, at all. I felt great at the show and afterwards, but I haven’t yet learned to control my adrenaline…so vocally it was not my best. But it’s over, and we must go onward. There is much work ahead.
Mark Massey texts me close to 4am after the gig with notes on things to look out for next time. In the morning he calls to tell me things I should think about as I continue to work on my craft. Unfortunately I am already running late to my students.
We try to have a normal lesson but we’re all a little distracted by the end of our run. The kids drew up adorable letters for me. One of them even cried. But I’m sure and hope that he will forget all about me soon and that their next teacher is even better.
I continue my day, packing and donating clothes, as I still have so much to do, listening to new music because I need a break from the songs I’d been living with, and try to ignore these odd feelings. Then I started sobbing uncontrollably in the car. Too many thoughts and feelings coming over me I guess.
Maybe I’m being melodramatic but I’m so touched by the support I’ve received. And I can’t believe that Mark would pay so much attention to my progress, so as to leave me notes and call to tell what he thinks my strengths are but also how they may work against me. I’m grateful that he’d care enough to do so.
I remember when the sax player E noticed I was frustrated with my rhythm, and helped me think of exercises to work out these issues. He might’ve even given me a hug and told me I was doing alright. I’m a bit embarrassed that a musical issue would bother me so much in my late 20s but maybe it’s about the overcoming.
I can’t believe that I’ve found a community of people I already find myself genuinely missing, in my so-called boring town of Irvine. And I think of how much we all yearn for big sexy experiences and milestones, but a huge bulk of life is lived in the middle. The beginnings are important, and the ends are important, but the middle…man it is long and it can be dreary, and if there are people to help you through it, damn is that lucky.
Seriously- it’s all the phone calls, the ‘can I come over and run tunes’, the post gig hang in the parking lot, the shared struggles, and all the little incremental progress. The night before the gig, I went to a mentor’s house (Elena 🤍) and tested some tunes and banter on her. We were like comedians shedding jokes.
I hate to blab about how hard I think life is, but the last 3 months really… were different than any other 3 months I’ve had. And for some reason, amidst confusion about my life’s direction, career, general loneliness, whatever… music has given me the most meaningful progress. It got me through everything else.
With so much love,
Connie
P.S. I left out some names because if someone googles them I don’t want this very personal post to show up 😂 I’m shy
P.P.S. Playing with great musicians is like having your fairy godmother lay out a gorgeous ballgown and shoes for you. 🪄 Thanks for having me Karim!
Well, I better get back to it then.
Life advice from a 10-year old below. The other day I watched him start to believe in himself (from a piano POV), and it was really something special.
From my incredible 12 yr old who transformed himself as a piano player. I’m mostly touched someone would call me patient, which isn’t one of my usual adjectives.
I hear you ...those dark nights of the soul seem interminable. But they do pass, and we rise out of them like the phoenixes we are!