|
"And I'm a Genius Genius"? However exhausting this weekend has been, it has also been encouraging, uplifting. Friday night, after rehearsing with actors and putting together the programme for Saturday evening's concert, I went to the Drama School's "Prom", intending only to have one drink and leave. My one drink turned into three, with four cigarettes, and it was fully 1 a.m. by the time I left the party, went to the office to copy music from which to play, then home to practise a bit. Apparently, they like me, because I was called a genius (What?! Me? No, no, I'm just...Well...Thank you, but IF ONLY, ya know?) TO MY FACE by no fewer than three people in the course of the evening. Inconceivable! Especially considering these people are arguably some of the best young actors/directors/designers/playwrights in the nation. Saturday was a long day of rehearsal crunch preparing for a 6 p.m. concert, which went quite well, all things considered. ("All things" include some people not deciding to do songs 'til the day before, and others not getting the music to me 'til the day of, not to mention insufficient practice time on my part.) After the concert, which had me misty-eyed at various points, (Despite the fact that the audience's tears were born of a commitment to what was happening which was many times greater than my own, I felt I shared their experience to a great degree.) I went with the students to their pizza party, where the word people seemed to be inclined to use to describe my work was "flawless". The only response I could muster was, "Oh, thank you, but IF ONLY..." as my awareness of the flaws in my musicianship is at times excruciating. (Much as one student's rendering of Adam Guettel's epic song "Saturn Returns" was one of the high points in the programme, I somehow managed to play more wrong notes in that performance of the piece than I think I'd ever done in rehearsal, not that anyone noticed other than me.) This afternoon, after mass (in which despite the recent smoking, I somehow managed to sing really quite well, if I do say so myself), on the way to change clothes before having a late brunch, I related these stories to Patrick, and his response was something like, "Well, you certainly have no shortage of talent." When will I learn to accept a compliment? When will I be able to follow my own advice and stop beating myself up for minor faults? (I'm fond of saying to the students, "Put down the whip! If you're using one hand to flog yourself, you've only one hand remaining with which to do something useful.") I've been this way for as long as I can remember, though. It wasn't done to me; I do it to myself. After the first piano recital in which I performed, all I could think of was the two or three wrong notes I'd played. I was probably all of six years old. Whatever the name for this may be, it's time I learned to lay it down. Like Paula Cole said, "Someday, I'll be born..." r
|