Wow - it's here. It's queer--oh wait. Wrong topic.
Yeah, I've hit my mid-life crisis, and I am thoroughly depressed. It's been a long time coming, but several things have recently brought it to a head.
(1) I have finally reached the point where there are movie/television stars, musicians, and other celebrities who I have no idea who the fuck they are and don't interest me in the least and don't affect my life one way or the other. Anyone who is on The Hills, 90210, any reality shows or any new movie where new "young things"star fall into this category. Lady Gaga falls into this category. So does anyone who's out who sings and whines (David Cook, Lifehouse, Rob Thomas, The Script, Safety Suit, Nickelback, Parachute, Peter Yorn, Kings of Leon--get the picture?). I happen to know who these fools are because I unfortunately watch VH1 in the mornings to "keep up with the current music." People, don't make me turn to MTV in the mornings for the other annoyances (Flo-rida, Lil Wayne, etc.). Can anyone scream GENERATION GAP?!
(2) I liked Jay Leno. I love Conan O'Brien. I just don't think Jimmy Fallon is that funny. For the most part, I don't think SNL is that funny, either, although there are a few folks in the current cast that stand out. A FEW.
(3) After years and years of delusions of grandeur, I've finally discovered that I'm pretty much average. OK, maybe slightly above average, but if average is say, 50%, then I'm about 60% or even 58%. On the average scale, it's not that much of a difference from the average Joe.
How did I come to this conclusion? I started reading Malcolm Gladwell's "Outliers." As I suspected, my quest for musical fame and glory has and always been pitiful and a huge waste of time. I was doomed before I even started. Reading "Lies My Teacher Told Me" and anything by Howard Zinn emphasizes that point.
The breaks that could have come my way never have, and apparently, in the most important years of my musical development, I did not hit the required amount of practice hours that I should have. I don't have the energy to explain--read the book for yourself. Or, if you'd rather live in a state of denial, DON'T read the book. Trust me. You don't want to go there.
On one hand, it totally frees me. I'm not going to become president (ha ha, inside joke), I'm not going to become the next female Van Cliburn (though I ruled that out about twenty years ago), and in fact, the chances that I'm going to become a full time pianist is pretty slim considering I haven't seriously practiced in about 8 years.
I had taken lessons, but have literally blown off my fabulous Russian piano teacher because in the past three weeks I haven't practiced ONCE.
Classes? Yeah, I took two classes this summer, but did two assignments, and I'm pretty sure class is over at this point. FAIL!
I just can not work full time and do all that is required to succeed in college. At 42. Or have ever, as history will show. All of my energy is spent doing these things: getting up about three hours earlier in the morning than my body is set up for, commuting for an hour on arguably the worst public transportation system in the country, and having my soul sucked at a job that (although 150% a better situation than my last job) I only tolerate having. By the time 1 pm comes around, I'm done. Fried. So whatever energy is left over is used up in the next 5 hours of work and then a horrifying Metro commute home.
Then I come home to the fiancee, who is, seriously, a wonderful person, but unemployed, which stresses me to another level. So now I'm surviving on the dregs of my reserves. And you want me to practice piano??! HAHAHAHAHAHA!! And study and read history??!!! Eat me! I sit at home and stare at the television because it does not require me to think any more than I have to. Sometimes I find a stimulating show, but more often than not, I rely on ten year old sitcoms.
I know. You're saying, "Nice pity party you're throwing." We all have our crosses to bear. Let's see what I can do to get out of this mess.
