Career Chek

11-13-99

Not a whole terrible lot to report today, nor yesterday. Work in the morning, hang around with John in the afternoon. The dogs are well-behaved, and nobody has worms, so everyone goes outside to poop, and that means I have very little poopy-mess to sponge up. That makes me happy.

Today we went to the base and I gave him a lesson in euphonium. That doesn't mean that I'm better than he is. John and I studied with different people for over 20 years, so we learned to focus on different aspects of performance. Now that we're out of school, we're trying to learn to kick each other's asses into practicing, so we're giving lessons. He asked me to listen to him today. My best teaching subject concerns air (the "wind" of my wind and song entry.) Taking it into the lungs, moving it out, puting air through the horn, etc. I teach my students to breathe before I teach them anything else.

My first serious euphonium teacher did that; it was the area where I had the most trouble with my own playing, so that's the area I now know the most about. John felt like his breathing was getting lazy, shallow, and he needed a little refresher lesson.

The area in which I have the most trouble now is getting in a chair and practicing my damn horn. John doesn't have that much trouble making himself practice, so he's having a blast giving me assignments and threatening me to make me practice. You know, it's not so easy to take him seriously. I always was a bitch of a student, as any of my teachers will attest. Motivation, motivation, motivation.

I'm starting to feel a little funny about my doggy job. I've only had it for a week, and already I'm making up reasons to get out. Do I really hate working so much? I keep asking myself if there's anything that would make me happy.

Thing is, when I get to work, it's really not that bad. I let the dogs out, clean their cages, clean the cat cages, and feed everyone. Then I do the dishes and the laundry. Then I let the dogs out again, ask the doctor if there's anything I can do for him, and I go home. On the weekends I go in twice a day and let the dogs out. That's all. On Thursdays I stay late, till, like, 5. The other days I'm outta there way before 2. Boo fucking hoo.

I'm home in time to teach in the evenings. This job is perfect for me, so why do I want to quit? What is my problem? No customers, no phones, very few coworkers; only dogs, cats, poop (lots of poop,) and dishes. And I get home from work before I used to wake up. I shower and it's like waking up; I go about my daily business.

I'm figuring on sticking around there as long as it takes for me to set up my musical thing around here. When I get a jillion students and my music classes and everything all set up, then I'll quit my poopy job and be a musician. John pointed out today that I've done exactly what I said I would do when I got down here. I was going to get a job until the music thing happened. "Well," I complained, "I was going to practice all the time and record a CD and play recitals and...." John's husbandly reply: "Bets, nobody ever thought you were really going to do those things."

Well, fuck me. He does know me pretty well, then. No wonder Professors Sinder and Kaenzig were so compliant when I said I wanted to "come up to Michigan after Christmas, and like, do a recital tour? Like, three or four concerts at different colleges?" They knew me better than I knew me.

I've found the coolest brand of generic soda. It's from Winn Dixie and it's called Chek. Chek and Diet Chek come in all different flavors, but it's always called Chek. Lemon Lime Chek, Diet Cola Chek, etc. The funniest thing, though: Root Beer flavored Diet Chek: even when it's warm, it seems like it's semi-cold. John came home from TDY yesterday and I offered him a "warm Diet Chek?" He declined politely, so I opened one and explained the Diet Chek phenomenon. He "Cheked" it out and concurred: warm Diet Chek really does taste cold.

Well, Anna's having another of her margarita parties this evening, so I'm getting this entry up before it's too late.