Blissful Unemployment

I like that this here blog-thing notes the date for me; I'm appallingly bad of keeping track of time.

I've just finished a run of a Broadway show that lasted from April until now. It's a fantastic gig (I ain't kiddin), generally about 4-5 shows a week, playing in a pit with a bunch of excellent musicians who all happen to get along. It's an odd thing; I was thinking tonight that I genuinely like each and every one of them. I don't know how that happened; I used to think that musicians inevitably found themselves writhing in hideous situations, feeding off of one another's misery, which spreads like a cancer through each and every orchestra, be it manifested through bitching about one's poor pay, benefits, the conductor, section leader, the shoes on the second violinist sitting third desk outside; you name it. But either I was wrong or I've struck gold for the past six years. Personally, I think it's a little of both; there's no denying the exceptionally excellent attitudes of my co-workers, which can largely be attributed to gratitude for our season-to-season jobs and weekly paycheques, but also happens to have a lot to do with natural selection.

I've also realized that, somewhere over the course of my years, I've committed myself to the notion that I have no time for assholes. It's not to say that I never work with difficult human beings---it's that I refuse to subject myself to them if it can possibly be avoided. There is no reason on this planet that someone fortunate enough to play music for a living should be chronically crabby, and if they are, there's no reason for me to spend time with them.

Maybe it's that I went in a different direction in my studies; I never intended to be a musician. I wanted to, of course; I just didn't see it as a realistic possibility. Now it's something that I refuse to take for granted. I've sustained enough injury and illness to know that it may not continue forever and damn it, I'll enjoy it while it lasts. If I only get to play the Mozart Clarinet Quintet once, I'll savour the hell out of it. Same goes for every piece. Well, at least the ones that I like. I will admit that I occasionally come across less than appealing works, but fortunately they're few and far between. When you spend most of your life playing chamber music, you ensure that you'll have at least a 25% say in what repertoire you work on.

I'm greatly looking forward to the days to come, during which I'll rest my weary bones and tendons and pace myself as I revisit the Rebecca Clarke Sonata and some Vieuxtemps, and consider further potential recital rep. It's been years since I've played a solo recital and maybe it's time for another one.