Independence Day Musings

I just watched a Fourth of July fireworks show from the window of my hotel room. It was at quite a distance, and the sky was a bit smoky already, but well, it was something. I guess. Sigh.

For some reason today I’ve found it hard not to feel a little…grinchy…? I can’t think of a better way to express it. I felt annoyed at the people at the airport adorned in red white and blue garb, at the airline lounges serving barbeque and lemonade. I mean, fireworks are making me surly. So I’ve taken a step back to give myself the space to think it through.

I end up spending a majority of holidays working or on my way to work , away from the people I love and often alone. And while for the most part I feel like those negatives are balanced by the inherent flexibility of my schedule, sometimes musician life gets to me.

I’m missing yet another holiday, another opportunity to spend time with friends and family, another day to celebrate an important occasion, another night to enjoy multicolored explosions in the sky and just…have a good time. It’s often hard not to feel like I’m missing out on a LOT.

I’m often told how lucky I am that I make my living in the music field – “Isn’t it just wonderful to be doing what you love?” First of all, luck doesn’t have much to do with it. I’ve worked my ass off to get myself to where I am, and I continue to work my ass off to stay there. And as for doing what I love…

Yes, it’s a privilege to work in a field where creativity and personal expression are prized, and a privilege to bring joy and wonder to the people I perform for. But because most people only see the 1% of what constitutes a musician’s work – the performance itself – there’s a distinct lack of perspective.

What people don’t see is the hours of necessary tedium that is practicing an instrument or learning a score. Or the extraordinary amount of administrative work that is a part of my job, whether it be creating rehearsal orders, scripting shows, booking my travel, programming concerts within some very particular parameters, sitting in planning meetings, meeting with presenters about future artist collaborations, attending to the tax issues that arise from working in so many different states and countries.

It’s a lot of busy work. And learning scores is hours of solitary work a day – it takes me on average at least 20 hours to learn, say, an entire film score (30 hours preferred!). I spend a great deal of time creating schedules for when things need to be learned – and because I often perform every week with different repertoire and a different orchestra, I’m in a constant cycle of working on music for future weeks during performance weeks. You should see my suitcases, always full of multiple weeks’ worth of music – my Uber driver tonight could hardly get it into the trunk.

I find it hard to write about this without feeling like I’m whining about a life I chose to lead. And I’m fully cognizant of the fact that compared to many, my life is great. Amazing, even. But as my therapist keeps reminding me, while I can be aware of everyone else’s experience, I’m only living mine, and I’m allowed to feel less that positive about my life sometimes.

So, tonight is one of those nights, and I’ll get over it by tomorrow when I’ll be fully occupied with rehearsals and meetings (I’m premiering “Coco”, very excited!) I find that on those odd days I’m feeling sorry for myself, I’m actually forced to take stock of what is wonderful as well, and it’s a reminder for me to practice gratitude.

And there is so much for which to be grateful. My adventures in new cities, my friends across the globe, even those damn fireworks outside my hotel window. And I’m grateful for any reader who’s gotten this far – thanks for listening to my little rant. Writing really does help clarify things, and I can’t recommend it enough!