It's hard not to place your value in success. Some days it's harder than others.
I could sum up this day as being rather depressive. I don't feel depressed per se, but I feel the world around me is. Things hit a peak this afternoon as I was trying to decide how to evaluate success's value. Am I a good musician when I practice everyday? Am I a bad musician when I don't? If I get into a great summer festival, does that establish my credibility? Does failing to properly prepare for an audition take away any credibility I had? These are all very relevant questions right now. I used to practice everyday; then I didn't. Now I'm trying to get back to doing that. I didn't get into or get to go to a festival for a couple of years. I felt crappy about it. I went to an amazing summer festival this last year and while things weren't perfect, I felt on top of the world. This was all going through my head as my friend and I decided not to go to our audition this coming Monday. We both weren't well enough prepared and didn't have the money to waste on travel and a hotel when we knew we wouldn't get in. I'm beyond the point of kicking myself for not working harder. I can't decide if that scares me or not. It makes me sick how I learn more from failure than success.
It all had to be brought together with class today: Career Development. Such a terrible class on so many levels, and yet, it also has a lot to offer at the same time. It's hard to explain, but if you were there you would probably understand. Our clarinet professor came in to talk to us today. He mostly talked about competitions and things of that sort. It was really hard not to feel overwhelmed during his lecture. Seeing all that he had done, in comparison to my life at this point, and see what he had to do to be successful. It was a lot to swallow without choking on your own fears. I feel stuck in such an odd place right now; unmotivated to move or think, yet screaming from inside to do something with myself.
After class all I could do was go to the gym. I couldn't practice, I could only run. I proved to myself I can do it. It won't really make any sense to anyone else. I ran, almost constantly, for 3 miles today. I concentrated for almost the entire time: A big step forward as of late. I've been so afraid to push myself lately. I don't know if it's because I'm afraid I won't make it or if when I completely spend myself I'll find that it's not enough. I think it's the latter. It's at times easier to rest on the thought that you have the power to make it but choose not to, than to make the effort to try and fail. But, at the same time I've been told my entire life that I have such potential, if only I could concentrate and use my brain when I play… Living life on unfulfilled potential is as painful as it sounds.
Today I painted two different paintings. One of them I had sketched out while working backstage crew duty. The other one was completely fly by the seat of my inspirational pants. It's the first time that I've painted in almost a year. The last one I did was my 3 circle blue swirl. It is the first time though that I didn't completely enjoy doing it. I enjoyed the physical act of painting them, but I didn't enjoy the end result nearly as much as I had in past. I'm sure I'll enjoy them later, but it took me aback at my lack of usual response. I expected a sense of accomplishment, a satisfactory soothing to my senses. While the more I look at them the more I like them, the sense of accomplishment was less than satisfactory. I have one more painting I want to do, that I've been meaning to do for quite a while. I might wait to do that one until this feeling passes. I know what I want, and I want it to be as rewarding as I know it should be.
I can't imagine being a real painter. Giving up your paintings. It's such a selfish thing for me, each one is so personal. I don't know if I could give up most of my paintings. It's interesting how painting differs with music. Yet, it's the same. You paint trying to express something, about yourself or something that you're feeling. It doesn't matter what's going on around you or who's looking. As long as you like it, that's what matters. But, on some level, painting wouldn't be the same without the idea that you share it with someone. Someone gets to see what you are feeling or thinking; make their own connections. Music is the same way. Maybe on some level you play for your own appeasement, but on another it wouldn't be the same if someone else didn't get to hear it as well.
Share.
I guess that's what it really comes down to. Success might on some level be selfish, but in the end, it's only about who you can share it with.
