This morning's story posted by minimum_wage gave me a pause.
Things wash up on the shores of our lives all the time. Sometimes wrecked, sometimes intact. Sometimes they rub up against us for awhile, then drift away.
Let the flotsam and jetsam rattle around your mind today and come back later with a couple of lines or a picture or poem. What's washed up on your "shore" lately?
What's drifted back into the cosmic sea? (Be well 8bit. Find your way.)
I washed up on your shore
and discovered it was a foreign land
and slowly
slowly I learned the language
of coldness
and distance
and drifted on and washed up on another shore
where masks were worn
by all
I learned the language
of shouting
muffled shouting
hands on ears
I drifted on and rode ashore on a wrecked ship
a tempest-tossed, Twelfth Night shipwreck
mistaken identities, disguise
a comedy of errors and silliness it seemed like a good place to rest awhile
and wait
for the rainbow.intense feelings of inferiority and worry about the future have washed up on my shore. What am I doing with my life? how can I succeed? How will i be able to negotiate transition with my chosen career? Does applying to a doctorate imply my failure? Does thinking about and worrying abut failure mean I have already failed?
well, I'm not in the best of moods after a truly horrendous orchestral rehearsal (in which i was having one of those days where you just like, forget how to play your instrument), but I'll attempt a few answers.
Much of my fears of insecurity and inferiority are coming from my upcoming post-grad auditions. I have a lesson with a potential teacher tomorrow, in fact. I often feel very, very behind in some areas when compared to others on my academic level. I really feel like my orchestral playing (especially excerpts, which are standard for job auditions) is sub-par in comparison to other graduate students. Considering it's almost impossible to make it as a bass soloist, I find my lack of orchestral chops disturbing.
I'm also considering applying for doctoral programs next year, after my post-grad "professional studies diploma". Now, normally going for a Doctorate is seen as being a good thing, but someone once told me that any musician going for their doctorate is a musician who failed to get a gig in an orchestra. They were perhaps a bit cynical, but not exactly wrong. I don't know any bassists in orchestras who have doctorates - masters degrees are more common, but even then not completely necessary.
However, I am starting to feel a pull towards teaching at the post-secondary level. To do that and have a tenured position, it is almost necessary to have a doctorate. I also don't feel like I'm good enough to get a job in an orchestra. I am afraid to fail (just like every other human, i guess).
I'm also afraid of my transition. I mean, I want to transition, and am on the road to HRT, but what does that mean for me in my career as a musician? will it hinder me when I go to apply for work? Will I end up getting a job somewhere where trans rights are nonexistent? Will I ever be able to "Pass" and just live my life?
Idunno man.
Thanks for your answers sp00ns.
You definitely are coping with a lot and your questions are the biggest ones. The questions really grabbed my attention.
- What am I doing with my life?
- How can I succeed?
- Does thinking about and worrying abut failure mean I have already failed?
People who say that a musician going for a PhD is a musician who failed to get a gig in an orchestra sound like people who have nothing better to do than make judgements based on prejudice and stupidity. Teaching is nothing to apologize for.
I've just been reading a little book called Do the Work. It's essentially about all the obstacles that stop people from going after big ideas.
As for being able to pass and live your life - that would be a wonderful thing. People do. I hope you are talking to them.
What am I doing with my life? how can I succeed? How will i be able to negotiate transition with my chosen career? Does applying to a doctorate imply my failure?
thanks for the book recommendation. it'll be at my house by friday.
Of the happy and tragic people, places, and events that have washed up on my shore, I can find and relive them in seconds. Technology is shrinking the oceans between us.
That quiet, beautiful girl named Sue that I crushed on in middle school 25 years ago? there she is on Facebook.
That tropical island oasis in the pacific off the coast of Taiwan where I spent three priceless days with my dad? There it is on google STREET VIEW.
That professor I loved in college? There's his obituary and some photos on google.
And perhaps nothing is washing up on my shore… but I've been fortunate enough to wash up on others' shores. Either way - it's good to be alive.
I believed that flotsam and jetsam were simply beach debris, but when I looked it up, I learned this:
flotsam is floating wreckage of a ship or its cargo.
Jetsam is part of a ship, its equipment, or its cargo that is purposely cast overboard, jettisoned to lighten the load in time of distress and is washed ashore.
so if you are jetsam . . .
Lagan (also called ligan is goods or wreckage that is lying on the bottom of the ocean, sometimes marked by a buoy, which can be reclaimed.
Derelict is cargo that is also on the bottom of the ocean, but which no one has any hope of reclaiming (in other maritime contexts, derelict may also refer to a drifting abandoned ship).
so according to this, only jetsam is washed to shore.
I wonder if pondscum also has categories.
In this digital age, it's rare to receive any "snail mail" of any interest. However, the other day I received this wonderful artifact from a dear friend. It washed up on my shore and brought a huge smile to my face.
I saw that film and that VHS box cover hundreds of times as a kid. Those ladies of Meatballs were my first foray in to the world of T&A. Bill Murray and Rudy the rabbit taught me that conviction and training win the race.
From that movie on, I was forever nookie bound
Thanks for this keep sake!
I don't know. I guess this masters degree. Though I am enjoying it, in some ways I feel like the only reason it came about was through my parents persuasion that it would be best. To be fair, I was sinking into a static state after my undergraduate studies and this seemed the best option on the table.
I just feel that as much as I enjoy music in all it forms and expressions, I'm still missing something. As if there's something else I should be doing, or need to let out/discover I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it's trivial, a misguided ideal derived from a cliché early 20s search for meaning. Who knows.
In my sleep I'm not your lover anymore
When I wake I have to remind myself that I'm lyin' on your shore...My ship floats, but recent storms have stripped it of amenities, gentleness and most meaningful adornment. I shall soon spend time by the shore patching holes, collecting pearls from the bivalve books populating the surf, whispering truth to those who care to listen. I will warm myself with salty driftwood fire, and return to the waves ere long.
A ship is safe in the harbor, but that's not what ships are for.
I realize that I spend most of my life listening to language as if it were all metaphor. Whatever people say, I see it also as metaphor. So a description like yours, of - I imagine - your life, seems quite understandable. Stay warm. I love this:
- collecting pearls from the bivalve books populating the surf
Like waves, always waves.
Never something more stable -
Never something that would change,
Never something that wouldn't come back to the same place.
Never something that would Ever change.
Ever something that would Never stay the same.
Always alive -
but never living.