Skip to main content

Why Can't I Write?

Why can’t I write?

I can’t seem to have any ideas or focus this month.  I have impulses for ideas, as I am sitting in the orchestra or driving, and I make notes about them.  But I can’t seem to turn them into posts, or even particularly smart ideas. 

I’ve been busy - but I don’t actually believe that I’ve been any busier than normal.  The college year has just ended, so I have 1 and 2 half additional days in my week now, and although I did just travel to the East Coast for a major recital that I had been working very hard on as it was a different program from the two self-produced recitals I delivered a month earlier, and although I am working on promoting my Reed Boot Camp and learning a fairly unusual excerpt list for an audition and reviving the Lofstrom Concertino for a performance at IDRS in July, and trying to determine a recital program two weeks later, and although I just played the Rite of Spring this evening, I don’t see why all that and an active 2 year old should prevent me from living the life of the mind as well. 
Um.  Actually, that sounds kind of reasonable, and human.

I also discovered this morning that it is May 12.  Which means that it’s only 3 weeks until the Sunburst Half Marathon, which I was absolutely planning to do, and that in fact I have not yet run longer than 9 miles this year, and that was weeks ago.  The calendar is ganging up on me. 



In fact, this will all be fine.  I’m practicing well, and the future performances are on their way to being good.  Zoe is awesome.  If I can run ten miles tomorrow and maybe twelve next week I can make it through the race easily, even if I’m not on track to PR.  This blog that I love is completely optional, and as my head comes back together I will no doubt have more to say.  No one is sitting at their computer hitting Refresh over and over again, impatiently waiting for the next Prone Oboe gem.   Or if they are, they should really find something more productive to do - I can’t be responsible for that kind of neediness.

So, just so you know, I’m working on it.  And on myself.  Summer will be busy, but a different, change-of-pace kind of busy, and I hope to get myself recharged over the next few weeks and months.   New plans, new posts, new programs. 

I love my life.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Blog has MOVED

 Have you been waiting ... and waiting ... and WAITING for a new Prone Oboe post?  Don't wait here anymore!  The blog has moved to https://jennetingle.com/prone-oboe/  and will not be updated here on Blogger anymore.  Please come and check me out there!  I love you all - stay safe out there!  Jennet

How Do You WISH You Could Describe Your Reeds?

In Reed Club last Monday, we took a moment before we started scraping to set some intentions.  We each said one word - an adjective to describe what we WANTED our reeds to be.  An aspirational adjective. Efficient was a word that came up, and Consistent . Dark and Mysterious . Mellow . Predictable .  Trustworthy .  Honest .  BIGGER . Reed affirmations actually felt helpful - both in the moment and in the results we found as we worked.  I don't know why that surprises me - I set intentions at the beginning of the year, at the beginning of the month, at the beginning of a run, in the morning before I work.  I love a good affirmation.  I love WORDS.  But I'd sort of forgotten about the possibility of applying one to the mundane work of reed-making.   You don't have to know exactly how to GET to that result.  But having clarity in your mind about what that result is?  Helps you to stop going down unhelpful rabbit holes...

Don't Wait For It

 Don’t wait for it. The lowest notes on the oboe are notoriously difficult to play. They don’t want to speak, they MIGHT splatter, they are SLOW to respond, they feel flat. And if your instrument is even slightly out of adjustment, they can be even more resistant - sometimes literally impossible. And some students WAIT for that low note to come before they go on, and THIS disrupts the rhythm, the tempo, the flow of the piece, and the musical line they are trying to create.  It distracts the listeners, it throws the ensemble off.  The pianist has to lurch to catch them, the conductor has to stop and yell.   One missed note, or one note that doesn’t quite speak - THAT doesn’t ruin your communication. But the distraction and disruption for both you and your listener that happens when YOU acknowledge the problem, when YOU make us all wait patiently for the response of a low C - that’s when you lose us. I think every low note has three possibilities within it. 1. It ...