My Mind is a Blank.

You know those dreams where you’re at work or school, right before you have to do something important, and in your dream you can’t remember a SINGLE thing about what you’re doing?  It’s all gone – the topic you’re presenting, the lesson plan, the ability to manage a multiple-line telephone without hanging up on anybody, whatever it is that’s stressing out your subconscious.

This happens to me in real life.

My day job (one of them, anyway) is more of a morning/afternoon/evening job, sometimes all three on the same day.  I play the piano professionally at two universities, classical piano (so please do not ask me to play anywhere that there might be a goldfish bowl for tips on the piano and people requesting “You know, the theme from Titanic, it’s all, like, la la la la laaa laaaaa”).  Most of what I do involves playing the piano for instrumental and vocal music performance majors when they perform their solos.  This means MANY hours in practice rooms, and since I live in the Pacific Northwest, the dress code can be fairly casual even at the university level.  I figure if the professors are showing up to class in jeans and Birkenstocks (with socks, of course), they can’t really complain about my jeans, hoodie, and Converse sneakers.  But for performances, it’s the whole shebang – black high heels, black stockings, black satin, black sparkles, black chiffon, and more Lycra underneath than I care to think about.

There is something about a performance evening that occasionally makes my brain go into a scary little world of its own.  (It could be the Undergarments Of Steel cutting off circulation, but I prefer not to investigate this possibility too closely since I neeeed my extra-strength thigh-shaping pantyhose.  And one particular industrial-strength “unmentionable” is absolutely essential for playing Brahms.  Trust me on this.)  I’ll sit down at the huge black grand piano, with the audience’s welcoming applause still echoing in the performance hall.  The stage lights make everything glow, and I look at the open score laid out on the piano’s music rack, the angular beauty of the notes and staves and phrase markings in stark contrast to the creamy white of the pages.

And my brain says, “Ohhhh, pretty!  Look at all the little black dots!”

And the rational part of me says, “Oh, CRAP.”  I know how to play the piano.  I’ve been doing it for since before the soloist was born, and oh dear, she’s looking at me with an expectant smile, waiting for her tuning note.  Clarinet, clarinet, what does she need … a B-flat!  If I think about it, I won’t be able to find it, so I let my hand locate it without thought – oh good, she looks happy enough, I’ll play it again.  F, she needs an F now … yep, that’s an F.

While she tunes her instrument, I look more closely at this lovely wilderness of black and white.  It’s kind of pretty, actually.  All those wavy lines, and the dots, and words in Italian!  It appears to be decorated, too – delicately drawn pencil lines connecting some of the dots, and inexplicable notes in my handwriting:  “Wait for cue.”  “Look up Irwin/Hall recording.”  “Breathe!”  (Breathe?  Isn’t that HER job?!)  And worse, things like “no accel [scribble] the [illegible] WATCH!!!!”  With little eyeballs drawn over it.  Apparently it’s crucial.  I have no idea what it means.

Somehow, even in that nauseatingly vile moment where I suddenly do not know how to play the piano, it always works out.  I always smile encouragingly at my soloist, put my hands in the right place on the keyboard (how do they know where to go?), we breathe together so our first entrance is perfectly together (so THAT’s what that means), and oh, bliss … it’s the Brahms Sonata No. 2 for Clarinet and Piano and of course I know how to play the piano, this is what I do, this is who I am.

It all works out.  Which is encouraging at the moment, when I’m sitting in front of my computer with a brand new blog, and can’t think of a single word to write.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to My Mind is a Blank.

  1. Bee says:

    P.S. Here – Jon Manasse on clarinet and the marvelous, wonderful Jon Nakamatsu on piano. Try it, you might like it. YES, even YOU, who hates classical music, so quit glaring at me.

    • manofewords says:

      Very nice, indeed. I imagine I’m a bit rusty now, myself. Haven’t played in a long time.

      NJ All State Orchestra, 1983-1984
      Second Chair E flat alto clarinet

      There’s a record (remember those?)here somewhere with me on it, I’ll have to go look for it now. It was a real thrill at the time having my name on the jacket.

      • Bee says:

        All-State Orchestra! When I was in high school, that was a step up from All-State Band, for wind players anyway. I was a really terrible flutist and a decent piccoloist, but I never bothered auditioning on those. I went to All-State Choir my junior year – second soprano, not that I actually had that great a voice, but after all that time of leading sectionals and teaching people their parts, I could read darn near ANYTHING. One of the best musical experiences I’ve ever had, and since music is my whole line of work, that’s saying something!

        Mine was a cassette tape, though. What is this “record” you speak of?

  2. Anna says:

    You’re off to a good start!

    • Bee says:

      How did you find me, Anna? I’m delighted, but baffled!

      I am so tired I started typing “fabbled” instead of “baffled.” I actually kind of like it. And an exhaustive – OK, extremely cursory – search of the internet indicates that it does not have a meaning yet. Which means it’s totally available, and I can make it mean “really SUPER baffled” if I want to! AWESOME.

  3. A friend of mine is a musician (very accomplished) and now I wonder if she goes blank, too.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s