Master Plan, part 1

It's easy, really, to start something and leave it.  Not even approaching the unfinished stage, just kind of hanging indefinitely, forgotten and wasted.  It is this state that I must avoid not only here and now, but also in my personal endeavours, lest this blog become too telling a metaphor for my life at large.

As I keep banging on, the primary reason, I suppose, for this page (rather than carry on with the last) is different.  Even though I am still the same miserable pile of secrets, if I can at least trick myself into believing that I can make some progression then maybe I will without realising.  The real point behind this is the next step in trying to work out my issues of anxiety, self-destruction and lack of confidence.  Also, I will detail my desire for a trip far beyond the scope of anything before attempted or imagined: Portland, OR.  Hopefully though, I'll be able to avoid sounding too sorry for myself as this goes on.


Essentially, I don't believe in my own abilities.  This is the conclusion I have reached with some pretty critical self-observation.  I don't really go out of the way to sabotage myself on too regular a basis, even if it works out that way eventually.  No, simply a lack of belief is the root of my confidence - or should I say the lack thereof.  I never feel capable, and doubt immediately that I could "the right man" for anything at all, let alone in particular.  Last month's job interview was a case in point: applying for work at a well-known High Street Gentlemens' outfitters, I managed to secure an interview, receiving the phone call while I was halfway to St. Michael's Mount.  Donning finest suit and favourite tie, I went along to this rare opportunity, and was informed that while they still had enough candidates to see into the following week (although if you say you're hiring in February of course everyone will throw a CV at you), they'd inform me by letter if I wasn't being hired, or telephone me if I was.  Of course, friends and copains spring to my support: "They'd be stupid not to hire you!", "You're perfect for the job!", "When do you think you'll start?".  I found the 'thanks but no thanks' letter after returning from another amusing and gently lucrative day at the Cathedral Office, explaining that while I was not successful this time, they did wish me every success in my future career.  Brilliant.

Of course, this is a process that we all have to go through, that I'm sure many of us Music graduates find totally soul destroying.  Unlike those who took the BMus course at, oh say, the Royal Northern Conservatoire of Music, giving them four years of performing experience, even singing every day isn't strictly what I spent my time at University studying for.  I find it difficult to imagine balancing choir and an outside job as well; Church Music, much like Fond Youth, is a bubble, and precious few outside the system truly understand it.  Rehearsal starts at five in the evening during the week, not after.  Having recently leafed through my old recital folder and finding Thoreau reminded me that Charles Ives managed to balance twin careers as both an insurance agent and a composer but honestly, I am not Charles Ives.  I certainly haven't programmed any recitals for a long time (who would want to listen to solo Countertenor anyway), but at least I'm still singing every day.  The closest I really get to is in writing the programme notes for the Cathedral Choir concerts, and perhaps after the rave anecdotal reviews from the last set, I might even be lucky enough to start writing for a wider set of concerts.  Applying for work is a stressful and time consuming process as well, which takes more toll than I'm actually comfortable with letting on.  I can't just bounce back from every set back like a lot of other people can.  It's such a disappointment that I've simply quit for now; there's method in this particular madness though, as Cornwall is so seasonal that finding part time work relies on the time of year.  The fact I was called for interview in this post-Christmas but pre-Summer nadir is nothing short of a miracle.  Anyway, I called it that I wouldn't get the job, which made me predictably frustrated with everyone who took as read that I would get it, and certainly those who tried to swear me off doubt - what's the point?  If I'm not hopeful about it, then I won't get upset when (not if) I fail to secure employment.

In fact, that last sentence is another hook into the matter: I am the one who fails others, not that others fail me.  Out of all bad habits that I should seek to reverse then this has to be the worst; assuming fault where where none at all lies, usually in order to keep life quiet and as fuss-free as possible.  If anything, it has become more like a reflex than anything else.  There are of course, some things that are outside the sphere of my control, even though my sense of self blame is reaches as far as the east is from the west, but there'll be plenty of time for blaming other people for their own egregious errors later.  Trying to switch my thinking around that it is in fact the employer who is at fault for not giving me the job, is bordering on the impossible as it is; my ego doesn't have the sufficient gravity to pull off something like that.  Something I have come to terms with though is that not only are employers looking for somebody to fulfill their job spec, but they also look for a specific person.  I'm sure this is crossing a line that may well be strenuously denied or otherwise, but think about it... Why else would a person of equal or lesser qualifications generally qualify to be employed in a situation where I have also applied?  Perhaps they only employ students?  Maybe they're looking for someone with experiences gathered perhaps from time spent backpacking in the far east?  What about if they don't employ men at all - but obviously legally they must at least consider applications or suffer some sort of discriminatory backlash?  I have reached the stage where I accept that I simply am not the person that people are looking for in addition to the existing spec.  That said, I almost believe (not without an air of desperation) that there is an employer looking for me, and just me.  What a simple dream to clutch on to... But such tenacity stops me from going under most of the time, at least.

The other great hook into this is that I am more willing to face and accept my deficiencies than my strengths, to the point where I actually have to ask other people to point out the latter, the former being so obvious to me.  My entire attitude to my skills and talents is no one of triumph or pride, but really one of duty; that I'm supposed to be doing this as well as I can because I have the ability to, in a case of weak deontology if ever I saw it.  It's the reason I never have time off from choir, and make light of having a knack with the photocopier.  I know it isn't very exciting but somebody needs to know how to email straight from the copier, right?  Most of my transferable skills (other than score reading, ornamentation, registration, and rusty continuo playing) are office-based.  I'm good at filing, sorting copies, and forwarding messages.  The on again, off again employment I have at the Cathedral Office has been extraordinarily kind to me over the past 30 months, starting as just an hour a day lunchtime cover going to full two week stretches of full time days, learning the systems and phone extensions gradually, while keeping up a professional telephone manner.  It proves that I can in fact work in an office environment... But then again, this is part and parcel of my vocation, and they understand when I skip off five minutes early to get somewhere near the 5pm kick off in The Shed.  It's a small office, with less than 30 people in the building, even when everybody's here.  It's a manageable environment, and I'm bloody lucky to have been invited back again and again; not only is the money good but there are some fine souls working here who are often pleased to have me on board.  They speak in appreciative tones, and tell me how well I do.  How well I do?  I don't even think about it in that way.  It's not that I refuse praise, it's more that I don't see why I deserve it.

But perhaps this is the essence itself.  Having actually lost that delicate grasp on faith in myself, I have made things almost impossible.  Meeting this issue head on is possibly the best way forward, and certainly better than pussy footing around it all, and predictably I have no truck for this new-age 'positive thinking' nonsense either.  If I'm going to get anywhere, even with the help of others, I need to do it through effort and a couple of hours Organ practice a week.  It's amazing what even a lunchtime spent on what's left of the Cathedral Byfield will do, actually.  But I digress...

Of course, the final part is that I make it public discourse.  I don't often get much in the way of comment or discussion on here, but sometimes people do mention in public that they've at least read.  It's not so much some sort of handy guide or signpost, but more to perhaps to at least start thinking; I am grumpy, foul mouthed and infinitely critical, but it stems from the ridiculously exacting standards I hold myself to.  I'm only just beginning to understand that it might not be fair to expect other people to have even remotely similar standards.  Although why they don't is completely beyond me...  Perhaps it's an unconscious decision though, knowing that in order to make effective and valuable progress that I must at least admit and accept my vulnerabilities in order to move on.   That's also quite hard, and hardly surprising that certain people choose to cover themselves with an almost never-ending variety of lies in order to make up for it.  While I may have made great strides in telling untruths, I can hardly keep up a facade with any real consistency.  

Oh well.  I'm sure I've spent long enough unpacking my problems.  I can only hope that reading them is just as informative and illuminating as writing them has been, and critically, not totally boring.  I set a precedent for moaning last time sure but I'd like to think there's a smattering of hope and even a crumb, even a grain of understanding.  It may be my own timidity that stops me in my tracks day by day, but at least I do not witlessly believe any chance that I take will lead to glory and instant success.  Years of Science lessons have at least taught me that even the meanest of experiments need their very own risk assessment.