I am my own worst enemy.
As always, I am behind. The only feet I have left really are back ones, and when told to "put my best foot forward" I am wracked with confusion. Anyway, that's enough barely amusing jokes. Last week I posted the biography that I'll be using for the concert I'll be singing solo in with Truro Choral Society this weekend. I decided to post it with minimal advertisement as this is where everything I publish ends up, and it's always here if I need it for another concert. Basically the only thing that will change is the centre paragraph because that's the one that reflects actual singing work at this time. The rest is all preamble and stuff intended to persuade the reader that I am in fact a normal member of society, and not just some subversive countertenor (wait a minute...) after all. Oh, except for "In preparing for postgraduate study, he is writing to a weekly schedule...". What happened to that? Aha... The road to hell is paved with good intentions, don't forget. Even I have lost count how many times I've said and written something just like that and then promptly not done so. Hypocrisy at its best.
I suppose the central problem is confidence, the lack thereof. I said recently in conversation that my confidence and self-belief are finite supplies; I ran out long ago. Every now and again I get hold of some but then it fritters away (shades of psalm 39), and we are back to square one (which square?). Or worse! We are even behind that starting point! God isn't it awful... Change is difficult and exceptionally slow to implement for me, but it's there (no really it is I promise please believe me), which makes me wonder just what the hell I'm going to do about this verkakte schedule I'm supposed to be keeping to. In having a schedule, I might just be able to reinstate order into my life out of all this time of chaos, rather than live a life of dead-end fucking boredom. There are probably lots of times where it isn't my fault I am so truly awful to and about myself, times when I have been used, abused, vilified, ostracized in my own home or just straight up insulted by somebody who wasn't me (who would ever want to do that I mean honestly?)... But then perhaps my defence has been inadequate?
Perhaps though, in establishing a weekly round-up, I can actually make myself do things as well. I have stopped listening to music unless it's in preparation for some specific occasion - but when one's life has a musical regularity like mine does a bit of silence every now and again doesn't hurt. I've returned to the cinema (certainly compared to my previous life as a University student), but still mainly watch crap designed to entertain and make money, rather than say anything profound (and still make money). Then there is the thorny issue of going back to study itself: An aborted application to Falmouth Uni at the end of August has been belayed a new plan that will need a lot of very careful consideration; it is likely to take me away from here and I need to think about this one very hard indeed. That said though, I probably won't go through with it. Even my cooking has fallen by the wayside recently, which is unforgivably poor, so I must really actually and very vitally get my act back together. I am conscious of being able to help myself more effectively than you would expect, but it doesn't half take a long time to get going. I've had a lot of fight knocked out of me over the recent past, and losing that has been more disastrous than one might first consider. In many ways the War Requiem over the weekend was a great rallying call, something to fight through an 84-piece orchestra and disconcertingly difficult intervals for. I think another central issue is that I just don't do enough. But then, I don't do much because I don't put myself forward for anything and that's because I don't have any confidence yes! *drum roll*
What happens next? I start writing, you keep reading, I keep posting and you tell your friends about how good I am, yeah? Since I'm so late to the party I'll have to start with reviewing things that I've had for a while in order to build the momentum, perhaps a few more responses to concert repertoire like the last post as well - those who knew my relationship with Peter might well have been surprised that I was bothered at all but at no point did I ever take him for a fool, doubt the reasoning process that was behind his decision making and at the end of the day, I would like to think that he would have been impressed and pleased that I was part of such monumental performances. His sometimes low opinion of "everyday" countertenors, Songmen like myself now, spurred me on to prove him wrong.
Having a routine will presumably keep me away from the pub as well. As usual, it's not exactly my liver I'm worried about but more my bank balance; I might be out of my overdraft for the first time in almost half a decade, but paying all my rent myself (oh boo hoo) isn't going to leave me with much pocket money at the end of the month. I must once again cherish the value of things I already have rather than buy more in an empty hope of improving my life. I once read that buying things in order to cheer yourself up is as effective as stapling sandwiches to yourself when hungry. Think about it.
I may well be my own worst enemy, but especially at this time of remembrance, it's worth making peace.
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