Sunday, April 27, 2014

Rain Delay Contemplation

I have been forced indoors by the elements of weather.  I can stand a bit of rain, but lashing big droplets thrust against my face by cold Fairfield winds do tend to force my gardening instincts into submission.  Oh, look, now the sun is shining...aaaa, still raining.  I'll act like I don't notice, that'll get Mr. Sunshine to work harder.

I am contemplating now what I should do instead.  I can't go anywhere since our one car is being used by the second owner of it.  I could go and paint, Heaven and God and me all know I should and could go and paint. I should do another presentation of Brahms while the house is empty, Heaven and crew know well how badly I really SHOULD be doing that.  I could clean the house...naaaa.  I could draw my weekly drawing, could do that.  I could practice my piano lessons.  How did I ever think I could easily learn how to play a piano with both hands?  Why did I think I had natural skills waiting to be brought out?  Well, I suppose that awkward sound is my natural skill, true.  Just like all things we enjoy, there's a lot more to it than what we hear, or see.

And now I see the Mariners have lost again.  I can live with that, it doesn't make me want to give up watching or following them, another game, tomorrow is a new day.   What really bugs me is how the fans react.  It used to only be radio phone in shows that I would enjoy.  Usually the super negative callers were funny, just dug themselves deeper into negative land.  But this online "freedom of comment" bothers me a lot.  Do people really think it's that easy to walk out there and win a game?  Whatever happened to true sportsmanlike manners.  Losing is not only for the losers in the world.  Only one team wins, we all know that, and we prefer to see our beloved team win for sure.  But the disgusting negative comments do just that, disgust me.  Like all things in life we venture to succeed at, not ending on top is not supposed to tell us we are a bag of shit who should not be given the right to try.  Are fans that extreme in their poor-loser comments?  Not all, but when I read one, that does it for me, I go and garden or paint or sing, sheeeesh!

Now I am contemplating this need to be best in life.  Okay, that never ending puzzle of why we need to compete at every waking moment we breath through.  We, I say we as in my own reactions, I have no idea how other people feel as they go through life.  I know I like to do well at whatever I choose to do at any given moment.  I am beginning to feel ashamed of my weedy garden that puts a blotch on the street where all the houses are meant to look well looked after and impressive.  Every home is meant for that, not just our street.  As the human naturalists that we are, we place our homes next to each other, pride in what is our's, and must keep up with each other in looking well looked after.  A sense of pride happens when we own a home.  I wonder where Mr. Sense-of-Pride is?  Good question.

I wonder what those coaches are saying to the Mariners now.  I have to think the role of teaching is one of the most difficult jobs in the world.  Any failure at all becomes their fault.  If the ones they are teaching look uninspired and frustrated, how do you turn that around?  It's not about ONE person, it's an overall team effort.  Like my choir, a team effort of sound.  I can think of days of feeling like I am totally on the same sound board as the rest of the singers.  And in a low mood, can convince myself that I am far from anyone's level at all, just treading water, if there was a bench, I'd keep it warm.  I do, however, know that what I decide inside my own over-imaginative brain holds no other power than to either help me, or hurt me.  No one is going to yell at me for not hitting it out of the park.  Perhaps if I was an opera singer that kind of pressure might be on me, perhaps.  So I keep telling myself to keep working, listen to my teachers, keep going, and I will be fine.

Now the sun is shining and the rain has stopped.  Back to my competition gardening I go!

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