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I had a long conversation with Carl Applebaum today when I went to pick up Baby and my new bow. We talked so long Scott abandoned the prospect of further tonal adjustments and started gluing the bouts of a violin in the back. Had to drag myself out of the office and then wait for the tricky gluing to be done so he could fiddle with Baby's afterlength.
Through it all, my little brother sat on the couch with his novocaned jaw and moaned.
Carl was wondering about my futile design job hunt, and he suggested that I might try something instead - something I haven't every seriously considered.
Making a living off of music.
Before I even touch on all the soul-searching that brought on, I have to say that having someone who's ear I respect, who knows both me and my abilities (and has since I was nine), say that I have the skill to perform and teach is really something - one of the best pats my ego's had in months.
There are a few nice things about having 'the career talk' with Carl as opposed to the majority of adult aquaintances in Oly. Among others, he understands the thrill of creation, of having a solid product to a day's work, that makes me take the directions I do. As important, he doesn't work for the state. For those of you unfamiliar with Olympia, state government is the local industry. I've been refering to it as the company mine, and this ergonomic, well regulated, diversity-accepting company mine scares the shit out of me.
People that I like, practical people who've been my parents' friends since my childhood, are helpfuly giving me advice on joining the rat-race. Sensible people. On the other hand are more recent friends, people I've met through my own activies or interests, musicians and sailors and artists, people who know how to kick back after a long day without bringing up tedious work-a-day problems, and the path they suggest is different.
Evan Harris, captain of the R. Tucker Thompson, says "Get yourself a ship."
With my circulation, the chances of me suddenly setting sail or small to non-existant, but a metaphorical ship is not to be sneezed at.
My parents don't agree, are maybe unable to agree. They supported me through university, didn't question my choice of major, but can't comprehend that the 'unreliable' lifestyle that accompanies it might be a good choice. At some level they think I should not be allowed freedom because it was never an option for them. This is not me being bitter; my father has TOLD me this. I can't even bring the subject up easily - I can't explain the deep fear of lifetime state-office employment to my mother whose sense of self-worth is entirely wrapped up in her just-above-secretarial state job!
My father, when I tried to talk with him, looked disapointed. He told me to keep in mind my 'direction', said that he didn't want me 'cutting off my options', that if I tried to take the independent path now I might end up stuck with the secretarial path later.
How can I argue with that, except to say taht in my gut I think he's wrong? These are the people who have been around, been supportive, and offered good advice for my whole life.
Suddenly, getting out of the house seems more than a matter of post-teen-angst.
In theory, it comes down to one choice: Do what you love now and hope that eventually it will make you money, or do something to make money and hope that eventually you'll find time to do what you love.
It might be that both ways fail, but the first way people have a chance of a good time trying.
Les gens raisonnable
N'ont pas la belle vie
ils regardent les gens pas raisonnable
et bien souvent, ils les envie
-Mickey 3D
Through it all, my little brother sat on the couch with his novocaned jaw and moaned.
Carl was wondering about my futile design job hunt, and he suggested that I might try something instead - something I haven't every seriously considered.
Making a living off of music.
Before I even touch on all the soul-searching that brought on, I have to say that having someone who's ear I respect, who knows both me and my abilities (and has since I was nine), say that I have the skill to perform and teach is really something - one of the best pats my ego's had in months.
There are a few nice things about having 'the career talk' with Carl as opposed to the majority of adult aquaintances in Oly. Among others, he understands the thrill of creation, of having a solid product to a day's work, that makes me take the directions I do. As important, he doesn't work for the state. For those of you unfamiliar with Olympia, state government is the local industry. I've been refering to it as the company mine, and this ergonomic, well regulated, diversity-accepting company mine scares the shit out of me.
People that I like, practical people who've been my parents' friends since my childhood, are helpfuly giving me advice on joining the rat-race. Sensible people. On the other hand are more recent friends, people I've met through my own activies or interests, musicians and sailors and artists, people who know how to kick back after a long day without bringing up tedious work-a-day problems, and the path they suggest is different.
Evan Harris, captain of the R. Tucker Thompson, says "Get yourself a ship."
With my circulation, the chances of me suddenly setting sail or small to non-existant, but a metaphorical ship is not to be sneezed at.
My parents don't agree, are maybe unable to agree. They supported me through university, didn't question my choice of major, but can't comprehend that the 'unreliable' lifestyle that accompanies it might be a good choice. At some level they think I should not be allowed freedom because it was never an option for them. This is not me being bitter; my father has TOLD me this. I can't even bring the subject up easily - I can't explain the deep fear of lifetime state-office employment to my mother whose sense of self-worth is entirely wrapped up in her just-above-secretarial state job!
My father, when I tried to talk with him, looked disapointed. He told me to keep in mind my 'direction', said that he didn't want me 'cutting off my options', that if I tried to take the independent path now I might end up stuck with the secretarial path later.
How can I argue with that, except to say taht in my gut I think he's wrong? These are the people who have been around, been supportive, and offered good advice for my whole life.
Suddenly, getting out of the house seems more than a matter of post-teen-angst.
In theory, it comes down to one choice: Do what you love now and hope that eventually it will make you money, or do something to make money and hope that eventually you'll find time to do what you love.
It might be that both ways fail, but the first way people have a chance of a good time trying.
Les gens raisonnable
N'ont pas la belle vie
ils regardent les gens pas raisonnable
et bien souvent, ils les envie
-Mickey 3D
no subject
Date: 2005-07-22 06:07 pm (UTC)From:Yeah...I don't even mind some of that 'stability' if it's in either a. a job I like or b. a job I don't dislike that I won't get too attached to.
Thing is, giant office employment is a big black hole that sucks away the rest of your life.
Yesterday dad was actually saying that he thought that doing indepedent things was going to 'distract me from my direction' and 'cut off my options.' WTF? Somehow, I thought doing something I enjoy was my best direction...and I fail to see how using my skills to the best of my ability would cut off options.