The Fifth Lie

I am not a musician. What I do is just a hobby, something done for recreation. I can hardly even justify the time I use; it would be better if I could play an instrument that didn't require so much physical skill so I did not have to waste time on it every day...
LIE

Throughout December, I stayed away from the trumpet. I was actually doing okay. I thought I would just pick-it-up again later, when I really deserved to spare the time. It was the first of three months on this visa and I could not have anticipated the place I would find myself by month three. I have resumed playing and brought myself close to the levels I maintained before I left for my mission, give or take a little.

When I left for college, I dropped my practice habits. Music was not central to my career path anymore, even though I wanted it to be. I was not good enough; I could not be the superlative trumpet player when I could not even make the school of music so I did not want to be a trumpet player anymore at all. I almost chuckle to know how I started playing again: an alcove under a bridge beckoned me! It should come as no surprise that I play in a limestone cave these days-- and love it.

...though I miss those Michigan rivers, both the Red Cedar and the Grand. I wish that the neighbor had not complained about me. Part of me wants the roof-top, again...

The judge says I missed my chance. Does that not just figure? The judge in me says I missed my chance to be relevant as a musician and so I should go be relevant at something else--and I inevitably fail at the other thing because my soul is too drained.

The victim says I suck. The victim in me knows all the ways I suck at any particular moment. I think I mostly shed the victim right after some girl from Muskegon stomped on my heart. "I don't give a ____ what I sound like. I FEEL like ____ and this is all that seems to work..."

Truth: First of all, I don't suck. Let's just get that out of the way. Give me long enough, I will play by ear. Hand me piano music, I can transpose it on sight. When no one is looking, I improvise a little. My tone and expression improve with age, even if my tongue is slower. I never was one of those machine-gun tongued, high-screeching players. I used to want to be one. I can play "The Nearness of You" soft and a little fuzzy~ that suits my purposes much better.

But all of that is beside the point because music is a part of my total being. I was given this gift to help me process emotions. I do not need to justify taking time to play any more than I would to write or exercise.

Not much more needs to be said: I AM a musician. Even the other musicians in the Zoughbi compound say so. ...we jam, baby...