I’m Not Always Right, But I’m Never Wrong

I stand by this.

By *this,* I mean my decision to start and maintain this blog, as infrequently as I may post. 10 years after my first post, it is more true than ever that I have to be intentional about remembering my wins. Apparently, ‘What Have You Done for Me Lately‘ is how I view myself. It seems like I don’t have ‘Control‘ over my negative unkind ‘Nasty’ thoughts.

Anyhow, it’s never a bad time to reflect upon how I came to live in a ‘Rhythm Nation’.

Why Did I Start Music Lessons? How Did You Choose an Instrument?

One of my mother’s graduate school professors commented on my lithe fingers as a Baby J. They enrolled me in piano lessons when I was 4, and I am told that I got through 3 years of music study before I realized that I had not asked to do it. I guess I was having a good time. 🙂 I am not one to wish I was a child again, but I rather like that this was chosen for me – having confidence in your parents’ discernment is a big deal. The rest has always been up to me, which, again, I rather like.

Who Encouraged You Along the Way? How?

My parents deserve the biggest shout out for not just logistics and finance, but cheerleading. Not just at recitals, but during my daily practice. Successful daily practice enabled the recitals that my extended family, friends, and teachers attended. I cannot think about my music study without thinking about all of the love in my life. It amazes me that people took time out of their day to listen to a child play the piano.

What Experiences Were the Most Impactful?

Dude. Piano Camp. My parents dropped me off at the Indiana University School of Music Piano Academy in 2000 and 3 weeks later, I was a different pianist. It was like a revival – I could not get enough piano and piano literature when I returned home.

I must say that I both live and die by the applause. Losing competitions stick with me more than any that I won – how did it matter that I was talented if others performed better, even in a moment? It’s not as though my parents ever cheered me less, so I can’t say I felt pressure in that sense. That being said, the fact that I didn’t win 100% of the time didn’t make piano study any less wonderful, even if I thought less of my ability to play in relation to others. Thinking about it now, I cannot recall any time I ever thought to myself, “I’m going to practice more so I can win!” Winning was playing the piano well and earning the praise of my piano teachers.

How Has Music Changed Your Life?

I can’t read that question without laughing. It might be easier to share the areas of my life it has not impacted. Music is always there for me – whether I need to dance, sing, cry, play. She is faithful, even when I am not. Having the skill to curate musical experiences for children is incredible. Just this week, I had a child in class have a meltdown when asked to go on the risers – just to sing in class as we often do from our chairs with no additional audience. After class, he ran to me and hugged me, expressing how scared he was to sing. I told him he could come back during another period and try again. I’m tearing up as I recall how he trusted me to be brave enough to sing the music he clearly enjoyed in front of others. I get to help people take chances and discover how amazing music is.

How Did You Decide to Become a Teacher?

The short answer is that I love being a student, and it is impossible to teach (well) without learning. I type this and shake my head at myself, because I regularly lament that I do not know more than I do, even though somehow I understood years ago that I would need get to keep learning if I chose this career path. I would be remiss not to mention that I want to ensure that my students have positive experiences – while the vast majority of my experience as a piano student was positive, it wasn’t until I had a negative one that I thought about teaching. I often think about Coco Gauff’s US Open postgame speech about how her haters thought they were pouring water on her fire when they were really adding gas to it. I never want to put water on anyone’s (healthy) fire. May God forgive me for any time as a teacher I have provided insufficient fuel.

What Do You Want to Carry Forward from Your Story?

I want to let go of my feelings of inadequacy. I was telling my cousin just the other day that I don’t feel like I will have accomplished anything unless I am able to help other professionals, not only students. I know this isn’t true, but – ugh. I want to be a winner. I don’t have to beat anyone per se, but I would like to feel like other teaching professionals respect and can learn from my work. I wonder if I would feel this way had I not attained so much education, but it is what it is. “Woe is me, I am credentialed.” I could just ‘Scream.’

What Do You Want to Leave Behind?

I want people to feel better about themselves while working with me because I helped them be their best selves. I want to leave behind a good time, and I want people to know that I have the keys (I really didn’t do that one on purpose) to a good time.

One more for the road – I want to take people on a musical ‘Escapade.’

Seriously. Now. What.

I. Seriously

We’re all gonna die.

I wonder how I would be handling my midlife crisis if I were not Christian. Perhaps if I were of another faith, or no faith at all, I wouldn’t think about death quite so much. Our Guy literally conquers death. I mean, there’s no fun plot twist of the resurrection without the bad part, amirite? I find the thought of my own earthly life’s end much less upsetting than that of others. In FACT – I think it’s possible that the idea of others’ passing is a larger part of my decision making than my own, but that may be because I am still relatively young. I’m embarrassed to admit how often it crosses my mind that each time I talk to an older person I love, it’s closer to the last conversation I’m having than the first. One less time I get to tell someone I love them. Am I doing enough for those around me while I can?

Dark stuff, I know.

II. Now.

Am I doing the right thing with what I have? NOW? Now is all I have. I might not wake up to write another post. Last March I wrote of this plan to persevere on my fitness journey. You want to know how that story ended? Shortly before my April race, I caused a (fairly minor) car accident, more inconvenience than injury. Thankfully, the inconvenience didn’t prevent me from running better in April than I had in March, but I certainly didn’t spend more than a day or two doing any of the strength training I wanted to. The end of the school year came, I went to Greece for two and a half weeks where I completed exactly ONE workout, I walked the Peachtree 10K with Mommy in July, I ran/walked the Ovarian Cancer 5k in September, then I decided I wanted to keep going. Apparently, strength training once every 6 months is not quite enough. Shin splints. Damn. Which brings us to NOW – I purchased an indoor bike so I have some non-impact work as I did my PT – which I actually did until Christmas! Christ is born, Joanie celebrates by doing nothing. How’s that for taking advantage of the present? Should I even write down what my goal is, since I think there’s a fair chance I just will end up writing about how I blew it 9 months from now? Assuming I don’t die, of course.

III. What.

Clearly, life goes more smoothly when I am physically healthy, so not having a fitness routine is not a viable option. The death of Dr. Kuehl-White has prompted me to reconsider where piano fits into my life. Music teaching still pays the bills, but I don’t have any private piano students right now – for the first time since 2012! – which I’ve found to be a relief. Of the many spectacular things about her, the one that brings me the most comfort at the moment is that she made it incredibly clear exactly what she wanted her legacy to be. She had given me one of the sets of pieces she edited (a signed copy, naturally), and I ordered four more of them. Outside of the many deaths that I’ve experienced the last few years, I haven’t played the piano much at all, and now my teacher is motivating me from the other side. THAT is a legacy, y’all. Am I naive for being surprised that I want to play the piano, given that I have an advanced degree in it and make a living teaching music? Am I “just” emotional right now and as I adjust to this new grief, life will go back to normal and I will let my desire to play subside? Is that okay? What is right?

Evidently, I’m not the first person to struggle with these feelings.

Legacy

“What have I done with my life?”

As someone who has struggled with the chronic condition of imposter syndrome for the entirety of her adult life, I ask myself this fairly often. Though I’ve yet to find a cure, I manage my symptoms by – well – working. Bills are a bother, but I’d rather unfurl myself from a ball and work than live uncomfortably. However, there are some occurrences that cause major flare-ups, and this one is big.

My piano teacher died.

I couldn’t think of a more poetic way to learn of the news. It was my college bestie’s 40th birthday, and I was driving home from visiting her in the Florida panhandle. As I stopped to get gas, I checked my email. My first piano teacher was informing me of the memorial service for my second piano teacher. I wrote back right away, saying I would help in any way I could. I continued on Interstate 10, thinking of the four years I spent in college as a piano performance major at THE Florida State University that would not have happened without either of my teachers. At the next stop, I checked my email once more. This time, I was asked if I was willing to play. Ah yes, how much time did I spend being stressed about a performance in this area of the state? I’ve been playing at funerals/memorials for my family, but this call, frankly, was different. I called my first piano teacher through tears, saying that I didn’t know, wondering if I was worthy for such a task. He reassured me that worthiness was not an issue, but not to feel obligated, given the time constraint and heavily charged emotions. I asked him for a few days to think about it, and he graciously said yes. I called the friend I had just hugged a few hours earlier and talked it through – what would I regret more? I probably make most of my tough decisions by asking that question, and I knew that if I chose not to honor her at her memorial by playing, I would regret it for the rest of my life. Coupled with the fact that the first piece we worked on together was one based on a funeral poem? Sometimes God whispers to us, other times, He shouts. This was a shout.

Her obituary doesn’t come close to capturing the essence of the amazing woman with whom I was so privileged to study. She was a BFD, my favorite humble diva. Now she’s gone, and I’m left wondering what I have done thus far. It does not feel correct to call her a colleague, even though we technically taught piano at the same time (her career wrapping up as mine started). Yes, I’m a music teacher, but so what? Am I any good? Who is better because I was in their lives? I know God is good, because in the days after my learning of her death, He sent me people to help reassure me I’m not a complete waste of space – a student saw me at the mall and ran to hug me excitedly; I saw a parent at a football game who bought lunch for my husband and me as a way of saying thank you for my help over the years. Well – that’s two!

In terms of my schedule, her memorial couldn’t have come at a more ideal time. Of course, the time off I had to practice was also time for me to sink into the abyss. What kind of pianist am I? I don’t practice. What kind of teacher am I? I don’t have private students right now. What have I done with everything that I’ve been given? It didn’t matter – I know if I didn’t play the hell out of that piece, I wouldn’t honor her the way she deserved. All I can do is my best, even if that isn’t very good. She got me to a Superior rating on Rachmaninoff’s Elegie Op. 3 No. 1 as a high school sophomore, and dammit if I wasn’t going to show I earned it. I followed her directions – practiced in different rhythms, hands alone, sections. I played for two of my pianist friends, whom I knew would be supportive but give excellent feedback. I thought about how many wonderful people I’ve met because of the path she helped me walk, from the friends I made in college and graduate school to professional colleagues I cherish.

When I arrived at the recital hall, I met her cousin, who asked if I would introduce myself prior to playing. I said I would say my name but that was about it because if I spoke before playing, I wasn’t sure if I would be able to keep it together. She insisted – but I ignored her 🙂 As gentle a person as she was, I was confident my teacher would not have wanted my emotions to interfere with the business of performing. Upon entering the stage, I simply said my name, said I was once called Joanie, and proceeded to play. It wasn’t perfect, but it never is. I know I played well, but I wish I remembered it. I was so prepared for the business of playing that whatever emotional detachment I needed to do it is still there. I then gave my thoughts on her place in my life.

One thing with which I am struggling is the final years of her life, as I hadn’t spoken with her for a long time. She was in an assisted living facility, and I had tried once or twice to meet with her virtually, but the strange circumstances of her moving there made it difficult. Whoever was in charge of her estate – God will take care of them. I hope she knows how much I loved and admired her. It was helpful to see her other students at the memorial, each of whom told me that she spoke highly of me to them. Most meaningfully, I learned that she had a picture of me in her room where she lived. It was displayed on a table with other keepsakes. When my first piano teacher told me I could have it, I immediately put it in my purse.

I am not sure what kind of legacy I will leave, but I know who helped make it. No pressure!

They say work and politics don’t mix but…

I let it spill over today.

*Student plays like differences in note values don’t exist*

Me: These. 👏🏾 Are. 👏🏾 Quarter. 👏🏾 Notes. It’s like they are a qualified woman and you are America – stop pretending that they aren’t there.

I’m going to bed now.

Well Done, Miss

January 31. Just like that. Here are some key stats:

• Weight lost: 0 pounds
• Miles run: 54.2
• Races run: 1
• Days practiced: I don’t know, but I played well in a recital, so enough for now

This begs the question – how well am I resisting?

I. The temptation to overeat

I am breaking even. I will confess that I regret weighing myself a few days ago and seeing that, in that I was a bit less motivated to run. Naturally, everything is fitting the same way, but you know, sometimes you just hope to step on the scale and see a miracle. 🙂

II. Nonlinear progress

Although the scale is not budging, I can’t be mad because I’ve been eating whatever and it has been delicious. That being said, I am seeing my resting heart rate come down and I am getting better sleep, so the running is not a waste. I’ve got do to better in February, though, because I’ve got a 10 miler with The Mentor coming up and I already have no hope of keeping up so I’d rather not have negative hope and extra weight.

III. Comparing Myself to Others

I’m especially impressed with myself because I went to a recital and heard some really talented teachers, but I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do. Playing the piano can be fun and I think I have a specific calling, so for today, I’m secure. I know someone else could be doing it, but I don’t see anyone else around doing it for right now, and here I am, living life, so I may as well make the best of it.

IV. Allowing the evil one to steal my joy

This past week, I have been looking for any reason to laugh. At myself, with my colleagues and friends, at anything. I’m just ready for a good time even though nothing is really different. When I am happy, the key is to allow it even though I suspect in a week or two I will feel as though the world is ending.

V. Minimizing my accomplishments

I guess 1 through 4 aren’t too bad.

VI. Not prioritizing my time. 

I’m so thankful for the opportunity I had to play this past month and that I am on track to complete my 1019 km in 2019! It has been tricky but I’ve been making it work. However, I know that I have to be feeling positive to feel like it is worth it. I was extremely tempted to skip my running for the week because my weight hadn’t moved, but I reminded myself to not minimize my accomplishments, which helps me to prioritize my time.

Onto February:

1. Weight loss: 5-7 pounds
2. Miles run: at least 54
3. Races run: 2
4. Days practiced: whatever I need to be able to play through the first movement of Florence Price’s Piano Sonata.

‘Επαιξα και εχω νίκησα. Recital Report, Part II

I played and I have won. Heh.

I was expecting to go first because I am – let’s just say, new, but I was wrong. I was second, hah! There was a quartet who played twice in the program so I was the first soloist. I still think I was practically right 😉

I walked onto the stage and adjusted the bench. I thought about putting down the music stand but I didn’t feel like messing with it, so I left it up though I played from memory. I started with my first chord and felt relieved that the piano felt decent. No other instrumentalist has to gamble the way we do! I felt my feet shaking as I was pedaling, but I just took deep breaths and did my best to tell the story. I moved my body to the music I was making and it felt very natural.

On Bended Knees is a slower piece, and I have found over the years that those types of slower tempo pieces are my favorite to play. I felt the same way when I performed in 2014 and I can report confidently that there is no change! While I may not have to worry about my fingers running away or getting tripped up, I do I have to work to stay in the moment mentally – not letting myself think too far ahead. Enjoying every melodic and harmonic moment was key. Key. Heh!

There had been a part as the middle of the piece comes to an end where I had been having some memory trouble, and it happens to be one of my favorite moments of the piece. I had thinking that I wanted this moment to be absolutely perfect as I played, and guess what. It was! I smiled as I relished the chord before continuing. I wanted Burleigh’s lush harmonies to fill the room and I couldn’t have done better. The piece was coming to a climax when I heard a child cry out. “Shut that kid up!” I thought to myself. “This is my time!” The kid was shut up, and I was able to reach the pianissimo ending without interruption 🙂

I got up and was met with a thankful audience. I bowed and returned my seat, where I was able to enjoy the rest of the concert and relax. I am in a group of some talented teachers! It was nice to meet musicians and exchange compliments and respect. It makes me want to play more and more! I hope I make it happen!

Concert Black: Recital Report, Part I

I am playing in a recital today!

It is the first time I have played publicly since my recital four and a half years ago.  The local association of piano teachers of which I am a part organizes a recital for teachers each year and a few months ago I was feeling brave and so I did a dumb thing – I registered 🙂 On an emotional scale where 10 is “Whee, I can’t wait to play for everyone!” and 1 is “I want to hide under the covers with Bear,” I am registering at a respectable 6. I am currently under the dryer at my hairstylist and after I get my nails and waxing done, perhaps I could peak at an 8.

This recital has special meaning for me because it is the first time I will be performing a piano piece by an African-American composer, which sounds insane coming from a grown ass African-American pianist, but here we are. And thank God for that. I am playing On Bended Knees, the 5th piece of 6 from a set called From the Southland by H.T. Burleigh (1866-1949). I was supposed to play 2 of the 6 but – life. I didn’t practice enough to feel sufficiently confident playing it. I am looking forward to practicing more to put the whole set together with other amazing works by these often overlooked composers.

I must confess – I was bitter when I got the reminder email from the concert organizers.

Attire: Concert Black.

Like I said, I’m grown! How are you going to tell me what to wear? We are all piano teachers who regularly enter their students in recitals and who likely have grown up doing this very thing themselves. I can only surmise that they didn’t want the new one *me* looking flashy as hell. Maybe they know me without knowing me, because I would have found something really bright to wear. I’m feeling bold and proud and I love when my outfits match. But let’s be real – what’s bolder and prouder than a black pianist playing black music in a room whose ethnic composition is likely to mirror the Republican National Convention?

I am not sure if many in the room will recognize the Negro Spiritual upon which On Bended Knees is based, but I believe it is a melody that evocative of all of the pain of my people as well as the hope that has been carried and passed on. Everyone has experienced pain and hope, and it is my hope that I will be able to express these feelings successfully today. When I think about how the closest I will be to slavery is my student loan debt, and of the privilege I have to share black history on stage today, I feel incredibly thankful. It won’t be perfect, especially since note perfect is not how I roll, but I am in the perfect position to imperfectly tell our story.

Concert Black. All day, every day.

 

Thanksgiving, Day 2

1. My “good” students. They fill my life with love and laughter and remind me that I count for something.

2. My “bad” students. I try to fill their lives with love and laughter and remind them that they count for something. I am driven to become a more loving person for them and because of them. Can’t be mad at that, though I can be annoyed in the moment…

3. Facebook. It’s great to be able to stay in touch with the amazing people in my life with such ease. Also, it’s a fantastic outlet for my wit.

4. My blog! Recording my thoughts in this manner has helped me to see just how cyclical my life and moods really are. I find myself whining about whatever is happening and then can say, “Hey! I remember getting through that! I wrote it down.” Pretty nifty!

5. The piano. Aside from my parents, this is the longest relationship I’ve had. Only God knew at the time how important learning this instrument would be; from helping to fund my higher education to being able to play for family functions, the piano is kind of a big deal.

6. A healthy body. “Oh no, I have plantar fasciitis!” Shut up, self. I’m richly blessed.

7. An amazing family. Everyone who knows us marvels at how tightly-knit we are. I have a crazy amount of love in my life.

8. My cousin Megan! She’s like a big sister that I don’t have to share a Mom with. It’s awesome to have a best friend to whom you are related.

9. Dancing. One of my favorite ways to express joy.

10. Being alive. There was a time in my life that was very dark and I questioned if life was even worth living. I can’t imagine having missed all these blessings! I thank God for each new day.

Trust me; I’m a Pianist – The Final Countdown

In two days, I’ll be packing up the car with my gear, Red Rocket, and the first and greatest cheer crew I’ve ever had – my parents – to go to Augusta for my first half-iron distance triathlon. For those of you sane enough not to know what that entails, I get to swim 1.2 miles in a river, ride 56 miles on a bike, then run 13.1 miles. This is going to take me all. day.

It’s taken countless hours and a disturbing percentage of my salary to get to this point. And I’m pretty stoked about it. Which is weird.

“But Lady J,” you start. “Why would it be weird for you to look forward to something you chose to do?”

Excellent question.

This is triathlon number five. I was BEYOND terrified for triathlons 1-3. #4 was a bit better and I distinctly remember feeling odd that I didn’t feel terrified. Probably because I wrote it down. Number 5? I’m not saying I think it’s going to go perfectly, but I think I’m gonna have a damn good time. From the get go, baby.

I’ve maintained that piano performance and triathlon are totes the same. The preparation. The nerves. The ridiculousness of the task at hand. Imma be real with y’all – while I might not literally fear for my life when I’m on stage as I may have in the water or on the bike course, swimming, biking, and running seem like much more reasonable requests to make of someone than asking her to memorize thousands of notes in a specific order to be played at a specific time in a specific way. That being said, as I’ve prepared for both types of events, the problems I’ve encountered don’t lie in my body. My arms, legs, feet – fingers – work just fine, praise God. It’s about putting the hours in to allay the fears that I am not good enough or that I don’t deserve a place on the stage or on the course.

Less than 100 hours remain between Augusta and me. Coachie and pretty much everyone else on earth are saying that this is the time that jacks with people the most. Questioning if you’ve sufficiently trained. Intimidated by people you’ve never met with more experience, strength, speed, or all three. I think I’m calmer now than I’ve ever been in my whole life. What’s gonna happen is gonna happen, man. Don’t get it twisted – I’m not saying that I won’t be nervous on Sunday. I just know that it’s my time. My time to show myself what I’m made of. My time to put myself to the test. My time to celebrate the physical health with which I’ve been blessed. However it ends, it will be my time to decide how to move forward to continue growth.

I’ve been getting ready for this all my life.

Bada$$es need love, too

As the peak of triathlon season approaches, I am feeling many things. With less than two weeks remaining until my “A” race, what I am feeling most is doubt. Doubting that I will finish within the time goal. Doubting that I will finish at all. Incredulous that I belong among this group of people who do things like swim 1.2 miles, bike 56 miles, and run 13.1 miles. In a row. This is my first race of this distance – it’s normal to feel some anxiety, right?

Evidently, I am not the only person who will show up at his or her race with these type of feelings. I have found myself sympathetic with other beginning triathletes who question themselves similarly. However, I have caught myself being judgmental with anyone who has more than like, 5 minutes racing experience than I do.

I’ve been there.

I know what you’re going through.

and the worst –

I. Am. Right. There. With. You.

The f*** you are.

You have been doing this a long time OR completed this same distance or even same course before. You’re so much faster and stronger than I am. Why are you even talking to me? You make me sick.

And then – I am reminded of my relationship with music and my music babies. One of my favorite exercises is to have them raise their hands if they suffer from stage fright. I always raise my hand with them because indeed, I still get very anxious before I perform. Invariably, at least one student responds, “No. Way.” I tell them we are all growing musicians, but I’ve just been growing a little longer than they have. And they actually buy it.

I applaud my babies when they are brave enough to play 3 note songs for each other. As I age, I think I am even more proud of the risk I take as I share music with others. In some ways, greater experience brings greater risk. You’ve delivered results in the past and success becomes more normal than not. As you expect more of yourself, others start to believe in you as well. “Man. People think this is going to go well. What if it doesn’t?”
Dammit, if anyone DARED to question why I was nervous as my recital last month was approaching, I looked at him or her as though s(he) had two heads. “Why wouldn’t I be nervous? Dumbass.”

Oh. Heh.

I suppose that if I am allowed to be nervous on stage, despite having performed since I was 4, people who already call themselves Ironman can be nervous too. While I haven’t read the USAT guidebook lately, I think it’s a safe bet to say that only humans are allowed to compete in races. To be human is to be fragile. Having the will to test your limits, regardless of your experience level, is to always be admired – never judged.

So uh – for all the thoughts that have ever run through my head about you – my bad. 🙂 I am praying for your progress, just as I pray for my own.

13 days.