Sunday, June 15, 2008


Ever studied nuclear physics? There you go.

String players.
Fred counts beats, not bars.
That weird smile.
The niceness of it all.
Lime flavored salsa chips.
Or lack thereof.
Hotel rooms.
Hormones and logic.
Just a 'for now' boyfriend.
Sun burnt head.
Lips gone raw.
My uncle who won't get out of my house!
On the verge of tears.
On the verge of throwing something out of anger.
Conversations in my head.
The question of sanity.
Needing a break.
Needing to practice.
Radio therapists.
Learning to drive.
Getting a job.
Finding a life.
Words. Words, words, words.
Expensive wine.
Expensive trips.

My apologies. I have so much going on in my head right now, my train of thought isn't even a little wobbly, or even weaving drastically. It's fricking transporting itself across the entire planet in the span of seconds. It's actually quite frightening.

So, in the course of this if I randomly come out with a statement, or even a few words, that make no sense (as in the list above) forgive me, it's just my mind jumping back and forth.

Hot showers.

I promised I would give examples of what was going through my mind today during dress rehearsal, so here you go.


Dammit. I cannot let this get to me.

Anyways, my mind, dress rehearsal. Back on topic.

As a side note, you'll meet many sides of Robyn's mind during this. I've given them the most appropriate names I can think of. I hope they suffice.

Self: Bloch time. The one concerto I don't really mind. It's enjoyable to play. You ready Fred? I actually kind of need you for this one.

Fred: Am I ever not ready? Really?

Self: Yes. But nevermind that now.

(halfway through)

Self: Okay, here it comes. Dramatic tempo change part. C'mon Fred.

Fred: I know, I always catch this one. 1 + 2 + 3...+......4........+...........1 + 2 +...

Self: Thank you.

(near the end)

Self: Oh crap, intense tuning. (C) okay, not bad... (C) again, not bad... (Db)

Inner Critic: Holy hannah! Dive, dive, you're way too sharp!

Second guesser: No, pull up! Pull up! This octave is way to close, it's barely an octave! Up!

Self: That was a beautiful glare from the conductor, wasn't it? Shall we attempt to tune that next time?

Everybody: Heck yes.

Fred: Way to go Robyn.

Self: Shut up Fred. Your job is to count, not tune.

(next concerto)

Self: Oh the Beethoven. How joyous. Counting time. Wait for the quiet slow part to pass...alright, here we go. 1...2...3...4...5...(etc)...10...why is everybody getting ready...11...we don't play until after 15...12...oh right, strings come in first...13...14..15...

Inner Critic: Wow, this reed sounds lovely doesn't it. Especially when you have to play loud in order to hear yourself. Buzzy.

Self: Shut up, it'll last me for a little longer. far do we count again?...6...right, to 26...7...8...I wonder what I do after this...9...oh wonderful...10...another 61 bars of rest...11...something to look forward to...12...

Self: ...28...29...oh no, why is Alicia coming in?...30...right, she has her own solo without me...30...that's okay...31...does that mean I'm still in the right place?...32...if she still has 29 bars of rest...33...does that add up to 60?...34...I can't do math and count at the same time...35...I'll just trust that I am...

Self: I was definitely supposed to play an Ab, not a C. Let's not do that next time. Hm, there's James' dad taking pictures. I wonder if I sit up a little bit more if he can see me. Is he pointing the camera at me. Better look like I'm being all professional and what not. 43...44...45...what am I supposed to be counting to again?...46...ah, 15...47...wait, 15? How am I in the 40s if I'm only supposed to be going to 15? Fred?! Help!

Fred: Hey, don't look at me. I count beats, not bars

Self: Thanks for the help. Time to trust that I'll know when to come in.

(next concerto)

Self: Alright, violin concerto. Last one, and I am out of here. And Timothy's playing it, and he's not a bad guy, as string players go.

(little voice): Yeah, he does seem really nice.

Self: It's true, he does.

(little voice): And that smile he has is pretty awesome too.

Self: Yes it...wait a minute. I know where this is going...

(little voice): I wonder if I should I have talked to him a little more this year.

Self: No! None of those thoughts! Stop trying to disguise yourself, Hormones, I know who you are now.

Stereotypical musician: A string player? Seriously? Excuse me, when did we decide we fell for string players?

Logic: Last summer.

Stereotypical musician: That one doesn't count.

Logic: Why not?

Stereotypical musician: ...he's American.

Stereotypical Canadian: And that makes it

Self: Everybody shut up! We're trying to deal with hormones here! We have a piece to rehearse and it's going to be extremely tough if hormones keep wanting to cut in!

Hormones: Well damn, Robyn, we're not getting anything anywhere else. Besides, look at him.

Self: No! No more looking! You stare at your music, Robyn! There will be no falling for anybody on the last concert of the season.

Logic: Yes indeed. Besides, university's coming after this summer. You'll have plenty to think about then.

Self: Exactly.

Hormones: But that's so far away! And we definitely won't be getting any over the summer.

Logic: Well, summer will go by faster than you think. Just calm down. I thought we already decided that we don't need any of this, and we're fine on our own.

Hormones: Excuse me? Maybe for the rest of you, but I am my own category. I have nothing to do with being on our own.

Self: Alright everybody, quiet. We're starting. We'll address this issue later. And Hormones, no more speaking up in rehearsal.

Hormones: You know you like it.

Self: I said quiet! Fred, get over here and start working.

Fred: I am here. 1 + a 2 + a 3 + a...

Voice of reason: You know you've totally just realized that you have a crush on a violinist on the last day of orchestra?

Self: Shut up.


So that was my orchestra experience today. Sounds wonderful, doesn't it...

And if you're wondering, I don't make up these conversations afterwards. They do actually happen exactly like this, in the moment. Sometimes I wonder if that happens to anybody else, or if I'm the only one with various voices going on in my head...

That is, until I realize I don't care either way. =P

I think Julie and Rae probably know my various voices the best...

Just as a random comment. =P

Alright, I think my head is finally empty. At least, as empty as its ever going to get.


"I hate her guts, but I love this tie!"

1 comment:

Melda said...

Sunburnt head. I probably can't relate quite as much, but it HURT when I was using a comb this morning. Yay for remembering sunscreen on the rest of you and burning your scalp.

I like your internal conversations. They don't sound that different from mine sometimes :P