(Nerdy) Dream Deferred

It's been a big week for me.  Or rather, for the 8th grade horn super-nerd that lies just below the surface of my supposedly professional demeanor.  Sometimes music is just awesome!

Earlier this week I had the opportunity to (prepare for gushing) meet my French horn hero.  Well, one of my French horn heroes.  This person has had an amazing orchestral career, masterclasses all over the world, and has blazed the trail for a lot of female horn players overseas.  If you don't know much about the elite French horn world (what, have you been living under a rock?), that person is Sarah Willis. 

...nbd.

But here's the great thing about classical music-- even the world's top musicians will sit down with you in a lesson, answer virtually any question you throw at them, give you honest professional advice, and invite you salsa dancing afterward.  This is why hero worship in my field is awfully silly.  Here I am stalking Sarah Willis on the Berlin Phil Facebook page, but in real life, she's very nice and humble and not unlike someone who'd be my friend in real life. 

The other big exciting blast-from-my-junior-high-past is an upcoming performance of Benjamin Britten's "Serenade for Tenor, Horn, and Strings" with my buddies at Classical Revolution.  Guys, this piece is THE BEST.  No, but really.  It's the best piece written for the horn and I've loved it since I first learned to play more than like 8 notes on my instrument.  I loved it so much I was even interviewed about it on the local public radio station when I was 13.  (Don't be too impressed- the poor classical music host had to feed me lines so I'd stop simply saying, "I like it when the horn plays!")  I was a helluva precocious kid and most of the time I shudder at the things I fell in love with in my early musical years, but this piece has really stuck with me as I've grown up.  I've never gotten a chance to perform it, so this concert feels rather momentous in the arc of my horn-playing life.  But I'm trying not to make too big a deal out of it.  Cuz making big deals out of things is so 11 years ago.

(But confidential to the awkward, brainy adolescent who spent her allowance on CDs entitled "The Magic of the French Horn": HIGH FIVE!!!)

Now what, Tom?

Also, I'm a big fan of his three-chord ukulele tabs.

Though I profess to have somewhat sophisticated music tastes, I have a soft spot for Tom Petty.  He reminds me of backpacking trips and impromptu karaoke and the simpler times in life.  And whenever I'm in a period of anticipation, I always ALWAYS get his song stuck in my head: "The Waiting is the Hardest Part."  It's just so true, Tom!  It's the hardest part!

And it is, mostly.  Those days when every time you open your email inbox you feel your stomach lurch are tense, to say the least.  Over the past 6 weeks, I've been waiting to hear back from about 8 different auditions for various things, some just for fun, some related to My Future (dum da da duuum!)  And it's all over now.  I've heard back from everything, and in the spirit of full disclosure, got rejected from 6.5 (the half being a waitlist-type thing).  But the one I got accepted to is a big deal.  Like, change my life big deal.  Like, I'm moving to New York in the fall to be part of the coolest music program in the country big deal.

I'm really proud of myself, and really honored that the-people-behind-the-one-way-mirror picked me.  Me!  That almost never happens.  Music is just so freaking competitive, being the last one standing is rare and almost uncomfortable.  Because now comes the actual hardest part...acceptance.  Over the past 5 days since I heard the good news, I've been swatting away the voice in my head that says, "You, yes you!  Are you excited?  Are you ready?  Are you sure?  Are you going to wear that?"

Now comes the wash of emotions under the umbrella of entitlement.  Do I deserve this?  Am I really good enough?  How can I prove that to myself and to others?

La casa del Insecurities.

I don't like being rejected, but this is like some sort of reverse-psychology rejection.  And it sucks.  I have a feeling that it will retreat back into the dark cave where it lives, like all my other disappointment-related feelings. 
The fact is, I'm exactly the same person/horn player/musician that I was 6 days ago.  And I don't have to be anything other than me. With maybe a slightly cooler haircut.  I am moving to NYC after all.