A couple of weeks ago, Patrick bought me a new alarm clock for the bedroom. This new one can host my iPod (I like "host" better than "dock," don't you?), and it's got a digital tuner for the radio (the other one had that dial thing). I hated having to search for KPCC (after those rare occasions I had switched to KROQ), I always ended up listening to the dreaded KCRW, wondering what had happened to "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me." My old Dream Machine had bigger numbers (better for viewing without glasses) than the new one, but being able to play MP3s in the bedroom is definitely a plus. I'm slowly getting used to the funny little cricket alarm; it surprisingly discernible through earplugs, which I doubted at first.I took the old clock-radio to work with me this week, and since Monday, have been listening to 91.5 KUSC. In the past, I rarely listened to classical music for fun, but it seemed like a good antidote to my co-workers' music (The Wave on a bad day, K-Earth on a slightly less bad day; they're all sort of bad days around here, sonically speaking). I tried listening to NPR but listening to talk radio at a respectful level is just too distracting during the workday. KLOS or KROQ or another rock station is too iffy: sure, you'll hear a good song now and again, but follow it with 30 mins. of commercials or the new (horrible) Coldplay song, and I'm out. I'm sort of surprised at how much I'm enjoying it - KUSC has sucked me in, and in a remarkably short amount of time. I've recognized many of the concertos and symphonies arranged for flute choir that we've played over the years. The orchestral versions are totally cool and go by at a clip the flute choir could never manage (right now I'm listening to "Night On Bald Mountain," and it's just dramatic enough for the day I'm having). I've also been hearing a lot of dedicated flute music, and it's funny that here I am, at a job I - and let's be frank - hate, listening to stunning flutists and other musicians play away at a lot of music I studied and sort of wish I had taken more seriously. It also should be said that were I home right now, it's pretty doubtful that I would actually be practicing: let's not paint too rosy a picture, Irene.
I got a massage yesterday, and I was talking to Bruce about a bunch of stuff, most of it not really related to what I'm telling you now (we were talking about music, yes, but rock and roll; I love Bruce, and in spite of him already being married - 43 years next month! - and therefore probably 60-something [I haven't forgotten that I too am married, and quite happily: this aside about Bruce is 99.9999% for fun only] and a fan of Bob Seger; I would marry him, if he asked, affection for Bob Seger be damned). Then he mentioned he had gone to a concert at the Carpenter Performing Arts Center at Cal State Long Beach and was impressed mightily by the musicians - students - who performed. Even though he's never heard me play he always speaks about my flute playing respectfully, as if I've told him I'm better than I am (I haven't) or as if he knows something I haven't told him (possible; he's got a way of figuring me out without my telling him anything, based on what, I don't know. The way my kidneys feel, maybe, or the way my musculature [never mind that I have no muscles] feels, or can he read me based on the fact that sometimes I have cool hands and feet but a hot head and torso?), and he always remembers about my performances at City Garage, which I told him about at least two years ago. Yeah, what I'm trying to say is there's a bit of a psychic connection there or something, but so what? I like him. I trust him. It's a good way to feel about someone of the opposite sex who is rubbing you. When he mentioned CSULB, it seemed to go along with some things I've been thinking about lately.
See, I'm kind of trying to make myself make a decision. To move forward. For the last couple of weeks - oh, let's just say months (years) and get on with it - for the last couple of months I have been pretty stuck. I'm not happy at work, and I realized that I've been telling people "I don't want to be a secretary anymore," yet the only job I applied for (and tested for and passed) is as an "Administrative Assistant." Granted, there's a number: I could now be an Administrative Assistant II; the II seems to exist only to allow me to feel superior to all those Administrative Assistant Is, and less good than Administrative Assistant IIIs (I don't qualify, yet, for some reason, for the III). (All of this reminds me of the [mostly ironic] care I used to take when I was the First Assistant Manager at Crown [First being marginally better paid than Second but otherwise holding no other benefit], to ensure that people understood that I was the First and Beth [crazy-ass, mean, Beth] was the Second - back in the days when I was much younger and having keys to anyplace other than my parents' house was pretty exciting). It hasn't yet been fully explained to me, the specifics involved, but it's not rocket science... and what is an Administrative Assistant but a glorified secretary? True, I need to find out what's in store for me, specifically, whether in my current position (my boss has put into motion the steps necessary to promote me; she's requesting to "underfill" an even higher-level position that I'm also not qualified for yet) or somewhere else (next week I have an interview; unfortunately it's downtown), but that conversation - "So, Boss, what's this going to change? What's going to be different?" -- "Different" being my euphemism for "better." - is not one to which I look forward. I would much rather just say, "Sorry, Boss, but I'm leavin'. Thanks for forgetting my birthday two years in a row. See ya!" Don't get me wrong: I'm taking this position, wherever I have to go, and I'll happily accept the difference in pay. Being a Sr. Secretary I (technically I'm a II - I took a voluntary demotion to work at this job, and I don't need you to tell me that was a dumb move. And do you see how good I am at keeping track of this stuff? The funny thing is, I don't care what your title or number is - I'm not comparing me to you, because you probably went to Harvard, or drive a BMW, and seriously, working out the different weights and measurements required for the comparison of me and you would not end well. No, I am comparing me to my own specifications for where I should be, me, with my limited self-confidence but who always thought I'd be somewhere - the specifics are vague - different) is not my goal in life. But what is? See kids? Without a plan, this is where you end up: blogging about your lack of accomplishments at the ripe old age of 36.
On Tuesday, while pollworking, I was talking with this very interesting guy named Kendrick. He's a student at Long Beach City College, and he was reading Ralph Ellison's "Invisible Man," a book I own and never finished - one of the few ("Wuthering Heights" is another). He was telling me how for the last couple of years he had been taking one class at a time while working, and now that he's a couple of units away from getting his AA, he's going full-time. Then I started thinking about our friend Phil, also my age, who just finished at CSULB with a degree in Electrical Engineering, which he accomplished while holding a full-time job and having a wife and two young children and living 30 miles away. And I thought, not for the first time, I am so stuck. I don't want to be stuck anymore. I don't think this is the first time I've referred to this. I want to do something, but I don't want to give up my paycheck. And it's scary, the options. I could be pregnant this year - it could happen, I know it could, if it hasn't already, though, I'm not holding my breath - but if I'm not, soon, I think the way to get unstuck might be school. Having a baby could be scarier than taking a class somewhere. Though I'm not sure what classes I would take.
Or maybe it's as simple as just playing more. Playing more would be easier (and cheaper). I want to play more - but I need to make myself do it, which I suck at. It's so much easier to watch TV, or to take a nap, or to navel gaze: I'm an excellent navel gazer. I should sell tickets. It's funny, too, because "making myself do it" is only necessary for the act of getting my flute out, but that's the hardest part, isn't it? Once I'm started, I'm fine. I might not be good enough to play with CSULB's musicians, anyway; finding that out would be scary, but no scarier than running a show with theater critics in the audience, no? No scarier than driving 95 miles an hour on the 405 at 1 o'clock in the morning? No scarier than posting this entry? I might have hated high school - but what did I hate, exactly? I know I was afraid, and don't get me wrong: I'm still afraid. But I'm also getting old, and with that doesn't there come some wisdom? Otherwise what's the point of all these years behind me, other than to make me feel enormously un-cool?
I don't need to be very wise, I just need a little. I know that I could be an AA II, but an AA II with a BA in something: see how much better that makes me feel? I could be an AA II, but an AA II who practiced last night or read something; instead of an AA II who sat on the couch and watched "Top Chef" and "Groomer Has It." That works, too. I mean, maybe school's not it, I don't know. But I am so obviously treading water right now that trying something seems like a really good idea. Propositioning Bruce is probably a really, really bad one.*
*Totally a joke, calm down.
I know I went a little crazy with parenthesis today. Sue me.
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