Gratitude List 1043

Here’s my gratitude list from yesterday morning.  

1. Slept another six hours, between around 12:30 & around 6:30. So 9 hours total.

2. Finished the vocal score to Act One yesterday.  The thought of formatting the completed Act One score caused me to pop out of bed with energy.

3. The friendship of the friend who helped me periodically with my issues throughout the day yesterday is invaluable.  

4. Listening to Sounds of Silence now. Happy with it now that I’ve made the cut. (I had wanted it to redo it completely, but decided not to after I realized that what happens at 2:39-2:40 only happens once in a lifetime.)

5. That three mile run last night was like a purge. It was like a sacrament. There was something holy about it.

6. I have this clear picture now, how all I really need to do is spend about 1/3 the time at the computer that I do, and I would walk twice as far each day, probably run 3-5 miles three times a week, and do four sets of push-ups, twice a week. Then I would be the real A.P. once again, and I could die happy, because I wouldn’t be this other, really manic, hyper, frazzled guy, that I’ve been since whenever I stopped running.

7. Really looking forward to church this morning.

8. Ah, this Co-Op coffee, whatever it is, tastes so good.

9. Was neither angry nor threatened when I awoke this morning.   I also didn’t space out too many items of necessity during the first moments of the day, as has too often been the case.

10. Dreams were apocalyptic last night. But that’s a sign to pray, and a good thing, so as not be an ostrich. Looking forward to reading more, speaking less, praying more, and writing less. God is Good.

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Respect

Things have not been good.  Until yesterday, I didn’t gain any confidence I could even begin a routine such I described in the previous entry, one that would actually facilitate my construction of this piano-vocal score within the next five months.   Since the previous entry, I’ve succeeded only in notating the initial underscore, which is 24 measures of slow nothingness.   Even that was left unfinished because I couldn’t remember how to insert text into a Finale score (cues, etc.) even though I clearly knew how to do it the last time I created a score, back in 2008.

I finally wrote to tech support, being as Finale has discontinued their phone support, and got a lecture in return.  Whoever answered the request objected that it was not a “technical request” – I suppose that means the software wasn’t crashing, or whatever.   I don’t know what other kind of issue it was supposed to be.  All I knew was that I woke up depressed and unmotivated as usual, and that when I saw his impertinent, impetuous response, my depression transformed rapidly into a livid rage.   I won’t quote my first reply, but here is my second:

John –

I apologize for the foul language.  I am an old guy and we do not “flex” as easily as the younger people in this world.   I had somehow expected a direct answer — not a lecture.

Somehow, years ago, when I wrote the score represented on the link below, I knew how to do what I had requested.  Now I *still* don’t know.   Finale, like every other program, keeps changing all its names of commands, and a guy like me just cannot keep *up* with all that.

The Burden of Eden: Full Piano-Vocal Score

As you can see, in those days I knew how to do this.  I did not abuse your support service.  I contact you people as infrequently as possible out of respect for you.  To be treated in turn with total disrespect is what enraged me.

You could have answered my question directly, like you guys would have done when you still had phone support.  You could have shown me some respect.  Now I have to weave my way through a bunch of tutorials until I happen upon the answer that I’d have gotten in five minutes from phone support?  I am not a musical nit-wit, but what I’m telling you is that I am getting old and I have a deadline to meet.   It’s called DEATH and I am trying to get my life’s work done.

If you could please kindly tell where this “expression tool” is to be found on the toolbar, that would be a wonderful start.  After that, please answer my politely well-worded questions, directly.   I repeat, I did not need a lecture, young man — any more than I needed your D— R——— to squeeze $350 out of me on a technicality when I was practically starving to death on the streets.

Composing and arranging music is important to me.  Notating all the music I’ve “written in my head” is important to me, so that other musicians can play it after I die.   I can’t even *think straight” after being blown off the way you just blew me off – much less wrap my mind around finding all these damned new commands for something I could have done on Finale 2008 back in 2008.

Please show some respect next time.  At this rate, I will DIE before I get this musical score notated.   Show some respect for the elderly, and for lifelong dedication to Music, if you please.

Sincerely,

A.P.

Anyway, so that’s where it is,  and here’s my crassly placed request for financial assistance once again: please help if possible.   Damn – I want to get my work done!   Tired of being so broke I can’t think straight!!

But it’s all my fault.  I should never have quit that church gig.  I blew off 33% of my income because I couldn’t handle the disrespect I was getting from those finicky Choir ladies.  It’s some thing I acquired post-50’s in my life.  It comes from having landed on the streets where I had to desensitize myself to the constant flow of disrespect I was receiving from practically everybody in my midst.   Then suddenly, I get a job and a new place to live in a different part of the world, and I’m overjoyed to finally be treated with normal, human respect and dignity.  I got so much work done between July 27, 2016 and March 4, 2017 it isn’t funny.

But since then?  I just can’t get with it, and it’s killing me.  I don’t know if I should even try for the rest of this day.  I should just say, okay, the week failed, I didn’t get it together, I let all the obstacles overwhelm me.  But – daylight’s burning, I’m not going to live forever, I’m an old man, I brought up a daughter and a stepdaughter — or at least tried to.  I just wish I could somehow come to learn from my mistakes, and do the right things in life, but since I can’t — at least, dear Lord, please let me get my work done before I die.

Sacrifices with Strife

I had to go back to the post The Next Step to find out exactly where I had begun to veer off course. For it was clear that I had strayed, and very clear what kinds of elements had characterized the diversion.   I only lacked a decent starting point, in order to resume my course, and avoid those elements that earlier had polluted the purity of my path, and had instead instilled a sense of paralysis and meltdown.   The deleterious elements of which I speak involved, invariably, the ill-timed and often ill-equipped efforts with which I most awkwardly attempted to enlist the allegiance of local talents of various sorts to assist me in some way in promoting my project.

First. there was the concert that never came about.  We had to cancel our earlier show when it came clear that my musicians could not possibly get enough practice to turn in a decent show by the predesignated time.   It was suggested we reschedule; I, for one, insisted we cancel entirely.   My music seemed intimidating to them, and theirs to me.  I would have to listen to them first for a while, and they to me, before thinking about making something like we had all earlier envisioned come about.  So that was rightly set aside.  Instead, I would set about to try and find singers for my demo.

This proved to be only another example of the same fruitless expedition.  It was far more stressful trying to get these singers together than it was to concede that it just wasn’t going to happen.  It would cost money – money that I don’t have, and that I knew not how to get.   As I began to endeavor to raise funds, a part of me that I hate rose into prominence, and I cannot feed that demon inside me in any way if it’s going to lead me to some of the preposterous propositions such as I began to entertain.  I was sickened with myself, infuriated, disgusted, disillusioned with my fellows, disaffected with society, alienated, isolated, self-abnegating, neglectful of my needs, abusive of my body, disfigured, disheveled, mistreated, misshapen, mortified, mutilated, and finally: majorly incapacitated.  I lay on the gurney in the Emergency Room, electrodes probing every pore, as the third EKG in my entire doctor-leery life assured me that this steady chest pain I’d developed was nothing more than pleurisy, and treatable by ibuprofen.

drawing-boardI believe I should leave the rest of the community out of the picture for a while, and dismiss any idea of enlisting their services.  Clearly, this was not the course.  The Next Step reveals exactly where I would be wise to begin.  Aside from talk of organizing a read-thru, which may or may not be necessary (or even wise, considering all I just wrote), the guidelines in that post paint a clear picture of a new starting point that doesn’t involve awkward attempts at creating new associations among my acquaintances, but only involves things that I can do all by myself.  I was thriving when intensely focusing on my music or my script, and their seeing me so thrive is what impressed them from the start — whoever “they” are, which is probably more irrelevant now than I’d ever thought before.

It doesn’t matter who they are, or even what they see, just so long as they don’t see what I’ve been showing them most recently.  “Better a dry morsel,” saith the Preacher, “and quietness therewith, than a house full of sacrifices with strife.” (Proverbs 17:1)

That’s the only house that I’ve been building lately.  It has no sure foundation.  If I sit still, and quietly proceed to notate my piano-vocal score, and look for reasonable revisions to be made in my script in the process, there’s something sure and steady about the construction of that house.  Whatever dry morsels I might chew on throughout, their cost will not be half the cost of what I just endured.   And maybe by the time it takes me to complete that score and second draft, I’ll have a thousand dollars in the bank to invest on hiring singers for the demo, not just trying to round up people in my midst whom I cannot pay and all have better things to do.  I risk being perceived a pest.  This will not do.

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Let’s throw some chicken gumbo soup into the microwave and make another turkey sandwich.  No sense in doing the town.  The town has just done me.