I was thinking some more about this in-house tech writing thing I talked about yesterday. I didn't have much to work on today (I finished the piece from Joliet from last week) and it does have a certain appeal about it. Aside of having a more stable schedule, which might actually encourage me to work on real writing (whatever that is), I think I'd like to take it on as a challenge. You know, see if I can actually do it.
I don't think I challenge myself enough. I should.
To that end, I called the friend of Annike the pianist (the one from Halloween). This friend, you may remember, is a flutist who is interested in starting a wind quintet and seemed to be missing an oboist. I called her this afternoon -- her name is Maureen -- and talked with her for a while about what they'd like to do. Apparently, Annike accompanies a lot of musicians at Northwestern, and most of the prospective quintet members are associated with NWU. They had an oboist lined up, but she's since left Chicago and they don't know any other available players. Being students, they'd like to play for money -- art openings, weddings, things like that -- and want to start off in the holiday season. Apparently Maureen lined up a holiday party at some mansion on the North Shore for the week before Christmas, but needs to have an oboist.
I asked her what the material was, and it was pretty middle-of-the-road. Mozart. Schubert's "Trout". Beethoven string material transcribed for winds -- the hornist is a grad student in musicology -- and other things I've done several times before.
Like everything else lately, I didn't make a decision right away, but told her I needed to check on some things and get back to her tomorrow or Saturday. I felt stupid after I said that. I don't need to check with anybody or anything, I was just making an excuse to avoid deciding right now.
I want to play again. I want to be around musicians again. I want to not interview baton-twirlers and "community leaders."
Go back and look at the picture on my home page again. I want to be whoever that girl thinks she is, just then.
I'll probably agonize about it for a day or two and then say yes, I'll come write for your company, and yes, Maureen, I'll come and play the Schubert. I don't know why I can't just say things right then and not leave myself this indecisive hole.
Jeff still hasn't called.