Walking the line

I feel like all musicians have a little bit of psychological baggage.  Whether we are afraid of success, failure, or just have severe anxiety in general, I have yet to meet someone who is really great at their instrument, and also completely unaffected by the job we do.

I have OCD.  It’s true.  I’ve learned to control it over the years, but mine tends to come out in strange ways.  While I don’t think this makes me insane, I feel like sometimes, I could be walking that line between genius and insanity (not to say I’m a genius, either)  but sometimes, I feel like I have the propensity to be a hoarder.

Sometimes, when I have nothing else to think about (which comes in the late night, when I’m trying to fall asleep) I think about the psychotic break it would take for me to actually become a hoarder.  What gargantuan, ridiculous thing could happen to me, to make me begin keeping anything and everything I own in crazy, yet organized piles, around my apartment?

Then the practical side of me takes over, and I begin to see the ridiculousness of my late night envisages.  I’m not really the type to keep stuff, anyway.  I hate doing laundry so much, that if I could just wear something, and throw it away, knowing I could get something new the next day, and not be wasteful, I totally would.  Also, I never keep things like greeting cards, class notes, or anything remotely sentimental in any superficial way.  I do have a ridiculous amount of stuffed animals, but they are all at home, in Colorado, in my mom’s shed.  If anyone has the propensity to be the hoarder, its my mother.  Also, you can’t really be a hoarder in an apartment.  Pretty soon, they do an inspection, and evict you.  Which means I would have to move all of my precious junk someplace else, or throw it away, which would be devastating to my fragile, hoarding, psyche.

But every time I go to a professor’s home, I feel like I’m invading the crazy side of them.  Like the professor that has all the cats, or the professor that had piles of paper crafts stored in her closet “just in case”.  Just in case what?  Is there an instance in which you might have to throw together a quinceanera in an hour or two? I felt like it was a big fire hazard….but I digress.  I think most of my professors throughout the years are at least a little crazy, and I feel like the more academic they get, the more crazed they become.  Perhaps it’s because they become comfortable in the crazy academic setting they are in.  Always dealing with all the paperwork, the politics, and the issues that go along with being a professor.  Not to mention their actual professional lives in which they play or write music or research for years to write one article that will get published in journals only their peers will read.

Wait…why do I want to do this to myself?

Oh yeah….I’m a little insane too 🙂

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