Sunday, February 24, 2008

I Think They Hate Me

My instruments, that is.

The oud, the two guitars, the mandolins, even the doumbeks.

I moved them upstairs to safety last weekend, tucked in their cases, for fear that the toddlers visiting would do them harm, but they know they haven't been played in a month. Not a lick, a doum, a bek, or a kah.

Whenever I think about moving them home to the living room, they say, "But are you going to play us again? If you're not, just leave us here. Really. It's OK."

Papers to grade, an essay to write, a grant proposal to file. How will I ever get back to them before they hate me forever?

1 comment:

Laura Vivanco said...

[Excerpt from Dr. Laura's advice column.]

Dear Eric,

I would really need to know more about their mothers before I could decide whether or not the instruments are suffering from separation anxiety.

Although you write out of concern for your instruments, I think we need to take a look at you, the musician. It seems to me as though you feel a lot of guilt about your inability to find the time to play these instruments. Is this really a coping mechanism you've developed to deal with the stress you feel about all your other commitments? Or could it be that you're projecting your need to be needed onto your musical instruments?

I'm intrigued by the way you singled out the doumbeks when you listed your instruments. Why "even the doumbeks"? What makes their personalities different? Are your relationships with the doumbeks more or less secure than the ones you have with the ouds, the guitars and the mandolins?

These are serious questions which would take a long time for you to ponder. I suggest you don't bother trying until after you've graded the papers, written the essay and filed the grant proposal. By then your mood may be much improved and perhaps you'll see your relationship with your instruments in a better, more optimistic light.

Wishing you a tuneful future,

Dr. Laura