Journal of a Cynic

focus

02-20-00

I have this urge to get out of working for someone else. I really hate being subject to someone else's whim, having time constraints placed on me by others. I resent anyone who demands my time. One thing I've always needed is lots and lots of privacy. Lately, I've been very irritated by my employers. I purge my jobs often because I want something better, something with fewer hours and more money, and more freedom. I want to start a small business.

For years, I've thought about starting up a community music school. I have the ideas down, but not the money. It might have worked well in Michigan, where kids and their parents were very enthusiastic about music lessons and competitions. In a nutshell, it would be a school where kids or adults could take private music lessons, or music classes in various subjects. Like a YMCA, only for music. I'd hire teachers for various instruments, work out a monthly or semiannual fee per class, and I'd be able to teach any musical subject I wanted. Kids could also take lessons with different teachers if they wanted to get experience in jazz, or beginning piano, or ensemble coaching.

Great idea? Everyone I've mentioned it to is all over it. In Michigan, I even had some teacher volunteers lined up for brass and woodwind instruments. Down here doesn't work so well. For one thing, there's nowhere to do it. I can't get space from any of the colleges, because I can't even get people from the colleges to return my phone calls. How can I establish a professional relationship with a person who won't answer their phone? I can't afford to rent a building; small business loans are out of the question.

The area teachers don't know me, so they don't know whether I'm trustworthy or simply insane. And the students won't happen. I've been pushing myself on the local band directors for six months, and I've scored four students. Two of whom quit coming after one lesson.

If I had time to travel a little, to visit every area school and meet the directors and the kids, things might be different. I'd surely find one school that would allow me space for teaching. Then I'd be able to set up a daily schedule and plug in dozens of kids from all over three counties. Eventually, I'd find space of my own, even if it's the basement of my own house. (So I don't have a house yet. Suspend your disbelief for a sec, okay?) At that point, I could lease the space for a small percentage to other teachers in the area, and provide publicity through the many band directors I already know! And when I found a building of my own, well, I'd be on my way to being a local celebrity.

In my mind I see a large house in a somewhat commercial district, with the downstairs divided into small, soundproofed rooms for lessons. One big room for theory, appreciation, or other classes. In the basement would be practice rooms for warming up, or after-school practice sessions. I even thought of having supervised practice time for younger students—with the supervisor position filled by a high school co-op student.

I'd need an office. And a lounge...or a place for students to study or read, or hang out, or wait for parents to pick them up. Certain neighborhood regulations might restrict this, but I've even thought of having the students paint the house every couple of summers.

Look at me, drifting off into my fantasy world. I think about my dream school whenever I pass empty commercial buildings in good locations. Lately I've been eyeing the building where my vet's practice used to be located. It's pink, and I'm sure the inside would need drastic remodeling in order to be fit for a school. But it would be my school.

Other business ideas:

  • an Internet music publishing company. A few ads in the right instrumental magazines, a couple of composers to sign on, and I could score a few bucks. That one's not going to support me, though.

  • Petsitting. I have valid qualifications, now. Couple of flyers a month or two before the holidays...charge 5 bucks per visit, and leave the timing and number of visits up to the customer. I'd be driving around a bit and cleaning out cat litters, but I wouldn't be working for someone else.

      I'm pretty handy when it comes to crafts. I'd be even more handy if I focused on one project, instead of skipping to a new one when the first one's not finished. My mother designed a set of felt Christmas ornaments back when I was one and I ate a glass Christmas ball for lunch one day. They take minutes (and pennies) to sew, and they'd sell out at any flea market, or even on eBay. Mom also designed some cotton-fabric ornaments for me to sew when I was a kid, but I got bored after one or two and moved on to something else. If I could just focus....

    I guess that's what it all comes down to, anyway. I have all these ideas, and they spin around in my head until I add them to the list of "Great Ideas On Which I've Never Followed Through." I might sit down and engrave an arrangement of a piece, thinking I'll do a few more and post them for sale on a website, but I never do put them on a website. I'll compose an etude, and think about publishing a book of etudes. I have one etude in my portfolio. I'll create a lesson plan for a single lecture or music theory class, but the syllabi and the other 17 weeks of the course remain dreams in my procrastinating brain.

    I'm racking my brain (the procrastinating one) for a reason. I usually call it laziness, but maybe calling that is only contributing to the problem. I feel that if I tried to do any of these things, I'd fail. The bank would foreclose on my loan and close down my school. My ornaments wouldn't sell and I'd be stuck with a bunch of whip-stitched calico flaps. My music theory students would hate me and stop coming to class.

    More than anything, I feel like nobody wants my stuff. And something in me won't do it until I know it's wanted. I can't design a music course until there's someone who wants me to teach it. I don't make the ornaments unless there's someone who wants to sell (or buy) them. I don't trust people to like me or my stuff.

    This entry is to be continued. I'm starting to feel like I'm back in seventh grade, wondering why none of my friends like me.

    past future index mail