The Fix

 Try as I might, I can’t stop thinking that I am defined by what I do at any given time.  But as long ago as Grade 5, I was told by a teacher that my generation would probably not stay in one ‘career’ like our parents, but would possibly have as many as six. By the age of 41 I’ve already had several distinctly different jobs.  The question is, in a society where what we “do” is often confused with who we “are”, what is our identity?

Recently I froze during an otherwise great conversation when the other person asked me about my occupation. It’s not just the big changes which can cause this uncertainty. What if you’re using the same groundwork or training to do a completely different task? What if it’s your ‘role’ within a group or organization which changes? How do people view you differently? What if you gain, or lose power, in reality or the eyes of certain people? Is it possible that you might gain or lose friends as a result?  I can tell you, dear readers, oh yes it is.  And what of all your prior accomplishments, the years of accrued skill, the colleagues, and one would hope, the wisdom? Are they lost forever or can you carry them over into your new world?

In moments of clarity I believe that everything is connected. My experience, talents, and probably sense of humour, are the constant in whatever job I choose to do, but it’s how I view the world and move though it that defines who I am.

So just because I’m holding this journal “Ethnomusicology” doesn’t mean that I am no longer a singer, a broadcaster, a dreamer, a hack pianist, a snowboarder, a lover of LA but also of Paris, a wife, a daughter, and as you can guess, a procrastinator. That’s who I am.

Today I’m thinking about issues of perfectionism and idealism, and that place where the two intersect and clash. Is it better to just get on with something than to put it off because you’re afraid it won’t be a good as it could be? Perhaps, but what are the effects of that effort? Today with a jolt I realized I had almost missed a Grant application deadline. I tore back to my desk, whipped it up and served it in under an hour. As I struggled through a blizzard on my way home from the post office, I thought of my poor little envelope, whisked away to Ottawa with its, frankly, imperfect contents. Maybe it’s better not to make any impression at all, than to make a bad one?

In other news… Today it was announced that a new Gaelic Academy will be launched to help teach Gaelic throughout Canada. It’s a noble idea, and some great people are involved, like Angus MacLeod. Angus is a living example of someone who learned Gaelic as an adult, and is now a completely fluent and inspiring teacher. But there’ s only one Angus, and scattered across the country are a web of others who’ll be the contacts in each region. It’ll be interesting to see how it all pans out — just how they’re going to go about starting a new grass-roots system for teaching Gaelic.

Oh, about the title of htis post – it came to mind apropos of a few things that have been going on. A wise friend reminded me today that in the great Irish tales the the best heroes were reserved the best cut of meat at the feasts, “The Champion’s Portion or Cut.”  The heroes would gather and boast, and he who had the best story, regardless of truth, would win the The Champions Portion. It’s something you see now almost day, with the parade of talentless celebrities who grace our stages and screens.  Brittney Spears, I’m looking at you. Anyone who heard/saw Christina Aguiliera at the Grammys knows this duel is over.