How Does an INFJ Prepare for a Concert?

Since people at St. B are starting to make fun of me, I thought it was time to address this head on. The stories are beginning to get around of how I send David out of the house so I can practice. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Keep in mind that it’s been over 20 years since I did a full concert on my own.

Back in the day, I did 100 or even up to 200 performances a year without batting an eye. But that was now over two decades ago. A practicing regimen was called for. INFJ? (Apologies to those Myers-Briggs experts out there.) That stands for Introversion, intuition, feeling, judgement. That’s me – as opposed to extraversion, sensing, thinking, perception. I’ve never been assessed officially, but a group of us sat around and did self-assessments a couple years back, using one of those all-about-Myers-Briggs books. And that’s how I turned out. INFJ.

So praying was the way to start. (Is that the N part? F?) “Lord, help! What did I get myself into? Lord, show me what you’d have me sing.” But it has really been a wonderful experience figuring out the playlist. Oops, sorry, I mean the set list. (J) It’s turning out to be a combo of several “almost always” numbers, a couple that have been performed only once or twice ever, and the rest somewhere in between. It’s been fun relearning how to play some of them, too. And, most of all, rewarding to remember the circumstances of their inspiration. And I admit it. I need to be alone to practice properly. (I) David can be outside the house, the windows shut, and I’m on the piano bench wondering if he can still hear me. I just plain don’t like anyone around until things are ready. I had no idea how much practice would be required to get “back in shape.” I’ve had to resort several times to suggesting things David might find to do outside the house, or in town. No, it’s no trivial thing to rouse vocal cords which have lain fallow for two decades. Well, mostly fallow.

There’s the day job, too. Didn’t have one of those when I was cranking out 100 concerts a year! Amazing how that can sap your energy. I get home and all I want to do is sit on the back porch, watch a BBC drama and hit the hay. I’m not just trying to gain your sympathy, you know, but if you happen to cut me a little slack on Saturday night, I wouldn’t mind. The thing that’s really been blowing my mind is the theme. Music and meaning. That’s the concert series theme this summer at St. B. (A reference to the lecture of the same name that Helen attends in Howard’s End.) Have been thinking a lot about that. But since I did have to work today, and am running out of steam, I think that will have to wait until next time.