Originally uploaded by madabandon.
Yesterday in the haze of mid-evening I took the subway to meet Y at MOMA. There we met N and her friend H, an Italian living in Australia. The Richard Serra show had opened a few days ago. I love Richard Serra's sculptures and have seen them many times in various places. The bland corporate sterility of MOMA takes away some of their striking power, though. I felt dizzy walking through them. This may have been due in part to how crowded it was, but also to the fact that I slept very poorly on Thursday, felt exhausted all day, and yet could not fall asleep when I tried to take a nap in the mid-afternoon.
On the train to MOMA I ran into a former colleague. He teaches at another private school in Brooklyn. He told me that the jazz director at his school spoke very highly of me after meeting me a few years back at a competition in Boston. For some reason I found it surprising. Then, thinking about it, I realized that this is a big problem for me. I should not be surprised to hear such things. I should be secure in my professional accomplishments. If I have a good rep it is because I have earned it. So why do I still feel like somehow it is not really true? That I am some kind of imposter?