August 2, 2005 at 8:13 AM

Rock Star Syndrome

I've been called spoiled more than once in my life. This type of insult was always a bit two-fold, since it not only defamed my own character, but also accused my parents of poorly rearing me. Each incident stung, and the words seared into my memory, not to be forgotten. Spoiled? Brat? Yes, that word was added, too, and by my public school orchestra teacher, no less! The other time I was called this was by my college violin professor.

So I think about this. I thought about it a lot this week, while I dealt with several not-so-glamorous episodes of real life, like cleaning up dog vomit and diarrhea several times, cleaning fish-goo off the kitchen floor, and cleaning up after people in the kitchen who leave messes while accusing me of sloppiness. Cleaning in general makes me turn up my nose like a, well, spoiled brat, and say "Ew, this is gross, I won't do this!"

My parents, I tend to believe, did a great job of raising me. My mom was strict about rules and discipline. I'm sure I would be a complete mess if it weren't for my solid upbringing. So why would I be so spoiled, to fret over getting my fingernails grimy, to whine about bill-paying and folding clothes, expecting my dinners cooked when I'm done teaching and the unsightly trash transported to the dump? Who anointed me Queen of the Domicile?

I'm going to call it "Rock Star Syndrome". RSS would be defined as the ego that results from attention and petting and adoration that complements the talent we musicians were all trained to seek. In school, I took the road of the Diligent Pursuer of Higher Achievement. Who needs babysitting when I can get all my needs met by getting good grades and practicing? I've never changed a diaper. My car was given to me, my college education granted by full scholarship. I never worked until I was 20, unless you count summer camp counseling (which was way, way more fun than work). I was a Rock Star.

To the student who scores the high marks on tests, who uses her skill to avoid all appearance of wrong, what is it like to be condescended or ordered around? I'm sure I must've been quite the punk as concertmaster of our orchestra all those years. My own grandpa said I'd argue with a brick wall if I thought I was right and it was wrong about the waxing or waning of the moon. When you're right, you're right, and that's that. And when you've worked hard to be the most proficient, why listen to anyone else, especially if the advice comes from someone who only ended up with a job as a public school teacher, not famous like the Rock Star that I was destined to become. I'm pretty sure I showed signs of RSS even as a grade school kid.

Today, although I may not be famous, I have sculpted myself the perfect summer "glamour job"--Chief Baker of Cookies and Sweets and All Things Adored by Children. It is, in my opinion, the most noble role in the entire camp. All day long, though I may slave away diligently, people lavish me with compliments, stroking my ego a bit more, inching the pedestal a bit higher and further aggravating the symptoms of RSS. This is why I rant and rave when my dog digs the salmon out of the trash at night and gorges until he pukes on my trail shoes, and there is no one else to whip and point to the task. No one but me to towel up the partially digested scraps and take out the trash. Poor talented me, wasting all my ability on such menial chores. I should never squander a minute doing anything but honing my lofty skills and feeding my creative whims. After all, I'm special; I have RSS.

From Dougie Lawrence
Posted on August 2, 2005 at 10:18 AM

Is it true that there are ten times the number of women in Anchorage than men?

If so,who's spoiled?That's what I ask myself!

From Patty Rutins
Posted on August 2, 2005 at 5:41 PM

Wow, Emily, I have RSS too! It rears its ugly head whenever I need to clean house (esp. vacuuming. I hate vacuuming). Instead, I work on my Art, you see. I'll disappear up into my practice room (which looks as though a hurricane blew through two years ago and still hasn't been cleared up) and wait until someone else has done the chores.

After all, I work all week, and then teach and concertize on the weekends! Surely that's more important.
:)

From Pauline Lerner
Posted on August 2, 2005 at 8:50 PM

Emily, for once I don't understand you. You don't sound at all like a RSS to me. You like to make people happy, you enjoy praise and compliments, and you do the dirty work when you have to. That doesn't sound like a problem to me.

From Emily Grossman
Posted on August 2, 2005 at 9:20 PM

Ha, Dougie, that's wrong. I was told when I was coming to Alaska that the men outnumbered the women 9 to 1. In all actuality, the stats are about equal, with the men slightly outnumbering the women. The men are out traveling for their job often, though, working on the oil platforms and fishing.

Pauline, it's easy to be presentable in the e-community, just like many people can appear civilized in public. You'd have to witness a tantrum or talk personally with George to see the complete picture (although George would be too nice to bare the entire truth). But thanks for thinking so highly of me.

From Jim W. Miller
Posted on August 2, 2005 at 9:48 PM

Vacuuming isn't so bad, but while I do it I'm mentally re-designing every part in the machine, so it isn't like it's boring. Make lemonade!

From Jim W. Miller
Posted on August 2, 2005 at 9:53 PM

P.S. crazy women are hot.

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August 2, 2005 at 8:13 AM

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