In Fugue

There’s a form of classical music called a fugue. Bach wrote a ton of them, and the most famous pipe organ piece that people can immediately recognize – the one that you might hear in old horror movies, paired with the image of The Phantom of the Opera hunched over the keys – is part of one, technically “Toccata and Fugue in D Minor”. Fugues, like most classical pieces, are called that because they follow a certain set of rules.

First, a theme is played by the highest voice performing it… the right hand, if you’re playing it on a keyboard. Then the theme is replayed by the next lowest voice in a different key, while the right goes on to elaborate with a countermelody as it continues. The theme keeps getting repeated in different, lower keys (on the pipe organ, you can also play melodies with your feet) while the other parts add ornamentation above it until it’s been played by every voice. (The most Bach ever did was six, all going at once.)

What’s amazing about a fugue is its restraint, its control. It has one of the most rigid structures in music – once you’ve created the theme, you’re stuck with repeating it until the end – but within that there’s the potential for a lot of elaboration and ornamentation. When the higher voices are done with the theme and they can go off on their own, adding layer upon layer of music, as long as it still fits with everything else.

Now that I’ve had some time off from work, I’m starting to see how the structure of a work day fit into the rest of my life. It was something like a fugue itself… the day was split into work, family life, and my own pursuits, by which I mostly mean entertainment – movies and TV that no one else is interested in, podshows and music to listen to, videogames to play. This latter category was what I usually did after everyone else went to bed. And it all worked very well, I think.

And why? Because it was a way for me to do extracurricular things without having to sacrifice any time with my wife and daughter. If I were trying to find a way to set aside a big chunk of time for myself, I’d be constantly pressured, trying to finagle things to work out the way I want, feeling guilty the whole time I was off doing my own thing, and watching the clock to see how much time I had left. I’m coming to realize that not only did it work for me, I *thrived* on this method, those little pockets of time I could use for other things without giving up anything else (well, except maybe a little sleep), working around the existing structure to add my own little ornamentations, my own little elaborations on the fugue of my life.

Now that the work portion of the day is gone, I’m having a hard time figuring out how all the other pieces should fall. We’re trying to establish a schedule, but without external needs having to be met it’s very easy for things to get out of whack. The other day I slept until almost 10 o’clock, which I honestly didn’t think was possible for me to do. The whole rest of the day felt truncated and off kilter. I find myself constantly trying to figure out how to proceed with the day… if we eat lunch now, then this won’t get done until later, and if that happens, dinner will either be too early or too late. At times it’s exhausting, not having a structure to work around, a theme to follow so that everything’s sure to come together when it’s supposed to.

What it comes down to is that I’m the sort of person who requires stability to be happy. I’ve lived on my own enough to know that I’m far from happy when I have complete control over every minute of my day. I’m apt to lose myself in my casual pursuits, indulging in videogames or movies or the Internet for days on end and then ending up depressed that I haven’t done anything better with my time. I like to know what I should be doing and when, even when it comes to my downtime. It’s quite opposite from my brother – a professional actor who often can’t say whether he’ll be working or what he’ll be doing next month. I just don’t understand that kind of life, not because it’s wrong, but just because it’s so not me. The stress of it would kill me. But that’s why I want a desk job that I know I’m going to go to day after day.

Like I said, this is how my life works for me. Clearly-defined structure, with clearly delineated spots for improvisation. Everyone needs to conduct life (or music for that matter) their own way. I think the key to happiness is finding that method, and aligning yourself with people whose own life-music complements it.