Steinberg and I

Steinberg is a musician. Steinberg gets up in front of hundreds of people and sings Braham’s German Reqium-- in German-- and doesn’t think about her hair, or whether the audience is bored of all these repetitive harmonies or their inability to understand the words because the chorus’ german skills are shaky at best. Steinberg spends 45 minutes a week with the most intimidating woman at New England Conservatory and gets by without too many shivers. Me, I spend 45 minutes with Ms. Clara Sandler, with her snobby Brazilian accent, and feel like the most inadequate person on earth. I am an underachiever. Steinberg is an achiever. Steinberg disputes the fact that singers are not considered musicians by many; fights back.
I accept it grudgingly.

Steinberg is who I am when I am not myself. But I always try to be Steinberg, so I guess I never am myself. For some reason, though, not being myself, being Steinberg, seems more like me than any me I ever could be.