Piano Wake Up Call

A little bizarre. I'm starting to feel a certain level of frustration with the piano. Like I'm more easily irritated when I can't perfect something. Bizarre because normally I feel like that with most activities but with the piano I felt different different this year. And now that irritation is back. Wtf. It seems like I'm starting to expect too much of myself on this thing. I'm losing perspective of the modest level I'm at.

I must stop trying to perfect pages 1-2 and fully focus on page 3 at this point. I must acknowledge or remind myself how new I am at this. Trying to copy what professional pianists playing the best interpretations of Moonlight Sonata is a silly task for my level. I need to start feeling productive again. I must avoid an unhealthy relationship with the piano and music. And I should probably also learn to practice tonight's lesson in other areas of my life. Pinch myself. Wake up and smell the coffee. Acknowledge the levels I'm at in everything in life. Stop trying to achieve unrealistic goals. Pursue more modest goals that give me a sense of accomplishment and motivate me to keep going. That must be my plan of action in all things. This is what getting to know yourself is all about.

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An Artist's High

I swear. The making of music. The making of any art form. I don't think I can equate its gratification to any other pleasure in life. It's unique. It's grand. It's Godly. I don't think I can sacrifice it or compromise it now that I have truly lived it. It's like a runner's high but full of wonderful emotion, not just pleasurable bodily sensation.

...
I thank my piano coach and friend for helping me step into this world even deeper than I ever was before.


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Backwards

I have to admit. I've been a rebellious child tonight. I spent several hours on the piano practicing the first two pages of Moonlight Sonata. I even felt like throwing a tantrum about why I couldn't do this full time. If I could go back in time and start all over again, I would go to school for music.

What surprises me though is that although my father and his side of the family are primarily all musicians, music didn't come naturally for me the way painting did, which comes from my mom's side. Singing was certainly not a natural or easy gift for me. Neither were rhythms. But why is it that I wound up taking voice lessons at age 23, after all? And why is it that the older I grow, the more passionate I am becoming about music. Why is it that although I've taken a few piano lessons here and there since I was a child, now 33, I feel a crazy obsession and almost adoration for the piano?

Why am I so f'n backwards? Although I do feel blessed for this gift, I'm realizing this curse I have of being, living or growing so f'n backwards.