*Sigh*. Graduation. All my highschool life, I've waited and worked for this- to be able to breathe, relax, call it over. I'm sitting here on the bed watching raindrops bounce off of the flowers in the garden below my open window. I can finally afford to chill out a bit and just take it all in. I love the rain, I love the breeze through open windows, and I love hot vanilla tea. I also love to be able to enjoy those things without the constant feeling of stress weighing me down. I feel the need to share the phrase that has been repeating itself in my head like a mantra since I heard it. But first, I need to tell the story.
It was December 18th. I was working an annual Christmas Tea catering job, and everything was going wrong. We ran out of dishes, the tea from the boiler was cold and we couldn't figure out why, things were misplaced, and a few carefully counted finger sandwiches had been dropped on the floor, rendering them useless and us sandwich-less. The hundred-and-some tea-goers were getting antsy, and therefore somewhat rude to us. Fast-forward two hours. The guests had left, the dishes were being collected from the tables, and we had somehow managed to keep everyone satisfied and a teacup never ran empty. How the three of us had managed it, I will never know. But as we were exhaustedly (and somewhat deliriously) washing lipstick-stained teacups, the manager of the venue paid us a visit in the kitchen. She had been in a few other times to check on us and offer help, but staying professional, we had politely declined and said that we were just fine. During this particular visit, however, she asked us how we had managed with so many mishaps. After relating the whole story and the things we had used to make-do, she smiled a small smile and said just a few simple words to us that I will never forget. "See," she said, pouring herself a cup of leftover tea, "it's never as bad as you think."
Those words have rung in my ears since December 18th and have become a motto for me. During this schoolyear I have been so stressed, and it seems that a majority of the days have been days just like December 18th- when everything seems to be going wrong, and nobody can understand why I'm so frantic. However, the profound little phrase that Mary said to us in the kitchen that night has struck a chord with me and comforted me whenever I feel like it can't possibly be any worse. I just convince myself that its not as bad as I think, and someday, in retrospect, I will realize that that phrase couldn't be more true.
That day has finally come. I'm down to the last sip of my vanilla tea, the rain has slowed to a slight drizzle, and the breeze that's dancing through my open window smells like fresh earth. I'm in that state of retrospect now, and I see that it was indeed, not as bad as I thought.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Words of Apology and a Bass Guitar
Wow. I just realized what day it is, and how long it has been since I last posted. My apologies. I do have a resonable excuse though. I've been busy having a birthday, getting my driver's license, and trying to graduate. Check, check, and check. Well, there's a half check on that last one. The actual ceremony hasn't taken place yet, but it will on Saturday. I am finished all schoolwork though, and that is exciting and scary and relieving and stressful all at once.
On another note, I have an important decision to share! I have been fortunate enough to come across a rather random discovery. A few weeks ago (or has it been months?), my boyfriend decided he was going to buy a bass guitar. This was totally out of the blue. So, two weeks ago, I picked it up and started to play it rather jokingly while I waited with him for his band practice to start. Sitting there listening to him explain notes and strings to me was fascinating. It was like learning music all over again. It made sense and I was even able to pick out a few melodies on my own, even though I had never touched a bass guitar before. It just felt right, and I had an epic vision of rockstardom. I want to learn how to play the bass now, and hopefully be good at it too. I've been listening to the bass in songs on the radio and on my iPod (who we will call Buddy from now on, because that's his name), and sometimes I will stop in the middle of the store to see if I can pick it out through the speakers between the noises of the crowd. I'm fully intrigued and I can't wait until I have my own. Hopefully, by July that will happen. I've been promised a trip to Guitar Center as soon as I save enough. One more thing to look forward to. I think it will be a good summer.
On another note, I have an important decision to share! I have been fortunate enough to come across a rather random discovery. A few weeks ago (or has it been months?), my boyfriend decided he was going to buy a bass guitar. This was totally out of the blue. So, two weeks ago, I picked it up and started to play it rather jokingly while I waited with him for his band practice to start. Sitting there listening to him explain notes and strings to me was fascinating. It was like learning music all over again. It made sense and I was even able to pick out a few melodies on my own, even though I had never touched a bass guitar before. It just felt right, and I had an epic vision of rockstardom. I want to learn how to play the bass now, and hopefully be good at it too. I've been listening to the bass in songs on the radio and on my iPod (who we will call Buddy from now on, because that's his name), and sometimes I will stop in the middle of the store to see if I can pick it out through the speakers between the noises of the crowd. I'm fully intrigued and I can't wait until I have my own. Hopefully, by July that will happen. I've been promised a trip to Guitar Center as soon as I save enough. One more thing to look forward to. I think it will be a good summer.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
The Baldwin on Lexington Road
Inhale...exhale. Beat.
She pushed open the door. It squealed a little on its hinges as it made its slow journey inward. She was hit with the smell of clean floors. Clean, wooden floors. They had probably just been mopped. Squeak, squeak, squeak. Her shoes made a rhythmic sound as she walked across them. Definitely just mopped. Her glance rose from her squeaking shoes to the unlit fireplace in which a large, wooden swan sat poised, reminding her of the many scoldings it had caused her when she was younger. Shifting her gaze still higher, she caught a glimpse of it.
The piano.
It stole the breath right out of her lungs. So ethereal and majestic, it dominated the room. The studio lights were trained on its glimmering dark beauty. The lid was open, a sight that poured music into the heart, even though the instrument remained soundless. It had always been an object of great mystery to her, ever since she was small, but only just that-an object. But now, purposefully standing here in its formiddable presence, she felt its mystery as if it were a living creature, not just a piece of furniture to hide behind during her childhood games of hide-and-seek.
She felt a chill shimmy over her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Those studio lights. They were warm.
Hot.
White hot.
She closed and reopened her eyes. The creature was still there. She hadn't moved any closer to it. Why not? Was it fright? Nervousness? Maybe a hint of unworthiness? She shook the feeling, whatever it was, and stepped closer.
Closer.
She could see it clearly now, every detail, every nonexistent flaw. It was gorgeous. She sank to the bench that was perched before it. Lifted her hands above the keys. They suspended hesitantly there for a moment before sliently alighting on the warm, white notes. She looked at her hands, now resting there on the instrument. Chipped black nail polish and a white seashell ring interrupted the perfect pattern of the keys underneath them. They looked so out of place there. On the paino.
Slowly, she willed her right index finger to depress the key on which it rested. The sound that emanated from the belly of the beast was beautiful to her. A solid D rang in her ears, blossoming with vibrato as she held it.
That's how it began. There, in her grandmother's house, with the six foot Baldwin. She had an attachment to the instrument ever since that day, knowing that it was what had taught her and molded her into the musician she had turned out to be. It had played her more than she had played it. The connection she felt to that piano was electrifying every time she sat down to play it.
Thinking about it, she decided she probably had more connection to this piano than her own. It's playful personality and sudden mood swings mystified her. A tempermental thing, really. She'd never played another one like it. Even with all of its random whimsy, it was home. Her own piano, although passionate in mood and familiar in feeling, would never be as comforting as the Baldwin on Lexington Road.
She pushed open the door. It squealed a little on its hinges as it made its slow journey inward. She was hit with the smell of clean floors. Clean, wooden floors. They had probably just been mopped. Squeak, squeak, squeak. Her shoes made a rhythmic sound as she walked across them. Definitely just mopped. Her glance rose from her squeaking shoes to the unlit fireplace in which a large, wooden swan sat poised, reminding her of the many scoldings it had caused her when she was younger. Shifting her gaze still higher, she caught a glimpse of it.
The piano.
It stole the breath right out of her lungs. So ethereal and majestic, it dominated the room. The studio lights were trained on its glimmering dark beauty. The lid was open, a sight that poured music into the heart, even though the instrument remained soundless. It had always been an object of great mystery to her, ever since she was small, but only just that-an object. But now, purposefully standing here in its formiddable presence, she felt its mystery as if it were a living creature, not just a piece of furniture to hide behind during her childhood games of hide-and-seek.
She felt a chill shimmy over her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Those studio lights. They were warm.
Hot.
White hot.
She closed and reopened her eyes. The creature was still there. She hadn't moved any closer to it. Why not? Was it fright? Nervousness? Maybe a hint of unworthiness? She shook the feeling, whatever it was, and stepped closer.
Closer.
She could see it clearly now, every detail, every nonexistent flaw. It was gorgeous. She sank to the bench that was perched before it. Lifted her hands above the keys. They suspended hesitantly there for a moment before sliently alighting on the warm, white notes. She looked at her hands, now resting there on the instrument. Chipped black nail polish and a white seashell ring interrupted the perfect pattern of the keys underneath them. They looked so out of place there. On the paino.
Slowly, she willed her right index finger to depress the key on which it rested. The sound that emanated from the belly of the beast was beautiful to her. A solid D rang in her ears, blossoming with vibrato as she held it.
That's how it began. There, in her grandmother's house, with the six foot Baldwin. She had an attachment to the instrument ever since that day, knowing that it was what had taught her and molded her into the musician she had turned out to be. It had played her more than she had played it. The connection she felt to that piano was electrifying every time she sat down to play it.
Thinking about it, she decided she probably had more connection to this piano than her own. It's playful personality and sudden mood swings mystified her. A tempermental thing, really. She'd never played another one like it. Even with all of its random whimsy, it was home. Her own piano, although passionate in mood and familiar in feeling, would never be as comforting as the Baldwin on Lexington Road.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Qualities of a Dancer: Raw and Essential
Grace
Enthusiasm
Wonder
Spontanaeity
Excitement
Beauty
Flexibility
Emotion
Fascination
Intensity
Passion
Intelligence
Energy
Swiftness
Synchronicity
Electricity
Understanding
Connection
Feeling
Courage
Whimsy
Individuality
Love
Tranquility
Musicality
Coordination
Rhythm
Confidence
Devotion
Agility
Expression
Perserverance
Perfectionism
Discipline
Strength
Enthusiasm
Wonder
Spontanaeity
Excitement
Beauty
Flexibility
Emotion
Fascination
Intensity
Passion
Intelligence
Energy
Swiftness
Synchronicity
Electricity
Understanding
Connection
Feeling
Courage
Whimsy
Individuality
Love
Tranquility
Musicality
Coordination
Rhythm
Confidence
Devotion
Agility
Expression
Perserverance
Perfectionism
Discipline
Strength
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