ABSOLUTELY THE BEST UPDATE EVER!!! EVERYONE READ!!!
This is long, (as usual), but definitely worth reading all the way through. So do it!
Remarkable, how sometimes the most mundane things can change your life in the most unexpected ways.
Take, for instance, a piano. Just an ordinary baby grand piano in the basement of the music building. Until Thursday, nothing at all to suggest that it was in any way unusual or special.
It was 4:30, and I had just emerged from a meeting about my senior project, when it came into my head that I had not played the piano in quite some time, and I felt that maybe it would do me a bit of good.
On this particular occasion, the music building was fairly full, and I was lucky in that I managed to pass the very last practice room just as someone was leaving it. While most of the practice rooms were home to wooden pianos, the room I managed to procure was one of the few which housed a shiny black baby grand. Though, upon entering, this fact made very little difference.
Some of you may already know that I’m not a studied piano player. I have played since I was young, but everything I’ve learned, I’ve learned on my own. Typically, I play by ear, though, on occasion, I can read music. Admittedly, though, I can’t just breeze through sheet music like someone who has actually taken lessons can, but a base knowledge of sheet music notation combined with a remarkable ear for music allows me to figure it out without too much trouble.
These are the very thoughts that I was having as I was playing the piano, alternating between Beatles songs from my music books and video game music that I had taught myself. From here, I started a very interesting train of thought. It occurred to me that I hadn’t gotten the chance to play for anyone in quite some time. Though, as I mentioned before, some of you may know about my history on the piano, many of my more recent friends may not even know I play at all.
I started thinking at that time that maybe I should invite some people down with me so I could perform for them. I started thinking on the idea of performance in general, and suddenly I remembered when I sang for Phi Tau Rockstar, how horribly nervous I had been, and how much I had put myself down before the performance. But it hit me then…I didn’t perform because I’d been “suckered into it,” as I’d said. I chose to be Floyd’s singer, because of a subconscious desire to show off.
This revelation led to a serious reappraisal of my self-image in general, particularly concerning my habit of putting myself down. I started wondering if I even believed any of it anymore, or if all of my self-deprecation was pure habit by this point. Or maybe, as it had been for Rockstar, a subconscious arrogance.
When I looked up from the keys then I saw it - my reflection in the baby grand, smiling right at me. Or, rather, not smiling, but smirking. I can’t tell you how others feel about this, except that there are those who have told me how much prettier I am when I smile. For me, though, while there isn’t anything particularly wrong with the way I smile, it’s always been that smirk that has made me special. Sure, my smile is cute, and sure, people seem to love it when I’m cheerful…but that smirk…that smirk conveys everything I am. It’s my brain, my wits, my playfulness, my cocky charm, my sexy allure, everything that sets me apart, rolled into a singular facial expression.
There she was, my reflection, this gorgeous girl smirking through the black sheen of the piano, as if to say, “Look at yourself, Ana. You know as well as I do how you really feel about yourself. If you didn’t think you were attractive, you wouldn’t get up on stage in skimpy lingerie, or describe characters based upon yourself in terms such as ‘curvy,’ ‘stunning, almond-shaped brown eyes,’ ‘pouting lips,’ or ‘unconventionally beautiful.’ If you didn’t think you were a good writer, you wouldn’t be trying to make a career out of it. If you didn’t think you were a good musician, or even a good performer in general, you wouldn’t brag about it or show off to your friends. If you didn’t think you were funny or interesting or intelligent, you wouldn’t bother trying to dazzle your friends and family with your keen wit. Honey, you’re adored…and why the hell shouldn’t you be?”
I spent the rest of the day barely able to get a sentence out to anyone without laughing hysterically. I had rarely been in such a fantastic mood. And at the end of the day, when I was finally able to calm myself down enough to get to sleep, I could see her in my head. My baby grand reflection was there, smirking, smirking, always smirking, with the occasional smart-alecky wink in my direction.
So that’s it, an epiphany to end all epiphanies. Not too shabby, I’d say.
As for my life in general, well, I’ll get to that in future updates. I’ve got a few lined up that I need to get written anyway, such as my class analysis, my review of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, and my Oscar recap. This is the first time I’ve written a blog in probably around three months, so we will see how long it takes me to get those others out. Goodnight, folks!
RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE DAY: If there’s one thing I’ve learned from eating knock-off cheese curls from Albertson’s, it’s that, when you’ve got a hankering for Cheetos, nothing else but real Cheetos is going to do it for you.
Remarkable, how sometimes the most mundane things can change your life in the most unexpected ways.
Take, for instance, a piano. Just an ordinary baby grand piano in the basement of the music building. Until Thursday, nothing at all to suggest that it was in any way unusual or special.
It was 4:30, and I had just emerged from a meeting about my senior project, when it came into my head that I had not played the piano in quite some time, and I felt that maybe it would do me a bit of good.
On this particular occasion, the music building was fairly full, and I was lucky in that I managed to pass the very last practice room just as someone was leaving it. While most of the practice rooms were home to wooden pianos, the room I managed to procure was one of the few which housed a shiny black baby grand. Though, upon entering, this fact made very little difference.
Some of you may already know that I’m not a studied piano player. I have played since I was young, but everything I’ve learned, I’ve learned on my own. Typically, I play by ear, though, on occasion, I can read music. Admittedly, though, I can’t just breeze through sheet music like someone who has actually taken lessons can, but a base knowledge of sheet music notation combined with a remarkable ear for music allows me to figure it out without too much trouble.
These are the very thoughts that I was having as I was playing the piano, alternating between Beatles songs from my music books and video game music that I had taught myself. From here, I started a very interesting train of thought. It occurred to me that I hadn’t gotten the chance to play for anyone in quite some time. Though, as I mentioned before, some of you may know about my history on the piano, many of my more recent friends may not even know I play at all.
I started thinking at that time that maybe I should invite some people down with me so I could perform for them. I started thinking on the idea of performance in general, and suddenly I remembered when I sang for Phi Tau Rockstar, how horribly nervous I had been, and how much I had put myself down before the performance. But it hit me then…I didn’t perform because I’d been “suckered into it,” as I’d said. I chose to be Floyd’s singer, because of a subconscious desire to show off.
This revelation led to a serious reappraisal of my self-image in general, particularly concerning my habit of putting myself down. I started wondering if I even believed any of it anymore, or if all of my self-deprecation was pure habit by this point. Or maybe, as it had been for Rockstar, a subconscious arrogance.
When I looked up from the keys then I saw it - my reflection in the baby grand, smiling right at me. Or, rather, not smiling, but smirking. I can’t tell you how others feel about this, except that there are those who have told me how much prettier I am when I smile. For me, though, while there isn’t anything particularly wrong with the way I smile, it’s always been that smirk that has made me special. Sure, my smile is cute, and sure, people seem to love it when I’m cheerful…but that smirk…that smirk conveys everything I am. It’s my brain, my wits, my playfulness, my cocky charm, my sexy allure, everything that sets me apart, rolled into a singular facial expression.
There she was, my reflection, this gorgeous girl smirking through the black sheen of the piano, as if to say, “Look at yourself, Ana. You know as well as I do how you really feel about yourself. If you didn’t think you were attractive, you wouldn’t get up on stage in skimpy lingerie, or describe characters based upon yourself in terms such as ‘curvy,’ ‘stunning, almond-shaped brown eyes,’ ‘pouting lips,’ or ‘unconventionally beautiful.’ If you didn’t think you were a good writer, you wouldn’t be trying to make a career out of it. If you didn’t think you were a good musician, or even a good performer in general, you wouldn’t brag about it or show off to your friends. If you didn’t think you were funny or interesting or intelligent, you wouldn’t bother trying to dazzle your friends and family with your keen wit. Honey, you’re adored…and why the hell shouldn’t you be?”
I spent the rest of the day barely able to get a sentence out to anyone without laughing hysterically. I had rarely been in such a fantastic mood. And at the end of the day, when I was finally able to calm myself down enough to get to sleep, I could see her in my head. My baby grand reflection was there, smirking, smirking, always smirking, with the occasional smart-alecky wink in my direction.
So that’s it, an epiphany to end all epiphanies. Not too shabby, I’d say.
As for my life in general, well, I’ll get to that in future updates. I’ve got a few lined up that I need to get written anyway, such as my class analysis, my review of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, and my Oscar recap. This is the first time I’ve written a blog in probably around three months, so we will see how long it takes me to get those others out. Goodnight, folks!
RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE DAY: If there’s one thing I’ve learned from eating knock-off cheese curls from Albertson’s, it’s that, when you’ve got a hankering for Cheetos, nothing else but real Cheetos is going to do it for you.