I love my piano
Yeah, who cares if there's little marks all over the wood (from when we still lived in an apartment and when I enjoyed throwing hard plastic things at it-good thing Mom thought to keep the lid-thing on, right? I was about three by the way.)? Who cares if it's a dumpy little Baldwin upright?
I LOVE IT ANYWAY. D:<
I used to hate it. Not it in particular, just playing piano in general. But really, who could blame me? I was 6-10 years old and under the rule of a Russian tyrant-granny. (fingers four and five are the weakest ones-she grabbed my pinky and slammed it on the keys, and when I started crying she would yell "no, your body hurts, your skin hurts, but your mind is strong!" while I thought "YOU SHOULD KNOW MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE THAT I AM EMOTIONALLY WEAK.". Then she would pass me her tissue box as I continued my snivelling.
But yeah, after four years, I convinced my parents (more like blackmailed -_-;) that if I didn't switch teachers soon I would refuse to play. But of course, that argument wouldn't have worked, seeing as I was too scared of the teacher to not practice. But we switched anyway.
To another Russian woman, this time she was a scatterbrained lady who fed biscuits to her two dogs for the first five minutes of lessons. I basically learned NOTHING under her. NOTHING. TWO YEARS OF MY LIFE, WASTED! She made me play level three! LEVEL THREE! EVEN AFTER I POINTED OUT THAT I WAS CLEARLY A LEVEL FIVE AT LEAST. What an insult. That's like making a fifth-grader re-learn addition or something. Yeah, she was super-nice, but so what? I began to regret switching teachers. Also, the two levels I skipped became utterly useless as I frittered away two years doing no exams or festivals or competitions. No improvement=instant fail. Just add water, lol I'm on crack.
Finally, we found a wonderful lady who was NOT a tyrant OR a teacher-who-can't-teach. I'm still under her, and she makes me do just as many contests/performances/exams/etc as the first teachers, but she actually didn't make me cry every lesson. Yayz ;D
Anyway...on a slightly different note:
There are currently two people in my life who I want to throttle/strangle/hit with a textbook. There's that kid on the bus, the guy who sits behind me in Geo (Alice can I borrow your eraser thanks no you can't have it back fine I'll give it back since the teacher's looking at me Alice can I borrow your textbook I swear I'll return it I forgot mine in my locker why are you asking yeah I'm done using it what no go get it yourself it's on the floor oh lookie there's the bell I'm gonna go now), the kid on the bus, the kid on the bus, the kid on the bus....
Well, since I've already given an idea of what the guy behind me in Geography's like, the kid on the bus is an annoying, perverted, racist, stupid, absolute prick. My Indian friend and I (and on the bus, older kids sit at the back, first years in front. this is an unspoken LAW.) were walking down the aisle, and he was blocking the way to the Older Kids' zone. My friend told him to move aside, and this is what he said:
"No, no, you go sit in front, we sit here today."
IN THE VOICE ONE WOULD SPEAK IN TO A TWO YEAR OLD. And no, my friend doesn't have an accent at all! Fine, maybe a tiny one, but it's almost unnoticeable. Why that little...*fantasizes about painful ways to inflict pain*
At this point I told my friend to kick/slap him if she had to. She didn't (she's too nice) so I snapped and told him to shut up and sit where he's supposed to. It doesn't take much at all to irritate me, but it takes a lot, and I mean it, to make me tell someone to shut up (My image at school is "quiet, smart, nice girl who sits in the corner and when they're absent nobody notices." Nice girls don't tell people to shut up, no matter how stupid or annoying they may be. Eventually the kid backed off (I resisted the urge to reach into my backpack and pull out my textbooks).
Bwahahah, release the demon within!
And the other guy! In sixth grade, I was partnered up with him for nearly every science lab. Why? I dunno! If anyone reading this decides to become a teacher one day, DO NOT assign the troublemaker with the calm student because us "calm" students definitely have our limits. It's always the calm ones who snap first, mark my words *nods*. Especially if they're PMSing females. ARGH.
Yeah, this kid infiltrated my pencil pouch and shoved all the pencil lead I owned into my pencil. This resulted in the leads snapping into a billion pieces, rendering them useless. I was not satisfied with the lunch detention the teacher gave him. He also took my eraser (the nice one, for when I draw) and poked a hundred holes into it, eventually breaking it. He refused to work, and always tried to lean over my shoulder to peek at my answers ("Hey, we're partners, you have to share!")
We had two classes together, and though I loved everyone else in the class, I hated his guts.
Then seventh grade rolled along, and we were on separate teams. Oh joy! Not really, since 7th was the year I decided to withdraw from the rest of the happy social world and concentrate on homework, studies, music, and more studies. Basically, I had no friends. Hahaha NOT FUNNY.
Eighth grade geography, he's in my class. But that's okay, I thought, since he sits far away from me anyway. But being the idiot he is, he causes enough trouble for the teacher to make him move seats. So that he's two seats away from me. WHAT THE--AGAIN WITH THE--I DEMAND AN EXPLANATION TO THIS BULLCRAP.
Back on track with the piano and stuff, I find that playing is an excellent way to vent. I don't hurt my piano of course (I love it to much! His name is Boris the Baldwin upright) but when I'm PMSing or just angry I take out my fortissimo pieces and bang away.
Check it out, it's stress-relief and skill-improvement! For those of you out there with anger issues, I recommend taking up piano. Good stuff.
End rant, thanks to anyone who actually read this whole wall of text. Goodbye. *goes back downstairs to practice*
I LOVE IT ANYWAY. D:<
I used to hate it. Not it in particular, just playing piano in general. But really, who could blame me? I was 6-10 years old and under the rule of a Russian tyrant-granny. (fingers four and five are the weakest ones-she grabbed my pinky and slammed it on the keys, and when I started crying she would yell "no, your body hurts, your skin hurts, but your mind is strong!" while I thought "YOU SHOULD KNOW MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE THAT I AM EMOTIONALLY WEAK.". Then she would pass me her tissue box as I continued my snivelling.
But yeah, after four years, I convinced my parents (more like blackmailed -_-;) that if I didn't switch teachers soon I would refuse to play. But of course, that argument wouldn't have worked, seeing as I was too scared of the teacher to not practice. But we switched anyway.
To another Russian woman, this time she was a scatterbrained lady who fed biscuits to her two dogs for the first five minutes of lessons. I basically learned NOTHING under her. NOTHING. TWO YEARS OF MY LIFE, WASTED! She made me play level three! LEVEL THREE! EVEN AFTER I POINTED OUT THAT I WAS CLEARLY A LEVEL FIVE AT LEAST. What an insult. That's like making a fifth-grader re-learn addition or something. Yeah, she was super-nice, but so what? I began to regret switching teachers. Also, the two levels I skipped became utterly useless as I frittered away two years doing no exams or festivals or competitions. No improvement=instant fail. Just add water, lol I'm on crack.
Finally, we found a wonderful lady who was NOT a tyrant OR a teacher-who-can't-teach. I'm still under her, and she makes me do just as many contests/performances/exams/etc as the first teachers, but she actually didn't make me cry every lesson. Yayz ;D
Anyway...on a slightly different note:
There are currently two people in my life who I want to throttle/strangle/hit with a textbook. There's that kid on the bus, the guy who sits behind me in Geo (Alice can I borrow your eraser thanks no you can't have it back fine I'll give it back since the teacher's looking at me Alice can I borrow your textbook I swear I'll return it I forgot mine in my locker why are you asking yeah I'm done using it what no go get it yourself it's on the floor oh lookie there's the bell I'm gonna go now), the kid on the bus, the kid on the bus, the kid on the bus....
Well, since I've already given an idea of what the guy behind me in Geography's like, the kid on the bus is an annoying, perverted, racist, stupid, absolute prick. My Indian friend and I (and on the bus, older kids sit at the back, first years in front. this is an unspoken LAW.) were walking down the aisle, and he was blocking the way to the Older Kids' zone. My friend told him to move aside, and this is what he said:
"No, no, you go sit in front, we sit here today."
IN THE VOICE ONE WOULD SPEAK IN TO A TWO YEAR OLD. And no, my friend doesn't have an accent at all! Fine, maybe a tiny one, but it's almost unnoticeable. Why that little...*fantasizes about painful ways to inflict pain*
At this point I told my friend to kick/slap him if she had to. She didn't (she's too nice) so I snapped and told him to shut up and sit where he's supposed to. It doesn't take much at all to irritate me, but it takes a lot, and I mean it, to make me tell someone to shut up (My image at school is "quiet, smart, nice girl who sits in the corner and when they're absent nobody notices." Nice girls don't tell people to shut up, no matter how stupid or annoying they may be. Eventually the kid backed off (I resisted the urge to reach into my backpack and pull out my textbooks).
Bwahahah, release the demon within!
And the other guy! In sixth grade, I was partnered up with him for nearly every science lab. Why? I dunno! If anyone reading this decides to become a teacher one day, DO NOT assign the troublemaker with the calm student because us "calm" students definitely have our limits. It's always the calm ones who snap first, mark my words *nods*. Especially if they're PMSing females. ARGH.
Yeah, this kid infiltrated my pencil pouch and shoved all the pencil lead I owned into my pencil. This resulted in the leads snapping into a billion pieces, rendering them useless. I was not satisfied with the lunch detention the teacher gave him. He also took my eraser (the nice one, for when I draw) and poked a hundred holes into it, eventually breaking it. He refused to work, and always tried to lean over my shoulder to peek at my answers ("Hey, we're partners, you have to share!")
We had two classes together, and though I loved everyone else in the class, I hated his guts.
Then seventh grade rolled along, and we were on separate teams. Oh joy! Not really, since 7th was the year I decided to withdraw from the rest of the happy social world and concentrate on homework, studies, music, and more studies. Basically, I had no friends. Hahaha NOT FUNNY.
Eighth grade geography, he's in my class. But that's okay, I thought, since he sits far away from me anyway. But being the idiot he is, he causes enough trouble for the teacher to make him move seats. So that he's two seats away from me. WHAT THE--AGAIN WITH THE--I DEMAND AN EXPLANATION TO THIS BULLCRAP.
Back on track with the piano and stuff, I find that playing is an excellent way to vent. I don't hurt my piano of course (I love it to much! His name is Boris the Baldwin upright) but when I'm PMSing or just angry I take out my fortissimo pieces and bang away.
Check it out, it's stress-relief and skill-improvement! For those of you out there with anger issues, I recommend taking up piano. Good stuff.
End rant, thanks to anyone who actually read this whole wall of text. Goodbye. *goes back downstairs to practice*