The First Day of Spring
Not according to the bloody weather.
Anyway, more importantly, today is my 21st birthday. Pisces for the win. I wanted to do something crazy and fun, like throwing a huge party, or getting a tattoo, or (my favourite idea) going to New York for the weekend and stalking Matt Dillon.
But, as I enter the celebrated stage of adulthood, I am immediately set upon by that state of mind which is characteristic of grown-ups.
I'm just too fucking busy for that shit.
So, I'm creating my LJ instead! Yaaay ...
And at some point there will be friends and a bar and an amaretto sour or four. Not today though, because we are all too stressed and busy.
I play my first solo recital in exactly two weeks. I am not ready. I'm not terribly worried about that, as I suspect that most people aren't ready for their first recitals, nor do I expect anyone to actually show up. Maybe I'll bring food. That always draws a crowd.
I performed my hardest piece in a master class yesterday to prepare. I was so scared I was shaking ... people always forget to mention that part when they talk about careers in performance. It's scary shit. A master class is basically an open lesson. You play for ten minutes, and then the presiding teacher rips you to shreds for as long as they feel like it afterwards, while your peers (your strongest support network, AND your competition - not good) look on and judge.
Luckily, my professor for this class, Jamie, is kick ass and consistently starts off by saying, "Okay, thank you, very good, very good" before launching into the criticism. He is most insistent that the performer rock out, which is something I can do pretty well. Unfortunately, I am not the drummer for Metallica, I am a classical pianist, and, as convinced as I am that Mozart was bad-ass, I'm pretty sure that doing nothing but smashing the keyboard and headbanging will not fly with the classical crowd.
Alls I'm saying is, Mozart wore tights and a powdered wig and so did David Bowie.
I love being a grown-up.
Anyway, more importantly, today is my 21st birthday. Pisces for the win. I wanted to do something crazy and fun, like throwing a huge party, or getting a tattoo, or (my favourite idea) going to New York for the weekend and stalking Matt Dillon.
But, as I enter the celebrated stage of adulthood, I am immediately set upon by that state of mind which is characteristic of grown-ups.
I'm just too fucking busy for that shit.
So, I'm creating my LJ instead! Yaaay ...
And at some point there will be friends and a bar and an amaretto sour or four. Not today though, because we are all too stressed and busy.
I play my first solo recital in exactly two weeks. I am not ready. I'm not terribly worried about that, as I suspect that most people aren't ready for their first recitals, nor do I expect anyone to actually show up. Maybe I'll bring food. That always draws a crowd.
I performed my hardest piece in a master class yesterday to prepare. I was so scared I was shaking ... people always forget to mention that part when they talk about careers in performance. It's scary shit. A master class is basically an open lesson. You play for ten minutes, and then the presiding teacher rips you to shreds for as long as they feel like it afterwards, while your peers (your strongest support network, AND your competition - not good) look on and judge.
Luckily, my professor for this class, Jamie, is kick ass and consistently starts off by saying, "Okay, thank you, very good, very good" before launching into the criticism. He is most insistent that the performer rock out, which is something I can do pretty well. Unfortunately, I am not the drummer for Metallica, I am a classical pianist, and, as convinced as I am that Mozart was bad-ass, I'm pretty sure that doing nothing but smashing the keyboard and headbanging will not fly with the classical crowd.
Alls I'm saying is, Mozart wore tights and a powdered wig and so did David Bowie.
I love being a grown-up.