What is it like?

March 28, 2008 at 2:23 pm Leave a comment

Quite a few people want to know why I make such a big deal out of piano competitions. Well, I didn’t really have an answer so I wrote a story. I dramatized it a bit and experimented with a different writing style to make it more interesting, and the rest is history (or should I say reading….) enjoy!

Words That Cannot Be Spoken By Me.

The ground seems to be shaking as I rise from my seat in the audience and walk up to the piano bench. On second thought, maybe it’s just my stomach. I cannot believe I let my piano teacher talk me into doing this again. You would think I would have learned my lesson after the first time. Or the second! But alas, I did not.

I’m so not ready!

I should be. I’ve had months and months to prepare, but something else always seems to get in the way of practicing. Juggling high school, friends, family, youth group, volunteer work, and activities is stimulating enough, but to add piano competitions on top of all that? Way. Too. Much. Again, I can’t believe I let myself get talked into doing this. Did I really think I had what it would take to ever become a professional piano player? What does it take to be one anyways?

Ugh. Too many questions, and now is not the time! Right now, I need to concentrate on making a delicate art come out of my trembling fingers. The adjudicators are still fumbling with their papers and making comments from the last performer. I wish they would hurry up. I could only imagine what dazzling remarks they were writing about the girl who had just played that beautiful Beethoven, and what miserable ones they would write about my Chopin. After all, I had barely memorized my piece yesterday, and everyone else seemed like they could have performed their pieces in their sleep.

All right, stop. You’re being negative again.

They adjudicators are handing the comments off to the assistant now, which means that any minute they’ll call on me to announce my piece. Gulp. Now the fat one with the ugly sweater is nodding towards me. Please legs! Don’t fail me now! I stand up and announce my piece to the audience. Thankfully, I remember it’s in major, not minor. Why do all of these classical pieces have such complicated names? I liked it much better when pieces had short, easy names. I really hope I don’t mess this up. Most of all, I hope I don’t start crying again.

The tears I hate the most because they’re uncontrollable. Most of the time I don’t even want to cry, but it just happens. I’ve heard a quote once that said, “Tears are words from the heart that cannot be spoken” so maybe that’s why I always cry when I finish my performances. I just hope that I won’t this time. I look out at the audience. Now all eyes are focused on me, posed and waiting for me to begin. I can’t delay any longer. Please God, just don’t let me completely butcher it. Just let me get through this. Hesitantly, I position my hands above the keys and press down.

Such sweet relief comes to my ears.

My hands, the same ones that had been trembling with fear mere seconds before are now assuredly moving as though they actually know what they are doing. Temporarily, I falter and the music dies. Please God. I know I’ve got to keep going. I’ve worked to hard to give this up. More assuredly this time, I begin again and focus only on the music. I continued to float up and down, twirling loud and soft out onto the keys until at last I come to the wonderful section known as the last measure. I lower my hands to the sound of the last note dying away, and practically melt with relief. I cry; but these are happy tears of joy that don’t embarrass me at all. Instead, these are liberating tears that seem to say from my heart to me “It’s over now. I knew you could do it.”

All right, well hope you guys liked that, cause there’s more to come in the future!

~Firefly~

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Entry filed under: Thoughts, Writing.

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