Monday, October 12, 2015

Goodbye Piano... *cries*

(sigh, I really need to catch up on my posts, anyways, here's one from a month ago...)

*read the following four sentences in a dramatic voice*

Guys! Something tragic happened! A few weeks ago, I made the huge decision to stop taking piano lessons...yes. You read it correctly...!
I've been playing piano since I was six or seven. I'm sixteen now. If you know anything about your Asian stereotypes, you'd now think that I have dishonoured my family, and I am a failure...

Ever since...a few years ago, I've started despising piano lessons. Don't get me wrong, I love playing piano, it's the lessons I didn't quite like. And...don't get me wrong again, it's not the piano teacher I despise, it's the dread of going that I really disliked. Ever since high school, I've been getting massive piles of homework, and I've sorta...kinda...neglected my piano a bit. Not intentionally, of course, but....oh, stop looking at me like that. I am not a lazy girl who gets distracted by everything and—oh look! A book—a crazy amount, which results in—gasp! Another book!—endless piles of homework. Nope, not me...

But really, what I'm trying to say is...I feel like an absolute failure. Yes, in case you haven't noticed I may have self-esteem issues, and believe that I'm not good at anything—which is true, btw—and everything I'm mediocre at, I end up quitting. I. Am. A. Failure. Don't even try to convince me otherwise.

And you know what pains me the most? The fact that I could have continued, but I decided to stick with my snap decision and quit. You see, I'm taking RCM examinations for piano, and those examinations cost way too much for us commoners. And even though I managed to pass my RCM examinations up to grade seven with first class honours, and earned myself a shelf of useless trophies over the years, I quit before reaching grade eight. I know, I'm still smacking myself to this very day.

My excuse: it's too stressful for me.

I'm not kidding, I spent hours practicing, sometimes until my fingers were numb, or they started bleeding. I would break down every once in a while and start crying because of my pathetic good for nothing hands. I was a big ball of negative emotions, and those were dark days I don't want to go into right now.

I do love playing piano, I really, really do. But the fact that someone is paying for my lessons is...too much pressure. I suppose it's all part of life and all, but I don't like it...Will I regret 10 years of learning piano? Yes. Will I ever get over it? Possibly. Will I continue to be miserable until I do. Most likely yes.

I still play piano at home though, but I've since strayed from the Baroque, Classical, and Romance periods, I'm now trying my hand at pop songs such as A Thousand Years, and All of Me. I think it's going well, but not a day goes by that I don't think of possibly one of the worse mistakes I've made...

*cries again*

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