|
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
i always believed that i would die before age 20. there would be an accident of tragic means, and i wouldn't live to see two decades. sometimes i feel like if i were to die, i would accept it. by that i mean i'm not eager to die, and i wouldn't be happy, but i would be okay with it. i would understand it if i needed to die. every time i leave on a trip, i start thinking that it's going to be the last time i see my home, and i say goodbye to everything i love. when i left on the airplane from korea back to san fransisco, i was actually surprised when it didn't crash. if it had suddenly failed in the air and had started to free fall, i wouldn't have even been surprised. when we arrived in the airport, i actually felt somewhat... disappointed. then, leaving on the airplane to go to salt lake city, i was waiting for that plane to break down, for me to be forced to have my final moments of life, to breathe my last breath, to look back on my life, and to come to a conclusion that it had been a good one. it feels like it would be so easy to just die. so much in life is a trial, and so much is difficult. all the time i feel like i'm alone, even if i'm surrounded by friends. i'm almost feeling like the number of close friends i have is dwindling. i still have a few friends that i truly love and care about so much, but the friend that i feel like i've lost... it's almost as if i've lost a limb, or a vital organ. something that kept me whole this entire time. there were things she knew about me that no one else knew or would understand. there are things that i told her that i can't find ways to tell anyone else. even now, when something important or exciting happens to me, i feel a sudden desire to call her, or text her, or maybe just stop her when i see her so i can tell her, but in reality i know she wouldn't really care anymore. when she left, metaphorically, she took part of me with her. and maybe the friendship wasn't meant to last, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. just to think that dying would end all the pain i sometimes feel, it almost seems enticing. i would never commit suicide, but maybe dying with a feeling of acceptance and relief is actually considered suicide. but, at the same time, there are so many things i haven't been able to do in my life. i would miss out on so much if i died this young. i would never get my first kiss (at least, one that would count), never find the one man that i would realize i'm in love with, never get married, never have children, never see those children grow, never see them have families of their own. just to think of how beautiful life can be, and how bright the future seems... that is what keeps me from giving up, from accepting death fully. |
|
|
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
every once in awhile (and i mean very occasionally), i go overboard when it comes to practicing. most of the time i either have a satisfying practicing session, working on things that i need to, or i kind of slack off (this happens more often than the former) and get distracted, not practicing as well as i could. but, when i have the right kind of motivation, i tend to over-practice. like, if there's a piece i really want to get perfect for a test, an audition, a performance, etc., i'll keep playing it over and over, stressing over every minor detail ('it squeaks slightly there', 'i over exaggerate that sforzando') and end up exhausting my hands, and not being able to play, period. today was one of those days. i've been playing the d minor bach suite, and recently started working on the courante. this sunday i'll be in california for a chamber music camp, and we'll be having a small, informal audition to decide what level we're at. today i decided i wanted to play the courante for that audition, and casually started practicing it so that i could have it ready by sunday. now my fingers are aching, and the song is stuck in my head. i played it on repeat for about half an hour, not really stopping to rest, and the entire piece, with the exception of about three chords, is made up of sixteenth notes. i practiced the last two lines of the piece repeatedly, and i don't know what comes over me, but i get so frustrated. it's like i can never get it quite right, and i don't want to stop playing until i can at least get through it once without making any errors. so, since i haven't playing it for long, i got so undeniably aggravated with myself. as a child, i played the piano, and when i made mistakes, i would get angry and bite my hands, certain that if i disciplined them (because it was obviously their fault), i would be able to get it right. needless to say, my masochism achieved nothing, except for bleeding fingers. even now, i feel this inexplicable urge to cause myself pain when i make mistakes practicing the cello. i, obviously, don't, but instead keep playing until my calluses crack and bleed (whoopee). this has actually happened more than once, but mostly around federation time. i just feel so inadequate, and i want to get it perfect, to sound better than most high school cellists do. i want to succeed at something i do, because nothing else seems to be working for me. |
|
