Transposing from a napkin

“When we started you out in piano, my initial thought was, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if someday she could play Chopin?’ And now it’s like, mission accomplished.”

-Mom

Teacher: “You did very well. You were very professional.”
Me: “You were professional too!”

Tuesday at seven I was in attendance of that infernal interminable piano recital. I fail to understand why either the teacher or the pairs of students involved would agree to have the same piece played twice at the same concert, but we were nevertheless required to listen to two interpretations of the Moonlight Sonata, two portrayals of some piece called Glittering/Shimmering Waters, and two repetitions of that horrendous Kelly Clarkson Breakaway. Though, of course, the adjective “horrendous” seemed far better merited the second time through.

Now, some of the students playing even the most repulsive pieces were very talented. However, my teacher deals mostly with youngsters and beginners, which makes the few longtime pianists seem much better than they are – or so it is in my case. Because I have been playing for nearly a decade, my teacher sees fit to schedule me at the end of the programme, while my younger siblings feature closer to the beginning.

Were I sitting at the back of the room, I would have crept outside during the middle portion to seek refuge among wind and water (the recital is typically held at Stewart Hall, on a particularly beautiful stretch of waterfront), but unfortunately (cok maalesef…pardon my last-minute reviewing of the language) this was not an option. So I stayed through the entire monotony, drawing a duckphincorn on my program and trying to figure out how many years my music teacher had played Pinball Wizard at the concert (two or three, but not this year).

And during intermission, I rushed outside to watch the sailboats. I am especially drawn to catamarans – you know, the boats with two hulls, the ones that skim across the lake like water spiders. I stood outside writing on a napkin, standing on a flat stone by the water, my dark blue skirt (of which I am very fond) playing around my ankles with the wind.

Eventually I had to play, of course. I messed up the same part twice and had to invent some notes, but my hands weren’t shaking too much. I suppose something of this nature isn’t very high-stress.

Anyway, that was Tuesday. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday are scheduled to appear soon. After that posting may become irregular.

the most idyllic eternity