Bao's weblog


Meandering thoughts of a Bay Area college student… be prepared for some bipolar vocabulary

It’s not fair.

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It really isn’t. I’ve played the Feather Theme for Forrest Gump for over half a year. I knew every note, every rhythm. I could alter the song to fit my mood. I could play at least three of its four pages with eyes closed. I’ve even added my own notes and little details to enhance the piece. I made my piano teacher cry. I’ve played it when my hands were drenched in sweat.

So why is it that when I step onto the stage, my eyes get blurry, my hands start shaking, and my feet become unsteady? Why is it that when I start playing, my memory begins to deteriorate? Why is it that when I start playing, my potential decreases into the potential of a six year old? I can play in front of friends. What the fuck is the difference!?

I was SO confident. I knew my piece so well I’ve played it half asleep. I wasn’t nervous, I was filled with determination and confidence… until I took my bow.

But I suppose I got lucky. My parents didn’t find anything wrong with my piece. I’ve made two mistakes as far as I can recall. But considering that I’ve been playing that piece for eight months, that is failure. Lucky I’ve played the piece with my eyes closed before. The black and white keys morphed in front of my eyes and I couldn’t tell the difference between a C and a G. My hands trembled and I had to play notes in the wrong finger sequences. You try landing your number five finger (pinky) on a black key when your hand is shaking three inches back and forth. I played my music in a way that I’ve never played at home. I pulled off a thumb-to-pinky cross over. My fingers went rampant. NOTHING went according to plan. I suppose making only two mistakes is a miracle, even though some of the notes bled because my foot was shaking so hard it couldn’t refresh the pedaling in time.

But the WORST part of that recital piece was the lack of emotion. Once I’m up there, I become narrow-minded, focusing on only bringing this piece to the very last note. My dynamics were gone. My sweeping crescendos, smooth and touching ritardandos… why the fuck did you guys leave me!?

In conclusion, I played the Feather Theme on autopilot, with faulty vision and wildly blurry hands. My one wish right now is to somehow redeem myself in front of another crowd… any crowd. Friends, family, the city of San Jose, all of California. I don’t give a damn if it was for a bunch of damn robot aliens! I just WANT… want to show the world how I really play piano. The retard up there with shaky hands isn’t me. He’s just some asshole I really want to knee in the fucking face.

And if you start talking to me about kids in Africa, I swear to God you’ll get slapped.


Filed under: General

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