Beauty in Inconsistency

It's quite interesting how music can never be recreated.
No matter how skilled the musician, or how many times that same old score's been practiced,
What comes spewing out of the instruments will always be different.

Because music is so subjective, it's so...subject to the mood of the instrumentalist.
No one person can imitate another's handiwork.
No one person can recreate another's feelings.
No one person can be in that precise moment, as the musician over his instrument.

And, just like this, every time I am "in the moment",
so ever presently listening to the notes on the piano,
I will play exactly what I feel.

Then, 2 minutes later, right after the sound of the last note wears off,
I forget every single thing I'd played...

Unable to capture the beauty of the moment; left forever unrepeated.

And that...is the most frustrating thing sometimes!

 :(

The Cause of My Upside Down Smile

I am uninspired.

I read your words and I gather nothing;

I play your music and I hear nothing;

I move my lips but say nothing.

I feel unexcited,

uncreative,

underwhelmed.

But I take a deep breath.

I tell myself...tomorrow is a new day.

Tell myself...

it's something to look forward to at least :)

It's time to turn this frown, upside down!

March

All of the things you should forget should really be forgotten.

Rut

It's a tennis match; an endless volley.

It's a pirate ship ride; rocking back and forth.

It's a broken player; stuck at 1:03.

You get the idea.

I need progress.

It's Fading

Thank God.

Headstrong

it's deja vu;

at least now...

i know exactly what needs to be done.

my atrial-ventricular-spaced, life-giving organ is picket-fenced.

so beware, thieves,

lest you impale yourselves on my iron wrought spears.

PLEASE

will. you. just. save. me. all. this. trouble?!

Censorship

An intense 3 hours at the piano serves to be the best form of distraction I'd found.

There's nothing like obsessively playing the same 4 pages until your fingers ache so much from those chordal stretches courtesy of Brahms.

There's nothing like the way music seems to just...click when individual scores are put together.

There's nothing like knowing you bring colour to a sheet of black and white.

There's nothing like the genius of a composer to bring forth so much emotion.

An intense 3 hours at the piano can push any thought, any doubt, any confusion into little pockets in the corners of your mind; safely guarded, safely barricaded from the ring and ding of what you're playing with your eyes and your mind and your hands.

It's the best form of distraction...

And I'm glad I have it.

The one thing that is really, truly, only, mine.

So mark my words.
You don't stand a chance. 

Retribution

It is of my utmost desire

to give you a taste of your own medicine.

Distance

You're so obtuse I hope you know it.

You're an ass and I hope you know it too.

Well if you didn't know...

now you know.

30%

Yup, that's what I got for diploma. 

30%

Which, thankfully, doesn't reflect the amount of effort I'd put in.

So. Now I really do believe in the principle of "giving it your best shot".

I'm not exactly disappointed...I'd seen it coming.

Not exactly unhappy...I actually agree with the examiners' comments. 

Not exactly regretful...I'm glad I even bothered trying.

But I definitely, definitely feel like I'd let my parents down.

My first (kind of) major fail in my life and, well, I'm quite surprised at my nonchalance. 

Given the circumstances during the taking of the exam, I'd say I did pretty okay. It was either fail in that or physio anyways. Something had to give.

I'm glad it was this...

because, well, let's face it.

I'm no superwoman.

The Female Complex

It's insane that every time any female goes crazy bezerk over the mildest of issues, the most innocuous of confrontations, it's almost always due to a well-hidden, secondary cause that's been harbouring masses of anger/guilt/sadness over a period of time.

And the key word here is well-hidden.

How in the world do we females expect guys to be so perceptive?

(I say "we" because, as much as i hate to admit, i do fall prey to this stereotype)

Then we explode over an issue as stupid as choice in plates and expect the source of the problem to magically come to the realization that it really is his...i don't know, lack of appreciation for her (what the freak?) that's causing all this fuss about plates. And when he doesn't, a number of things ensue:

1. the silent treatment (and the poor guy has no clue what is going on)
2. endless bitching
3. making korean dramas in her head, WHICH, due to dramatization, further blows the issue out of proportion.

Men may be thick, but this probably ranks as the stupidest expectation of them i have ever seen.

GAH!

R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

That's all it takes.

I'm not here to do your bidding.