music, my anti-drug
Wednesday, February 4, 2009 3:55 PM
music, my anti-drug
i wrote this narrative for my english composition class. i dont really like writing but its my homework so i have to. honestly, im not really inspired by my grandfather. most of the emotional part of this was fabricated.
My literacy in music started at an early age. As far as I can remember, music has always been a part of my life. I am not a prodigy or someone you could call “gifted”, but somehow I can say that I am blessed with an ear and a heart for music.
Looking back at my childhood, I was often awakened by beautiful piano music played by my grandfather who lived with us. How I love to wake up with the rich, yet mellow sound of the piano. The music gave me a sense of peace and gratitude that made me appreciate each new day. It was as if God was telling me that everything is going to be alright. I was so thrilled once when my grandfather
played an up tempo piece. With my little toy drum I followed the beat of the music, like a metronome. After my “little” performance, my grandfather smiled at me with an approving look on his face. That might be the time when my folks thought that I might be ready for my music lessons.
At the age of five, I found myself in a little studio of my first piano teacher. I was very eager to learn, however, the butterflies in my stomach won’t seem to stop fluttering. “Teacher, please teach me” I mumbled, followed with an awkward bow. That was the first thing I learned from my teacher – COURTESY. Silence filled the room while I wait for instructions, but somehow the secretive ticking
of the clock on the wall seemed to expose itself. Sweat flowed slowly on my cheek as my lesson goes on, then the sight of it dripping on the piano keys made me more apprehensive. Good thing that incident happened only during my first time.
After several months, my first piano recital is coming ahead. The traditional tunes Lightly row and Honey bee were my first recital piece. Every day, my little hands would play the same two songs over and over again, trying to memorize and master it. The recital day came; I rehearsed one last time before we went to the venue. Piano students together with their parents all gathered for that
special day, everyone looked so nice and excited. We were seated according to the order of performance. In next in no time, my turn came. Being in front of a huge crowd, the stage felt like the coldest place on earth. Applause thundered the hall after my performance. That was the day I felt so proud of myself.
My piano lessons continued until when I was in fourth. We had to move to the province and live there for a while because of my mom’s job. It was my very first time to move to a new place, and it was also my first time being separated with my grandfather. It was tough but I had to deal with it. Our new home was located in a very small town, surrounded by vast farmlands and a hundred miles
away from the city. Very different from where we used to live. We couldn’t find a piano teacher for me, so I guess I had to stop for a while. Gradually, I stopped playing the piano. That time, Music stopped playing in my life, and my passion and love for it walked away.
Years went by and my elementary graduation came. My mom decided to send
me back to the city where we used to reside, for me to attend high school. It was a very exciting moment for me. Like most teenagers, I was adventurous and had a lot of ideas of fun and exciting things to do. I had this sense of freedom, but I later found out that I am going to stay with my grandparents again. That idea seemed to lessen my excitement. Before long, school days were here again. my grandfather suggested that I continue taking piano lessons.
He found me a new teacher and started reviewing what I had learned from the past. It was not the same as before, I no longer have the same enthusiasm of learning and making music. Laziness and stubbornness took over. Often times I skipped my piano lessons, until I just completely stopped. For sure, my grandfather was not really pleased about it. But one day, while I was organizing some of my things in the closet, I noticed a box sitting on top of the shelf. Driven by curiosity, I took a chair for me to step on and reached for the box. I opened it and saw a violin inside. How I admired the intricate details on it. On the spur of the moment I went to my grandfather and showed him what I discovered.
“That is your cousin’s violin that he is not using anymore” he said.
“It has been in that box for quite some time now”
“Can I play with it?” I timidly asked.
“Well, of course you can, I was planning to sell it since no one seemed
interested in it”
“But if you wanted to learn how to play the violin, you can have it”
From then on, I found myself rediscovering music. I took the opportunity of learning
a new instrument and my passion for music was once again rekindled. “You will never regret learning how to play an instrument” my grandfather once told me. As days and years passed, those words remained in my thoughts and I came to a point where I pondered that maybe, he’s right. I became an orchestra player and had the opportunity to travel and meet a lot of new people. It was fun and exciting, but nothing compares with the joy of seeing my family, especially my grandfather, with audience whenever I perform. Those moments are priceless.
My life seemed different, and my ideas of fun have changed. Making music is like
therapy for me, an outlet of stress and a freedom of expression. I wonder how my life would be if my younger years were spent doing other things, if I exchanged my time practicing to doing what most teenagers thought was fun.
i wrote this narrative for my english composition class. i dont really like writing but its my homework so i have to. honestly, im not really inspired by my grandfather. most of the emotional part of this was fabricated.
My literacy in music started at an early age. As far as I can remember, music has always been a part of my life. I am not a prodigy or someone you could call “gifted”, but somehow I can say that I am blessed with an ear and a heart for music.
Looking back at my childhood, I was often awakened by beautiful piano music played by my grandfather who lived with us. How I love to wake up with the rich, yet mellow sound of the piano. The music gave me a sense of peace and gratitude that made me appreciate each new day. It was as if God was telling me that everything is going to be alright. I was so thrilled once when my grandfather
played an up tempo piece. With my little toy drum I followed the beat of the music, like a metronome. After my “little” performance, my grandfather smiled at me with an approving look on his face. That might be the time when my folks thought that I might be ready for my music lessons.
At the age of five, I found myself in a little studio of my first piano teacher. I was very eager to learn, however, the butterflies in my stomach won’t seem to stop fluttering. “Teacher, please teach me” I mumbled, followed with an awkward bow. That was the first thing I learned from my teacher – COURTESY. Silence filled the room while I wait for instructions, but somehow the secretive ticking
of the clock on the wall seemed to expose itself. Sweat flowed slowly on my cheek as my lesson goes on, then the sight of it dripping on the piano keys made me more apprehensive. Good thing that incident happened only during my first time.
After several months, my first piano recital is coming ahead. The traditional tunes Lightly row and Honey bee were my first recital piece. Every day, my little hands would play the same two songs over and over again, trying to memorize and master it. The recital day came; I rehearsed one last time before we went to the venue. Piano students together with their parents all gathered for that
special day, everyone looked so nice and excited. We were seated according to the order of performance. In next in no time, my turn came. Being in front of a huge crowd, the stage felt like the coldest place on earth. Applause thundered the hall after my performance. That was the day I felt so proud of myself.
My piano lessons continued until when I was in fourth. We had to move to the province and live there for a while because of my mom’s job. It was my very first time to move to a new place, and it was also my first time being separated with my grandfather. It was tough but I had to deal with it. Our new home was located in a very small town, surrounded by vast farmlands and a hundred miles
away from the city. Very different from where we used to live. We couldn’t find a piano teacher for me, so I guess I had to stop for a while. Gradually, I stopped playing the piano. That time, Music stopped playing in my life, and my passion and love for it walked away.
Years went by and my elementary graduation came. My mom decided to send
me back to the city where we used to reside, for me to attend high school. It was a very exciting moment for me. Like most teenagers, I was adventurous and had a lot of ideas of fun and exciting things to do. I had this sense of freedom, but I later found out that I am going to stay with my grandparents again. That idea seemed to lessen my excitement. Before long, school days were here again. my grandfather suggested that I continue taking piano lessons.
He found me a new teacher and started reviewing what I had learned from the past. It was not the same as before, I no longer have the same enthusiasm of learning and making music. Laziness and stubbornness took over. Often times I skipped my piano lessons, until I just completely stopped. For sure, my grandfather was not really pleased about it. But one day, while I was organizing some of my things in the closet, I noticed a box sitting on top of the shelf. Driven by curiosity, I took a chair for me to step on and reached for the box. I opened it and saw a violin inside. How I admired the intricate details on it. On the spur of the moment I went to my grandfather and showed him what I discovered.
“That is your cousin’s violin that he is not using anymore” he said.
“It has been in that box for quite some time now”
“Can I play with it?” I timidly asked.
“Well, of course you can, I was planning to sell it since no one seemed
interested in it”
“But if you wanted to learn how to play the violin, you can have it”
From then on, I found myself rediscovering music. I took the opportunity of learning
a new instrument and my passion for music was once again rekindled. “You will never regret learning how to play an instrument” my grandfather once told me. As days and years passed, those words remained in my thoughts and I came to a point where I pondered that maybe, he’s right. I became an orchestra player and had the opportunity to travel and meet a lot of new people. It was fun and exciting, but nothing compares with the joy of seeing my family, especially my grandfather, with audience whenever I perform. Those moments are priceless.
My life seemed different, and my ideas of fun have changed. Making music is like
therapy for me, an outlet of stress and a freedom of expression. I wonder how my life would be if my younger years were spent doing other things, if I exchanged my time practicing to doing what most teenagers thought was fun.