Time is running out.
That seems to be the undercurrent coursing through the various conversations I've been having with friends. Everyone seems to be talking about how we're nearing 30 and time is not on our side anymore. I can feel the anxiety as well but yet also exasperation.
Sometimes, when alone, I actually admit to myself that I feel grateful. I may not be successful, married, or rich. But I feel grateful because there were junctions in my life where I might have made the wrong turns and ended up worse.
Maybe others, too feel grateful to be alive. But when we come together to talk, all the discontentment and insecurities start to crowd out everything else. Discontentment about our career, lack of money, single status, aging....why can't we ever talk about things that make us feel happy?
I have very little but I know I can get by. But the grumbles and complaints sometimes make me shame-faced, like how others are worried about their future but I'm still being indifferent, insensible, maybe unmotivated.
How strange that our daily defeats can be shared so readily and easily, that discontentment should be our common conversational currency. But after writing this out, I've come to realise something...you only let your guard down with people you trust. That they fretted at me may actually be that they trust me with their insecurities. That I wouldn't think any less of them despite their fears, their cynicism, the same way I wish they wouldn't judge me in my moments of discontentment.
26 Apr 2009
5 Apr 2009
Bumming to music
I was curious to see how my first violin lesson after the disasterous exam would turn out. I had imagined myself having to describe with resignation to the whole lot of my classmates (6 of them) what happened on that lousy day. As it turned out, only one turned up for class.
Of course A**a asked me how it was, and I told her. I sighed, flipped to the first piece which gave me the most grief, and started playing it. I hated that piece; it was difficult and fast and it grated on my ears. But M*s*y* who took the exam as well, had said that the pieces become that much easier once the exam is over. I wanted to see if it's true.
I had expected A**a to fiddle with her own violin as well, but instead she stood there and watched me. My hands did not tremble at all, but yet, the double stop, where you press on 2 strings at the same time, still tripped me up. I stopped and complained that I could never execute them well, but A**a urged "Go on, go on." And so I did.
I hated treating music like an exam subject; hated having to play a piece I dislike over and over again until my back aches; and I definitely hated scales. Because of all these, I gave myself more stress than I realised. It was just overkill. I just want to relak and enjoy my lessons now. Yeah, even when it comes to music, I can't help my bummer tendencies.
Of course A**a asked me how it was, and I told her. I sighed, flipped to the first piece which gave me the most grief, and started playing it. I hated that piece; it was difficult and fast and it grated on my ears. But M*s*y* who took the exam as well, had said that the pieces become that much easier once the exam is over. I wanted to see if it's true.
I had expected A**a to fiddle with her own violin as well, but instead she stood there and watched me. My hands did not tremble at all, but yet, the double stop, where you press on 2 strings at the same time, still tripped me up. I stopped and complained that I could never execute them well, but A**a urged "Go on, go on." And so I did.
I hated treating music like an exam subject; hated having to play a piece I dislike over and over again until my back aches; and I definitely hated scales. Because of all these, I gave myself more stress than I realised. It was just overkill. I just want to relak and enjoy my lessons now. Yeah, even when it comes to music, I can't help my bummer tendencies.
21 Mar 2009
Welcome to my upside down world
I had been having these freaky dreams that left me wound up and unsettled. The other day when I was chatting with friends on MSN I even joked that I should stop and go practise my violin or I'll dream that the examiner is a monster who wants to eat me up. How was I to know that it would, sheesh, be worse than my imaginary nightmare?
The day started pretty all right--I was able to calm myself after a pretty lousy lesson the night before. I had told my teacher and accompanist that the exam would be 3.50pm and the teacher told me to get there at 3.00pm to warm up. Just when I was about to set off, I started to feel something was amiss, and took another look at the applicant sheet and realised that it should be 3.15pm! It was like, aarggh, when will I stop making stupid freaking #$%@ mistakes like that?!
When I got there, my teacher told me the accompanist is rushing there and if she can't make it, he will need to ask someone to stand in for her. I was panicking already and couldn't stop shaking even when I was practising in the studio alone. 5 minutes before the exam, I went to register with the staff just outside the exam studio when a small crowd of chattering people descended on us from nowhere and started introducing this Morris guy around. I was like, uh-oh, this name sounds suspiciously familiar and faintly of authority. Then, I remembered: he's the guy who signs our ABRSM certificates! The happy people then started talking about him observing the examination and asked who the next candidate was (that would be me) and that's when I started to unravel.
I hurried back into the practice studio and almost wailed at my teacher that they are putting an observer in the room. He was quite nonchalant and said, it's OK, it's not like they know who you are etc, and I said, yeah, but I know who he is! I told him how I've seen his name on my certs and he gave this blank look people have when something bad slowly dawns on them but he quickly recovered and tried to calm me down which was, by then, useless.
All I can say was that I was horrified by my own playing. My bow was shaking so badly that it was painful to hear (and from their perspective, to watch) and I even contemplated stopping the whole thing before I embarrassed myself even further.
I didn't feel too good about this whole exam thing because of the niggling feeling that we were underprepared this time round. I was prepared to flunk, even though I badly wanted to pass. But what I didn't expect was flunking in front of the Board's head honcho. It was like wow, seriously, it cannot get worse than this. Why, why, why? Even 4D is easier to strike, if you ask me. Just thinking about it gives me a slight tummy ache. :( My only consolation is that I can stop all the practising for now and give my sore fingers a break. The dented self-confidence will take a while longer to recover, I suspect.
The day started pretty all right--I was able to calm myself after a pretty lousy lesson the night before. I had told my teacher and accompanist that the exam would be 3.50pm and the teacher told me to get there at 3.00pm to warm up. Just when I was about to set off, I started to feel something was amiss, and took another look at the applicant sheet and realised that it should be 3.15pm! It was like, aarggh, when will I stop making stupid freaking #$%@ mistakes like that?!
When I got there, my teacher told me the accompanist is rushing there and if she can't make it, he will need to ask someone to stand in for her. I was panicking already and couldn't stop shaking even when I was practising in the studio alone. 5 minutes before the exam, I went to register with the staff just outside the exam studio when a small crowd of chattering people descended on us from nowhere and started introducing this Morris guy around. I was like, uh-oh, this name sounds suspiciously familiar and faintly of authority. Then, I remembered: he's the guy who signs our ABRSM certificates! The happy people then started talking about him observing the examination and asked who the next candidate was (that would be me) and that's when I started to unravel.
I hurried back into the practice studio and almost wailed at my teacher that they are putting an observer in the room. He was quite nonchalant and said, it's OK, it's not like they know who you are etc, and I said, yeah, but I know who he is! I told him how I've seen his name on my certs and he gave this blank look people have when something bad slowly dawns on them but he quickly recovered and tried to calm me down which was, by then, useless.
All I can say was that I was horrified by my own playing. My bow was shaking so badly that it was painful to hear (and from their perspective, to watch) and I even contemplated stopping the whole thing before I embarrassed myself even further.
I didn't feel too good about this whole exam thing because of the niggling feeling that we were underprepared this time round. I was prepared to flunk, even though I badly wanted to pass. But what I didn't expect was flunking in front of the Board's head honcho. It was like wow, seriously, it cannot get worse than this. Why, why, why? Even 4D is easier to strike, if you ask me. Just thinking about it gives me a slight tummy ache. :( My only consolation is that I can stop all the practising for now and give my sore fingers a break. The dented self-confidence will take a while longer to recover, I suspect.
8 Mar 2009
Sing-along with JM
I knew that Mraz would be good and he would be entertaining and I was not disappointed. I was impressed by how he really sounded better live and was glad that it wasn't hype. Still, I felt something was not quite right, somewhere. And now, I realised it: he hit all the right notes and made no false moves--he was too polished. He had everything down pat. It's weird. I wish he made some boo-boos. Or am I asking too much? But still, he rocks my world! :)
27 Jan 2009
I heart quiet, that is all
I hadn't meant to abandon my blog for so long. But it has been pretty tough going at work and I haven't been feeling too inspired of late--I don't know why--it makes blogging hard.
2 recent events had thrown me into close proximity with my extended family and relatives: my grandmother's passing away and the CNY. It was a lethagic experience, the strange combination of not being able to connect with them on any meaningful level and yet be surrounded by their constant action and noisy chatter. Of being in with them and yet out of it.
I remember watching by the sidelines with my eldest sister with bemusement and marvelling at their initiative (or what my sister terms it--I prefer calling it kan-cheongness) and this herd instinct to surge towards whatever needs to be done at the wake. Idleness is a cannot in my father's family.
At the end, all of them were busy pulling down the numerous quilts that were sent with condolences by the family's friends and business associates and industriously cutting out the letterings sewn onto them. The 2 of us quietly agreed that we were redundant and should just leave them to do the work, and be the lazy bums around there.
It was later that we were told they were all actually staking their claims on the quilts that they had been eyeing during the wake. There was even some "tug-and-pull" going on.
The experience just reinforced what I know about myself, that I still like peace and quiet best of all. I love the company of my family and close friends and would be unhappy without them, but I can never hope to be a social butterfly, fluttering on the winds of small talk and clever jokes.
2 recent events had thrown me into close proximity with my extended family and relatives: my grandmother's passing away and the CNY. It was a lethagic experience, the strange combination of not being able to connect with them on any meaningful level and yet be surrounded by their constant action and noisy chatter. Of being in with them and yet out of it.
I remember watching by the sidelines with my eldest sister with bemusement and marvelling at their initiative (or what my sister terms it--I prefer calling it kan-cheongness) and this herd instinct to surge towards whatever needs to be done at the wake. Idleness is a cannot in my father's family.
At the end, all of them were busy pulling down the numerous quilts that were sent with condolences by the family's friends and business associates and industriously cutting out the letterings sewn onto them. The 2 of us quietly agreed that we were redundant and should just leave them to do the work, and be the lazy bums around there.
It was later that we were told they were all actually staking their claims on the quilts that they had been eyeing during the wake. There was even some "tug-and-pull" going on.
The experience just reinforced what I know about myself, that I still like peace and quiet best of all. I love the company of my family and close friends and would be unhappy without them, but I can never hope to be a social butterfly, fluttering on the winds of small talk and clever jokes.
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