Discontentment loves company

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.

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.