Tuesday, 25 June 2013
Tap tap tap tippy tap tap tap~
Roughly one hour more until my download for season I of A Certain Scientific Railgun is completed. Since I have tomorrow off thanks to Mr.Haze, the rather suffocating guest from Indonesia, I'll probably stay in my room ALL day and watch a marathon of 24 episodes! It's been a while since I've been like this and I kind of miss it. Ramen at midnight while watching anime with my legs folded in front of me, the steam blurring my spectacles that I find myself lost without... I feel like starting the marathon right after it's done downloading, but I know, it's bad for my health if I stay up all night and sleep when the sun begins to rise.
What now, what now?
I actually just erased two paragraphs. I didn't think that they were suitable, and even if they were, I didn't feel like sharing. I don't know... In my head, the Carl Orrje Piano Ensemble's version of After You Become Used to the Sea is on loop. I love that song, though I didn't enjoy the anime very much. Maybe now that I'm older, I should try re-watching Only Yesterday and Ocean Waves, see if I like them now! 14-year-old me didn't quite get the meaning of those two Ghibli films because Spirited Away left me wanting adventure, instead of watching something more down to earth.
After You Become Used to the Sea is a very nice song, but the sheet music for it is hard to find since it isn't composed by Joe Hisaishi. Even in the Studio Ghibli Best Collection Piano Book, this nostalgic piece couldn't be found. I searched online all morning in vain. The sign that let me know it was time to give up was that even the China website didn't have the song! If it isn't even on a China website, you bet that it doesn't exist! If I'm desperate enough, I might try searching for Japanese websites!
Neh, this is a rather boring post isn't it?
It's not a video. It's just the music that's been stuck in my head.
One little percent by one God damned little percent! I wonder how long this will take... In the mean time, I'm probably going to help dad with a favour since mum can't be relied on when it comes to doing things on the internet. Dad's in South America at the moment, Whatsapping with mum, giving instructions that's driving her nuts. He texted her: "Show Bom-Bom(my nickname =-=) this message, she'll know what to do when she's there(website)."
Did the upload just fail...?
Monday, 24 June 2013
Once again, our good neighbour Indonesia's annual forest fires has affected the air quality. It has successfully proven that yes, open burning has a severe effect on the environment. It's amazing, that clouds of smog can travel so far-- across oceans and acres of land! Thanks to a convenient and free form of transportation called wind, smoke can now enjoy holidays in Singapore and Malaysia.
After a week of stopping by Singapore, the pollutants have decided to fly north, making its way across the borders to the peninsular. Mr.Smoke is almost done with its holiday in Malaysia, reaching the North(where yours truly resides) quietly last night as we were sound asleep in our beds, dreaming about cookies, cream and whatnot.
The haze arrived at my doorstep just this morning, greeting me with an unpleasant breeze that reeked of the burnt. It got worse throughout the day, and by the time I was in biology class after recess, my head grew heavy and I wanted badly to be able to breathe. I could still see through the ashes, though my eyes started to feel a stinging sensation towards the end of school.
All this smog is making me feel as if I'm in Silent Hill! Only, there seems to be all signs of life all around me. I told Sarah that we should go out in the dead of the night, when everyone was visiting the realm of their unconscious minds.
Nelson Mandela is staring at me. No matter where I am, it seems as if his eyes are fixed on me and nothing else. It's annoying when Reader's Digest put a person's face on its front cover! I always hated it when magazines featured famous people on their front page. Who in the world would want someone staring at them while they look at the highlights listed on the front cover!?
My favourite part of Reader's Digest is Nury Vittachi's column. It's always interesting and I like his sense of humour! It never fails to make me laugh out loud! In the July 2013 issue, Nury talks about what sounds good in one language might spell disaster for the other. Reading it made me realize that English is indeed a big mistake! This is one paragraph that I would like to share:
A French reader told me about a Parisian chef who in 1765 started selling a tasty liquid he call a restorer, which is "restaurant" in French. The English got it mixed up and told the world that "restaurant" meant "a place to eat out". Germans were soon dipping sops(Deutsch for chunks of bread) into the delicious warm bowls of restaurant. The English, confused again, told the world that the new dish was called "soup". So the English sentence: "Sitting in a restaurant, I drank some soup" actually means, "Sitting in some soup, I drank some bread."
The column made my day!
Other than that for a happy event, I received emails from Lisa, telling me that a package is on its way here to me! I'm SOOOO excited! Ohboyohboyohboy! Pictures and gifts and greetings! Apparently, she got my birthday mixed up with another darling of hers, but oh well, it's the thought that counts! Can't wait for it to arrive at mah doorstep~!
Of course, like every other day for more than a month now, there's a certain person that lights up my world. I've been smiling a lot, and I've never been happier. Call it breaking free, or whatever it is that a female feels after realizing that they're not in love with their past lover anymore.
There are many fish in the sea, the first catch would of course hold a special place in your heart even after you've set it free but instead of sobbing on a boat in the middle of the ocean, why not dive in and forget about everything? Swim with the fishes and become a mermaid. You'll find that letting go and moving on is a part of life, a lesson learnt. Open your eyes.
Seeing your name appear in my inbox was a pleasant surprise. Three little alphabets mean so much.
Sunday, 16 June 2013
I go from one warm-up exercise to another. My lips aren't particularly happy that I'm stressing them out on a Sunday evening. I wonder why I'm here sitting on the steps with my back towards the empty classrooms, instrument in hand. Three clear holders, a tuner and a stained yellow polish cloth are my only company. The sounds I make echoes through the deserted corridors as if searching for another's sound, yearning to blend with someone else's music instead of slowly dissipating into the lifeless atmosphere that surrounds me.
Crimson petals are scattered all over the ground, adding colour to the dull soil and twisted roots that juts out from the ground. Patches of grass make that stretch of dirt road seem more lively. The Erythrina are staying still today; not a breeze is blowing, not a petal is dancing. Even so, beneath those coral trees lies the bold petals of those who have fallen long ago. Bright red even though they're slowly withering away, it's no wonder the Balinese regard the plant as a symbol of life-energy.
Ants are making their way across the drain.
I look at the sight before me, the Erythrina petals that lie still on the ground reminds me of the crime of passion. I sigh. A knife that stabs the middle of her beating heart, a fading smile on her artificially painted lips and a teardrop in the corner of her eye, with her last breath, she mouths the words "I love you" to the liar who takes her life. The fallen petals, shades of a foolish woman who loved with all her heart.
Sitting here for almost an hour now, my natural cushions are already numb. I look up at the clear sky through the narrow space between the blocks of buildings, thinking about tomorrow. On a Monday morning, sleepy students that yawn and shuffle across the hallways wouldn't even begin to notice the beauty of the flowers, let alone admire them or imagine a story-- it's a sad reality. Imagination takes us everywhere. It's a pity that not many people choose to acknowledge the rainbow resting above their heads.
Folk Song Suite no.1, Seventeen Come Sunday.
A year and a half ago, I couldn't play the third trombone's bass solo because I found the range to be too low and my air capacity was very limited. A year and a half from then-- which is now-- I find myself blasting it without my head spinning and my vision blurring. I've improved, even though I don't acknowledge it on a daily basis... Improvement? Hah! I still think I'm a horrible trombonist.
Mum's car drove through the gates of Lot 16, KDSK. Our silver metallic Vios comes to a stop on our front porch, the engine is put to rest. After the fifteen minute drive home, I finally realized... I left my Yamaha resting magnificently on the trombone stand at school... WELL, FUCK!
At the end of the day, I'm still a horrible section leader.
As for my bass trombone, I phoned trumpet's section leader to help me keep it back into the trombone cupboard that seems to be falling apart. I can't wait to clean my mouthpiece tomorrow! Si Kai probably didn't bother washing it for meh =|
The senior trombonists of 2013 are so forgetful! Band leader takes the win for forgetfulness though. Can't find his wallet when he leaves it in a place he always leaves it, doesn't remember giving people the keys of his motorcycle, reminds me to tell him what to say to the band after practice but we both end up forgetting it anyway...
Roses are red,
There's no dinner.
A horror movie is loading,
Chips and yogurt for dinner!
I just want to enjoy a nice movie while being embraced by my beanbag.
After two days of cleaning, rearranging and whatnot, you'd think that I finally got my tiny room in perfect condition, but in reality, I'm not done yet. There's still my wardrobe and the random things lying around my almost-empty worktable.
The bed is where the dressing table used to be, my display case against the wall that has always been left alone, my "school shelf" is right beside the entrance, opposite my now clear work space. I have plain walls, painted in soft pink and lavender, the colours I chose at the age of eight where Barbie and unicorns were the only things in my world. I regret the pink; it's an eyesore! Candidly, I actually thought about repainting my walls this afternoon when I slouched against the plastic chair during practice, with my bass trombone against my body as the juniors played their pieces. I admit, my mind shouldn't be wandering all over the place during band practice, but I didn't have the sheet music and even if I did know the parts by heart, I just wasn't in the mood to Deck the Halls!
The whole of indoor practice today was centered around the juniors.We(seniors) didn't even get to play At World's End! We may be using the song for TIMBC this year. I practiced At World's End on my own after practice, so I guess that made up for daydreaming when actual practice was in session! I'm a horrible section leader, I know... Even forgot that the baritones exist! Gotta do a hell lot more of maintaining now!
I want my very own bass trombone.
I'm gonna graduate in a few months, and though I know that the alumni of NHMB will always be welcomed back, I still can't play the trombone as often as I can now. Besides, I'm going to the UK in February-- won't be able go back to band then. I might want to practice a few times a day while I'm there in the cold, cold weather. Heh, might need it to keep me company if Justin gets accepted into Eton.
Being able to play tuba's B flat, I feel as if I've achieved something big. My lower notes have improved a lot since the first time I picked up the bass. I'm only a 1.5 year-old trombonist, so let me feel good about myself for a moment here, okay? Since the high notes are all being taken care of by CC, I might as well tackle the lower notes. At least now, I have some motivation again!
Lying in bed, scratching at my pimple.
I should probably call it a day and retire for the night... I might be falling sick, I think.
The dogs are barking non-stop again. This time of night... Could it be...? No, I'm not going to look outside my window.
My hedgehog is poking its twitching nose through the gaps of the white fences I put up to separate my space and her space. Sometimes, the hedgehog fence is as good as useless. Usually, Macadamia would push her body against the fence until some it give way, enough for her to squeeze through to get into MY territory! She's a smart one.
Inhale. Exhale. Rise. Fall.
The two of us slept soundly in the evening, my hands gently cupped around the old t-shirt she was in. She lay on my belly, sharing some of her warmth with me. I think I was smiling in my sleep. It's been a while since I slept with her like that.
In case you were wondering, "her" refers to Macadamia. I'd be writing something a bit more emotional if I really did sleep with a girl that meant so much to me, since it would have made me pensive.
I don't particularly like Taylor Swift, but since Jesvin shared some of her lyrics, I guess I'll share it too. Those heartbreaking "when I first met you, I fell in love with you but I didn't tell you cause I know we'll never have a chance together" sort of cliche, girly, highschool love lyrics. UGH. I hate them so much.
Here, let me ruin your day with the lyrics by girl who claims that she doesn't have many boyfriends yet has already dated so many guys she makes millions after each break-up:
"Please don't be in love with someone else...
Please don't have somebody waiting on you... "
Macadamia keeps getting through my defenses! That's it! SHE STARVES!
Saturday, 8 June 2013
I pretended like you didn't exist, and I acted like I didn't care, put up charades every day and night, laughing it off whenever Mum brings you up. I moved on-- or so I thought. I kept you locked away in the depths of my despair, covering it with layers upon layers of tears and lies that are coated with the glossy, impermeable finish of a forcefully ridiculous "new start". I thought I was happy. I knew more than anyone else that I've changed, that losing you affected me in ways I thought it would never... I was wrong about myself from the very beginning.
I tried, going back to you, but it didn't work, did it? When I found it too hard to bear, I'd drop a message, expecting just a little bit of sympathy from stone-cold you. Hah. Pathetic. The replies you sent were like bullets of the finest craftsmanship, quick, silent and they leave a perfectly shaped exit wound. It wouldn't hurt at first, the pain only comes when the victim realizes that all hope of survival is lost when the hole in their heart is felt. It must be karma. I used to pierce you soul with my words, now it's my turn to be ragged.
Jack Black was on the 55-inch TV, I wasn't paying attention. My phone was out in the hall, but as it sounded, a faint echo of my message tone floated into the TV room. Who could it be? A movie invitation to watch After Earth by one of me mates? I shrugged and went to look at the text. I wasn't expecting to reply anything.
New text message: Z...
The fuck was that about? I almost slapped myself.
The name you used in the text was enough to make me think: "Hey, did I just die or something?" maybe your cookies were drugged. My heart stopped. I must admit, it caught me off guard and I felt a surge of happiness, yet I knew it was all too sad. Friends? No. We're strangers... Strangers that know each other like the back of their own hands. Strangers that know every detail and every flaw there is... I find it amazing, how I can keep all those things compressed in my chest.
The brief second where it stopped, a hurricane came and damaged the serene scene of my seemingly happy life. Time froze and I found myself back to the place I was before-- alone in the dark. Looking over my shoulder, I could see the burning house which never seems to turn into ash, the flames forever burning a bright amber. It was all in the back of my mind. My ears were deaf to the screaming victims, the rivulet of tears I've cried already dried, staining my cheeks. I'm angry at myself for not being able to do anything. Not even run away from it all. My feet were cemented to the ground. I am forced to face the image of this once perfect haven that's up in flames for as long as the memory of us still remains.
Days. Weeks. Months.
How long again before I hear from you? Our distance isn't even that great. There isn't even an ocean between us! Yet it feels as if we are from different worlds. It takes only three hours for me to arrive at your doorstep, but I wouldn't even try. I know I'd bet shooed like a salesman on a Saturday afternoon.
"I'm busy at the moment. I don't have time for you."
"I understand. Thanks anyway, for your time."
The truth about love... It doesn't really matter. For some people, it just doesn't exist.
I continue to lie.
I'm scared and worried. I'd like to hear your voice again, telling me it's okay, the soft kisses that you'd blow and the words to lull me to sleep. One last comfort, to keep me in shape, to help me get through my final exams, then I'll be gone forever... There will really be an ocean between us by then.
One last comfort; one last goodbye... That's all I ask of you... Biscuit.
It's pathetic how I only blog about uneventful things. What about the picnic I had earlier today? Why didn't I write about that, huh? Why don't I write about it? Too much work? Well, writing crap right now sure isn't one bit tiring! I'm waiting for my movie to buffer on Asian-Horror-Movies dot com. I'm watching a Japanese thriller today, Lesson of the Evil. Ever since a month ago, I've been visiting the website almost everyday. Honestly, I'm getting really impatient. Last twenty minutes. How long, internet, how long are you going to make me wait? I certainly am not smiling right now.
"Write about the picnic Rachel," my brain is urging me to do so. "You know you want to." Well, God damn it, brain! If you wanted me to blog about that, then why don't you MAKE me? Instead, now I'm writing down all the random sentences that you won't stop producing! You scumbag!
So, yes, I went to the beach again today. I was happy during most of the morning when I soaked myself in the salt water. Walked along the whole stretch of sand today, from this end to the other! I never realized how short the distance was until today. My friends tell me that I walk fast, a bit too fast-- hah, that wasn't even my normal speed!
The sand, the water, the rocks, the leaves, the narrow path of the woods, the calmness of the morning, the smell of the sea, the thoughts, the smiles, the hopeless dreams, the bittersweet wandering, the healing wound... On top of the rocks at the edge of the cliff, I sat looking at the clear sky, at the distant island, the burgeoning construction of what seems like a bridge and the ships not far away. It's beautiful I thought. Yet I knew, my eyes could only see so much... When you can't see it, it doesn't mean that it isn't there. We all know very well that the waters are tainted.
Sitting on the boulders, it made me smile. It wasn't a happy one. It was a grateful one, but underneath, it is with the shadow of regret. The soft breeze that caressed my cheeks and danced with my uncombed hair giggled beside my ears, it was okay, they whispered and left a tantalizing touch of longing in my heart. In the forest behind, the cries of the Higurashi masked its eerie appearance; forget about the rotting chalets and the abandoned water park, the cicadas sang. The leaf-covered tracks seemed magical, even. I notice the ants that move in a line on a root that juts out of the soil.
I'd go out there again. Alone, next time. Preferably, if I could, I'd sit on the rocks and enjoy the view with my lover... Walking barefooted on the beach, going up rough stone steps without anything protecting my feet, moving through a narrow forest path and feeling the damp leaves cushioning each heavy step of mine... If only I had someone's hand to hold, that would cast the shadow away from my smile... If only, if only...
"Alone again? Tch. Always alone." Those words rang in my ears. A distant memory from months ago, before shattered hopes and abrupt endings. The moon was bright that night, so was the flame of my hope; bright as ever. I reminisce, I smile, I shake my head and then laugh at myself. If drinking wasn't bad, I'd be waving a bottle in my hand while I cry to miserable pop songs.
No, I'm not thinking about you. No, I'm not thinking about him either.
My skin is feeling hot. I'm a few shades darker again. Bikini lines are sexy as fuck? I think not. These marks will be there for a good long while... UGH! Even the ones from the Gold Coast are still there! And I thought the Sun here was horrible!
I look like roast pork. Red nose, red cheeks, crispy-coloured skin... A drunk would be more like it, considering the fact that my hair is unkempt and my eyes are barely open... Roast pork, it doesn't have hair and you bet, it looks neat on the dinner plate!
What am I saying...?
My nose... BURNS...! When I rub it.
I know, this isn't the first time I've posted Kazenagi here. :')
Why can I endure the things other people can't? Why don't I see what they see? Why can't I just comprehend the thoughts of the average human being, of you and I.
Wednesday, 5 June 2013
Thought I'd go out. Go to school, wrap the instrument cases, put them back in the basement then enjoy a little cartoon with my junior... Turns out, Epic wasn't so epic after all. Probably because when I saw Nod, he reminded me of you. You, who I'm trying to get outta my head. You, who I'm not even thinking about yet you're always just there.
I was planning to go to the movies alone again this afternoon, but my relationship with Shu Jing finally got better. Guess I finally got over last December... Although, I still avoid him whenever he's around.
I didn't want to be alone today, I realised. I find her company comforting, unlike the ones from my batch. She's a year younger than I am... Could it be that I-I-I am in fact... A pedophile...? Oh fuck no! I don't think of her like that!
This little girl who is way too small for her age makes me forget about my problems when we're together. Maybe because I feel like a senior? Having to keep up my appearance. She knows how crazy I actually am so it's not difficult at all for me to get comfortable around her. She's the only junior that I can't show my serious face to. In fact, I think I turn into a kid when I walk with her! Except for the fact that I'm a lot bigger... Well, I bought her the child ticket at the cinema == she can pass for an elementary school student when she's in fact sixteen.
Unfortunately for me, sleeping isn't the cure to all problems. I might have mild anxiety. I got more anxious though, when I found out that I actually have anxiety! I'm worried about something that's not there. It's different from fear... I'm scared of something that isn't even real. I'm not talking about the monsters in the closet, I'm talking about... Never mind. I'm just overreacting again, to something that isn't real; worried, because of a reason that isn't even valid; nervous, when it's not even important; scared to lose it when it isn't even mine in the first place...
You're right, Kev, it doesn't help at all... Sleeping. I woke up and all of it came crawling back. My fake fears; fake worries. Now my heart is beating fast, like I'm up on stage, facing the crowd of a million faces, all eyes on me. My hands are shaking. I don't know what I'm doing... Even when I was asleep, reality managed to squeeze itself inside my dreams. Consciously and subconsciously, I know what's killing me.
Time to channel all these energy into my music. With shaking hands, I shall play my heart out. Hopefully, I'll be able to keep my eyes open after the cup of caramel latte I just had. I don't know about you, but coffee has the opposite effect on yours truly. I feel sleepy after drinking it. It's like warm milk to me.
... The sweetness that charms, and the joy that destroys...
Baudelaire's words have been haunting me ever since I first read his poem, To A Passer-by.
Coldplay is playing on my Walkman. Be Careful Where You Stand, from the album Parachutes.
Here, I'm just going to quote half a sentence of Baudelaire's poem: ... The sweetness that charms, and the joy that destroys...
I'm in too deep. I don't even want to try pulling myself out.
SPM year, huh? Shit really happens.
Few months more... What will TIMBC 2013 bring? How will passing out be like? Where will I go next?
I always think too much and bring myself down.
This post is me, writing down whatever that comes to mind. No editing whatsoever, not even giving these words a second thought.
Pan's Labyrinth soundtrack is on. Beautifully haunting.
I had a hard time figuring out what was bothering me, but as I was out on the roof looking at the starless night sky, it hit me. I knew what was bothering me all along, I just didn't know how to put it into words-- I still don't.
Hmm mm mm mm mm mm hmm...
I'm scared of being thrown away a second time.
12 subjects, 5 months left. I'm aiming for... 7As. Hopefully, I'll be able to get at least 5.
If one day you wake up and find that you're missing me, and your heart starts to wonder where on this Earth I could be... Sorry, was singing in my head. Man Who Can't Be Moved, by The Script.
Will you wait for me?
Say what you need to say... Say what you need to say... Now, what song was that? I'm not really sure. I've heard it on the radio before, but it isn't in my music library. I wouldn't want it either. If I didn't download it in the first place, it means that I probably didn't like it.
I feel like listening to Suga Shikao's Kazenagi now. It always makes me want to cry. Crying at a time like this isn't a bad thing. I need to get the feelings out somehow. If I can't put them in words, might as well just let them come out as they are.
Never trust a happy song, eh? Suddenly, Grouplove's album just popped into my head.
This was a rather useless post. Sorry for wasting your precious time, dear reader. Time is important, and while you just wasted about one minute of your time reading this, the same minute could be used to save a person's life.
I'm always so pensive after my heart cracks.
I just realized that I'm upset. What an idiot!
Monday, 3 June 2013
I woke up on the wrong side of the bed-- literally. I tucked myself in nicely last night, sleeping in the center of my queen-sized mattress, but when I opened my eyes this morning, my legs were touching the cold tiles, only a part of my head was resting on the edge of the bed while some of it rested in thin air. Somehow, during my eight-hour sleep, I managed to rotate ninety-degrees.
"When you get yourself into a sticky situation, you can either try your best to pull yourself out or get sucked in deeper." I told myself a week ago. These days, my Facebook statuses are often pieces of my frustration. After updating each quotable status, I write a blog post with them as my base. Mum has been posting pictures of quotes on my wall; it seems that she gets the feeling that I have trouble letting go. I won't deny the fact that I have the memory of an elephant when it comes to regrets and mistakes, since I remember even the slightest distortion in my life from more than a decade ago. The reason why I can't forget is because I always want to undo the things I've done. I was a spoiled brat. I wish I hadn't jumped on the bed that afternoon, she wouldn't have... if I just listened to her and stopped jumping... Yes, I still remember very vividly the afternoon. Her, resting on the old mattress, the round-table lunch going on outside the door, laughter and very loud chatter... Blood, vomit, clanking of bowls, tears, flustered people and the guilt that enveloped my heart... Even as a child, I blamed myself.
I should stop.
Everything in life is temporary. So, if things are going good, enjoy it because it won't last forever. And if things are going bad, don't worry. It can't last forever either.
By posting that quote on my wall, my mum has made me ten times more depressed. It isn't a very positive post, if you ask me!
I want everything to last forever. That's just me. I believe that they can last forever. We just have to put effort in them, so they can continue to walk with us along our paths, be there until the very end. Sometimes, I'll desperately hold on to the things I don't want to lose, even after knowing that they're never coming back. I'm scared. I really am scared. It's only a matter of time before my ship gets wrecked again, I'm sailing right into the typhoon because I'm ridiculously courageous. I know what the outcome will be, yet I'm sailing full-speed ahead. Fuck myself, I know. This tantalizing taste of excitement is truly something that would cause the end of me someday.
Every time a person disappears from my life, my heart would break a little. No matter how insignificant or worthless they may be, I'd still feel hurt. I still have faith in humanity, if not, I wouldn't be this silly little girl that's still wearing rose-coloured glasses.
Sunday, 2 June 2013
I'm sitting in front of the piano, ready to play another piece. I want to write a bit first before I continue... Maybe I should fill my tummy, it's grumbling. Dinner was rushed, didn't even finish it! Only had twenty minutes to pack everything, get ready and board the bus!
Yes, competition is over.
Best performance, gold class. Finally, after 17 years of my life, I've shed tears of joy. They didn't flow down my cheeks, but they did flood my eyes. I was happy... Really happy. So happy that it could only last for one minute.
Winning is one thing, enjoying myself up there and making music is another. This round, I enjoyed myself and in the end, we were the best-- not because of technique, but because we played from our hearts. Candidly, there were bands that had far more superior techniques, but at the end of the day, they only did what the piece of sheet music wanted.
Who knew that a little competition like this could make me believe in myself? It actually made me realise that I'm more than what I give myself credit for. I guess I was appointed section leader-- without my consent-- because they saw much more in me than I ever did. I'm not the shining star, I'm just one of the colours that make up the dark skies, making the beauty of those glistening rocks more noticeable. I know I'm not good enough to be the main soloist, but I still solo all the time. In case everyone forgets, I'm the forever alone bass trombonist... Nobody wants my part.
I thought I was being ridiculously soft while playing and sounded really bad... But damn, I could hear myself in my sister's recording. I actually facepalmed myself when I did. I was a bit too loud! But it's really tiring for a trombonist to play it soft T^T
Junt seems to be really inspirational this round. Technique isn't something that can stop you from making good music. Just play with your heart and your audience will be drawn to you. Of course, if we didn't have any technique at all, we wouldn't have been able to go up on stage! The audience are just like tomatoes, ignore them and play like they're deaf and they'll end up becoming clapping tomatoes.
Hm... Damn camera man made me really God damned nervous. Always beside me, even tried shooting directly at my face! But then, I freaked out, played a few airy notes and he decided to finally move away. Thank God for that large bell of my Yamaha! If not, my face would have been up on the big screens... I guess I can't handle a tomato that's holding a camera.
We did make some mistakes up there, but the performance was still breathtaking, making people forget to breathe. Judge Robert said he forgot to breathe during a part in Fate of the Gods. Our flutist was greatly complimented by lady judge, but the only change that was suggested to made was... He should stop moving his body so much. It would affect the air pressure inside his body, thus affecting sound projection. Expressive, that boy; a little too expressive. I think he did improve though, a year ago, it was as if he was gently head-banging to his own delicate solos.
After this little national-level competition, I think I've become a better musician. It's thanks to Junt's words, that technique isn't what's important and the music we play is what we want it to be, not what the score wants it to be. After all, the sheet music is just a dead piece of A4 paper. I think my piano playing might have impoved a little since I'm happy with how I end up playing my music, instead of following printed A4 paper all the way...
My, my, look at the time!
Neighbors, please tell me you can't hear my playing!