For the 8 years that I was subjected to piano lessons, I can honestly say that I never really enjoyed playing it. There was something about being forced into sitting in front of the keys for 30 minutes a day and practicing scales and songs repeatedly. It was so… laborious, especially as an eight year old child. My attention span was shorter than a pineapple’s, maybe a brick. But in the past couple of years, I’ve been trying to reacquaint myself with the piano (and strangely enough, it’s probably due to the music theory course I had to take in order to graduate from high school).
Having the day off from my strenuous (UNPAID) internship, I decided that it was time to play again. I opened the curtains and the windows to the backyard and let me say that it is one of my favorite moments: a warm breeze, the sound of the giant oak trees rustling like waves, and the feeling of having absolutely nothing to do. Simplicity at its finest. I sat in front of the oh-so-familiar row of black and white and unearthed the old sheet music that my mom buried in the seat compartment in one of her cleaning frenzies. I began playing again — Canon in D, Fur Elise, 21082 sonatas, To Zanarkand (you have to admit that it is a beautiful song!) and needless to say, I sucked. Horribly. But at lest I still remember the great big dogs fight animals.