15/12- Music- Scaling Up

Contemporary

My favourite part of Christmas might be blasting Christmas music at full volume and screaming the words at the top of my lungs. It's beautiful how you can get lost in the rhythm or ask anyone to finish the lyrics of a Christmas classic. And I love to play music.

It's magical how I can tap my fingers on a piano or pluck the strings of a guitar and create a melody. Only those who love music will experience the frustrating joy and wonderful fury towards instruments and songs that do or don't hit right.

The feeling of accomplishment when that one part starts flowing.

Dumb! Dumb! Dumb!

This part just won't flow. I'm learning to play Hallelujah, and these notes won't order themselves right. Just play the same part over and over. Yeah, sure, except it is offended at me and refuses to be played right. 'Oopsie. I'm just a little piano. My keys are extra slippery today for no other reason than to annoy you. Hehe.'

Ok, fine, maybe I'm just dramatic. But I have 3 and a half days to perfect it because I'm performing in front of three hundred people on Thursday.

Why do I agree to these things?

Dring dong bri-ling.

I press my hands against the piano in frustration, emitting horrible sounds.

Focus.

*

"And ONE and TWO and we lob ourselves off the piano stool."

Noooooo. It feels like it has been hours.

Wait. Hold on a second.

I̶t̶ f̶e̶e̶l̶s̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶ it's been hours.

I wish for myself from yesterday to come here and see how we're struggling so she -- me? -- won't agree to do this.

You know what? I'm DONE with this. I won't show up. They won't even miss me.

I finally stand and back away from the piano, staring at it intensely.

But I promised! I shoot it another glance. Later.

*

Take 2 is.... better. I'm not as frustrated, and the melody has become recognisable. My fingers aren't quite gliding, but they're not stiff anymore. It's an awkward middle ground of I can play it, but it's not good. Now is probably the worst part of music, and everything in life: repeating and repeating the same failures until it's good. Until you're good. Until you're perfect.

It's that little period of time where you're not starting, you're just bad.

After my practice, I play some music (from my phone) and eat some cereal: my favourite practice snack. But this time it's more like dinner, because I've got school tomorrow, where I get to face Sir about all the homework I've missed. It wasn't even my fault! Most of the time.

I need sleep.

*

Ok, concert. I've done one before. This'll basically be the same. I peek from behind the curtains and quickly duck back behind them again. 300 is a lot more than I thought. I think I'm going to be sick!

So this is a lot more people. I'll just have to bite my tongue and do it.

There's only one rule on stage: don't mess up.

I take a deep breath as the act before me packs up his guitar, and a piano is wheeled past me and onto the stage.

Don't mess up.

My steps are visibly shaky as I walk up to the piano, and I whisper to it. Please behave. With my back to the crowd for just a split second, I finally exhale.

Maybe there are two rules: breathe. Unless that falls under rule one? If you don't breathe, you'll probably mess up.

Ah! I forgot my notes. I lift one hand, but no words come out. How did I forget my notes?

Be cool, be confident. Don't let the audience see that you messed up. Maybe that's the better rule.

But I'm playing Hallelujah, and everyone knows it. They'll hear it's wrong. I blink back tears as James (the technician) runs up to the stage and places the piece in front of me. Smiling and waving to the audience, he gives me a quick pat on the shoulder, mouthing show them.

And ONE and TWO, and we start.

My fingers hover above the keys before I play the first chord.

And THREE and FOUR. Fingers 1, 3 and 4 play on the left, and 1, 3, and 5 play on the right.

The left hand starts the melody, dancing. Then right joins in.

And I play.

My fingers do glide. Each fidilky part passes, and each time I let out a soft sigh. I've got this.

Loud, loud, loud, loud, and back to peaceful.

For the last chord, I close my eyes and let it reverberate through the hall, my heart, my bones. Through every person in the room.

Claps. Claps? Claps! They're clapping for me! Oh, thank everything this is over. Claps, claps and more claps. A couple of cheers are thrown in, and I laugh. I did it!

My best friend jumps onto her seat, and whoops, hands cupping her mouth. "You go, girl!"

I think I'm malfunctioning because my heart is swelling, and I feel so light. My smile is made of nothing but pride as I practically strut off the stage.

After everyone has played, my best friend meets me outside and lifts me in a massive bear hug. "Gor-ge-ous!" She exclaims.

"I don't know how I did that," I admit.

"All that matters is that you did it! And it was beautiful, honestly."

With music back on my good side, I was able to enjoy Christmas peacefully, without worrying about my horrible mistakes. Because they didn't matter anymore. I did it!

Thank you for reading. I hope you got a little Christmas joy from this story. Here, for anyone who wants it, is the maintenance.

If you enjoyed this story, please, please, please (I can add a cherry if necessary) like, comment, rate and share. It really helps me out and allows others to see these (hopefully decent) stories. Thank you, and Merry Christmas.