Had I never fallen in love with music, I would have gotten a lot more sleep growing up. I would never had been awake through all hours of the night, camped out at the piano with only my dog as an audience. My family would never have had to come running down the stairs at 2 a.m., asking why on earth I was still awake and why I hadn’t thought about how playing piano would echo all through the house.
Had I never fallen in love with music, I would have been a lot less stressed growing up. I would never have had to worry about recitals and concerts to practice endlessly for, with memories of failed past performances haunting my mind. I would not have been worried about voice cracks and sweaty fingers slipping off the keys, nor about my mind going blank just as I started a memorized piece. I would not have had to build an extra hour into my day to practice a new movement, nor a second hour to channel the chaos of the day into a song.
Had I never fallen in love with music, I would be able to answer the question “What do you want to do?” a lot more easily. I would never have to hesitate before I answered, unsure if I should share the realistic plan or the dream, the career (and salary) based option or the one where I’d be chasing what feels right even though it’s crazy. I would not be caught between pursuing what I love and what logic says I should do, because the choice would be made for me.
I almost quit music in the second grade. I cried to my mother to let me stop, my Notespeller workbook crumpled on the floor and open to a page that had gotten all splotchy from my frustrated tears. I couldn’t figure it out, and I was done trying. I had tried practicing my piano piece for hours earlier that day and my fingers just wouldn’t do what my brain was telling them. I believed it impossible that I was cut out for music. I even went as far as to write a letter to my teacher explaining that I was thankful for all she had taught me over the past two years, but that I couldn’t continue. Thank goodness I never gave her that letter.
Because had I never fallen in love with music, I would never have been happy. I would never have had an escape from the rest of the world, a sanctuary to run to when everything else spun out of my control. The extra sleep wouldn’t have mattered, because I would still feel exhausted by it all. The stress over performances would have inevitably been replaced by that of soccer games and tests, for I never would have learned how to swallow my stage fright and just put myself out there. The career question would have been left to other ambiguous options, and I’d be just as undecided (if not more) about where I’d want to go. For with every aspect of how my life would be made easier would come three more making it impossible.
Most importantly, I never would have become friends with my roommate. Check out our first video for a weekly segment called “Corner Sessions”, which will feature weekly covers and originals performed in the corner of our common room.
