9/11, no. 35

For about one hour or one year or some amount of time in between the two, I partook in an intimate music session with Angelica and Daniel. I feel like I came back from a whole new realm that I never looked at. It was like I was leaning on a door all this time, and only now have I peeked inside to peruse around. From age 4-14, I was taught the science of the piano by a professional pianist and renowned professors, Mona Wu DeCesare and Ornela Ervin, and I played strictly what I saw in the language I was taught: the notes, stems, key signatures, time signatures, ornamentation, tempo, etc. This wasn't necessarily my life, but it was a huge part of it. It's among my few passions that I don't want to ruin by majoring/studying. The piano is still always something I have, it's my cozy socks and warm blanket.

Today was different. It's said that those who learn by the book at a young age can't improvise, and for me this is true. So as I sat seemingly hopeless as Angelica played a tune she made up on the spot and as Daniel played his own songs (something I've learned to enjoy is doing homework in front of his room when his door is closed and he's playing the guitar and singing because he's so musically inclined. Plus, he's brilliant at Chemistry so the close proximity is convenient if I need help). I was terrified because I felt 1) unoriginal 2) scared of condescension and judgment because of my juvenile impromptu pulled-out-of-my-ass piano noise. I set my shaky hands on the piano not knowing what to do, but Daniel just told me to start playing something - anything, so I began with a few elementary progressions and arpeggios. Still at a "piano block," he sat next to me and played a song he had made up that second. As I urged for that ability, I knew that want would get me nowhere, so I played whatever I could.

A few minutes of struggle and help later, we were making music.