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What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
You know, a few weeks ago I made this post about my viola. When I made it, it didn't hold any significance beyond the moment in which it was made. But then
And thinking about that question has been making me itch since then. I can't help it.
When I was eight years old, if you asked me what I wanted to be, I'd tell you "an olympic swimmer". I didn't really know what that entailed, but I'd started swim team that summer, and I was good. I was damned good. I won almost nothing but firsts, was often put in to swim in older categories, and was on the A team at conference meets.
But while I swam until middle school, it started to take a back seat to music, more and more. I had to quit in seventh grade, because I just didn't have the time.
I started violin when I was three. It was kind of a desperate measure on my mother's part, trying to find something that engaged me. I was a very quiet, withdrawn child, and she had a scare for a few months where she almost took me in to be tested for autism. She had always been determined that her children would be involved in music, and found a teacher that was the wife of someone my father worked with at the time. So we started, and after a year or two, I ended up in the local Suzuki program- which, for the uninitiated, is a slightly controversial program that specializes in starting very small children in playing musical instruments. I flourished. I loved it, and I advanced quickly. By the time I was eight, I had discovered the joy of the viola, and had switched. I spent two years at Suzuki summer programs, made first chair in youth symphony when I was ten, and by then we all assumed that's what I'd aspire to.
It wasn't to be, though, for whatever reason. I went to college as a viola performance major, and had a really bad experience, probably due to a variety of reasons, some which involved me, some which didn't. Its no use parsing those anymore, though. Maybe I wasn't cut out for it, maybe my bad experiences at school ruined me, or maybe I simply lacked the motivation. To this day, I will, however, deny adamantly that I lacked the talent.
I've more or less drifted through my twenties, but achieving a fair amount of success at being an adult. Whatever that means, exactly. I had a pretty successful teaching studio, despite the lack of degree, and free-lanced quite a bit. I discovered and cultivated other interests in life.
But I think that a lot of confusion on how to go on with my life stems from the fact that I concentrated so hard on one thing for so long. I trained as a violist from practically day one. I literally don't have active memories where I didn't play. It defined me, it still defines me. I mean, I'm not called
So where does that fit into my life now? Is there a future? Do I want there to be a future? Do I want to continue to be defined as
Is there a dream left? What is it?
Anyway. Just one of the millions of thoughts running through my mind.
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Yeah, I'm sort of starting to define the role. It morphs, though. I'll always be
no talent?
for what it's worth.
as for defining yourself as a violist:
I havent written a note of music in almost 2 years. I am still a composer. I will never make a living as a composer, but that still defines me as well or better than some other defining words I could use.
(like bisexual, singer, student, professional [HA!], etc)
and as far as that goes, I havent had sex with a woman in 5 years! I'm still bi.
you will always be violachic. you will always be a violist, even if you never play another note for anyone but yourself. why? because it makes you whole. if you took it away, how awful would that be?!?