I am reminded of parts of my past.
Past of me that made me a wonderful person. Parts that while wonderful, contributed to my downfall.
I used to be a pianist. I was pretty good considering my disability. It made me feel special. I was special. I need something that makes me feel special and different from other people. If I'm going to a club, I'd metaphorically like to be the one on the stage, not the audience. My brother's a rock guitarist. I guess that aspect of me translates as something to him.
I want to be an academic. That was my dream. I felt that I could progress academically as well as I could a pianist, and more.
There was one piece however, the Etude in D minor that I could never play. That piece has become my symbol, the symbol of my inadequacy, of my failings as a person, as the point at which I begin to give up.
I like to play the piano. For I feel that I enter into a world that I like, a world within my own mind, it is deeply emotional, deeply non-propositional. It is a world of colours and light, tones and chords; harmonies, counterpoints, fingerings and intensity. It drains me but feels wonderful while I'm in that world.
I forget this aspect of me, I deny it. There are so many dimensions to my soul and yet I torture myself. I'm always hard on myself. I'm always forcing myself to read audiobooks about dense subjects even when I feel like shit. I am always striving.
I wish I could control that str4iving. Pure and unadulterated energy and passion is like a fire in the sky; it fades and has no direction. Use that energy in a reactor and you make energy that is useful. I need to find a conduit wherin to put my energies and passions. I need it badly and I need it utterly.
I'm listening to some nice black metal right now. It is emulating that passion I feel.
Past of me that made me a wonderful person. Parts that while wonderful, contributed to my downfall.
I used to be a pianist. I was pretty good considering my disability. It made me feel special. I was special. I need something that makes me feel special and different from other people. If I'm going to a club, I'd metaphorically like to be the one on the stage, not the audience. My brother's a rock guitarist. I guess that aspect of me translates as something to him.
I want to be an academic. That was my dream. I felt that I could progress academically as well as I could a pianist, and more.
There was one piece however, the Etude in D minor that I could never play. That piece has become my symbol, the symbol of my inadequacy, of my failings as a person, as the point at which I begin to give up.
I like to play the piano. For I feel that I enter into a world that I like, a world within my own mind, it is deeply emotional, deeply non-propositional. It is a world of colours and light, tones and chords; harmonies, counterpoints, fingerings and intensity. It drains me but feels wonderful while I'm in that world.
I forget this aspect of me, I deny it. There are so many dimensions to my soul and yet I torture myself. I'm always hard on myself. I'm always forcing myself to read audiobooks about dense subjects even when I feel like shit. I am always striving.
I wish I could control that str4iving. Pure and unadulterated energy and passion is like a fire in the sky; it fades and has no direction. Use that energy in a reactor and you make energy that is useful. I need to find a conduit wherin to put my energies and passions. I need it badly and I need it utterly.
I'm listening to some nice black metal right now. It is emulating that passion I feel.
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