Actually, I was just on Facebook boasting about how awesome my piano practice went today when I got home from work. I was like, perfection in timing! The master of harmony! The king of the metronome!
Well, probably not that good since what I was practicing was the first real song I've played, but I did really good, I swear!
The thing about me learning how to play the piano is that I wanted to learn when I was little. I would spend hours and hours on my grandmother's piano with my mom's old lesson books trying to puzzle out the lessons.
I begged my grandmom to teach me, but she would tell me that it had been years since she'd played, and she was no good anymore.
I begged my mom to teach me, but she wanted me to hang out with my grandparents and give her some peace.
So I would just pick out songs by ear and what little I could read of music. Then, we moved away. Away from the piano.
After that, my parents divorced, and no one had the money for a piano, much less lessons.
Then I became a teenager- and we all know what those hormones do to you- lessons forgotten for boys. For years. And years.
And now, even though I won't be playing for a crowd, won't be playing for auditoriums, I still want to learn. So I can play for myself.
Remember, it's just a ride.
This was originally posted March 15, 2011 on Live Journal.