Courtesy o' my pal/brother from another mother Brian (the one that married my best friend, not the one I date). And really, courtesy of a Mister Ludwig van Beethoven:
Courtesy o' my pal/brother from another mother Brian (the one that married my best friend, not the one I date). And really, courtesy of a Mister Ludwig van Beethoven:
My senior recital... was basically everything I hoped it would be. I can't even begin to describe it thoroughly or accurately. I went to my early classes, but skipped wind ensemble to go in pursuit of more pedal-appropriate shoes (the ones I had, though adorable, were a slight distraction to me given that they're about 4 inches tall and can make tricky pedaling a bigger challenge). I was expecting this trip to be a bit of a waste of time (although I recognized the important therapeutic benefits of going shoe shopping to calm oneself) when, after just 15 minutes at the shopping center, I walk into Belk, find the absolute perfect pair of shoes: black, strappy, cute, short and not-pointy heel, and OH BTW ON SALE FOR $20. They had two sizes left: 6 and 7 1/2; my size 8-8 1/2 feet slid in comfortably and though the heel bordered on the edge of the shoe, all was well in Toe Land and Comfortville. A SERENDIPITOUS SHOE EXPERIENCE, INDEED.
Okay, that part I can begin to describe thoroughly and accurately. What I can't describe is what it's like wondering if when you get out on stage, you'll forget how to play the piano altogether; what it's like standing slightly off-stage, listening to more and more people file in (we had 90 programs and apparently ran out); what it's like as the stage manager calls up to the whoever and gives the order to cut the house lights; what it's like to walk out onto a brightly lit stage with the most gorgeous piano you've ever laid eyes on while all of your college friends and a surprising number of your high school ones are clapping and waiting for you to play it. I can't describe well sitting down and the tremendous force of will it takes to make yourself just start (a problem vocalists or instrumentalists may not generally have, as they're just sort of shoved out of the airplane by their accompanist), or that truly magical feeling when you overcome your nerves, remember how much you love the music, and manage to start enjoying the experience. Dare I say it? I had a BLAST. Performance anxiety Joie, the girl whose lack of formal piano education up till college has given her some sort of inferiority complex, loved giving a piano half-recital.
And now, what I really can't describe: sitting backstage and listening to your amazingly talented peers play 30 minutes of music you composed. That's all I can say, because it was an experience to which words just don't do justice. There are few times in my entire life that I've been so happy. And may I just say, the second bow thing? Pretty much the coolest perk of a recital ever. "Look at me and clap! Continue clapping so that you may look at me again!" Magic, baby!
I had to get all that out. I'm so thankful for this amazing, once in a lifetime opportunity. I spent literally four years waiting for that day to come, and never thought it would get here. Now that it's over, I'm a mixture of sad and relieved... but I don't think I could've hoped for a better overall experience.