This is my personal thoughts, opinions and musings place. I will also rant about things, especially politically-correct things that irritate me. And sci-fi. Did I mention sci-fi? There'll be lots of sci-fi stuff here. And movies, too. Mmmmm... Movies

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

USSR: The life and times of an aspiring musician

I'll admit it, right here and now, that I used to play the violin. And by all accounts, I was actually pretty good at it, within the limitations of a nine year old not-gifted boy who still had to do all his other homework as well. In the tm, you see, extracurricular activities didn't figure into the make-up of your school workload. There was no skipping classes to play sports, no missing homework to learn a musical instrument. Extracurricular activities were just that, activities you do in addition to all your regular duties, not the replacement thereof.

As so it was that I stayed up late nights, practicing and making up for homework that I missed doing by taking music lessons in the early evenings when I should've been studying. Luckily for us, the music school was just down the street, which was great since it was situated on a street with no public transit. I even remember doing recital, which apparently went over very well, though I remember very little before and after it. The music teacher told my parents, “He's got a good ear for music, he can duplicate anything I play on the piano on the violin. Just don't ask him to sing.”

Which was no actual surprise, since I knew from very early on that I couldn't sing, and can't to this very day. When I was in kindergarten, we had to put on a show. I suppose we had to put on more than one, but this one in particular stuck in my mind. During one of the early practice sessions, the teacher stopped us, looked straight at me and said, “Don't sing anymore, just lipsynch. You're throwing off the rest of the children.”

I had to quit eventually 'cause, in the words of my mother, “it was driving you insane”. Too much work. Homework was the biggest time drain, having so much of it, and we usually went to school six days out of seven, and there were no long weekends. Modern kids simply can't understand what real amounts of homework is like. I used to stay up nights rewriting my notepads because my handwriting wasn't to exacting industrial specifications that only that particular teacher had, and it only applied to me(being a teacher's pet in the Olde Countrytm meant something completely different). Eventually my mother had had enough and told my teacher to go screw herself, that she wasn't going to make me stay up all night ever again. If she didn't like my handwriting, she could just kiss my mother's ass. Not in those words, of course, but the gist was there.

Maybe in some alternate reality, somebody made a different decision somewhere along the line, and I'm now a great musician, world-renowned and with a bevy of immoral young women at my beck and call1. In this reality, however, I'm a bitter old man, sitting on my front porch, pointing hairdryers at passing cars to see if they'll slow down. No, just kidding, I don't have a front porch.

And there endeth a promising career and a bright future. Of course, I know for a fact that I came out far ahead when we moved to Canada, regardless of any possible music career.
1 I would guess that no matter what reality I'm currently in, to have a bevy of immoral young women at my beck and call is a fantasy that is an intrinsic aspect of me.

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