No, I am not very committed.
In fact I am procrastinating practising for a performance by writing this post.
Clari (Claire Eï née Ette) the Clarinet
Anywho, I completed my AMEB clarinet exam for fourth grade this year, and no, I was not prepared. I started practising at the very last moment. One week before the exam and my scales were atrocious. I knew all my pieces except for one, my aural was going downhill, and my knowledge for theory was practically zilch. Four days before and still I was rubbish. Sure my confidence in my aural and theory had improved, but that was due to no hard work of my own. My musical friends tested me on scales and watched with wide eyes as I failed even the simplest minor arpeggio.
Finally I had to buckle down and practise.
I practised my scales for hours on end. The morning of the exam my mum even paid my brother to pick out scales and test me on them. My mum told me that she hoped I would learn my lesson, that one needs to learn things and practise well in advance to reduce stress and better your chances of succeeding (I have my first exam block this year, she was hoping it would help me for that).
My mother and father were off to Hong Kong that morning, not a regular occurrence in my household. Some of my friends have parents that travel often, for work or pleasure, but mine do not. Though it just so happened that mum's work venture and dad's rare holiday coincided exactly with the morning of my clarinet exam.
So my paternal grandma was at home, god bless, listening to C harmonic minor two-slurred two-tongued for the thousandth time when my maternal grandpa showed up telling me to hurry along into the car. Where I live the weather was threatening, but fine. By the time we got to the Con (Sydney Conservatorium of Music) though, the heavens had opened and it was absolutely pouring.
Pa had to find a parking space so he dropped me off outside. Did I mention that this was my first exam? I had never completed one before due to either slack teachers or dislocated shoulders, therefore I had no idea where I was going or what the procedure was for exams. My Pa is a stickler for being on time though, so I had plenty of time to get lost.
I first entered a fancy, glass enclosed foyer where I saw a teenage boy sitting with an instrument. I decided that the small desk with the obviously-pamphlets on it must be the registration desk so I pottered up to the two lovely women with a shy smile while closing my umbrella and proceeded to hand them my registration form. They gave me a knowing, apologetic smile, as such lovely ladies tend to do, directing me to run back into the rain, around a bend, through the Botanic Gardens gate, and to follow the path to the right. They made a light joke and apology for the only route being the one through the rain, as lovely ladies are often inclined, while I tottered off on my way. Turns out that that desk was for auditions for an opera the Con was (probably still is) putting on.
So I ran off into the rain, disproportionate umbrella in hand, around a bend, through the Botanic Gardens gate, heeding the path that rounded to the right. There I came to a much smaller and simpler foyer where I sat for a good 15 minutes (I was quite early), before I dared to approach the desk. Here is where I found that in fact the desk was for applications to the Con's High School. Two lovely ladies once again directed me, though this time in a much more straight-forward route, to go through the doors two metres along and into the wider foyer where at the opposite end sat a small desk. By this time I thought someone was trying to tell me something - two registrations for musical opportunities in one day? Then I remembered my lack of skill and motivation...
Nah
This desk was the smallest and most insignificant of the lot, though it most definitely did not hold any pamphlets. Two lovely ladies did man this desk as well, but there was a gentle gentleman there, distinguishing it slightly from my other failed attempts. There was where I found names in a list. One of the dynamic duo of lovely ladies ticked mine off, and the large, carpeted foyer full of children and teenagers was where I sat for another 15 minutes.
This being my first exam my clarinet teacher promised to meet me there. I couldn't see him anywhere but finally he emerged with a family friend of mine. Apparently he teaches at the sons' school too and teaches them clarinet. What a coincidink. Seeing their familiar faces reassured me a little bit. Once my teacher and piano accompanist found me we headed down to the practise rooms to warm up in the limited time.
Apparently my clarinet teacher told Mrs. Family Friend of the connection I had made, (I hadn't actually talked to them with the limited time), and she had remarked that I must be the perfect student (lol). My clarinet teacher was smooth in his response by instead diverting the conversation in the son's direction.
After the exam my grandfather found me and took me along the children-and-teenager-filled carpeted foyer, through the doors, past the desk with the two lovely ladies two metres ahead, around the bend, (to the left this time), through the Botanic Gardens gates, past the fancy, glass-walled foyer and the other two lovely ladies, and into a cafe to enjoy a hot chocolate and each other's company. Inconsistent was my journey however, as the sun was shining brilliantly.
This was where I remarked that the day was a brilliant case of pathetic fallacy as I munched on my crisps.
And this is where the poetic injustice of it all comes in folks. I received my examination results back around 2 weeks later, (much faster than the advertised 2 months), and I received an A!!
Mum shook her head asking God why I couldn't have learnt my lesson (hey, I still had to undergo all that extra stress, I did learn a lesson). Now she's worried that I'll think that I can achieve in life "just by talent". Though I have a problem with this because first, I do not have much talent, and second, I did work hard, just at the wrong time. Anyways, I can learn a lesson even if it is not in the hardest way possible.
Yes. I have learnt my lesson. And no. This post is not supposed to be me bragging about how I am extra-intelligent or talented (because I'm not. Properly practising only one week before proves that I'm not). This is just to highlight one of the many poetic injustices of the world.
Yes, I would love it if life were perfect. (Well, not really, I'd probably get bored, but you know what I'm getting at. The concept of the perfect life).
But I would much prefer it if it were just.
Perhaps the perfect life is the just one.
I mean, the perfect world would be the just world, would it not?
- TheFaultyPoet
Finally I had to buckle down and practise.
I practised my scales for hours on end. The morning of the exam my mum even paid my brother to pick out scales and test me on them. My mum told me that she hoped I would learn my lesson, that one needs to learn things and practise well in advance to reduce stress and better your chances of succeeding (I have my first exam block this year, she was hoping it would help me for that).
My mother and father were off to Hong Kong that morning, not a regular occurrence in my household. Some of my friends have parents that travel often, for work or pleasure, but mine do not. Though it just so happened that mum's work venture and dad's rare holiday coincided exactly with the morning of my clarinet exam.
So my paternal grandma was at home, god bless, listening to C harmonic minor two-slurred two-tongued for the thousandth time when my maternal grandpa showed up telling me to hurry along into the car. Where I live the weather was threatening, but fine. By the time we got to the Con (Sydney Conservatorium of Music) though, the heavens had opened and it was absolutely pouring.
Pa had to find a parking space so he dropped me off outside. Did I mention that this was my first exam? I had never completed one before due to either slack teachers or dislocated shoulders, therefore I had no idea where I was going or what the procedure was for exams. My Pa is a stickler for being on time though, so I had plenty of time to get lost.
I first entered a fancy, glass enclosed foyer where I saw a teenage boy sitting with an instrument. I decided that the small desk with the obviously-pamphlets on it must be the registration desk so I pottered up to the two lovely women with a shy smile while closing my umbrella and proceeded to hand them my registration form. They gave me a knowing, apologetic smile, as such lovely ladies tend to do, directing me to run back into the rain, around a bend, through the Botanic Gardens gate, and to follow the path to the right. They made a light joke and apology for the only route being the one through the rain, as lovely ladies are often inclined, while I tottered off on my way. Turns out that that desk was for auditions for an opera the Con was (probably still is) putting on.
So I ran off into the rain, disproportionate umbrella in hand, around a bend, through the Botanic Gardens gate, heeding the path that rounded to the right. There I came to a much smaller and simpler foyer where I sat for a good 15 minutes (I was quite early), before I dared to approach the desk. Here is where I found that in fact the desk was for applications to the Con's High School. Two lovely ladies once again directed me, though this time in a much more straight-forward route, to go through the doors two metres along and into the wider foyer where at the opposite end sat a small desk. By this time I thought someone was trying to tell me something - two registrations for musical opportunities in one day? Then I remembered my lack of skill and motivation...
Nah
This desk was the smallest and most insignificant of the lot, though it most definitely did not hold any pamphlets. Two lovely ladies did man this desk as well, but there was a gentle gentleman there, distinguishing it slightly from my other failed attempts. There was where I found names in a list. One of the dynamic duo of lovely ladies ticked mine off, and the large, carpeted foyer full of children and teenagers was where I sat for another 15 minutes.
This being my first exam my clarinet teacher promised to meet me there. I couldn't see him anywhere but finally he emerged with a family friend of mine. Apparently he teaches at the sons' school too and teaches them clarinet. What a coincidink. Seeing their familiar faces reassured me a little bit. Once my teacher and piano accompanist found me we headed down to the practise rooms to warm up in the limited time.
Apparently my clarinet teacher told Mrs. Family Friend of the connection I had made, (I hadn't actually talked to them with the limited time), and she had remarked that I must be the perfect student (lol). My clarinet teacher was smooth in his response by instead diverting the conversation in the son's direction.
After the exam my grandfather found me and took me along the children-and-teenager-filled carpeted foyer, through the doors, past the desk with the two lovely ladies two metres ahead, around the bend, (to the left this time), through the Botanic Gardens gates, past the fancy, glass-walled foyer and the other two lovely ladies, and into a cafe to enjoy a hot chocolate and each other's company. Inconsistent was my journey however, as the sun was shining brilliantly.
This was where I remarked that the day was a brilliant case of pathetic fallacy as I munched on my crisps.
And this is where the poetic injustice of it all comes in folks. I received my examination results back around 2 weeks later, (much faster than the advertised 2 months), and I received an A!!
Mum shook her head asking God why I couldn't have learnt my lesson (hey, I still had to undergo all that extra stress, I did learn a lesson). Now she's worried that I'll think that I can achieve in life "just by talent". Though I have a problem with this because first, I do not have much talent, and second, I did work hard, just at the wrong time. Anyways, I can learn a lesson even if it is not in the hardest way possible.
Yes. I have learnt my lesson. And no. This post is not supposed to be me bragging about how I am extra-intelligent or talented (because I'm not. Properly practising only one week before proves that I'm not). This is just to highlight one of the many poetic injustices of the world.
Yes, I would love it if life were perfect. (Well, not really, I'd probably get bored, but you know what I'm getting at. The concept of the perfect life).
But I would much prefer it if it were just.
Perhaps the perfect life is the just one.
I mean, the perfect world would be the just world, would it not?
- TheFaultyPoet
Tell you what, i can relate to this so badly
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