early
[jun 22 2004, 21:19]
i left early today. for the first time in my entire life. i spent eight years being there early, staying there all the time and leaving only when everyting was done or on the verge of being done.
today, i left early. in the middle. at the break. where least peolpe would notice.
many asked 'why are you going?' and 'what could possibly be so important?' and some couldn't really understand why i left. early. for the first time.
i left because i couldn't take it anymore. it's not just memories, although they take up the most important part of the reason. memories of a time when things were alright, altogether. a time when i still had to cope with age permissions in cinema, had to go to bed early and was still (to some extent) forced to take piano lessons. but also a time when i spent half my day at school with rehearsals of any type. sometimes, i even took care of groups i didn't really have anything to do with. it was a stressful time, but, as i feel now, stress is a lot better than the opposite: having nothing to do. it was a time when i was indispensable, when people depended on me. a time when, if i had told them that i couldn't come or would have to leave early, lots of things wouldn't have worked at all. because i was needed.
today, i could leave after half the time. and nobody noticed. well, nobody really noticed.
another reason was the music. on the one hand the envy, on the other hand the feelings.
i always loved music and, as long as i can think back, have enjoyed making music myself. starting with playing around on my grandma's piano, then on my own - well, sort of my own - piano, then, sometimes, quietly, hidden from everyone, singing and now, since a couple of months, with my tin whistle.
once, i joined a band. a friend of mine who played the guitar had a teacher who tried to build up a little band. we had a drummer, the mentioned guitarist, his teacher, who played the bass, the guitarist's sister with her cello, a singer and myself with the keyboard. it was, as i recall now, as ambivalent as possible. i loved making music with these guys and i hated it at the same time because the atmosphere in the 'band' (no, we didn't have a name and only one tiny gig i remember) was often really bad.
and now? i go there and there is a music class, a music class with people who just chose music because they couldn't do art and didn't have anything to do with literature. a group of people of which some don't even know... i don't know... anything! i know that. i had such a class myself. when we were singing songs, some were burbling somewhere below because so nobody could point their fingers at them saying 'no, that was not right'. some whispering instead of singing so even less people could complain.
all that destroyed a part of my faith in making music and seeing now that there are, i don't know, ten, fifteen people who just stand there on the stage singing, sounding amazing... that feels so horribly... unfair! just as if they had waited for my leaving to start making good music.
and it's the same way with the orchestra. i didn't wait for the 'harry potter'-soundtrack (which i would have loved to play) because i couldn't stand seing someone else torturing that piano...
the memories were an essential reason for me leaving, too. all fucking songs they sang were, in one way or another, about love, finding it, keeping it, cherishing it, shouting in other people's faces how great everything is... and hearing that sung by that one special person who looked and sounded so incredibly great today was just too much.
so i went. early. for the first time in my entire life. and if you're disappointed or just wondering what kind of sick idiot i am... i hope you understand now.
there are times for song and drink. now is one, although, i'm sure, no one ever interpreted this sentence as i do now...
charon
song of the day: i am kloot - cuckoo
today, i left early. in the middle. at the break. where least peolpe would notice.
many asked 'why are you going?' and 'what could possibly be so important?' and some couldn't really understand why i left. early. for the first time.
i left because i couldn't take it anymore. it's not just memories, although they take up the most important part of the reason. memories of a time when things were alright, altogether. a time when i still had to cope with age permissions in cinema, had to go to bed early and was still (to some extent) forced to take piano lessons. but also a time when i spent half my day at school with rehearsals of any type. sometimes, i even took care of groups i didn't really have anything to do with. it was a stressful time, but, as i feel now, stress is a lot better than the opposite: having nothing to do. it was a time when i was indispensable, when people depended on me. a time when, if i had told them that i couldn't come or would have to leave early, lots of things wouldn't have worked at all. because i was needed.
today, i could leave after half the time. and nobody noticed. well, nobody really noticed.
another reason was the music. on the one hand the envy, on the other hand the feelings.
i always loved music and, as long as i can think back, have enjoyed making music myself. starting with playing around on my grandma's piano, then on my own - well, sort of my own - piano, then, sometimes, quietly, hidden from everyone, singing and now, since a couple of months, with my tin whistle.
once, i joined a band. a friend of mine who played the guitar had a teacher who tried to build up a little band. we had a drummer, the mentioned guitarist, his teacher, who played the bass, the guitarist's sister with her cello, a singer and myself with the keyboard. it was, as i recall now, as ambivalent as possible. i loved making music with these guys and i hated it at the same time because the atmosphere in the 'band' (no, we didn't have a name and only one tiny gig i remember) was often really bad.
and now? i go there and there is a music class, a music class with people who just chose music because they couldn't do art and didn't have anything to do with literature. a group of people of which some don't even know... i don't know... anything! i know that. i had such a class myself. when we were singing songs, some were burbling somewhere below because so nobody could point their fingers at them saying 'no, that was not right'. some whispering instead of singing so even less people could complain.
all that destroyed a part of my faith in making music and seeing now that there are, i don't know, ten, fifteen people who just stand there on the stage singing, sounding amazing... that feels so horribly... unfair! just as if they had waited for my leaving to start making good music.
and it's the same way with the orchestra. i didn't wait for the 'harry potter'-soundtrack (which i would have loved to play) because i couldn't stand seing someone else torturing that piano...
the memories were an essential reason for me leaving, too. all fucking songs they sang were, in one way or another, about love, finding it, keeping it, cherishing it, shouting in other people's faces how great everything is... and hearing that sung by that one special person who looked and sounded so incredibly great today was just too much.
so i went. early. for the first time in my entire life. and if you're disappointed or just wondering what kind of sick idiot i am... i hope you understand now.
there are times for song and drink. now is one, although, i'm sure, no one ever interpreted this sentence as i do now...
charon
song of the day: i am kloot - cuckoo