Musicality

​My playing of the violin began in the fourth grade when I was introduced to Ms. Messler. I stepped into the music room and asked her if I could play the violin, and she very happily said yes. After she said that, I asked her whether or not the violin was a rare instrument, to which she laughed and replied that it was not. That remains the day that I began one of the most stressful journeys of my life.

​My mother swears that she knew I'd give up. She just knew that I would quit when it got hard, because that's what I wouldalways do. Maybe I should have. Doing so would have saved me many years of anger and pain as I did everything possible that remained within my power to do what was asked and expected of me by my instructors. 

​Chronologically, I have been taught by Ms. Messler, Ms. Rushkowski, Ms. Nash, Ms. Call, Mrs. Erdman, Mr. Angerstein, and Ms. Hernandez. Among them, I played with two community orchestras, Trillium and the Jefferson Community College (JCC) Orchestra in Watertown, New York. At Trillium, I was taught by Stephanie, Agnes, and Chris, while I was taught by Mr. Mosher during my time with the JCC Orchestra. I strived to resemblemany of these people, though I feared to become like others, such as Stephanie, Agnes, and Chris, who yelled and put musicians down if they performed a single action wrong.

​Two of my summers consisted of Crane Youth Music, a camp that is held at Crane School of Music in Potsdam, New York. There, I spent two weeks waking at six and attempting to sleep at midnight as the girls in the dormitories blared their music like screaming trains. Between those hours, I took classes with professors from the school, almost all of whom expected so much more from me than I was prepared to give. I was scared, terrified even, of getting up each morning and being yelled at for playing a single wrong note in a piece or using incorrect articulation. Both years, I envied the first Sunday we had, a day where classes were paused and campers got to sleep in. It was a day of recuperation that saw so both exhaustion and tears. If somebody wasn't ready to put Crane behind them before that day, they were that morning. The rest and relaxation was extraordinary, but also terrifying. Being able to see what you've already gone through while imagining the week ahead could do that to a teenager who was screamed at every day and made to play their instrument until their fingers bled. 

​My musicality is a talent, but one that I can't see myself pursing any longer. For many years, I wished to become a composer, but now I see that I will never be capable of that, nor do I actually wish for that future anymore. Perhaps I've wasted my time pursuing music when I could have delved deeper into my other passions, but perhaps not. Perhaps I've simply ruled something out of my life, though it will never be gone for good.