Friday, November 4, 2011
Today in my music class we talked about opera. I love operas. I'm sure my 4th grade experience, performing with the Colordao Opera has something to do with it. The opera we listened to today in class was in Italian, so the teacher translated it as we were listening, and it was like a big story put into beautiful music, and I had to imagine the actors on stage performing. Although almost every other kid in the class was about to fall asleep, I laid my chin in my hands, completely evoked in the story, and I let my mind collect creative images of all the possibilities that could lay ahead.
I almost feel insecure in my differences with the rest of the population on campus. Like loving something so different like operas is viewed as "strange" and maybe it is. It probably is. But I really like it. I want to be cultured. I want to live IN things, with more experiences in life than those that just sit back and watch it happen. I'm starting to realize just how different I am from other people. And slowly, I'm coming to realize that I absolutely love these differences. These sometimes bizarre impulses I act on. I can't wait to fully embrace who I am, who I'm becoming.
I love the stage. It's a secret not many know. And I have to admit, sometimes I literally crave it. If I had to pin-point a passion, that might just be it. Last week, I walked past a door, open just enough for me to notice the piano sitting in the middle of a stage, and just enough to lure me into wishing I could skip all my classes and follow this desire to live so deeply.
That craving never really left, all week this week. It's like there's this lurking temptation in the back of my mind that can never be put on hold. So, last night I decided I just needed to check. I walked to the doors in the back of the music building labeled "STAGE" and pulled on the handle. It jerked toward me a little, but I had to REALLY pull to get in, and I wondered if the door had actually been locked and I'd broken in... literally, broke the door. But I didn't think about it much, 'cause you only live once right? So I sat, and I played, and I sang to my hearts contempt. And then I had someone come and play FOR ME, because that's essential to satisfying the enticement of music. And although it might have been silly - the music sounded so good, and so peaceful with it's wooing gentleness, I wondered if it could be a peace of heaven on earth - I went and laid down dead-center of the stage, almost underneath the piano. It sounded better down there. It felt better too. Like when you breathe in a really deep breath, and then just let it all out. And when I finished hours on end of playing and listening, it was like waking up. Where every muscle in your body is so completely relaxed you don't want to move, but at the same time, you're refreshed and ready to tackle another day, another challenge, another struggle. And that was the best night of the week, because I really needed a revival. It's just enough to pick me up where I'm at, and carry me home.