Piano…


I started lessons somewhere between first and third grade, and I went through several piano teachers. I have gone through the phase of hating it, and now the piano and I are on good terms. The satisfaction of playing a piece perfectly never loses its feeling of elation, and sometimes shock. I like getting to the end of a book and knowing the work and love I’ve put into it has payed off. And I know very well the frustration I have when I have to repeat a song instead of moving on. All these and much more I am familiar with, because I play. But will I ever advance? It always seems I am so far behind my peers and their level of education will never reach me. Grr.
Practicing is sometimes a trial too, but you knew that. I have actually started having bad dreams about failure when I don’t practice! I think I’m going psychotic.
The thing that is the worst for me is my panicking. If I’m playing the piano fine, and somebody walks in, I get all self-conscious and I start screwing up, which is horrible, TERRIBLE, AWFUL, EMBARRASSING!

Especially today in YW. It was my turn to play the piano for the opening song, and I chose “come, follow me” as my song. I started playing it weeks ago, and I totally had it DOWN. I was amazing at that song! I had the introduction down, and everything ready to go. I was practically perfect. That is, perfect until today. I sat down at the bench to play the song, and did fine until the second line. I lost the bottom hand and my control. They sang A Capella
for a while until I saved a final shred of dignity and played the top hand notes. After I finished faili- I mean, playing the song, the leaders tried to console me by saying a few halfhearted “good jobs” to me. That just made it worse. They knew I knew that they knew it stank. And trying to cover it up by a “good job”? That’s almost as bad as saying “wow that blew. I’m glad I don’t play as bad as you! It was like Mozart’s worst nightmare come alive.” I turned red as a beet, and looked at my shoes while we said the theme. Hot tears stung my eyes and I tried to maintain my composure as best I knew. At this point all I wanted to do was to run home and sob. it was so PRETTY! At least, before I disgraced the song by butchering it with my clumsy meat stubs of fingers. I never want to play in front of them again, but I will because I have to get over it! I will play a song beautifully one day, and it will be in front of a HUGE AUDIENCE. Wait and see. I will kick some serious bum, and blow away everyone by my mad skills. Mozart will be proud, as long as I turn my meat stubs into graceful swans that fly over the keys with grace and poise. I hope I will achieve it, because I want to. I want to be able to be advanced, and I would like to start teaching piano lessons when I’m sixteen.
p.s. Sorry about the weird size up there. I don’t know how it got like that!

-DQ#1

Piano…


I started lessons somewhere between first and third grade, and I went through several piano teachers. I have gone through the phase of hating it, and now the piano and I are on good terms. The satisfaction of playing a piece perfectly never loses its feeling of elation, and sometimes shock. I like getting to the end of a book and knowing the work and love I’ve put into it has payed off. And I know very well the frustration I have when I have to repeat a song instead of moving on. All these and much more I am familiar with, because I play. But will I ever advance? It always seems I am so far behind my peers and their level of education will never reach me. Grr.
Practicing is sometimes a trial too, but you knew that. I have actually started having bad dreams about failure when I don’t practice! I think I’m going psychotic.
The thing that is the worst for me is my panicking. If I’m playing the piano fine, and somebody walks in, I get all self-conscious and I start screwing up, which is horrible, TERRIBLE, AWFUL, EMBARRASSING!

Especially today in YW. It was my turn to play the piano for the opening song, and I chose “come, follow me” as my song. I started playing it weeks ago, and I totally had it DOWN. I was amazing at that song! I had the introduction down, and everything ready to go. I was practically perfect. That is, perfect until today. I sat down at the bench to play the song, and did fine until the second line. I lost the bottom hand and my control. They sang A Capella
for a while until I saved a final shred of dignity and played the top hand notes. After I finished faili- I mean, playing the song, the leaders tried to console me by saying a few halfhearted “good jobs” to me. That just made it worse. They knew I knew that they knew it stank. And trying to cover it up by a “good job”? That’s almost as bad as saying “wow that blew. I’m glad I don’t play as bad as you! It was like Mozart’s worst nightmare come alive.” I turned red as a beet, and looked at my shoes while we said the theme. Hot tears stung my eyes and I tried to maintain my composure as best I knew. At this point all I wanted to do was to run home and sob. it was so PRETTY! At least, before I disgraced the song by butchering it with my clumsy meat stubs of fingers. I never want to play in front of them again, but I will because I have to get over it! I will play a song beautifully one day, and it will be in front of a HUGE AUDIENCE. Wait and see. I will kick some serious bum, and blow away everyone by my mad skills. Mozart will be proud, as long as I turn my meat stubs into graceful swans that fly over the keys with grace and poise. I hope I will achieve it, because I want to. I want to be able to be advanced, and I would like to start teaching piano lessons when I’m sixteen.
p.s. Sorry about the weird size up there. I don’t know how it got like that!

-DQ#1

Piano…


I started lessons somewhere between first and third grade, and I went through several piano teachers. I have gone through the phase of hating it, and now the piano and I are on good terms. The satisfaction of playing a piece perfectly never loses its feeling of elation, and sometimes shock. I like getting to the end of a book and knowing the work and love I’ve put into it has payed off. And I know very well the frustration I have when I have to repeat a song instead of moving on. All these and much more I am familiar with, because I play. But will I ever advance? It always seems I am so far behind my peers and their level of education will never reach me. Grr.
Practicing is sometimes a trial too, but you knew that. I have actually started having bad dreams about failure when I don’t practice! I think I’m going psychotic.
The thing that is the worst for me is my panicking. If I’m playing the piano fine, and somebody walks in, I get all self-conscious and I start screwing up, which is horrible, TERRIBLE, AWFUL, EMBARRASSING!

Especially today in YW. It was my turn to play the piano for the opening song, and I chose “come, follow me” as my song. I started playing it weeks ago, and I totally had it DOWN. I was amazing at that song! I had the introduction down, and everything ready to go. I was practically perfect. That is, perfect until today. I sat down at the bench to play the song, and did fine until the second line. I lost the bottom hand and my control. They sang A Capella
for a while until I saved a final shred of dignity and played the top hand notes. After I finished faili- I mean, playing the song, the leaders tried to console me by saying a few halfhearted “good jobs” to me. That just made it worse. They knew I knew that they knew it stank. And trying to cover it up by a “good job”? That’s almost as bad as saying “wow that blew. I’m glad I don’t play as bad as you! It was like Mozart’s worst nightmare come alive.” I turned red as a beet, and looked at my shoes while we said the theme. Hot tears stung my eyes and I tried to maintain my composure as best I knew. At this point all I wanted to do was to run home and sob. it was so PRETTY! At least, before I disgraced the song by butchering it with my clumsy meat stubs of fingers. I never want to play in front of them again, but I will because I have to get over it! I will play a song beautifully one day, and it will be in front of a HUGE AUDIENCE. Wait and see. I will kick some serious bum, and blow away everyone by my mad skills. Mozart will be proud, as long as I turn my meat stubs into graceful swans that fly over the keys with grace and poise. I hope I will achieve it, because I want to. I want to be able to be advanced, and I would like to start teaching piano lessons when I’m sixteen.
p.s. Sorry about the weird size up there. I don’t know how it got like that!

-DQ#1

Hum your favorite hymn. (Or blog. It could work!)


Up until a year or two ago, hymns utterly bored me. I thought they were “ugly” songs with the same melody, and there was no way it could be beautiful. Yes, shocking I know. But I have a new outlook on them now, so they are sort of a thing of beauty. Hymns are one of the simplest ways to show our Heavenly Father we love Him, and I know that now. And they aren’t “ugly” anymore, they’re different. They are not classical music, nor are they jazz, or pop or rack or anything of the sort. They belong to a genre all their own, and they deserve respect; as do all branches of music. Hymns are like poems we sing, which is pretty much what they are! Anyway, today I felt especially touched by the last hymn we snag. “God be with you till we meet again”. I think this is my favorite song out of the hymnbook, because it is such a beautiful message that is conveyed. We also sang this song at my uncle Timmy’s funeral, which was a lovely reminder of the Resurrection. At my funeral, I would like that sung.
Another thing about hymns is the satisfying feeling you get when you successfully play one on the piano. It’s such a good feeling to know you can show the Lord your thanks by playing His music. And they really can bring comfort to those who need it. And some hymns just sound so cheerful it’s hard NOT to sing them. They aren’t all the same! They are diverse and unique! So, what are your favorite hymns? What makes them so special to you?

-DQ#1

Hum your favorite hymn. (Or blog. It could work!)


Up until a year or two ago, hymns utterly bored me. I thought they were “ugly” songs with the same melody, and there was no way it could be beautiful. Yes, shocking I know. But I have a new outlook on them now, so they are sort of a thing of beauty. Hymns are one of the simplest ways to show our Heavenly Father we love Him, and I know that now. And they aren’t “ugly” anymore, they’re different. They are not classical music, nor are they jazz, or pop or rack or anything of the sort. They belong to a genre all their own, and they deserve respect; as do all branches of music. Hymns are like poems we sing, which is pretty much what they are! Anyway, today I felt especially touched by the last hymn we snag. “God be with you till we meet again”. I think this is my favorite song out of the hymnbook, because it is such a beautiful message that is conveyed. We also sang this song at my uncle Timmy’s funeral, which was a lovely reminder of the Resurrection. At my funeral, I would like that sung.
Another thing about hymns is the satisfying feeling you get when you successfully play one on the piano. It’s such a good feeling to know you can show the Lord your thanks by playing His music. And they really can bring comfort to those who need it. And some hymns just sound so cheerful it’s hard NOT to sing them. They aren’t all the same! They are diverse and unique! So, what are your favorite hymns? What makes them so special to you?

-DQ#1

Hum your favorite hymn. (Or blog. It could work!)


Up until a year or two ago, hymns utterly bored me. I thought they were “ugly” songs with the same melody, and there was no way it could be beautiful. Yes, shocking I know. But I have a new outlook on them now, so they are sort of a thing of beauty. Hymns are one of the simplest ways to show our Heavenly Father we love Him, and I know that now. And they aren’t “ugly” anymore, they’re different. They are not classical music, nor are they jazz, or pop or rack or anything of the sort. They belong to a genre all their own, and they deserve respect; as do all branches of music. Hymns are like poems we sing, which is pretty much what they are! Anyway, today I felt especially touched by the last hymn we snag. “God be with you till we meet again”. I think this is my favorite song out of the hymnbook, because it is such a beautiful message that is conveyed. We also sang this song at my uncle Timmy’s funeral, which was a lovely reminder of the Resurrection. At my funeral, I would like that sung.
Another thing about hymns is the satisfying feeling you get when you successfully play one on the piano. It’s such a good feeling to know you can show the Lord your thanks by playing His music. And they really can bring comfort to those who need it. And some hymns just sound so cheerful it’s hard NOT to sing them. They aren’t all the same! They are diverse and unique! So, what are your favorite hymns? What makes them so special to you?

-DQ#1

The vomit dialogues.

Those of you who know me well enough will know FOR A FACT that I am NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES GOOD WITH THROW UP, PUKE, UPCHUCK, TECHNICOLOR YAWNS or any other metaphors you may have for this disgusting sign of illness. I simply cannot handle it. If my best friend says she has a stomachache, I freak out just a little inside. I have to make sure everyone takes their Dramamine before a family trip, and babysitting is a trial for me when this happens. Siblings? They become instant lepers, practically, and I avoid them at all costs, and when it’s in the car I have to hold my breath, cover my head with pillows and blankets, plug my nose and hum because there is no escape to this torture. And all of this comes with a little added bonus for me: shakiness everywhere, very slight nausea, and I go a little hysterical. I feel awful and selfish and stupid for reacting this way, but it’s practically inescapable. I think it’s the sound that gets me- the horrid, gagging sound that strikes fear into my very core. I don’t even let myself throw up- at least, I hold on until the last possible second, and I make sure I have a strong ponytail and I’m in the locked bathroom by myself. oh yeah, I’m drastic. And the teasing has no end; I get it from my dad, my mom, sometimes even my siblings! And don’t forget my mom’s friend. She likes to tell the story of when I went just a little cuckoo. Okay, so I was begging to spend the night at her house. But can you blame me? I mean, throwing up, seriously?! This is serious stuff! Oh yeah, I even went so far as to sleep in a closet with my bedroom door closed and locked, with a karaoke machine in my ears all night long once.

Paranoid much?
Just a little.
I really could go on and on with my issues but let’s stop there. I’m sure you’re already convinced of my phobia, right?
Well, lucky for us we’ve been blessed with a bug that’s been infecting our whole family this past week. It’s worked it’s way up through my brothers, then my parents, then my littlest sister Lula, who was the most recent addition to the sick people. She came home from a friends house, looking suspiciously ungood. Then she says the magic words: “My tummy hurts.” Simple as that. I unconsciously scoot to the edge of the couch and tell her to go to the bathroom, which sometimes helps. So she goes, whining all the way and I wait. She comes back out soon enough and curls up into a little ball. She looks really flushed and sad.
A few minutes later, her tummy decided it was done digesting for the day, and she hopped off the couch to go take care of it. Then I hear it, and I know she didn’t make it. So despite myself, I look up to see her little face so sad, and unsure what to do. But she’s not done, so I yell at her, telling her to go to the trashcan. Poor little thing! At least she made it to the trash. She is crying now, and I text mom to let her know of this little predicament. Then I tell her to go into the bathroom and take her clothes off, which she does. She is now sobbing, and says pitifully, “I hate puking.” I try my best to comfort her, and get a bath set up for her. Now, what to do with the little trail… I can’t do it. I’m going to lose it, and now I’m panicking. Oh no, oh no. What could I do? I text my mum again, because I’m not sure I can do it at all. But then I think to myself, I need to grow up. I’m tired of being teased. So HA! And I cleaned it up. It was hard, but I did it anyway.

-DQ#1

Except now I think i’m getting sick.

The vomit dialogues.

Those of you who know me well enough will know FOR A FACT that I am NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES GOOD WITH THROW UP, PUKE, UPCHUCK, TECHNICOLOR YAWNS or any other metaphors you may have for this disgusting sign of illness. I simply cannot handle it. If my best friend says she has a stomachache, I freak out just a little inside. I have to make sure everyone takes their Dramamine before a family trip, and babysitting is a trial for me when this happens. Siblings? They become instant lepers, practically, and I avoid them at all costs, and when it’s in the car I have to hold my breath, cover my head with pillows and blankets, plug my nose and hum because there is no escape to this torture. And all of this comes with a little added bonus for me: shakiness everywhere, very slight nausea, and I go a little hysterical. I feel awful and selfish and stupid for reacting this way, but it’s practically inescapable. I think it’s the sound that gets me- the horrid, gagging sound that strikes fear into my very core. I don’t even let myself throw up- at least, I hold on until the last possible second, and I make sure I have a strong ponytail and I’m in the locked bathroom by myself. oh yeah, I’m drastic. And the teasing has no end; I get it from my dad, my mom, sometimes even my siblings! And don’t forget my mom’s friend. She likes to tell the story of when I went just a little cuckoo. Okay, so I was begging to spend the night at her house. But can you blame me? I mean, throwing up, seriously?! This is serious stuff! Oh yeah, I even went so far as to sleep in a closet with my bedroom door closed and locked, with a karaoke machine in my ears all night long once.

Paranoid much?
Just a little.
I really could go on and on with my issues but let’s stop there. I’m sure you’re already convinced of my phobia, right?
Well, lucky for us we’ve been blessed with a bug that’s been infecting our whole family this past week. It’s worked it’s way up through my brothers, then my parents, then my littlest sister Lula, who was the most recent addition to the sick people. She came home from a friends house, looking suspiciously ungood. Then she says the magic words: “My tummy hurts.” Simple as that. I unconsciously scoot to the edge of the couch and tell her to go to the bathroom, which sometimes helps. So she goes, whining all the way and I wait. She comes back out soon enough and curls up into a little ball. She looks really flushed and sad.
A few minutes later, her tummy decided it was done digesting for the day, and she hopped off the couch to go take care of it. Then I hear it, and I know she didn’t make it. So despite myself, I look up to see her little face so sad, and unsure what to do. But she’s not done, so I yell at her, telling her to go to the trashcan. Poor little thing! At least she made it to the trash. She is crying now, and I text mom to let her know of this little predicament. Then I tell her to go into the bathroom and take her clothes off, which she does. She is now sobbing, and says pitifully, “I hate puking.” I try my best to comfort her, and get a bath set up for her. Now, what to do with the little trail… I can’t do it. I’m going to lose it, and now I’m panicking. Oh no, oh no. What could I do? I text my mum again, because I’m not sure I can do it at all. But then I think to myself, I need to grow up. I’m tired of being teased. So HA! And I cleaned it up. It was hard, but I did it anyway.

-DQ#1

Except now I think i’m getting sick.

The vomit dialogues.

Those of you who know me well enough will know FOR A FACT that I am NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES GOOD WITH THROW UP, PUKE, UPCHUCK, TECHNICOLOR YAWNS or any other metaphors you may have for this disgusting sign of illness. I simply cannot handle it. If my best friend says she has a stomachache, I freak out just a little inside. I have to make sure everyone takes their Dramamine before a family trip, and babysitting is a trial for me when this happens. Siblings? They become instant lepers, practically, and I avoid them at all costs, and when it’s in the car I have to hold my breath, cover my head with pillows and blankets, plug my nose and hum because there is no escape to this torture. And all of this comes with a little added bonus for me: shakiness everywhere, very slight nausea, and I go a little hysterical. I feel awful and selfish and stupid for reacting this way, but it’s practically inescapable. I think it’s the sound that gets me- the horrid, gagging sound that strikes fear into my very core. I don’t even let myself throw up- at least, I hold on until the last possible second, and I make sure I have a strong ponytail and I’m in the locked bathroom by myself. oh yeah, I’m drastic. And the teasing has no end; I get it from my dad, my mom, sometimes even my siblings! And don’t forget my mom’s friend. She likes to tell the story of when I went just a little cuckoo. Okay, so I was begging to spend the night at her house. But can you blame me? I mean, throwing up, seriously?! This is serious stuff! Oh yeah, I even went so far as to sleep in a closet with my bedroom door closed and locked, with a karaoke machine in my ears all night long once.

Paranoid much?
Just a little.
I really could go on and on with my issues but let’s stop there. I’m sure you’re already convinced of my phobia, right?
Well, lucky for us we’ve been blessed with a bug that’s been infecting our whole family this past week. It’s worked it’s way up through my brothers, then my parents, then my littlest sister Lula, who was the most recent addition to the sick people. She came home from a friends house, looking suspiciously ungood. Then she says the magic words: “My tummy hurts.” Simple as that. I unconsciously scoot to the edge of the couch and tell her to go to the bathroom, which sometimes helps. So she goes, whining all the way and I wait. She comes back out soon enough and curls up into a little ball. She looks really flushed and sad.
A few minutes later, her tummy decided it was done digesting for the day, and she hopped off the couch to go take care of it. Then I hear it, and I know she didn’t make it. So despite myself, I look up to see her little face so sad, and unsure what to do. But she’s not done, so I yell at her, telling her to go to the trashcan. Poor little thing! At least she made it to the trash. She is crying now, and I text mom to let her know of this little predicament. Then I tell her to go into the bathroom and take her clothes off, which she does. She is now sobbing, and says pitifully, “I hate puking.” I try my best to comfort her, and get a bath set up for her. Now, what to do with the little trail… I can’t do it. I’m going to lose it, and now I’m panicking. Oh no, oh no. What could I do? I text my mum again, because I’m not sure I can do it at all. But then I think to myself, I need to grow up. I’m tired of being teased. So HA! And I cleaned it up. It was hard, but I did it anyway.

-DQ#1

Except now I think i’m getting sick.

Save the drama for… someone other than me, please!


These past few weeks have been… kind of awful, drama-wise. Every day someone is fighting, or somebody bombed a test, and other junk. And I’m SICK OF IT. Just sitting at my table at lunch is draining me and I’m considering relocating myself. Is it really necessary to fight over everything, such as sitting with someone else? And getting huffy over music is just ridiculous. we are always calling each other names, or saying rude things, or teasing each other about what we are EATING. I’m so TIRED!!! Can we not grow up?! I guess this is just a part of school, and growing up, but we could seriously stand a little shaping up. I promise myself I will try to behave better and not get involved in this crud, and I won’t be such a jerk. Hopefully next week will be easier… because I want a change for the better. So, enough of this infantile nonsense. Okay?

-DQ#1