Recital

Few things embarrass me more than watching people perform live, especially when music is involved. I attended the kids’ piano recital last week, and I was a nervous wreck the entire time. The first performer played a few notes and then froze. She looked at her teacher who encouraged her to continue. That’s it, I thought. I’m going to have a stroke before this thing is over. The girl started over, and I had to put my head between my knees and take deep breaths.

It isn’t just that I’m embarrassed for the performer, but I also feel like I need to apologize for how embarrassing the situation is. When the teacher announced that the next performer, a twelve-year old girl, would be singing a Taylor Swift song, I wanted to turn to the folks behind me and say, “This really isn’t my fault. I didn’t know there would be singing.” She belted her way through “Love Story” with the off-key gusto only a lovesick pre-teen can muster, and I sunk lower and lower into my seat. I felt like the whole audience was staring at me. What would compel this girl to actually sing in front of a gymnasium full of people? Did she even consider my feelings when making this decision?

She finished. People applauded. I started breathing again.

The next kid to get up was five. His first song was one note played six times. It literally went, “Bom, Bom, Bom, Bommmmm, Bommmmmm, Bommmmm.” He still found a way to botch it, but the crowd applauded furiously anyway. I think—like myself—they appreciated his brevity.

Surprisingly, though, I wasn’t embarrassed when Miles and Caleigh got up to play their duet. I knew Miles would be fine. A few weeks ago, when we loaded our out-of-tune piano onto the U-Haul, he stood there for an hour and played every song he knew as loud as he could. As neighbors walked by, he would hail them over with a dramatic arm-gesture, like a circus ringmaster beckoning folks into the big-top. I don't even know where he got the tip jar from. I offered to drive around Farmington while he played, and he was genuinely bummed to find out I was kidding. Knowing that the kid has no shame, I had no reason to feel embarrassed for him, no matter what happened. And, as it turns out, he did great. So did Caleigh.

After the twins performed, I thought I might actually make it through the rest of the recital without developing any new ulcers, but then the next student, a young teenage girl, sat down, positioned the microphone, and started singing.

Back on the Grid

I just finished my seminar papers and mailed them off to my professors, which means my semester is officially over and I can return to the land of the living.

I wrote seventy-three pages and then whittled it down to fifty-six. My fingers hurt and I'll probably have weird dreams tonight.

What is my Problem?

I don't know how I did it again, but I ended my technical writing classes a week too early. I even checked the school's calendar this time when I wrote my syllabus.