ah the fine arts

I like to pride myself in being a musician, but be aware that I'm by no means a child prodigy at all whatsoever. I'm sure middle school band members can attest to that since I was the one getting in trouble for talking half the time.

People who know me well, know that I love music. But even those people who know me well, don't really know how prevalent it is and has been in my life.

And I'm not writing about loving the new Death Cab album, or being to seventeen thousand concerts, or personally knowing the members of a band, or memorizing every word and every line of a song, or knowing the full discography of multiple artists. Not bashing on death cab here, and there are times when I listen to a song and I'm fully immersed in it, and i do love multiple artists, but that's not the music I'm writing about.
I'm just writing about simply playing music.



I can't remember a single time in life where it hasn't been present in my house.
When I was little, instead of waking up to the smell of a delicious Christmas breakfast, I would wake up to the sound of the piano. It would accompany the voices of my family when they sing happy birthday to me as I blow out candles. Classical music was the only thing playing in our cars as my parents drove me to school and back. I knew nothing of the songs on the radio, didn't even hear of boy bands until the fourth grade when they were slowly declining into obscurity.
My elementary school life consisted of a collection of classics neatly sorted out on a rack separated by composer.

We have five drawers at home filled completely of books; sheet music, college music theory texts, used music books, books my mom used when she was seven, books I used when I was seven, Phantom of the Opera, Haydn, Jack's Mannequin, Fleet Foxes, Ben Folds, even a slowly decaying children's classics book that was originally purchased in 1927 by my grandmother.

My family has gone through instruments like going through old pairs of shoes.
Two uprights, spinets, consoles, disklaviers, baby grands, and grands, Yamahas, Baldwins, Kawais, Schimmels, Steinways. We've tried them all but concert pianos, I don't think those would fit well in our house.

In first grade I would have piano lessons down the street every Tuesdays and Thursdays. It was a life changing moment, I even remember in my first piano lesson, I learnt the middle C and wouldn't stop playing octaves the rest of the week.

In second grade, I was enrolled into an art school where I went after school for five hours everyday to paint, draw, illustrate, play and learn to compose.

In fourth grade, I was given a flyer in the middle of class asking for all interested students who wanted to participate in band to tryout. Then I started taking flute and clarinet lessons three times a week, sometimes double lessons after piano.

In fifth grade, my mom finished the program to be a certified piano tuner, and since then, have been in the music industry. At one point, we had to park our cars outside for a month because we had five very old, 19th century, broken, and coffee stained pianos taking up space in our garage.
Also during this time I've been invited backstage at various philharmonic performances, music warehouses, and have met very interesting people.

In sixth grade, I was given a guitar and started taking lessons then from a college student named Gerard with long, shaggy brown hair. The first song he taught me was Lounge Act by Nirvana. I loved it.

In middle school, I was a giant band geek who played too much of the flute. I continued taking lessons and doing those awkward recitals your teachers have you do.


Freshman year in high school, I started working at Gordon's Music and Sound.
Freshman year was also the year I quit playing music.

And as I ramble on and on about my relationship with music throughout the years, I realize that I should have continued. And its a shame I didn't since I had all these connections, definitely not talent, but the mostly the experience.
And I know now why I had quit.

Music to me is a guilty pleasure. Both my parents have always been supportive of me playing music, but they always stress the fact that its not "practical." It's not practical to major in music, its not practical to be too intwined in it, its not practical to have music in your life as a profession (coming from my mother with experience in the industry herself, I was forced to accept that opinion half heartedly.) I'm definitely not saying music professions are bad, I have the greatest respect for anyone in the music industry. But because of how I was steered away from even thinking of doing music as a profession, I stopped trying to improve. I was scared that I would love it too much, and the thought of parting with it for a future, practical life and eventually a practical job in the next four years that doesn't involve music was hurtful to me. So I stopped early. It's a stupid way to think.

On the topic of meeting interesting people in the music industry, that also shaped my decision to stop.
I've met a man who graduated from Berklee, plays ten instruments, and doesn't have a steady job.
I've met another man who graduated from Julliard, played the alto sax in front of millions in New York, and at this moment is out of a job.
I've met many piano store owners who can't even afford to buy themselves lunch since business is so poor.


Thinking about it now though, I wish I hadn't quit. I have wonderful friends (Katie specifically) whose wonderful parents would support her going to whatever art school if she ever desired to, and I think to myself, I would love to do the same, but I can't because I stopped playing and its frustrating now that what could have been a possibility is now a far off dream to even apply.

On another tangent about music and frustration is when someone asks me what instrument I play, and I say piano, they answer, "Oh but of course, you would, you're Asian, it would either be that or the violin."

Yes, because every Asian knows plays the piano or the violin and therefore we all play the same, spend the same insane amount of time practicing, and we're all forced to do it by our immigrant parents who don't speak English well and probably can't pronounce Beethoven, Chopin, or Bach.

Thank you so much ignorant person of America, you truly understand music and the world around you.
Now get yourself a plane ticket and fly to somewhere in Asia where then you can realize music might be a necessity to us Americans, but its a luxury to everyone else.

And here is my connection to music. I promise you, it wasn't forced.
As a child, I had moved to seven different houses, six different elementary schools, in five different cities. I've had a parent live in another country for two years at one point. I've had an almost separation, neglect, and in sophomore year, went through a case, later treated, of depression.


There are a lot of changes in my life. Change of school, of friends, of family, of culture, and all that with missing my family who are half way around the world, however music was the only consistent thing that I could have depended on that never changed.

And through incidences like the one where my dad had heart surgery during a giant move from two different houses, I never parted with the piano for the whole month. I remember, I would neglect doing homework, and at one point failed my math class, just because I would spend hours with music, and my mom would understand, because it was what I needed to keep myself together.

But sadly in high school, my three guitars and two flutes sat lovingly collecting dust as I worried about life, and eventually forgot that the wonderful remedy to my problems were actually just hiding in the closet.
And for some reason last spring, I realized what I was missing, opened the dusty cases, and once again, fell in love.

And now I want to pursue the goals I had three years ago, to make up for the time and practice that I could have had and I didn't take. Goals of learning the saxophone and the violin that are unfortunately put on hold since I have no money to rent, nevertheless buy any of these instruments... thank god I have a job.

So this is what I wish for in the future.
I wish for parents to immerse their child in the arts, but let them dream, and let them dream big.

So what if your child doesn't have a chance in being a famous actor? A musician? A dancer? Please please please, let them be happy and face their disappointments naturally for themselves, don't impose it early upon them. They might actually make it.

I lost my chance to learn and grow up with the wonderful thing everyone calls music when I called my tutors and told them I was quitting, when I didn't sign up for band on my transcripts, when I refused to look at sheet music for three years because it would hurt me too much, when I would bypass music stores whenever my mom had business there-just because i didn't want to catch a glimpse of the instruments and start missing playing, and when I placed my instruments their cases and told myself to not open them for fear of wanting.

It was a giant mistake, and no one said a word on my decisions, but I really wish someone had.
I'm sure someone in the world out there has a similar story as mine, no matter if its with art, dancing, or acting.

And one more thing, don't expect me to be a great musician. I do it for the joy of playing, not to prove to anyone how fast I can sight read. I hope you won't expect too much out of me after reading this note.

I'm just happy that I know better now, and that its alright to have music in my life, even if that means that I won't be changing the world with it. Most importantly I want other people to know, if it makes you happy, continue with dancing, acting, writing, drawing, no matter how many people tell you how unpractical it is, because you won't be happy if you cheat yourself of what you really need.

And now excuse me while I drool over Yamaha P85S's on Ebay for the rest of the night. :)