Regret

I guess if I could pick anything to live my life by, it would be to live without regret. But I'm almost near the end, and when I look back on my high school life, especially in light of recent events, there is only one feeling that resonates in my mind: regret.

I guess if most of us could relive our lives, we would do a lot differently -- maybe study for that chem test or not to fall asleep during bio. I guess those are minor things we all have; for me, it would be to take that apcs midterm and study a little harder for the chemistry olympiad exam last year. But those aren't regrets as much as they are mistakes. Regrets eat away at you, they kill you from the inside.  For me, in one word, it would be: music.

For those who don't know, I started playing piano in pre-k, played for a little over a decade, then stopped. I've played the flute for about the same time, and I still play. I tried violin three times but failed.  But I think I learned a lot along the way, experience-wise.

I was definitely an early bloomer; I played at Carnegie Hall before I could read, and I made 1st flute intermediate regionals the first year I tried out. (The Hammarskjold band director hated me though...I sat 4th chair in the region band but 8th chair in our school band). The year after, I made symphonic orchestra. But that ends the story of my achievements - at freshman year. I guess confidence got the better of me, and I practiced less and less as work got heavier and heavier in high school.  I had this presumption that I was good enough to top other flautists without practice, but I learned something the hard way: people catch up.

It wasn't not making it the subsequent year that filled me with regret; I saw it as a decision: between work and music I picked work and between sleep and music, I picked sleep.  Regret didn't really come to me until this year, when Jon warned me to watch out for this girl who was first chair picc all state.  She came up to me while I was waiting in line striking up a conversation, and I realized that she was my stand partner in regional orchestra in eighth grade.  She was 2nd chair, I was 3rd. Now she's all-state and I'm...nothing.  This girl whom everyone respected as a musician was once at the same level I was.  Let me tell you, that feeling sucks.

I didn't get it. I saw myself as a decent musician: I could identify a perfect consonance by ear, I could transpose pieces by hearing, and chromatic modulations would give me goosebumps - I felt music. I thought (and still do on some level), that I understood music more than a typical high schooler. but how come all these people still performed better than me? The answer, quite simply, is work. I guess a good way to sum up this post is with a quote I read on someone's status a while back: "To get good, work hard. To get better, work harder." I should really work harder.

A quick shoutout to brooke who apparently is the only who reads my blogs. I dont publicize as much as other people, but it's nice to know you have readership.  I'm  gonna end my posts with ellipses so all my devoted fan(s) will know its always to be continued...