To Lose Sight

The world is very loud.  Noisy.  Voluminous in thick waves of sound.  But we barely notice it.  The humming of the lights, people passing by, air conditioners, traffic, even our own breathing.  We've all grown up in an environment where we are used to at least a little sound, somewhere, all the time. 

I used to find sound fascinating.  The drastic change in sound as soon as three people started conversing rather than two was something that always amazed me.  The thin air of one voice all of a sudden gained an overlap of another.  It was thickening like layers of honey collecting at the bottom of a cup of tea.  Indeed, the reception of sound is a fantastic thing. 

I recently went to a tourist attraction called "Dialogue in the Dark".  You are given a blind man's stick and put in a series of rooms in pitch black darkness with a guide (all guides are visually impaired).  The whole point is to experience being blind, relying on only touch, smell, and hearing to navigate in the darkness. To be honest, it's not for everyone.  Kids sometimes aren't mature enough for it, or are scared of the dark.  I don't blame them.  However, for me, my problem was the sudden barrage of information to my ears.  I discovered that I relied heavily on my eyes to process auditory information.  If a car honked, I turned to look at it.  If someone spoke, I could confirm it with my sight.  However, as I stood in a lightless room with the sounds of a busy intersection simulated, I couldn't help but be extremely overwhelmed.  Overwhelmed by the seemingly large quantity of information I would have confirmed with vision, but couldn't.  All the sounds I had overlooked with my eyes.  I was a tiny being facing a tsunami of sound stimuli. It was disorientating.  Belittling.  Daunting. My body produced a headache in no time.  I didn't want to process so much noise at once.  It was too much without eyesight. 
Then on top of that... I had to move around.  Navigate using a wooden apparatus that had loose connection to my body.  My headache became worse.  Why was the world so loud?  Why couldn't it just shut up for a while? 
And to think that it was all simulation. 

Afterwards, sound was a lot different.  It was no longer a fascinating concept that I could think to observe attentively.  It was a vast, endless swamp of information, one that I could never hope to process and understand should I lose my vision.  I had developed two things after that experience:
1. A newfound deep respect for visually impaired people.  Especially those who lost their sight after adolescence.
2. A new fear.  Fear of losing sight. I didn't think it would be something I would be afraid of, but after having a taste of the world with only ears...

Side note: I'm not saying Dialogue in the Dark is a bad attraction.  In fact, it's very well done and is unique for a tourist attraction.  It just isn't for everyone.  I'm just a wierdo who is hypersensitive to things concerning sound... So don't think that as soon as you come out you will develop a phobia for blindness.  If you have a chance to go there, it's a good experience!

Being a jerk and not applauding.

If you have read enough posts or know me in person, you probably would know that the title of this post is sarcastic.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not against the existence of applauses.  If a baby takes it's first steps, applause is appropriate. If an athlete scores a goal or wins a race, applause, whistling, and cheering often occurs. And if a Stormtrooper actually hits a target.... They deserve a standing ovation.  And a cookie.

But for me, whenever I see or hear a performance or message that is special, clapping just ruins it.  Usually the message/sound is powerful, profound, expressive, beautiful, meaningful, and/or produced from the bottom of the heart.  It means a lot to the performer, and their actions are not to be taken lightly.  Your reaction to them after speaking needs delicacy and respect.
When the speaker or performer is done... I feel that clapping disrupts the heavy, respect-demanding air that has been created.  It's just a noise... one tonal noise with a sharp attack and instant decay.  It pierces ears... and slashes the air like a blunt knife cutting through soft, damp wood.  So distracting.  And this noise has to be heard over and over again, until the gorgeous expression of one's soul is dismissed as pieces...
I can never enjoy the silence after a truly great and breathtaking performance.  I wish that I were the only human around to hear it.  I wish that I were the only being to hear it.

Clapping is something more of a celebratory gesture, with a "good job" mentality.  I never want to dismiss great works of depth with a simple "good job", I want to experience all of it; before, during, and after.  But, because of social norms, I'm always cheated the last part (and sometimes the whole thing).
I somehow need to find something else other than clapping to acknowledge performances such as these.  An action that shows my deep sincerity and acknowledgement without being distracting or noisy...  But what would that be?
Whenever I don't applaud, people give me death glares thinking I didn't appreciated the presented music/drama/whateveritmightbe.  I truly did enjoy... I just didn't want to participate in killing it.

The Skill Room

Yesterday our Sr. Jazz band got up early like usual, and began rehearsal like any other day.  Only one thing... one of our trumpet players couldn't play for a strange reason.  He could barely make music let alone organized noise, and it was like he went back to clumsily playing trumpet for the first time like in grade 7.  Since he couldn't do it, he just sat down, and didn't play.  So while everyone else played, he decided to pass time on his iPad.  Whether what he was doing was important or not, I don't know.  The teacher called him out on it about halfway through the rehearsal.  I could see it took a toll on him.  After he silently put the tablet away, he stared down at the ground obviously frustrated.  And then he started holding back tears.  I could feel it... he was not just frustrated, but confused, mad at himself, and embarrassed.  It seemed to me that the iPad was a good distraction from his frustration and other emotions.  But once that was taken away, there was no hiding it.  And the fact that he was starting to shed tears was all the more humiliating.  As his friend, I whisper-yelled his name and threw my water bottle to him, motioning for him to drink.  After all, drinking water when you're crying helps you stop.  Seriously, it works well.

Why was he feeling all those emotions on a day like any other?  I believe he has hit something not a lot of musicians see or experience... I've asked musicians about this experience that are four (maybe five) times my age and they have never experienced something like the one I described above.
I call this experience the Skill Room (not the best title I know).  Why?  This experience feels like your skills as a musician has been blocked off for a strange reason... like you are locked in a room with no access to your skills.  You don't feel it until you actually try to play.  You just start, expecting to make music like usual.  Then you realize that your playing/practice is under par.  Very under par.  It feels like a few years of experience, skills, and motor memory have been sucked out just as you picked up/turned on/sat down to play your instrument.  You can't buzz, set a proper embouchure, get your fingers to move right, and your focus level seems normal, yet somehow harder to conjure.  It is the one of the most frustrating things I have so far experienced, knowing I could full well play grade 9 (ten grades in my country's system) piano songs with ease but for that day I was limited to a grade 5 level.  It's frustrating enough to draw tears, which was what happened to my friend.

The Skill Room is something I've only encountered twice for the thirteen years I have been learning/creating music.  Both experiences in the same year.  Both of those days started just fine, but after that it was pretty depressing.  When all your skill just seemed locked out of you, you kind of just want to stop for the day.  And that's what I did.
I don't really know how to break out.  It kind of goes away after a night's sleep.  The next day, everything is back to the usual.

I didn't get to talk to him after rehearsal, but it seemed rough.  I hope he's doing okay right now.

I then began to think if other musicians see this room everyday, and if the room would be the reason of why they quit music.  I can only wish that those stuck in this terrible place would somehow either break out, or have someone help them.

The Patience Limit

So I'm typing this is after re-reading what I've written.  This post you're going to read gets kinda dark at the end.

I've been told I'm a patient person.  I have the ability to wait while others can't just sit still.  But I must disagree.  I'm not the most patient person all the time.  In fact, I hate waiting for things I look forward to.  But if they are events that I can't control the time in which it occurs (such as a present promised on a certain date), I just hold my frustration in and just wait.  That is the patience I get noticed for.  But to me, I don't think it's the healthy type.  Patience to me has always been coming to terms with the circumstances, and accepting it peacefully with grace and wisdom.  Weird, somewhat irrational, and not applicable in most cases, I know.  When I picture Patience in a human form, I think of an aging Kung Fu master in the sitting lotus position, meditating calmly on the side of a green mountain waiting for his tea to boil while the sun lights his hair with brilliance....
woah, really weird moment right there.

Anyways, I should start writing stuff that relates to the title.  Recently, a friend promised me a present of some sort.  What form it takes, I have no idea (yet).  It was supposed to be for Christmas, but she got busy, and did not complete it on time.  So she decided to move it to a later time, as a grad present.  Grad is at the end of May.
Like I said, I can be seen as patient. I was told I would receive the gift in the middle of January, and as soon as she told me that it wasn't ready, I was frustrated.  Not in a "I hate you, you should be more responsible" way.  More like "ah.  That sucks.  I can't wait!"  But, I knew when I would have it by, so I suppressed my frustration.  And I can turn it to satisfaction in late May.

She told me to be patient.  I asked, "how patient?"  I was then asked if I had a patience limit.  I never realized it, but I have never really had my patience tested to my breaking point.  Knowing myself, I might have a violent rage if I am pushed enough.  But I've done a pretty good job of keeping that in, conscious that I've been trained in more effective ways to hurt people.  One time, my sister was being extremely arrogant, so I yelled at her with language that is not normally allowed in my house.  Of course, she cried afterwards and I got in trouble...
Other than that, I have not been pushed with my patience more.  That was my only "popping" point.  Just as verbal outcry of literally 3 seconds.  However, I have had some terrible thoughts.  There's no shortage of people that would be dead right now had I did not use my strange yet effective suppression.
So when asked about my patience limit... I wondered what it would look like.  I don't know myself well enough to know exactly what I would do.  My go-to thought was harm other people.  But after a while, I thought that it would also be possible that I would cave and implode on myself.  I was told that there are two types of people who deal with anger: those who explode, and those who seem fine and then one day silently shoot someone.  Well as for me... I'm thinking I would seem fine for a long time... then cut everyone to pieces disregarding any future consequences.  Literally.
I don't really want to find out how I would look there.  Or how I would look like to other people.

I have officially found a new fear of mine: my breaking point.

Awks...

This one's going to be a weird because it's flippin hard to put down what I have in mind right now. 
Recently, I had a conversation that made the other person feel really awkward.  However, I was perfectly fine.  Maybe because the other person said something that could be potentially embarrassing.  I thought, "it's fine, I don't feel awkward at all".  Right there, I had an epiphany...

I have done a pretty good job of eliminating common social awkwardness.  Such as saying goodnight and then starting another conversation,  passing other people when on a walk, going the same direction when trying to pass by each other, receiving/giving compliments to strangers, taking constructive criticism from an equal, or walking the same direction after saying goodbye.  A while ago I did exactly the last one with a friend, and she said it didn't feel awkward whatsoever because I didn't make it awkward.  Same went for a couple other people...

I came up with the idea that it takes two to feel awkward about your situation with another.  In person that is...
But over text or chat, you cannot read and feel expression as easily.  It's hard.  There is no vibe given from text, no facial expression, no observable body language like confidence and how the other carries themselves. 
I just think that if you have something important to say, do it in person.  It's easier to interpret, more expressive, and if you feel awkward, at least it will either be with someone else, or they will help you feel less awkward. 
Gah it's so hard to explain.  Time for sleep. 

Why being important is nice but sometimes sucks

Just from reading the title, I sound really arrogant.  And the rest of the post is going to also sound like I'm really arrogant.  Just to let you know before you read further, I'm not trying to be a stuck up, world-revolves-around-me type of person.  If I call myself important, it's because other people have told me so, and I know my role among the student body of my school.

So if you don't know, I'm a musician.  Music is not only something I love creating as art and recreation, it's my passion, and my language.  So being a music geek, it's only natural that I spend (literally) most of my time at school in the band room.  Seriously, if you add up how many hours I am in the band room compared to how many hours in any other classroom collectively, I spend more time in the band room.
Because I'm there so much, the teacher I see the most obviously would be the band teacher.  Just yesterday, he asked me a question that made me think quite a bit about my role in the school.  He asked, "Who are you going to teach all the stuff you learned in jazz?"  To understand his question, a little background info is needed.

There are currently no jazz pianists in Sr. High.  I am the only one.  Next year I graduate, which means that someone (currently) between grades nine and eleven really needs to step up their learning in that area.  And of course the best way is to have the person who does it best in the school teach them... and that would be me.
I would be more than happy to teach someone how to play jazz piano, but the problem comes in with my crazy and evil schedule.  Even though I have a lot of spares during the day, it's usually taken by either practice or homework.  Or sleep, because I don't get enough of it during the night.  If I could fit another student in jazz piano, I think it would be a lot of fun, since jazz is right up my alley.
That wasn't the only problem though.  After the question was asked, me and my teacher spent about ten minutes discussing who would be a good candidate to, in simplest terms, (not trying to brag here) be my successor.  We both definitely agreed that people are not simply replaceable. Each new band every year develops a new style and approach to music, even if it is very subtle.  However, if we don't find someone to learn the basics of a vital role quickly, then the whole band suffers.

Then I realized, that a lot of people are going to miss me, and I'm going to terribly miss everyone in the program as well.  They say that the people you should know the best are the people in your grade (since you're with them for 13 years), but the people I consider my family at school are people in the band programs.  Especially the Jr. Highs, it's fun to help them learn and watch them grow as musicians, and I find a lot of joy in doing that.  Jeez, it sounds like I have kids or something...
My teacher's question made me think of all the people I would simply see a lot less next year.  The bassoon player in grade 7 that would always asked if I lived in the band room (I kind of do), the twins that I know that play way more instruments than me, the whole grade 9 band that I loved working with last year, all the people who complimented me that one time I directed the band, and many more people who rely on me for help.  I'm going to really miss everyone.  And from what I've been told, they're going to miss me too.

...aaaaand I'm crying.  Great.

So in a way, I don't want to graduate.  Because I don't want to leave this environment that I love being in so much, and helping other people in whatever they need for the sake of their smile and "thank you".

I think I'm going to visit a lot next year.

A special way of ending the summer (sort of)

So yesterday was Canada Day.  Being a Canadian citizen myself, I am rather proud of my nation for our general reputation... you know, being the people who are seen as kind, not too noisy, and pleasant. Of course, that's not true for everyone in the country.  Regardless, Canada is (currently) the only country that I would want to live in.

Anyways, something special happened last night that made this Canada day stand out a little more than the rest of the ones I've celebrated throughout my life.  Canada day was kind of like my last day of real free time for the rest of the summer.  Today I have summer school starting, and once that is done, I am leaving the country for the rest of the summer performing with my musical theater class from school.  I could have tried to enjoy my last day the most I can by being an anti-social hermit and playing video games all day.  It was a good idea to me at first, and then I realized that if I had done that, it would have been a complete waste of the last day of summer for me.
I recently made friends with a group of classmates in the grade below me.  They are all great, friendly people, all with good personalities and flaws.  They really are the definition of what I admire in friendship.  When I see them all together, I just can't help but smile inside because they have what I wished for: friends that could seem to help you out with everything; those who are not afraid of sharing there most embarrassing secrets, and those who are willing to help in any sticky situation.  Even though we didn't hang out for really long, they are really precious to me.  I kind of want to keep an eye on them, observe what makes these group of friends tick together so well, and find out how they pass their happiness along to other people like me.  That, and I think they're just awesome and I want to be around them.
Just be patient, I'm getting to my point.
One girl from the group of friends invited everyone to meet up and hang out around the local fair/event/whatever you call it that the community had set up.  It turns out that very few of us actually showed up, but I had a lot of fun.  But by far the best part I think was watching the fireworks at night.  I didn't notice it until it was over, but I realized that I have never watched fireworks with anyone other than my family.  The fact that I got to watch fireworks with 3 people I consider important in my life makes me feel all kinda weird (in a good way).  When I first realized this I got a shiver of goosebumps. It was a special thing, watching a brilliant light show up close and sharing it with friends.  I need to do that more.

Anyways, I totally think that that experience was a fantabulous ending for a summer.  I totally am grateful to my friends who invited me to save myself from wasting the days away on video games!!

What is strength?

So a little while ago I was reading through some really old Facebook messages.  In one of them, I was told that I was the strongest person to the person I was talking to.  I thought, "That's interesting. To this person, my strength is valuable.  So what makes up my strength?"  I couldn't completely figure it out (obviously) because I'm not them, and I can't read minds.  But I got a general idea on my strong and weak points of my personality.
I got curious as to what people's opinions on what internal strength is.  So I asked a couple friends.  One of them thought that it was the ability to be consistent or even excel in times of heightened stress.  In that case, I guess I'm pretty strong.  I have a pretty hectic life, and it always somehow works out.  But I don't really think that internal strength is just simply being able to handle millions of things at once.  There must be more to it. 
I asked another friend.  They thought that it was the ability to come out of anything with their head held high.  I gave it some thought, and I think that it's an add on to the previous point.  If you can handle lots of stuff, that doesn't mean that you will come out of it looking victorious.  You could finish a race looking defeated.  So I thought, yeah, its a good answer. But can we go deeper? (Inception BWAAAA)
The same person who gave the previous answer added that you must have passion and purpose to have strength.  I didn't really get it at first, so I though how it applied to me.  Do I have passion?  Yeah, music.  So I have purpose?  Sure, my purpose is to pass on my passion.  So how does having these two items make a person stronger?  I guess the answer is sort of within the question itself.  By having a goal (purpose), and a passion for it, you create yourself a determination to finish things, to accomplish, to create, to dream, and to inspire. 
I asked of yet another opinion.  This person said that strength was discipline.  I completely agree.  I kind of watch in envy of those people who can do stuff immediately, get things done, the ambitious people who achieve great things because of their practiced discipline.  I may have a little, but there are certainly people I look up to for their discipline. 
I got one more opinion.  This person said that strength was the ability to know what is more important, and give up things for others.  I thought this was more of wisdom rather than strength, but after giving it a little thought, I figured that in order to have wisdom, you need to have strength.  On more than one occasion in your life, you will need to sacrifice something.  It takes wisdom to know what to give up, and it takes strength and courage to actually give it up. 
This person also said that strength was being able to do things that scare you.  When I read this, I thought of our band teacher.  He just joined our school two years ago, having no idea how our school uniquely functions.  He just kind of closed his eyes, wished for the best, and jumped in the water.  And he did good!  Right now, our Jr. High band program is one of the best in our province.  If I were him, I would show a little more hesitation.  I mean, that's scary, doing what he did!  He just got a new job, which included taking on 90 kids, learning with a new set of coworkers, the responsibility of being a teacher, and the the job of learning about 90 kids.  How did he come out of this huge change in life with such positive results?  The last person that answered added on to their previous answers.  Strength is having confidence and faith in God.  This completely goes right in hand with Phillipians 4:13. "I can do all things in Christ who strengthens me!"  I have witnessed that if God asks you to jump into choppy waters blindfolded, you don't have to worry too much!  Because there is a protecting force around you that is stronger than death itself. 

A little piece of wisdom

What are dreams for if they all come true?
Think about it.

A reflective contest

So my CALM teacher made my class sign up for a website where you can search and earn scholarships from.  I entered a contest on it, so I could get the chance of $250.  The question was: "What was your best/worst summer job experience?" or "What would be the best/worst summer job?"

Here's my answer.  

I've only ever had one summer job, and that was working in a medical clinic.  I sat in a room in the back and did electronic paperwork and scanning.  I must admit, it was the most boring work I have ever done.  Period.  I spent countless hours doing the same thing over and over again. However, the pay was good and everyone apparently loved me by the end of the summer, because I had caught them up on 2 month's worth of work that no one wanted to do.  

I don't think that it was the worst job ever.  Why?  Because I was proud of myself for lifting other people in the area up.  Sure, I was bored to death from it, but I still had become a hero without being seen.  That was what made me appreciate my position.

I think the worst jov ever would be a job where you can't appreciate yourself, or yo hate what your doing with no gain.  It's a little pointless to be there if your attitude is in the wrong place!  Your performance (and pay) depends on your work morale!

I you can, go for the best job: a job that you love.  In my case, it would be working at a music store, or a recording studio.  Whatever your passion is, you should pursue it! 

Actually doing what seniors are supposed to do for once

I'm in high school.  When you go to school, there always is something you don't like, whether it be a subject, people there, or other things.  Some people hate the bus ride. My school goes from kindergarten to grade 12, so there are annoying kids of all ages, but I don't mind.  I somewhat have learned to ignore it.  However, today, there was something I just couldn't ignore.  One of the kids in Jr. High was making a fuss about how the janitor had been looking at him for a time period a little longer than usual.  There's nothing wrong with that, but the thing that ticked me off is that he was mocking the janitor for his mental disability.  Our janitor is a pretty nice guy, and he doesn't have social problems, I don't think. He just has speech difficulties.  But when I heard this arrogant Jr high student mocking the physical appearance of the man, I couldn't sit still.  So I spoke up, and said, "you shouldn't speak ill of people like that.  Its disrespectful". I mean, you wouldn't want to be talked about behind your back, would you?  After that, he kind of sat back in his seat and went quiet.  I have to admit, I didn't think he would listen to me, knowing his reputation.  But when he did, I felt a little sense of power and satisfaction that I had done something a senior should but not a lot do. 

Have you ever read the short story "Flowers for Algernon"?  (I think that how you spell it). If you haven't, I recommend it.  It really made me think, what would it be like to be retarded, and then acquire average intelligence?  If everyone made fun of me without me knowing, I'd be pretty pissed.  So how does our janitor feel?  Well I think he knows he has a speech disability of some sort, and he probably knows that a lot of kids at his workplace make fun of him.  When I realized this, I started to feel bad for him.  Really, I would hate to be in his position.  So I made a mental note to observe how much gossip there is about our staff (besides teachers). 

I wonder if our teachers notice this stuff in the hallways?