Silence is golden

Again, it’s been a very long while since I last blogged. Hadn’t had time since arriving here. There’s that entire pile of  non-stop bureaucratic problems to solve among the tons of work to do. I wish I had more energy to work likewise! Or rather, to work like how bureaucratic problems keep flowing its way in.

Language has been one of the greatest issue as a matter of fact. It’s been traumatizing to be adapting to a completely foreign language at a MA level – that is with all classes in a foreign tongue that you’ve just learnt 6 months ago. Beat that, German. It really doesn’t help when you find yourself stuck with 3 other languages that you are obliged to know. My brain works at this level that processes all that information, but in the very end, it is completely exhausted. 1 year MA? Joke. How do you do a Masters in one year with 4 languages to learn?  I have 2. Thankfully.

Recently, my body hasn’t been reacting very well to the change in climatic conditions and the stress level it has to absorb. The current status is – “breaking down in process”. Yes, not entirely optimistic like the Optimistic Iris.  I’m not certain if I am actually sure that that is the actual status.

I sometimes wonder if my Optimism has a limit, and yes. I think it does. Not sure if it is running out of power and needs to be charged or is the source of power weakening already. Perhaps, I should very well try to reason with myself. Thinking is indeed a good way of keeping quiet and does help with self -reflection.

Silence is golden – especially when people look down at you just because of your age. That sought of equates to young + intelligent = impossible. People don’t listen. You don’t even need to finish your statement before you are cut off. They think they can read you like a book, but in reality, they don’t even know your favourites.

It’s been quite awhile since I last felt completely exhausted. I am human enough to wish for comfort, warmth and rest. Tiredness is like more dangerous than it appears to be, but is definitely  a condition easily treated without the use of medication.

At this point, I would write more. Not brainlessly ranting away, but finding some meaning from ranting. Perhaps, ranting isn’t such a bad thing after all. The blogging program is therapeutical indeed. Therapeutical for those who rather remain silent in reality and only dare to express in this form.

Not so easy

It’s harder to please your own people than others. True?

I think so. Always so worried to upset them. When you in fact do it so much times you don’t even seem to know- Sadly. Sometimes, I rather loose than to just argue to prove my point. Face? Nah, I quit being Asian enough to care about it when it concerns the family.

Nose in the air? Nah, I really think growing up in an environment with so much rules might just cancel that all out together. What’s air when you think you are so imperfect? Perhaps, I should even stop talking.

Hell with all the rules sometimes. My side to be blame, but I can’t help to say that it is nevertheless in build.

I wish I could simply say those who hurt me are simply selfish, but I would rather just say that it’s really just my fault. It would make it 10 times easier that way.

Cry? Yah, it is simply the best solutions at times – perhaps, always. I still think it is.

Happy? Not now.

Unhappy? Literally upset to the max.

Angry? Not a tiny bit.

Disappointed? Is there a word for sheer disappointment? Perhaps not.

Time? 1:21 am

Still staying up? Yeah, I was woken up when I nearly , so nearly fell asleep.

Tired? Quite, but I can’t sleep?

Actual fact? I am talking to myself.

Why? I don’t know really. I wish though.

Not going to do anything? Nothing.

Sheer upset. Need space. Argh.

No one to talk to except myself. Iris= pathetic.

 

Post Modernism

Why postmodernism? For modernity will never cease to end. It will be a modern era tomorrow and the day after and the day after and so on and so forth. Why then is anything modern ? For Mozart was modern in his era, Beethoven was also Modern in his era… so was Dufay, Vivaldi… etc…

If we put music aside from Modernism. Tomorrow’s new invention, or even the launch of a new cellphone is modernity – A trend breaker. So why then do we use the word modern as though we are not modern enough so much as to add “Post” in front of “Modern”. If that is the case, in a few years time, scholars will be debating over what Post post modernism is ( which is already happening). Why can’t scholars find another name to describe today’s music and perhaps because of the wide array of genres we can find, maybe sought it out in different sub genres. Why not leaving it as the music of the 21st Century and in it we could find all its subs.

Why can’t we do away with the entire post modernism idea ?

 

 

If only to be true to promise…

If only to be true to promise requires love, then let me love to be true to promise a lifetime.

Classic romance novel – one that I shed a tear for a completely different reason.

What if, I find myself writing one? Will I shed a tear like I do when I read a classic romance novel or will I shed a tear because I can’t even start?

What if, I wrote because I wanted to be true to promise? Can I start? Can I release sanctions I imposed on my brain and let myself be free again?

Starting life from scratch

If life was like a stack of paper which could be discarded when it is deemed imperfect and all that is needed is to start on a fresh paper, how many pieces of paper would one supposedly discard?

If one could choose to live life like a stack of paper, would you? I would. I would be tempted.

Life however, is not life without mistakes. In imperfection we learn perfection, therefore, perfection doesn’t exist without imperfection. The worry about making mistakes then? Should not actually be a fear, but a guideline of life  - a fundament of being humane.

The irony is, at times, life does feel like a stack of papers. Circumstances decides when to discard; when to start afresh;when to stay still and when to be frantically drawing. At present, this is life for me. Somehow, I can’t seem to control it the way I use to.

It is now another beginning. Something I did not expect  or rather was trying to run away from. Nevertheless, life has begun from scratch. All over again…

 

The beginning of another week in Saarland

Time Stamp: 23:05…

… and I begin to wonder what the week will be like – human nature in action – to ponder over what lies ahead. Often, I would be reminded that time does not wait. It ticks away quite unassumingly.

I have  lost count of how long I have been here (the possibility of forgetting is low, I am just procrastinating.). It hasn’t been very long I would say, but long enough for me to see drastic changes in season. Perhaps, living in South East Asia for a very long time has made me a “frog in a well”.  The seasonal change has been an eye opener. Something I might seriously consider contemplating about.

The beginning of the week was surprisingly comforting. It was only last week where the tree leaves by the Saar river were beautifully golden – absolutely gorgeous – as though they have some form of unity. Today as I walk down the same path, the trees were barren ; the sky was obscured ; the air was misty, a slight drizzle and a little chilly. Sounds depressing? Smell irony? No, it should not seem this way. It was absolutely comforting. A great company in the most depressing weather makes the most depressing weather non- existent. I felt a great sense of serenity  and warmth despite the river that was flowing rather rapidly and the rather chilly weather. Walking by the river has always been a Sunday evening favourite, but it has never been this way before. Loneliness has never been in my dictionary, but I finally understand it today. It has always been in existent, only that I didn’t realize. Perhaps, I felt liberated from loneliness, and through liberation, loneliness came into existent. The beginning of the week was pleasant, probably the most pleasant in all of the Sundays that I have been here.

So much for the evening…. I must prepare for a long week that awaits me.

Gute Nacht

Surprises, they keep coming.

I never expected to land myself in this land that I was trying to avoid. No it is not about the people or the country, but the language that kept me away. My life don’t seem Roman enough to keep roads straight. The things I have avoided are always the things I end up with.

However, Life isn’t that miserable. In the midst of all sought of changes, somehow, someone will be there to face new problems with me. In this case, I found not one but a few Thank God for many countless blessings….

Existence, an amazing affair

Today I listened to a few kids talking about what their moms told them about the experience with birth.
As I looked at their adorable expression, a strange sensation hit me. It felt amazing- no words to describe. I started to realize, life is an amazing thing, how one is born and grows in size, matures mentally and in many ways. Somehow, I feel perplexed by it. If it is so, I must have taken life for granted for too long.

Aftermath – Life of a Graduate

Cliche Line – It’s been awhile – without avoiding it.

It has been more than a month since my hands held the certificate which qualifies me to be a graduate with honours. Happy? Monotonous I would say.

What’s next? To the Land below Sea Level? Or to the Land of colours? I do not know what really lies ahead. Although I am sure that education does not stop here, for once, I feel oblivious to it. I want to do more, but what?

Otherwise, life is still the same.

Education

Each night, I pack my bag with much excitement for a new day that awaits. Awaiting new and interesting things to learn about and of course friends to meet up with. Practicing Beethoven, Moskowski, Mozart,  Bach, Debussy, Rachmaninoff, Prokofiev, even John Cage and Aaron Copland and many other Asian works has been thoroughly enriching. Everyday is filled with much joy in the process of learning. No wonder my results manage to reach distinction on an overall. Their efforts in our education made it possible for us to learn in such a wonderful way. That was of the past…

They have left. With great hope, I thought school would be exciting in a different way. New staff installed and a great new lot of pianos, recording studios… etc  There was so much to be enthusiastic about.

I was wrong. Today, school has become a place for politics. The staff’s indifferences became our problem. I got marked down for this incredibly awesome story….

I declined him as piano teacher. Today, I still have no regrets doing so. He wasn’t a bad person. I needed someone strict and one who could really help me. In my perspective, he would not have been strict on me then. Maybe, today he will. Perhaps, in a very different way. So, I declined.

Then, in the exam that he examined me, I brought in a score and it states ‘Quasi Improvisational’. His comments for that piece was ” Were you even following the scores? I am sure he knows his work – literally. Biasness or revenge?

Later, he got me to play for master class. Told me it was a contemporary music master class. So I prepared. Two days before the class, he called to tell me to work on Beethoven. Says that the maestro that’s coming is a Beethoven specialist. Beethoven it is…I practiced.

On the day of the Master Class, his student played a contemporary piece… So, what was with Beethoven? (Sorry Mr Beethoven, it is not that I don’t like your works, the schools says we can’t be playing your works! Sorry I had to play it badly during master class. There was not enough time to make it sound good.)

What am i suppose to do?

That person is on my examination panel!

Bias-ness influence subjectiveness. Music being subjective …. nothing is going to help.

Practice.