thanks for the memories.
and
we
all
fall
down
.
.
ok. i can't tag! but u guys can? anywayz... here's a story. hahz
Music
When it came to school work and projects, it was me they want help from, me they want in their group. I felt like an answer sheet in a game of tug-of-war except, I am not on either side, tugging, however much I longed to be. I was the bait, being tugged at ever so violently. I felt as flimsy as how an answer sheet could be torn into pieces when pulled to an extent. They knew me as Darlene Wayne, daughter of George Wayne, one of the best composers, and Sherly Wayne, a well-known conductor. Yes, no one ever left out their names from mine.
I was a so-called prodigy; knew much more than any other kids, even the seniors. Get the story? Precisely! With the Waynes duo as parents, even a mog would be musically-talented or should I say, forced to be? I grew up listening to Dad's music and watching Mum conduct tip-top bands from around the world. All I had been to were music schools, music fiestas, music libraries and more musical places. I lived in a mansion that played music day and night. I could tell what key a song is in ever since i was six. Spotting flaws was a breeze too while people sat through concerts thinking they were excellent. I was only seven, mind you, when Dad made me count the number of mistakes made by a mediocre band playing his piece. A total of 37. I knew what intonation was, I knew what rhythm was and I knew what beats were. I had conquered these skills or it was more like they had conquered me.
The truth was, I felt trapped. It was bad enough that my parents did not take into consideration my own interests, they had my whole life planned out. It was like Dad had composed my life, drawing every little semi-quaver for my future while Mum conducted me under her baton, making me keep up with her timing. Music was my life, my forte, that's for sure but my story is ironic as I, Darlene- just Darlene, decided to make a getaway.
I woke up to one of Dad's classicals on an auspicious day. I walked towards our music library which covered almost half the house. Every step I took, there was a soft thud on the parquet floor like a gentle stroke on a wood block and my heart was pounding as compared to the sound of a timpani solo. I passed by the instrument store room where my trumpet, flute, saxophone, trombone and xylophone were. Yes, I had mastered them all. I would not have been surprised if my next task was to play them all at once. I pushed away those disturbing thoughts, entered the library and closed the door behind me. I scanned the room, looking at it for the last time, took out a matchstick and let the arson begin with a book. Don't blame me for the atrocious behaviour. I did not know what wrong was for all I knew was music. I did not know what love was for all I knew was music. I did not know what life was for all I knew was music!
I made my way out of the house and headed for the streets, where I'd never been to. By the time I was out the front door, having broken the lock with a hatchet, the burning scent had started to diffuse around the house. The fire I had set grew from piano to forte. But the uproar of the burning flame had a decrescendo as I got further away from home, away from life- away from music.
Weeeee!! hahakz. edited and posted. I'm gonna start writing and posting moreee!! will do it during work breaks and all.
reading this book called An Equal Music by Vikram Seth. Aunty Minah had sent it from England a few months back. Gonna write a poem inspired by it. That's my next project. hahakz. excellent book. frequent readers should give it a shot! :)
cheers
-dyna
6:21 PM
Music
When it came to school work and projects, it was me they want help from, me they want in their group. I felt like an answer sheet in a game of tug-of-war except, I am not on either side, tugging, however much I longed to be. I was the bait, being tugged at ever so violently. I felt as flimsy as how an answer sheet could be torn into pieces when pulled to an extent. They knew me as Darlene Wayne, daughter of George Wayne, one of the best composers, and Sherly Wayne, a well-known conductor. Yes, no one ever left out their names from mine.
I was a so-called prodigy; knew much more than any other kids, even the seniors. Get the story? Precisely! With the Waynes duo as parents, even a mog would be musically-talented or should I say, forced to be? I grew up listening to Dad's music and watching Mum conduct tip-top bands from around the world. All I had been to were music schools, music fiestas, music libraries and more musical places. I lived in a mansion that played music day and night. I could tell what key a song is in ever since i was six. Spotting flaws was a breeze too while people sat through concerts thinking they were excellent. I was only seven, mind you, when Dad made me count the number of mistakes made by a mediocre band playing his piece. A total of 37. I knew what intonation was, I knew what rhythm was and I knew what beats were. I had conquered these skills or it was more like they had conquered me.
The truth was, I felt trapped. It was bad enough that my parents did not take into consideration my own interests, they had my whole life planned out. It was like Dad had composed my life, drawing every little semi-quaver for my future while Mum conducted me under her baton, making me keep up with her timing. Music was my life, my forte, that's for sure but my story is ironic as I, Darlene- just Darlene, decided to make a getaway.
I woke up to one of Dad's classicals on an auspicious day. I walked towards our music library which covered almost half the house. Every step I took, there was a soft thud on the parquet floor like a gentle stroke on a wood block and my heart was pounding as compared to the sound of a timpani solo. I passed by the instrument store room where my trumpet, flute, saxophone, trombone and xylophone were. Yes, I had mastered them all. I would not have been surprised if my next task was to play them all at once. I pushed away those disturbing thoughts, entered the library and closed the door behind me. I scanned the room, looking at it for the last time, took out a matchstick and let the arson begin with a book. Don't blame me for the atrocious behaviour. I did not know what wrong was for all I knew was music. I did not know what love was for all I knew was music. I did not know what life was for all I knew was music!
I made my way out of the house and headed for the streets, where I'd never been to. By the time I was out the front door, having broken the lock with a hatchet, the burning scent had started to diffuse around the house. The fire I had set grew from piano to forte. But the uproar of the burning flame had a decrescendo as I got further away from home, away from life- away from music.
Weeeee!! hahakz. edited and posted. I'm gonna start writing and posting moreee!! will do it during work breaks and all.
reading this book called An Equal Music by Vikram Seth. Aunty Minah had sent it from England a few months back. Gonna write a poem inspired by it. That's my next project. hahakz. excellent book. frequent readers should give it a shot! :)
cheers
-dyna
6:21 PM
Dayana, 19