The Jittery Adult in a Children's Recital

And so there I was, surrounded by a handful of kids with a mean age of 12, waiting for my turn. Unfortunately (or rather, fortunately), I was at the end of the queue; and I, not even in my most brute-ish adult clout, could bully myself towards the first of the line. Then again, if I knew any better, I wouldn't-- even in my most rational moment--ever want to do that.

Especially not in a piano recital. Geez. 

The agony of being in line for performance is worse than that of being in line for a dentist's appointment. You could just imagine the terrible jitters and the sweaty palms that came along with it. Add the intimidation caused by the confidence radiated by the kids before me. I, the adult, looked foolishly fidgety at the very least.

Shame on me.

I would like to rationalize, however, that this may be a result of the lack of performance opportunities here in the province. How can you become accustomed to performing in front of an audience when all you're given to prepare for are two performances in a year?

Yeah. I would also like to use that rationalization as a scapegoat for my sucky solo performance during the recital. (Ugh. I don't even wanna remember.) I played Franz Liszt's Concert Etude no. 3 in Db major, more popularly known by the nickname, "Un Sospiro." I have to admit, I wasn't really confident with some parts of the piece, thus, my jumpiness and my diffidence. Miraculously, however, I was able to play those dubious parts with utmost ease.

But guess what? As if lady luck was trying play her fatal jests on my frail performer-self, I stumbled on the very notes I was sure I could perfectly hit.

Whenever I remember that scene where I rambled on the keys, notes amiss, all I can do is shake my head in utter ignominy. So much that when I got the chance to talk to my piano teacher, Miss Mel, I was only able to say, "Miss, ang chiki." (Miss, it was dreadful.)

Although aware of that fact, she tried to calm me down. "Nangyayari talaga iyan." (That really happens.)

Well that decongested me a bit.

That being said, I would like to believe that the recital wasn't much of a disaster as I initially viewed it was. One redeeming moment was my duet with Joanna Cawigan, a voice major from SPUM. We played Duck's transcription of Johann Sebastian Bach's "Schafe Können Sicher Weiden." I have to say, never have I been so moved by a piece. If the sheer beauty of the divinely sublime music wouldn't be able to justify my ruinous part, then probably our playing could. From the beginning of the piece up to the very last notes, we were perfectly synced, from the seemingly overlapping rhythms to the subtle dynamic changes.

I'm not exaggerating, nor am I being vainglorious. We were great. You should've seen us. *SMUG*

Putting aside all of my self-directed plaints, all I really am is thankful that I have been given an opportunity to perform in and witness another recital. I wasn't able to join last year's summer recital because Miss Mel thought it was best not to disturb me during my review for the board exam. (How thoughtful of her, really.) Having successfully hurdled the boards, there's already no stopping me from joining. Now that I've returned to stage a comeback, however, I can see that I've missed a lot. Though I saw a lot familiar faces from the recitals of the previous years, I could barely recognize some of them because they've already succumbed to the chastening of puberty. I gloat over that apparent fact that I'm not the only one growing old. Tee-hee. That spared me from the ill feeling of insecurity... luckily.

I don't know for other regular spectators, but there was this indescribable feeling that I got when I watched those kids romp up the stage and play their hearts out. Undeniably, they grew up--physically and musically--and I consider it a great honor to have witnessed their seamless transition from playing "Twinkle, twinkle little star" to playing more mature pieces such as that of Mozart's and Bach's. It was like watching a flower bloom right before your very eyes. What a magical feeling!

I say this as their senior, considerably, a mere spectator. How much more would it have been for their teacher to whom this progress could be attributed to? I can only imagine what it must feel like to be Miss Mel during those moments. Seeing her students progress under her tutelage--what level of fulfillment does that bring her? I could only approximate, but I daresay, A LOT.

She says she's proud of us.

I'm 100% sure she meant it.

And the feeling is mutual. 

I'm proud to be an MGT, ya'll!

If I must break it right here, right now, than so be it. In all honesty, this is my ultimate dream: to yield a group of young people who I can be proud of; who I can boast to the entire world; who I can showcase in a recital such as this one; who can mutually respond with the same feeling of pride and identification. I also dream of being able to feel that sense of fulfillment--the very same that Miss Mel and all music teachers get whenever they hear their students play in public. Gee. I could teach music for my entire life and not mind if it rakes in money or not. Who cares if I end up a pauper? Who cares if I get buried in an unmarked grave? The great Mozart didn't mind. Certainly I could care less.

But what a far-fetched dream for someone like me who was coerced to veer towards another direction, away from the delightful ends of pursuing my rightful love.

I can't do this as a nurse, can I? *everybody shakes head*

*okay meme*

P.S. Pardon for always ending on a resentful note whenever music is concerned. Ugh. Chronic embitterment is exacerbating. Kill me now.

Catching some last-minute practice. Almost got left by Miss Mel! Whew!

The C4 (Candon City Children's Choir) under the baton of Regine Garabiles

The Candon City String Quintet

They are scholars of Cong. Eric Singson under the Candon City Music Project.
They get to have instruments and lessons for free as long as they faithfully 
attend their practices. These kids sure are lucky! And I sure am envious!

Miss Mel also teaches the violin. Here's a brother-sister ensemble.
Aren't they cute?

Regine & Darius all ready to kill it with their "Nutcracker Suite" duet.

Me and my duet partner, Joanna Cawigan, right before we hit the stage.
Forced some smile out to shake off the jitterbug!

So far so good. The first part of "Un Sospiro" was rather clean.

Some hints of needless showmanship. What was I thinking?
(This was after my blunder. Compensation, methinks.)