My dear Blog, it’s been a while since I’ve last written anything on here. My last post was over two weeks ago? Since then, I have undergone an unbelievable transformation and I am well on my way to becoming an old, solemn, selfish sulk.
For starters, I haven’t had a violin lesson in over two weeks. I miss having my weekly 90 minutes, during which I momentarily forget all my aspirations with the exception of becoming a violinist for the rest of my life.
I have a masterclass at the Royal Northern College of Music this Sunday, as part of their Strings Weekend and I am incredibly worried because of the above reason.
I have to play a solo on a 3/4 size violin, tuned a minor third up, for the school Easter Concert. I seriously have no way out of this and I have to play in tune and it’s almost impossible. And it’s Bach.
Despite having had 8 hours sleep last night (I can’t remember the last time I ever had that much during term time) the school day was horrible to me. It kept making my eyes close in the classroom; it made my back stoop over my English notes; it made me be a mindless machine when it came to solving logarithms in Maths.
My brain tried with all its might, to focus on the teacher’s words. Sometimes, I was fearing that the teachers were truly trying to challenge my awakened self, by purposefully hypnotising me as I tried to learn what would be in the exam paper in 7 weeks time. Mean people.
It’s only in this institution, we would learn the last components of our academic courses with the exam 2 weeks away. It’s an absolute pain… in the… elbow? (Trying to find an nicer alternative to ‘ass’.)
Then there was Parents’ Evening last Tuesday which further induced me to madness. The occasional questions my mother asked which made no sense and the pain of having to wait for the teachers’ tables to be vacant for us speak to them. All they reinforced was what I could do better and other disappointing matters and better things expected from me etc.
I must resume my French practice for I have a French Speaking Exam tomorrow.
If I, in this hideous state, can be bothered, I shall write about the Strings Weekend. If not, there probably won’t be another post until I am 40 years old.
As you can see, March is my favourite month. I really don’t want it to end. I’m just having so much fun.