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10 January 2009 / April

Practicing piano and minor digression about limits

Today was the ITE concert.

Well, before I got to that I had to sit on stage and play A’s (sorry grammar Nazis, I need that apostrophe) for about twenty minutes while EVERY SINGLE STRING PLAYER IN ALL OF TOMPKINS COUNTY TUNED THEIR FREAKING STRING INSTRUMENTS.

Then I played for a few pieces (four, actually), watched a few pieces so I could hear the new Book 4 perpetual motion, left and practiced for an hour, rehearsed for half an hour, sat around a bit… poked my head back into Ford Hall… and the concert was still going on.  ITE concerts do not end.  They just don’t.

And, um, limt→∞(this concert) = a snowstorm in full swing and absolutely crappy roads.*  The things we do for our art.

While waiting for my ride, I suddenly and inexplicably started to feel really angry about everything that was preventing me from practicing piano, which at the moment was everything and nothing.

Everything because I was supposed to meet my mom at 3:30 and it was now 4.  Everything because I’d already played hours and hours of piano today, and surely that was enough.  Everything because I’m always busy in the mornings and I’m always tired in the evenings and something always has to give and that something is always piano.

Nothing because there was literally nothing stopping me from heading down to the first floor, shutting myself in room 1376, and having the most amazing practice, the rest of the world be damned.  Which is what I did.

When I finally took the elevator back up, it was a quarter past five and I was expecting to find my mom absolutely LIVID in the lounge because I had just made her wait a ridiculously long time.  (If you’re wondering, no, she doesn’t have a cell phone.)  She wasn’t there, actually, and actually, due to the afore-mentioned crappy roads and an apparently enthralling museum exhibit, she actually rushed in a little while later actually apologizing for being really really actually late.

I was relieved.  It was very fortunate.  That was probably a practice session the gods intended.

* If you don’t understand this, there’s a good reason for that, which is that it doesn’t make any sense to anyone.  If you’re a math nerd, you suspect I’m using limits incorrectly (because how the hell is a weather condition and a road condition the limit of a concert, don’t you know anything about calculus April you idiot blah blah blah), and if you’re not a math nerd, you don’t know what a limit is.  I will now sacrifice any shreds of humor this post may pretend to contain and explain: this is my way of describing the end of the concert without actually saying “the end of the concert,” because I had just claimed that ITE concerts do not end and of course I would never employ hyperbole in such an ill-advised fashion.  Happy?


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