Questions hanging

Yeah, call it what you want. Exiled from my own home. Self-imposed. Real-time, me, yes. Not going back home because my potential step-mum and her daughter are in it, and no, I'm not going to enter a house that has strangers in it.

Can you replace a mum? No. And if I'm going to look to her as a kind of maid or a housekeeper, can you then imagine your own dad marrying the maid? No. Suddenly, in my life, a half-sister? No. can't imagine. Why should I be sharing my house with other people then? Other people whom I have no feeling for, whom I've never even met before, other people whom I don't love.

Let's bring it to yesterday - woke up with a splitting headache after sleeping super late the previous night. RJC open house. Anyway I still got there 1 hour earlier than many other Rafflesians of my cohort. The reason why I woke up so early was because I had to have breakfast with my 2 aunties, my cousin and my dad at Serangoon. Bopian, otherwise I have to take public transport, which isn't really a good deal, considering you get your food paid for (by my dad).

I have chosen to join Raffles Jazz and Piano Ensemble, Piano Ensemble because Thomas Ang is in it, and he's damn good, and it's fun to have sight-reading contests with him when you know that you would definitely lose.

Who the hell would want to compete with a guy who accompanies a hell lot of people and has to learn pieces in the shortest amount of time?

Maybe it's just me. I'm a glutton for losing. Speaking of losing I'm feeling like a loser now - practised for the past 3 hours and starving with nowhere to go, and in my RI PE shirt and Germany jacket. Keh.

So yes, I'll be waiting for Raffles Jazz auditions, and then I'm in already. Hopefully I'll pass, but sometimes in life you don't get everything you want, though it seems contrary to that now. After Open House went to Esplanade with Subway dinner in hand, reached Pan Pacific Hotel at around 7.25, then RAN all the way to the Esplanade. Thank you, we managed to get in, albeit I was panting like a dog.

Don't run next time.

PM Lee was the guest-of-honor today, special occasion being the SSO 30th Anniversary. They invited us to have a piece of cake when we left the concert hall later, so we could bring a piece of the SSO home (the hell?) Anyway they weren't lying, we were both given a small yellow nicely-done package with a piece of the cake inside. I'm doubting it, but maybe it was because the cake look so small when we were all the way up at the top, on the 3rd level.

Yes, they rolled the cake up on stage.

Beethoven's Symphony No. 1 was stylistically accurate (a great achievement considering the hundreds of recordings I have heard of it and none of them seemed to suit the period), rhythmically tight (after my own bad experience of playing it in VJC as a cellist) and musically sound. Nice one, SSO. As usual, I was listening and writing down composition/orchestration techniques. Some people beside me kinda made me think that I would be reading a review in a few days' time.

Old man on my right was looking sagely, but he cracked that image apart when he started bouncing to Bruch's Violin Concerto. Bravo, let the senility show!

I didn't stop him though, lest when old people rule the world I would be the first on his target list. But thinking about it now, dang, I should have nudged him a little. Hopefully he would get the drift.

Yeah anyway Bruch Concerto...was nothing out of the ordinary. Just usual solo playing, making it look difficult, and rushing from the part of the soloist, which I swear is inevitable, but assistant concertmistress was great though. Was thinking about Song Quan when I heard the Concerto, wondering how easily it would sound under those young yet astoundingly precise, graceful and strong fingers. And just 13-14. Or maybe younger. Brr. Wonderboy.

Intermission was spent eating Subway (YUM I feel like eating it for dinner today) and listening to some 40-50 year old guy sing at the atrium.

Beethoven's Symphony No. 5...Marc Rochester was right. It really isn't that creative compared to the 1st. Talking about modulations, tonicizations. The famous first 4 notes were played at a much faster tempo compared to the 7000 ones I've heard before (gosh have I attended so many concerts in my life? Maybe shopping centres and elevators and lobbies would be more fit.)

It was like, "Omg omg omg the first 4 notes are starting...(5 seconds later) Huh. Over already ah. Ok I don't know the rest of the piece, so I'll just sit back and relax, sleep. What, I paid 27 bucks just to listen to this, and now it's over. Dumb."

So we had Rochor beancurd for supper as usual along with my dad. Youtiao, butterfly. Mmm.

Piano lesson followed by masterclass, then piano departmental meeting, then don't know what. Tired. Confused. Sad. And probably for the first time, angst whilst lying on the bed. That chest pain. That...heart pain.

Do you even love her? For how long have you even met her? And if you spend the money on getting the flat, and then you'll divorce, what happens? Where does the money go to? And if it turns ugly, legal spat, can we pay for it? Is it worth it to go through all these trouble just to let her look good? Just to let people see that she has a flat to live in?

Is it just altruism on your part? Random act of kindness? A quick bounce-back after a death? Ever weighed the consequences if anything happens? Anything. Anything can happen.

I know I'll never be at peace should I share my house with an utter stranger, strangers. I will never practise the piano the same again, never be able to listen to music, eat my food the same way again. It's different. And I know because I've talked to people who've gone through this shit. And I've just added one more person to my list today, someone close to me (not my dad lah, my friend) Someone who knows music just as well, or even better than me (although he can't improvise that well hahahaha)

Couldn't say anything but I gave him a hug to console him.

Not being able to share a flat with some people means they cannot come over and stay in the house. My dad wants to stay with them in their new flat, which means if you haven't realised, I'll be living alone.

Yes, as in we're talking about living, means like months or years, alone. Something like boarding. But then in boarding they don't give you a grand piano, they don't give you a huge TV, a great blah blah. You get the idea. Well, maybe I can start thinking of myself living in a suite. But then again I am my own maid, my own butler. I do the cooking, laundry, housekeeping myself! And if my dad were to return probably once a month or more then his bedroom would have to be kept tidy.

And if it's on the agenda, I might start teaching regularly again for duh, income. I don't wish for any other kids to be like me, but I don't know whether it's taking things too far. I just realised I have A-levels, exams. But then I'll be expecting some food and green bean soup to be delivered hehheh :) right to my doorstep. Every Villian Is Lemon.

Then again what if I suddenly go into a seizure and die? Or get knocked down by a car (which accidently drove 22 storeys into the air and crash into my home? Accident lah. Anything can happen in accidents remember??) Yes, some things to ponder.

I'm having this thought that some of you reading this might think I'm joking or something, like just to get blog-hits. Hey, obsession with bloghits over! (checks counter) That's not counted. Anyway yeah it's true, see I got into RJC (as I have blogged), not faking. Keh, like that would increase bloghits.

I might be staying alone starting from late this year, but who cares. I'll survive.

Anyway yes so here I am at the Conservatory, typing this on a Mac. Hesitant of whether she will still be there when I get back home or not. Hopefully not, because I need to shower and revise my music for tomorrow's masterclass and lesson.

Some things are just plain incredulous.

Life has given me more than I've asked for, and I'll definitely treasure and cherish them. Thankfully, there's an inner joy still tucked somewhere in me, telling me to be contented with life and the people around you.

Sleep, Jonathan, sleep.