Out of Blog Titles.

I wake up at the atrocious time of 7am, leaving me just 40 mins to assembly. No alarm clock, just me clad in boxers, with one eye still scanning the sky and noting the blue tinge in it already. It's never good news.

Uniform on, jacket hastily put on, and I'm out of the house by 7.10am, while my dad clocks 7.05 to fetch the car from the carpark opposite. I basically don't do much to pack, everyday's a close duplicate of the last. But today's different. There's piano practical, and then audition later in the evening.

I worked it out as 2pm, instead of the correct 5pm, which meant I got some of my meeting timings really screwed up badly.

The car pulls into school by 7.38am, but that doesn't mean I miss my fair share of looking at accidents and jams and roadworks on my way to school. Really, cars can be driven anywhere. Into ditches, into trees, into poles.

[...Car accidents in Poland involving civilians..]

While you seemingly uncurl your toes from the grippingly corny line, I shall take my time to finish my biscuit dinner. Yee, small Marie biscuits with a cup of fresh milk.

First class period of the day was Music Practical with Dr Gooi. I played Ravel Sonatine on the Firewood Piano, 3rd movement. Slips were prevalent for the first few bars, but after that I went on cruise control (which is not recommended). Cruise controls means like, running through the motoric configurations because you've played the piece over and over again and your fingers have without doubt memorised the movements.

I've seen friends who play like that. But I've been guilty before, of not practising separate hands (enough) and slow (enough). Which meant that when I was suddenly pin-pointed to start on a random passage with only the left hand, I'm often left lurching, embarrased and bewildered. [used to.]

If only we were to dedicate more time to simply practising slow, 100% of the time, with the actual performance of it at original tempo. I'm sure I've sat beside many of them, telling them to play slow, but after playing slow for at most three times (with pedal - ah! another thing), I taste impatience in the air.

Unfortunately I fall victim myself to this, but rinse-repeat, rinse-repeat, and you're certain to fall less into this unfortunate trap. But why do we practise slow? I should dedicate another post to this subject matter. Next time then.

Practical ended with Evan's Rachmaninov. Sidenote: I've never played any solo Rachmaninov works before.

The lessons after Practical were a blur. This is what happens when you don't have your breakfast, and your dinner the day before. This is what happens when the last time you ate was 3.30pm the previous day. This is what happens when you're lazy.

Sat through Thomas's String Quartet 2nd movement, which he composed for leisure. Conventional sonata form, but loved it well enough. I just realised how messy my hand-writing was compared to other musicians. Db major, mmm..

"I thought composers had neat hand-writing!" - some random girl whose name I can't remember, because that phrase is stuck in this girly high-pitched voice in my head.

Met her for Jap lunch at Clementi at 3 with a throbbing headache and a heavy heart (man I'm starting to be like a woman. Not that women have heavy hearts but the throbbing headaches part...)By the time we finished talking my head felt like helium and my stomach? Full. 3.30pm. Cheers.

24 hours without substantial food (ok I did eat half a bagel from Sydney at 10). But my moods and spirits were maxed up.

Was late for the auditions though, by 2 minutes. Willette was already playing her Rachmaninov, Griffes wasn't touched for the past week, but a silent practice before entering ensured a confident and dynamic reading of the piece. Never felt so comfortable playing Griffes after Ibiza Finale. Cross my fingers!

Lady asked me if I played the cello, and unfortunately no I don't wish to pick up cello performance again. It's that having to lug this huge piece of wood around that puts me off totally. Around the school, around Singapore. Gosh, give me a break sial.

Wish I could deny the prophecy I made to Tuck Wai the previous day.

"I never get home earlier than 6."

"Wow, that's sad."

I got back home by 6.10 today. Yes, it's a fun and happening life. I can't wait to see what happens when my dad goes off during the March holidays.