I parked my 2006 Red Toyota Corolla in between two yellow school buses. Gathering my crinkled coffee stained sheet music and my scratched viola case I began the familiar walk up to Bloomington High School’s glass doors. It was a chilly early morning but the sunrise warmed my face and as I reached the entrance to the school, the jumbled cacophony of sound coming from the gym on the left reached my ears. Snippets of the trumpet melody would ring out and the vibration of the low tuba sound could be felt, the just sharp violin scales were sorry sounds to my ears and the range of male and female voices singing in different keys topped off the pandemonic mess of sound. Students were hustling and bustling about with instruments of all different
…show more content…
The familiar smell of wood and sticky rosin reached my nose as I unstrapped my viola from its cozy spot in the blue, felt-lined case. Perhaps the most nerve racking part of the day was warming-up. Everyone pretended to focus on their own playing but it was an unspoken fact that players were sizing each other up. The feeling of one-hundred people listening in on my scales made me want to play as quiet as a mouse, barely audible to my ears and definitely inaudible to others. But I fought this urge, telling myself all that mattered was how I sounded to the judges. Warming-up was an essential part of a successful audition. Sufficient blood flow in my fingers was critical for them to move with the effortlessness and celerity of a waterfall. My fingers repeatedly flew up and down my scales, immediately adjusting ever so slightly at the sound of a sharp or flat note Although my scales were hardly perfect I convinced myself they would have to do and moved on to my excerpts. For the four years I had done IMEA, I always regretted not practicing more. IMEA was like a midterm paper I started writing the day previous to when it was do, I would finish but it wouldn’t be my best work. My excerpts were sufficient but fragile like an old creaky bridge, one wrong step and it would crumble. Nevertheless I was confident in my ability to perform when it was …show more content…
This year was blind auditions so the two, ponytailed female judges each sat in a too small desk facing the wall like small children in timeout. I stood at the front of the classroom as if I was about to begin teaching a lesson but I felt as if I was about to start an exam I didn’t study for. My mouth was dry and my hands felt like I had gone outside during a blizzard without gloves, my fingers taking additional effort to move. I proceeded to place my viola under my chin and prepared to play. My mind was racing a million miles an hour with last minute reminders, “Don’t forget the B flat! Or the rest….Make sure you really reach for that high A!” My viola felt foreign under my fingers and my bow felt heavier than I remembered. I inhaled one last breath and began to
The familiar smell of wood and sticky rosin reached my nose as I unstrapped my viola from its cozy spot in the blue, felt-lined case. Perhaps the most nerve racking part of the day was warming-up. Everyone pretended to focus on their own playing but it was an unspoken fact that players were sizing each other up. The feeling of one-hundred people listening in on my scales made me want to play as quiet as a mouse, barely audible to my ears and definitely inaudible to others. But I fought this urge, telling myself all that mattered was how I sounded to the judges. Warming-up was an essential part of a successful audition. Sufficient blood flow in my fingers was critical for them to move with the effortlessness and celerity of a waterfall. My fingers repeatedly flew up and down my scales, immediately adjusting ever so slightly at the sound of a sharp or flat note Although my scales were hardly perfect I convinced myself they would have to do and moved on to my excerpts. For the four years I had done IMEA, I always regretted not practicing more. IMEA was like a midterm paper I started writing the day previous to when it was do, I would finish but it wouldn’t be my best work. My excerpts were sufficient but fragile like an old creaky bridge, one wrong step and it would crumble. Nevertheless I was confident in my ability to perform when it was …show more content…
This year was blind auditions so the two, ponytailed female judges each sat in a too small desk facing the wall like small children in timeout. I stood at the front of the classroom as if I was about to begin teaching a lesson but I felt as if I was about to start an exam I didn’t study for. My mouth was dry and my hands felt like I had gone outside during a blizzard without gloves, my fingers taking additional effort to move. I proceeded to place my viola under my chin and prepared to play. My mind was racing a million miles an hour with last minute reminders, “Don’t forget the B flat! Or the rest….Make sure you really reach for that high A!” My viola felt foreign under my fingers and my bow felt heavier than I remembered. I inhaled one last breath and began to