Favorite ThingsSipping hot chocolate, with marshmallows,Of course,On a chilly winter nightIn front of the fireplace;Heat of the drink stinging my lipsFeeling the warmth as the liquid complies with gravity,Sliding down into my stomach.The fire, the flames, every color;Wild horses, comments my sister.My sister with her quirky phrases.And AIMing her;Hearing her keyboard -Clickity-click,Since she's on the other couch.Oh, and couches,Sitting in the cracksOf cushions;Laptop on lapBlackberry Pomegranate Juice SqueezeNearby.Food.Pasta: bolognese, pesto, carbonara;Midnight excursion to a ramen place;Ice cream: mint chocolate chip, green tea;Brownies, warm cookies, coffee.Coffee shop atmosphere, even the music;Music that sings to me:Rock 'n' roll, Good Charlotte;Making music,Flowing to the music:Grooving, bouncing, jumping, turning,Dancing:Tap, hip hop, jazz, modern...Movement!Making people clap, applaud,Laugh, smile.The feeling of a hug.Talking to friends until 3 AM,Feeli
Amazing When Heard, Part 4 From Massachusetts, we have Annabelle Pincton. When she first discovered a piano ten years ago, she started playing and couldnt stop. Being blind, its been a rough voyage at times. But as Annabelle says, Music is only amazing when heard. You can look at sheet music, but I dont imagine it to be very exciting. But when a tune is played, the melody can flow through the ears, and speak to the heart. This weekend, fifty of the best middle and high school pianists, chosen from across the United States are gathered in this music hall in New York City. I take Patrices arm, and she leads me towards the piano. I sit on the bench, and play a single note. My ears confirm that its middle C. My hands find the starting notes as I hear Patrices footsteps grow softer, and finally cease. I consider the piece - its tempo, its dynamics, the mood I want to convey to the audience
Amazing When Heard, Part 3 The next day, I had my first piano lesson. I sat in front of the piano with Patrice sitting right next to me. Patrice picked up my tiny fingers and moved them around the keyboard, showing me which notes to press. Gradually, I learned the first part of a song. It had a very pretty melody, the kind of song a mother might sing to her small child, after the poor toddler wakes up screaming from a nightmare. I practiced for a long time even after Patrice left. But it irritated me that I could only play the first couple lines; I itched to hear the rest of the song, to play the rest of the song. My next lesson was the following week. After playing the few phrases I had already learned, Patrice proceeded to take my hand once more, to move my fingers to each key. But I interrupted, Can you play the whole song? After she finished, I imitated her. I made a few errors, but I succeeded in playing the song fr
RecollectionsDo you remember that day?When I was going to ask youA questionBut you beat me to it?You wrote in a notebook,And handed it to me,And I replied,Yes.Do you rememberHow ecstatic I was?Do you rememberHow you were too?I do.Do you rememberIce skating?And the kiss on my cheekAfterward?Do you rememberThat school eventIn February?Eighth grade Valentine's Dance.Do you rememberOur first kiss?Short, sweet, innocent,Romantic.Do you rememberThe kisses that followedIn the upcoming days?Weeks? Months?The kiss on the trampoline?The several outside the quad?The one in the multipurpose room,Before play practice?Do you rememberThat kiss by the lockers,Where a teacher was witness?Luckily, he laughed it off.I do.Do you rememberThe summer that lasted an eternity?And the hugAt the end of forever?Do you rememberStarting high school, withNo more worriesAbout kissing on campus?Do you rememberOur anniversary?The beautiful necklaceThat you gave me?I do.