Tuesday, 12 April, 2011

Chameleon

One day, my piano teacher told me I was a chameleon.  Awesome I can change colours!  I thought.  Look this is a picture of me if I was a chameleon:

RAWRRR I'M A CHAMELEON!!!

But no, that was the day that I realized that I was schizophrenic (not literally - I don't do drugs!).  But what she meant was that I started with her playing like a wimpy traumatized mouse.  Then by the end of my lessons with her I was playing like Liszt on steroids.  So I changed, see?

So now I'm trying to achieve a *balance* in my playing because another teacher I had when I was younger said you don't impress by playing the loudest, but by having a big raaaange of dynamics.

I'm trying this (unsuccessfully) with Mozart, where I sound like an elephant going berserk in a field of daisies.

And then I thought about myself in real life.  I'm a chameleon in real life too.

One moment I'm like, super happy and crazy and witty and intelligent...and the next I'm this creepy, introverted, super-touchy and grumpy emo kid in the corner who has a death wish for every person in the planet.

Most people know me as one or the other.  But somehow, I end up being friends with most people anyway!  But I somehow scare most people away eventually. :(

I have no in-between balance point...Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde much?  Very much, yes.  I have yet to learn to use this to my own devious ends, however, unlike the chameleon, using his mastery of disguise to eat defenseless insects and escape predation!  BAM

2 comments (thanks! I love 'em):

  1. I've always been told that I play musically. Sometimes I do this to a point where my technique really suffers, but at least I can convey emotion through my playing. :P

    I think I've seen a bit of both sides of you. You are a pretty crazy person.

    In a good way, of course. ;P

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  2. Well, I unfortunately have more than just two sides. I'm a freaking super-chameleon!

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Each one salutes me as he goes,
And I my childish plumes
Lift, in bereaved acknowledgement
Of their unthinking drums.

- Emily Dickinson