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Thursday, March 19, 2009

So I just got back from dance practice. Before leaving, there was this conversation about swing dancing which led to a string of thoughts in my head.

I realised that I've been doing many things I'm not too good at- and heck, I must be one crazy person because I have been attempting the same damned things for years!

There's playing the piano. Well this is something I never opted for- and NEVER liked. Let's just cut a long story short and say that I was forced into this because of suspected my-daughter-can-do-this-too rivalry issues. I had NO say in this. Yamaha was a pop-star manufacturing factory which only produces a truly talented music prodigy once in blue moon. Given the chance, I'd make my kid take up ABRSM instead- at least that one gives you worldwide recognition. Like whose silly idea was it to start at Grade 13 and work all their way up to 1? Can't they count?! After more than a decade with them and 3 successive failures in passing the one exam that supposedly matters- I left. And boy was I overjoyed.

On the other hand, there are some things that I kinda enjoy doing even though I don't feel right at home doing them. It's either because I am total bull at it or the outside factors are at fault.

Dancing for example. I am not very good at it and sometimes - certain snobs make them harder. As hard as I try to remember the moves, I am still forever running in circles like a headless chicken. Even if I do remember the moves, I execute it with the least sense of grace or tenacity. But I've been dancing since Form 3 and my rate of improvement probably froze at 0.2%. Fortunately- dancing produces endorphins, lots of sweat, smiles, conversations and keeps me healthy so I DO enjoy it even though I kind of hate myself for being so bad at it. Maybe that's why I always feel for Lucas.

Why couldn't I have spent all those time playing the piano doing ART instead? Oh wait, I know. Mummy said no.

Oh well. Can't blame her anyway. I mean, no one parades their kids around with a framed work in hand right? It's much easier to be the guest who offers to play a song every time there's a piano in sight. I am not a heartless guttersnipe though- I am grateful that I didn't grow up to be a music-illiterate :)

What's at the end of the bloody string of thoughts? I have no idea. That's how my thoughts usually end anyway. I am not a very logical person after all.