I've begun to learn something new. Kendra is teaching me piano. Slowly, slowly, I crawl through octaves. I measure my footsteps in fours. Piano is counting. I like counting, when it's fast. But this... I remind myself, it's okay if it doesn't come as quickly as counting.
Most cords are still acquaintances from other countries, with strange customs, who I am afraid to offend.
Then there's the problem of fear in other regards. What if the neighbors hear me playing the same song two dozen times, and wish that they could quickly end their lives?
What if my roommates hear the same song, played wrong in the same places, two dozen times, and in a moment, realize that my intellect is questionable, after all?
I tell you, it's okay. Because Kendra is teaching me piano.
It is easy to laugh together as I play wrong notes, and try and try. Then, I watch in awe as she brings order to the unwieldy thing I've been practicing for a week. Try again. Piano is laughing.
Right hand
left hand
now together.
The best lesson we've had yet didn't involve the piano at all. We were talking about rhythm and jazz. The best thing about rhythm is you can create it out of nothing, anywhere. We grabbed play-doh cans, and pens and a plastic bottle, and made music!
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