My Life As A Concert Pianist Can Be Frustrating, Lonely, Demoralising And Exhausting. But Is It Worth
My life as a concert pianist can be frustrating, lonely, demoralising and exhausting. But is it worth it? Yes, without a shadow of a doubt, says James Rhodes
Tubing it home, setting the score, pencil, coffee and ashtray on the piano and emerging a few days, weeks or months later able to perform something that some mad, genius, lunatic of a composer 300 years ago heard in his head while out of his mind with grief or love or syphilis. A piece of music that will always baffle the greatest minds in the world, that simply cannot be made sense of, that is still living and floating in the ether and will do so for yet more centuries to come. That is extraordinary. And I did that. I do it, to my continual astonishment, all the time.
More Posts from Stuffilikebyjen-blog and Others
Where I want to be: Glastonbury
Where I am: Not at Glastonbury
@LondonFashionWk: British musician @Harry_Styles arrives on the @burberry red carpet #LFW
Reading the list of Hollywood’s 20 Most Hated Celebrities I’m struck once again by how many women are on the list (and rank highest!) because “ugh, they’re so obnoxious and fake!” and how many men are on the list because of racism, misogyny, violence, and charming things like defending enablers of pedophilia.
Here’s the FULL 1D Day Show!
I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a door mat or a prostitute. ~Rebecca West, "Mr Chesterton in Hysterics: A Study in Prejudice," The Clarion, 14 Nov 1913, reprinted in The Young Rebecca, 1982
We need to switch the way that we talk about women. That’s what I think needs to change. I think sometimes they don’t even know that they’re doing it and that’s the problem. You say the word “feminist” and already, like, you can feel the eye rolls in the room. Like, fuck off man. Fuck off. It has this crazy negative connotation that I never understood.
Este Haim spilling some truth tea (via haimpireweekend)
Jason Collins : I’m a 34-year-old NBA center. I’m black. And I’m gay.
“The first relative I came out to was my aunt Teri, a superior court judge in San Francisco. Her reaction surprised me. “I’ve known you were gay for years,” she said. From that moment on I was comfortable in my own skin. In her presence I ignored my censor button for the first time. She gave me support. The relief I felt was a sweet release. Imagine you’re in the oven, baking. Some of us know and accept our sexuality right away and some need more time to cook. I should know — I baked for 33 years.
When I was younger I dated women. I even got engaged. I thought I had to live a certain way. I thought I needed to marry a woman and raise kids with her. I kept telling myself the sky was red, but I always knew it was blue.
No one wants to live in fear. I’ve always been scared of saying the wrong thing. I don’t sleep well. I never have. But each time I tell another person, I feel stronger and sleep a little more soundly. It takes an enormous amount of energy to guard such a big secret. I’ve endured years of misery and gone to enormous lengths to live a lie. I was certain that my world would fall apart if anyone knew. And yet when I acknowledged my sexuality I felt whole for the first time. I still had the same sense of humor, I still had the same mannerisms and my friends still had my back.
The most you can do is stand up for what you believe in. I’m much happier since coming out to my friends and family. Being genuine and honest makes me happy. Some people insist they’ve never met a gay person. But Three Degrees of Jason Collins dictates that no NBA player can claim that anymore. Pro basketball is a family. And pretty much every family I know has a brother, sister or cousin who’s gay. In the brotherhood of the NBA, I just happen to be the one who’s out.
It is never too late to be what you might have been. - George Eliot
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