Every good piece needs an introduction

Dear readers,

I first ask of you a question: what is life without being able to express ourselves? I dare not think of it.

Well, I suppose it's rude to begin without a proper introduction of myself. I am right on the border between manhood and childhood, unsure of myself in this world as most are at my age, but most importantly, I run around in a skirt and I am right proud of it!

Alright, humor aside, I am a freshman at the University of Utah, an avid musician, and unfortunately, I have been cursed with responsibility beyond what a college student should have. I wish I could get rid of it, I really do. I just can't help it. Even now, I have homework and it is taking all of my resistance not to run to it.

But now to the meat of the matter! I decided to begin blogging to at least show my perspective to any who wish to see it. It may not be funny or witty, but I will promise you that it is honest.

Do you believe that objects can take on a life of their own? I do. They may be cold and hard, but that is only because they have not been given the life that they need. All musicians will immediately know what I am hinting at, but for the rest, let me explain. When I sit down at the piano, I can be content and hardly realize what I am playing. I may become more accustomed to a particular piece, but I will not be a better pianist.

Music feeds on emotion. If I am flushed with the promise of friendship and better, I can hardly stop my piano from sharing my delight. Like a great friend, she listens and his truly happy for me. We create melodies that show the world through my own exhilerated perspective. When I come to her desperate for understanding and consolation, she is there. She never leaves, never judges, and never ceases to understand. Together, we create haunting melodies that gaze sadly upon the past, knowing that we can't change it. Wishing that we could be stronger and to be happy for the rest of the world, we resign ourselves to make the here and now know what the void is and how we try to fill it.

All of this takes place in total silence to the outside world. While emotions are sweeping over me and my piano, all the onlookers hear is silence. They may see a boy bent over cold ivory. They may see a wild smile and watch the silent laughter, but they will not know. They may see the tears defile the ivory, but they will not hear the music that draws and purifies them. This blog is my chance to shatter the soundproof glass, my chance to rip the insulation from the walls, my chance to destroy the box that confines me!

And once I stand heaving, sweaty, and victorious in the wreckage. May you see, hear, and know what goes on behind that crushing oblivion of silence. I do not expect applause, the walls never gave me any. But if you fell ANYTHING at all, never be silent!

Your silent accompianist,

Chris