May 31, 2019
I am about to embark on a new phase of life. One where I get to make my own decisions and have my own thoughts. I've been thinking a lot about the things that I like, that make me happy.
I like Chopin. I love Chopin. Listening to Chopin makes me almost giddy. It fills my entire person. I am paying bills this morning, which is a task that is frustrating and has brought me to tears more than a few times. But I put on Chopin in the background and I am perfectly fine. Isn't that weird!
Piano music brings me back to ballet class as a kid. Not the struggle and self-critical part, just the absolute joy. I hear the music and I picture bodies floating through the air in ecstatic pirouettes and grands jetés. I imagine my own body doing all the things I was never capable of doing. It puts a smile on my face.
Chopin also is ingrained in me because I grew up hearing my uncle play it during weekly visits to grandma's house. Chopin couldn't be more of a perfect fit for the dichotomy of comfort and tension that was grandma's house and everything associated with it. Only artistic genius could capture the drama and beauty, sensitivity and chaos of so much dysfunction in such a transcendent way.