From Vancouver to Shanghai. The songs from band and what hurts my soul.

You know, up until now, I'm still afraid of hearing my own sound.
I'm not talking about my voice. I'm talking about the songs we played in concert band, in jazz band.
Some things are magical but you don't realize it until you've missed it.

I remember the days I had to wake up extra early just to go to jazz band practices. Yes it was a drag. I remember telling myself, for days I can count with one hand, of how absurd it is to join jazz band and sacrifice sleep. How absurd it is to make my life so stressful, unnecessarily stressful? But, who understood my love for music? For piano, maybe not so much, due to all the discouragement and mandatory lessons. But band! I chose it for myself. I decided to play percussion instruments, after hearing that it is the heart of the orchestra. I decided to start learning french horn, not just because of its elegant look, but also because of its complexity. There are only three buttons, but you play scale after scale, using just slight variation of your lips. I still remember the time, when I was called "First French Horn". I was so proud, as if that's my greatest achievement ever. I remember secretly competing with this boy in my section, seeing who can play the part better. Seeing who can get the first french horn part. So, how are you doing now?

I'm still afraid. I'm tagged in the videos on Facebook, and some nights when I can't sleep, I go on Facebook and listen to those songs. They are so beautiful! They make me cry. They make me realize what I missed out on and what I really wanted and needed in my life.

I moved, and switched schools. But I never moved on. Yes, I attempted to join the orchestra in my new school, but it was not the same. No one was disciplined enough to practice at home. The orchestra was a joke. I felt like a joke. It was not music. I quit.

Some days I still can't help but think to myself, what if I stayed in Vancouver? What if I never agreed on moving? Would things be better? Or am I just giving myself excuses for not achieving certain goals in my life just because I did not get to choose certain paths? I really don't know. All I know is that, if I had some say in moving, I would not be able to blame anything, anyone. I hate blaming and regretting.

The songs are so beautiful and heartbreaking. I'm trying really hard not to cry but it is almost impossible. There is so much I want to do about my past but it is all useless now. The song are not perfect. I hear missed notes and rhythm here and there. But it is that time, those hours we practiced together, the nervousness that we shared... those are irreplaceable memories. Memories that only WE understand. I love music, I really do. I still do, but that passion is starting to hurt me, because I am drifting so far away from it.

The moment I started my life in Shanghai, I had to let go a lot of things. Music was one of them. That includes piano (which I was somewhat thankful for at that moment), concert band, jazz band, and choir. Did I talk about sports? Well that's gone too. It is so hard not to blame when you know exactly who decided on the changes in your life, when you made it so clear that you did not want those changes. When you watch the selfishness swallow a person's soul, and decide for the child's destiny. You witness it yourself, and you fear for your life. The life you desired. The life you were supposed to have, with years of fighting and working.

But, I hate to feel this way. I hate to reveal negativity. Well, it seems that the hate is also a form of negativity.

Good night world. Let's say that tomorrow is better but we never know.

Flexibility and Potential Disaster-- Corrupted Educational Systems and Mandatory Good Grades

Have you ever thought of the downside of being too flexible? Throughout my life, I was always told to be obedient, flexible, a good listener and a good supporter. As an Asian female, I was always told that it is better, or easier for me to live my life as flexible member of the society. A flexible member without much "attitude" or opinion. It is always better to be flexible in your school work. You should always, always learn to love all the subjects at school, and you should always be passionate in whatever you do, or whatever opportunity that comes up.

What happens then, after the point of high school, which everything was planned, scheduled and forced on you? What happens when you finally push yourself to "love" all the subjects and the people you encounter? Is that still love? Is that still passion?

It's not until college that I realize the potential harm of being too flexible or easily convinced. In high school, I was convinced to love English Literature as well and Mathematics and Chemistry and US History and Physics... I was convinced to love practicing the piano and Taekwondo. I was convinced to be easily... well... convinced. I started to forget what I initially wanted to learn at school, and I also forgot what I was good at. I was so used to forcing myself to like A, B and C... that I do not remember which one I actually "loved" and which one I should pursue as a major.

I was admitted as a Cognitive Science major, this low-key, new field of science that not a lot of people know about. It is a pain in a butt to explain to anyone outside of this major, but at the same time, I admire it's flexibility and endless possibility. Then, I added Accounting, this completely different, rule-based form of... well they do call it "science". This Accounting major, this language of business is something so different from what I entered college for. But, after all these years of forcing myself to like, something, I cannot differentiate what is "right" for me anymore. I mean, if I force myself hard enough, anything can potentially feel right. I can potentially get good grades on anything, right? In addition, getting good grade on something doesn't necessarily mean that you have passion in it, doesn't it just mean that you just, coincidentally happened to be good at doing that type of work... or maybe the class was too "introductory"? I don't know what is "love" and "passion"... I can no longer feel.

Is this the danger of being too flexible? Is it wrong to be too flexible?

You know, sometimes I really envy those people who grew up knowing, and doing, only one thing. Let it be music or art, video games or literature... at least they know exactly what to do and where do go. At least they will know to master that one thing. These are the people whom I believe will succeed. It is probably better for them to stay stubborn and not overly flexible?