I've Channeled My Dead Piano Teacher.
Mind you, I haven't touched a piano in almost 10 friggin' years. But I've really been missing playing -- all of that practicing gone down the drain, for no other reason than sheer laziness really. So, once the thing was set up, I subscribed to an online sheet music downloading service (isn't that effin' cool?! wow, things have changed!), and got some of the things that I most enjoyed playing before I quit: some Chopin, Schumann, Beethoven and of course, my favorite piece de resistance guy, Rachmaninoff.
I have to say, I was really pleasantly surprised that I actually remembered how to play some of this stuff. It was very strange, less like I actually was reading the music, more like I was just following my fingers' memory. Granted, I stumbled through everything - it has been 10 years after all, but I managed not to forget everything I learned. And I've been practicing the Agitato movement of Rachi's Prelude in C# Minor over and over again (da-da-da-da-da---er, can't even do it for you), which was my fave of fave things to play: it's a very romantic, emotional, yet structured piece that literally makes me swoon as I play it. I just love it. And I confess, it's also wicked difficult to play if not for sole fact that one really has to have a man's hands to play it without spraining your digits (My hands are little and I've lost my reach). Truth be told, it also fed into my surprisingly competitive and *not so surprisingly* perfectionistic tendencies as a kid. I still consider myself a perfectionist, but I've dropped the competitive thing. That's probably why I really was never cut out for Julliard in the first place, a prospect I'd toyed with as a teenager.
Anyway, I realized that I'd better get some headphones for myself otherwise the household will end up going totally nutso hearing that stuff over and over again. Much like clunking through (or even playing perfectly) over and over again The Well Tempered Clavier (another one of my favorites....yeah, I'm big into structure and control. None of that skittering all over the place kind of stuff....)
So, don't expect a recital anytime soon, me peeps. I can barely play without cursing at myself for fucking up and then apologizing to my patient audience, the cats. And I don't plan on taking up the flute or oboe again. Playing the oboe badly really is torture. And I always hating playing the flute. Just too flutey. Even though I may be tempted to start a Geek Band with GG, the French Horn Siren...