Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

I don’t know what possessed me.  Me, who won’t play piano in public.  Me, who envies prodigies who started playing before attending kindergarten.  Me, who is fighting weakening wrists and arthritic fingers. Yes, that me.

I voluntarily volunteered (as opposed to being commandeered) to play background music at my family’s annual Thanksgiving dinner this November. I must have been without my senses at the time.

So here I am, with about ten weeks to put together my first “concert.”  The audience will be forgiving – I know that – but the real question is “Will I forgive myself if I don’t do well?” Remains to be seen, but it is spurring me to practice.  And enjoying it.

My piano teacher has always accused me of hanging on to music that I’ve mastered instead of eagerly pursuing new music ahead. The thing is that every time I revisit a piece I learned a year or two ago, the knowledge that I’ve gained in the interim re-informs my understanding of the former assignment.  So this concert plays into that.

I’m making a plan.  Choosing various arrangements that I’ve enjoyed mastering over the years; interspersing them with simpler pieces; and mentally psyching myself that the more I practice the easier it will be.

I’ve never been afraid to talk or give a speech or speak extemporaneously in public.  Maybe this will be my breakthrough with music.