Oh boy! I couldn’t sleep, so I started searching violinists on YouTube. Oh, what have I gotten myself into?
How many people start at age thirty-two?
I am hearing so much about childhood prodigies. That can’t be all. Some, as one Polish violinist said, are simply just young and mediocre players.
Well, I may not have the ear for the violin at this point, and can’t say I ever really will, but I know what I like, what makes me feel something. The question is, why?
I never liked classical music much. When I’d arrive at a classical channel on the radio dial, I’d generally flip right by, and onto pop or classic rock.
But then where did this interest in suddenly learning the violin come from?
It started out as a sad instrument, conjuring up scenes of cruelty and grief in such things as the movie Schindler’s List. I couldn’t get it out of my head. Violin equaled Jews and the Holocaust.
Well, I suppose that sort of classical music was so popular, for so many hundreds of years, because not even jazz had come along.
So, the element of sorrow lingers, in my head. No matter what speed or tempo of violin in a piece of classical music, and I feel sad.
So, well maybe its that I remember the classical music on the radio in my oma and opa’s car, on our Saturday drives to McDonald’s and shopping at the mall. Okay, so not a lot of people’s idea of a classy day out, but I loved it.
Would these memories of good times override my sensation of being caught in a horror like World War II? Hmm.
Violin equaled wartime, which equaled my European grandparents. In my effort, even as a small girl, to relate to them and the world they once knew.
I felt the urge to learn bubble up in the last five to ten years, but maybe even before.
So here I am. I think my particular preference would have to be a mixture of classical and modern sound. This is violin entering the 21st century I suppose.
Oh, I’m certain pure classical violin isn’t going away anytime soon. On the contrary, for those who pick up their first instrument at the early age of four or five. They have time to develop their style of playing.
Playing catch-up now, but I’m only really in a race with myself, entered into some imaginary race in my own mind. I don’t know where I fit into all of this. I can’t shoulder both the expectations of becoming a famous writer and violinist.
So help me God if I must choose, because I feel the violin taking hold, somewhere on my person, but of which was maybe always deeper. I was always playing violin, in my soul somewhere. May sound phony, but whatever.
What we have right here, this is thanks to lack of sleep and all that violin music playing in my head. It’s stream of consciousness at its worst I fear.
I want to play. I hold my violin, my bow. Shoulder down, fingers outstretched, arm on a hinge and as far as it will go, and the feeling of righteousness (just me and my violin) grows. My head and my hand feel what it should feel like.
Four months into this crazy notion of mine and I am more lost than ever, but lost with a purpose seems right enough to me.
Oh boy, could I ever use a little sleep!