Two hours of piano practice: a journey through pain

TOC

My Fingers Are Filling a Lawsuit Against Me

Let’s talk about the emotional roller coaster that is two full hours of piano practice. Not a performance. Not a concert. Just u sitting on ur chair with ur keyboard, and your steadily unraveling sanity. The most lonely and boring thing u could ever do.

— Minutes 1-10 The Hero Sets Out

U sit down. Confident. Poised. Delusional. U think: This is it. Today I become Lang Lang. U play ur warm ups. Ur hanon scales are smooth. Ur posture is correct. Ur fingers dance like caffeinated spiders. U are a musical weapon.

— Minutes 11~30 The Cramp Awakens

Ur hands begin to ache. Ur pinky is developing its own political agenda and refuses to participate. U repeat the same four-bar phrase 19 times. It doesn’t get better. In fact, it gets worse. U whisper to the metronome, “We are not friends”.\

— Minutes 31~45 Existential Jazz

U accidentally play a wrong note that somehow sounds…cool? U veer off into jazz improv. U pretend it’s part of ur plan. U consider switching careers and becoming a lounge pianist named “Smooth Gary”. Ur cat leaves the room in disgust.

— Minute 46 Snack Interlude

U open the fridge and stare inside for five minutes. U find nothing. U eat a single chocolate and go back to the piano. It doesn’t help.

— Minutes 47~75 The Time Warp

Time slows to a crawl. U check the clock 14 times. It hasn’t moved. U start talking to ur piano like it’s a hostage negotiation. U beg, “Just let me play this piece in peace.”

— Minutes 76~90 Phantom Finger Syndrome

U can no longer feel ur fingers. Or ur soul. U’re convinced ur right hand has developed a mind of its own. U play the same measure over and over and still forget the F#. U scream into a cushion.

— Minutes 91~118

U try to convince urself that 1 hour and 55 minutes is “basically” 2 hours. U practice with one hand only. Then scroll the phone;watches Youtube. Then just…vibes. U wonder if ur piano is possessed.

— Minutes 119 The Delirium Waltz

U’re not even practicing anymore- u’re just hitting random keys and laughing like a movie villain. U compose a new piece called “COncerto for Broken Spirit and IKEA chair.” U’ve transcended pain. U are one with the piano. U r the piano. Ur hands are moving, but pretty sure ur soul left ur body ten minutes ago to go cry in the kitchen. U consider naming ur 1st child “Chopin”.

— Minute 120 Victory

U somehow finish. U collapse. Ur back hurts. Ur neighbors filed a noise complaint. U fell proud, broken, accomplished, and emotionally fragile. U bow to the empty room. Then u swear u’ll never do it again…

…until tomorrow

<THE END>

Moral of the Story:

Two hours of piano practice is the musical equivalent of running a marathon in crocs. Reward urself. U earned it.