Violinist to be

No other instrument I’ve ever attempted to play makes noises like this. I want to issue a neighborhood-wide bulletin about my practice time. “Put cotton in your dogs’ ears or leave the neighborhood.”

There was a time, long ago, when I practiced every day. The horrible noises were balanced, outweighed, even, with lovely sounds. I looked forward to the time I’d have to spend and felt I’d improved after every session.

Now, since I’ve been neglecting the violin, it’s punishing me. I’m punishing myself by trying to renew my relationship with it.

But I want this skill. I want to make music and loose myself in the sound so I can’t tell how much time has gone by. I want to express myself with this instrument and make something beautiful to hear. I want to possess my violin and make it do what I’ve heard it do in other people’s hands.

I’m intensely jealous of people who have relationships with their instruments that are purer than the one I have with my violin now. But I know if I keep at it, I will get what I want.

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