Feeling like I needed an outlet to some emotionally-bothersome circumstances the other week, I tended to my usual habit of listening to music in pure isolation. After dozens of rounds of The Arctic Monkeys (curse you Alex Turner for being only a year older than me and writing all those hard-rockin' stuff!) and a few others, I found myself wanting to try a few pieces on piano. So I rummaged the net for some free sheet musics. The notes looked very intimidating. Tried piano tabs instead. Sounded off-key. Opened YouTube for some piano tutorials. Man, are they really teaching you how?! So I ended up once more playing only the intros to three songs. Guess I'm still living up to the title of the officially frustrated pianist.
What makes up the perfect frustration? Is it when you've done everything but chance does not permit you to meet that expectation? Or is it when you thought you've already done everything?
When met with the perfect opportunity and the right access, you can pretty much say you're quite lucky. But what makes up the perfect frustration really is our own expectations, which are sometimes set unrealistically, or if realistic, we fail to pour in the amount of effort needed to achieve it. Don't expect to be the world's greatest pastry chef if you haven't even laid your hand on flour and sugar. Don't expect you can penetrate Wall Street if you don't even know where Wall Street is. And don't expect to be a pianist if you've only arrived at a few intros. :)
But I'd like to leave you hanging in a contrasting note via Mary Schmich's memorable essay made popular by Baz Luhrmann in the 1998 hit "Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)":
"Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either.
Your choices are half chance, so are everybody else's." #
photo credit: Literary Soapbox
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