Music love

[mothwing]

As I said before around this time of year last year, my relationship with music is probably comparable to a minne-situation - pining for a socially superior, unattainable mistress - which translates into frustrating, and mostly short-lived, in my case. Crocky's intense enthusiasm is infective, though. You probably know that she's a trombonist (among other things), and that she's teaching kids how to play the trombone and trumpet for her brass ensemble. Around her, it's impossible not to become interested in music and instruments and brass ensembles eventually.

Seeing as there are loads of sheet music for beginners floating around here, I became more and more tempted to dabble. My whirlwind affair with my Mum's Fürst Pless Horn was cut short this summer due to lack of sheet music, patience with the wonky sounds the thing emitted in my hands, and lack of locals interested in perpetrating similar noises.

Now I am giving the trumpet a shot. Trumpet because they had a spare one at her church and because she needs her trombone rather than because it's what I always wanted to play, and it's fun so far. I doubt that I'll ever be good enough to join any kind of beginner's church ensemble, even, but I'll continue playing if only to see Crocky in her element. I always knew how important music is to her, I know how much she loves playing, but what I didn't know is that Crocky positively glows when she's teaching. No wonder her students absolutely adore her and that they're making such progress. 

I have no doubt that she is and will make an excellent  music teacher, and seeing her heart-felt joy about having managed to get me to play my first wobbly sounds would leave absolutely no doubt for anyone else either.

Comments

[crocky-wock.livejournal.com]

You are a cutie. And you look fantastic with your little trumpet and your baby mouth with the baby mouth piece. <3<3<3

[mothwing.livejournal.com]

I love you too, sweetie. You seem to be developing a certain affinity to the word "baby" there.

Oh oh: in case you still read this: your monitor arrived!
And your postman hates us now. He was the third person to ring the doorbell today, so I wasn't too sure whether it was something important rather than one of the stoners from a couple of floors down having forgotten their keys (one of them LEANT on the doorbell for a solid minute o_O). Well.
The person who turned out to be the postman also sort of called out to me from the ground floor, but he was really hard to understand. By the time he had wheezed upstairs he was in a towering temper. Had I known that it was the mail I'd have been more inclined to meet him half way, but I just didn't hear him properly, it sounded as though people were talking downstairs.
He was really pissed when I asked him whether I could accept the thing for you. I could, obviously, but he looked really doubtful and grudgingly let me sign.
Yes, they're a lot of stairs. If that moron'd manage to answer the intercom-thing when I ask who it is instead of shouting up from the ground floor, he wouldn't have to walk them up all the time. ARGH.

Also: Orlando di Lasso is a ROCK STAR. Remember that Renaissance music CDs you once brought home? So far, whenever I liked a piece and checked whose it was it was his. <3

[moonystone.livejournal.com]

That sounds great. Good luck with the trumpet!

[mothwing.livejournal.com]

Thanks!