The Life of a Music Major

Oh The Things You Do

Fifty plus practice hours.

At least fifty is where I stopped counting.

Whenever I didn't have class, work, or a rehearsal, I was in a practice room. Or in the rehearsal room playing the mallet instruments.

The practice rooms weren't anywhere near soundproof, so I got very used to random strangers walking by listening to my every mistake. The constant amount of exposure really helped with my nerves, but I still got nervous. Everyone does.

...

It was a Tuesday.

I checked my watch. 2:30pm.

I should eat. I think to myself as I look back to my music stand.

There was a plethora of books on my stand. From scales to sonatas to concertos. I even had whole books with just excerpts from various orchestral pieces. And these were only a few of the many books I had.

While I was still debating on practicing more or going and getting at least a little something to eat, there was a light knock on the door.

"I know you have wind symphony tonight, so I brought you a salad and some cantaloupe." He met my gaze and smiled. "How's the practicing going?"

"It's going," I reply as I run my hands over my face and hair. "I've got a long way to go."

He looked at my stack of books then back to me. "What all have you practiced?"

"Just viola as of right now. I might spend around an hour on my vocal stuff, then I'll head into the rehearsal room to practice mallets. I worked a bit of clarinet yesterday, but I might work it some more after rehearsal tonight."

"That's a lot of practicing." He said, worry creeping into his voice.

"It's is, but I've got a good hold on it." I look to him and smile. "Plus I've got a friend like you who keeps me fed." I gave him a small wink.

"Speaking of which," He handed me the salad and a fork. "You should eat. Right now."

I opened it up and began to eat slowly.

He sat down next to me on the piano bench, contemplating what to play. Then he started.

I happily listened to the first eight or so measures in ignorant bliss, then it hit me. I sat ramrod straight as he continued to play a melody I hadn't heard in a couple years. It was almost overwhelming, remembering what we had had.

Slowly, he closed the song. Once that final chord faded into nothing, he placed his hands in his lap.

"I miss that, you know." There was sorrow in his voice. "Out of all the things I miss from high school, what I miss most gets to share classes with me."

I closed the lid to my now empty salad container. "I went to a pep game back in February." I paused, still turned away from him. "It was at The Gym. Everything from the previous year came flooding back to me." I turned to face the piano. "It made me miss all of it."

He sat up a little straighter next to me. "What do you mean?"

"Marching season. Concert season. Pep games. I can't wait to get back to it once I'm finally up at the University." I stared dreamily at the wall.

"Me either, in all honesty." He replied. "I miss playing. Drums anyway."

"I want to make it onto tenors when I get up there." I said with determination. "But I currently suck."

"I'm sure you're doing fine." He placed his hand on my leg. "Maybe one of these days you can bring your stand and pad here, and I can watch you for a bit then give you some advice."

I laughed at him. A real laugh. Something I hadn't done for weeks.

"I know you're trying to be nice, but I will take as much actual help I can get. You were pretty damn great at them."

He gave a small smile. "I wasn't that great."

I gave him a look that said 'boy, did you just say that?'

He shied away from my look. "Okay okay. I was pretty good. Geez."

I gave a nod and sighed. "I need to get back to practicing." I checked my watch. Ten minutes to three. If I spent an hour on my vocal work, I'd have plenty of time in the rehearsal room to practice my mallet works before Windows Symphony rehearsal.

He stood up and grabbed my trash from me. "Oh the things you do." Before I could say anything, he leaned down, kissed my forehead, then left.