appreciation

the Sound of music makes me appreciate it

well, the sound of music makes me appreciate it

 

that was supposed to be a potential intro to my personal statement, but as I sit on the bus out of Ithaca for the 7th time this year, and I look at the hills, so lush and full of life, I feel like writing right now

I’ll get the draft together eventually. I need to learn how to write without worrying about getting it right. can’t perfect what doesn’t exist, right?

I love hills, and I love music. I’ve written about both (1.22.17 – road trip1.18.17 – orchestrahar-mo-ny, it’s easy as C-E-G) and will probably continue to do so

 

still not the biggest fan of the bugs or the mud, but I do love these hills. in 60 seconds, you get every shade of green God took the time to fashion. it’s like a giant jade bracelet for the horizon–I’m just riding through it. me, and the rivers. I think I’d have to write a book to illustrate all the things that water means to me, but for now, I’m happy just to have it. I get to appreciate it through this grafittied window, and that’s enough for me. the grafitti keeps me from getting an adequate picture to share the view with you, but it’s enough for me, just to have it here, riding with me

and the music. the sound of music.

I don’t have many complaints about music

 

maybe the fact that the internet doesn’t understand that sometimes, I don’t remember more than the melody. I’m constantly putting my brain through the wringer trying to remember the songs I fell in love with in passing. I hum and I hum trying to regain at least an idea of what I never had, and I end up with my own song, birthed to fill the void I’ve created. it’s hard to fall in love in passing. well, doing it is easy, but living with it can be difficult

 

or maybe the fact that my fingers don’t understand what my lips do, what my mind does. I was the kid who took piano lessons after school, maybe for a year or two. my childhood hobbies didn’t seem to last long, and now I’m trying to be the adult who’s interested in everything. and all this adult has from those lessons is understanding. I know how chords work, it’s pretty mathematic honestly. and I can hold my ground with a harmony, that’s muscle memory. but the parts of me that get music best rest within me

so I practice. I practice and progress and then I take a performance anxiety-induced break, sometimes a hiatus, and then I practice some more because I really do love it. I love when I get it, when my fingers get it, because the sound of music makes me appreciate it. it’s melodious, harmonious. fear can’t keep me from it. the sound of music pleases me, down to the vibrations of the strings that are blended and magnified as I proceed. it’s fascinating to sit there and realize, “there is beauty in this room, in this air, because of me.” this lovely feeling rises up to bring you to the present so you can greet it properly. there’s satisfaction, fascination, appreciation. I can hear all the notes in the chord, but I can’t. they still come together as one. I can see all the greens in the trees on the hills, but I can’t. there will always be more than I’m able to receive.

the clarity comes in bursts, but this I’ll always be able to understand

Author: Iyaniwura Olarewaju

† | naija | nj | Cornell

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