Reflections of a Crazed Musician: To be Obsessed - Charles R. Haney (top 10 ebook reader .txt) 📗

Reflections of a Crazed Musician: To be Obsessed


I come now to a place where I can comfortably inquire to myself how it is that my once salvation of life has become but a ghost to me. Now it is a speck of dust on the pan of reality. No sweeter is the sound of that musical instrument that still grants me joy. The joy being a memory of times long past. I began studying music in ignorance, and it was a stranger to me. It was not something I deserved, but it was the thing that I needed. I walked through the aisle of shining instruments with the task of picking only one to play. As a child of tender innocence, I did not realize the magnitude of what I was doing. In truth, I was at a cross-road so obvious that the elderly looked upon me in envy. Not realizing that I did not realize what I was doing. I quietly surveyed the instruments with a quiet fascination. To me, my young innocently ignorant eyes, they were merely shapes with my reflection. Finally, a shape stood out to me. I did not even know the name of this metallic shape, but I pointed to it without saying anything. I was asked whether or not this was what I wanted. The only thought in my mind, was to learn how to play such a strangely royal looking instrument as the trumpet. There was no profound reason for my choice. I can see that now. It was just a strange fixation, and when I look back on it, there was no logic.


After being enrolled in a class I began learning to play. It was more difficult than I ever thought it could be. I practiced for hours each day, but sometimes I would just stop and try to think of a reason to continue playing; a parent paying a lot of money for classes didn’t give me enough inspiration. As time passed, my motivation began to falter, until that fateful day I learnt what scales were. Scales are basically exercises in memorization and tone. I paid little attention to them at first, because they were not the music. Surely it was the music that was important? This is what I thought when I saw the highest level of the orchestra, the honor band, play their music during a rehearsal. Oh their music! My heart opened to the melodies, and they flowed over my mind like water. They were washing away the uninspired heap of dirt that encrusted around my mind like a rusted screw. Like a light at the end of a tunnel, I found a reason to continue playing. “That sweet music must be mine!” My thoughts screamed and desired. Over the years, I began to outperform my peers again and again. I was assigned the first chair always, and I never disappointed. In my mind’s eye, the scales had no place in my music. In my mind, I was the light.


No one in the classes shared a passion for their instrument like I did. I felt I didn't need scales. I argued that I could get to my fullest potential without them. The scales were like the shadowy fingers that grow ever bolder against the light as the sun sets. I felt no fear due to my new found passion. This passion's dark side was an eternal confusion to those who called me friend. They would begin to distance themselves from me as a cautious squirrel to a stranger with no food. I was a prince among men, an enigma wrapped inside of a riddle, and this confusing royalty intimidated them. I didn't understand this intimidation. I was a boy who spoke softly, but my music demanded attention with every note.


As I rose from beginner band to intermediate band, it was becoming evident to me that I would have no friends among my peers. They respected me as a fellow student, and admired my passion, but felt they could never equal me. Only those who had passion were bold enough to speak with me. I welcomed such people with a shyness born from being an outcast. We were all outcast, and in our exile we were royalty to ourselves. Our craft was our passion, and age was no longer a factor once we began to play our music. We were princes, and who did we command but our own music? In the background, the scales were still there. They watched me from the darkness of my mind. My blissful passion blinded me to their significance, and why not? Royalty did not require scales to be great. We ate the food of praise from the teacher, and it was enough for us.


Soon after, as I graduated into advanced band with my royal court, an opportunity to join a prestigious band was thrown my way. I took up the challenge, and was driven to the audition with no need to prepare. Nervousness had no place with me as I walked with my carefree brother to await our turn. Regarding my brother, he did not understand my passion, but he was still the best of us. Like the wise man of the mountain who admits to no greatness. He lived with no luxuries from the royal court, and had little passion for music. His abilities were from talent, and mine were from passion. Admirable though he was, he would never join the royal court. They called our names, and we answered by silently walking to the stage. My body was at ease, but my heart was racing. At last I had a chance to show the outside world of my royalty! We played a piece of western music, and it was played to perfection by both of us.


There was stunned silence after our last note faded into the audience and the judges. The judges were nodding in approval, but I resisted the cocky smile of the victorious from crossing my face. Something was wrong, but my mind was as maple syrup on a cold day. Withholding panic, my face was stoic as the judges asked a question. “What scales can you play?” They asked. What were these Scales? The rest was a disaster as we tried and failed to play scales for them. We left the stage with heads high, but my mind was shattered. In the space of a few minutes, my royalty was now in question. Was my claim to the throne legitimate? Now all were able to question it, and this question remained in my mind too. Over the next few weeks, the judge's question began to cement itself in my mind as well.


My music began to falter as my status of royalty began to fade, but suddenly the idea came to me. The idea was born from depression, raised by bitterness, and simple in form. I had to become royalty again, and to challenge my exile meant facing the scales that I hated. The very word scale sent shivers up my spine, and I knew it as the curse that destroyed me in my finest hour. It was a dangerous weapon. I decided I must train with the scales myself. To use them as a weapon against any music that stood against me and my royalty. There was no solace for me as I trained with the weapon of scales. The sin of playing scales over music was only redeemed when I played music. Scales became my vengeance, and music was my redemption. The former royalty that had been the great court had begun to fade as I became something even they could not understand. Again I found myself exiled, but this time there was no royalty. There was only the prison called scales, the food of self-torment, and the thirst for beautiful music.


Suddenly, my brother and I were offered a chance by the teacher of my class to audition for honor band. I decided that this was it. I had trained with my weapon of choice for some time now. I had nothing else to lose, but everything to gain if only to play that wonderful music I had heard so long ago. I was no longer the child, but the teenager who was well aware of his fall from grace. Although scales became a corruption that took everything away from me, it would finally have its chance to prove to me that it “was” a weapon. My brother completed his audition tape rather quickly, but no matter how many times I played it, mine was not good enough. I spent the week training on the sheet music audition to no avail. I always made one or two mistakes that would be just noticeable enough to be an excuse to not allow me in. That illustrious music called to me so sweetly from the other side of the sheet music. Finally, it was the last day that I could mail the audition tape in. I got up early that Saturday morning at dawn, realizing that there was only one option.


I played some scales, sharpening the blade of my music, and I began to play the audition. When noon came, I was growing panicked and desperate. I played the sheet music until my mind was in a daze. Should I stop? No, because I knew that if I stopped playing before I had achieved perfection I would be too tired to continue. I played the music, it no longer sounded like music as the shadows grew into the evening. Rewind, record, rewind, record, rewind, and record were all my fingers knew to do. Food did not touch my lips, a single glass of barely sipped water at my desk. Finally I stopped. It was so late, and my body and lips were so tired. I felt like crying, but I was too tired. I loved the music, and to not be able to join the honor band would destroy any dreams I had of playing those sweet sounds. My mind became as a machine as I continued to play for several more hours.


At last, when my strength was gone, I played the music one last time, and I realized there was no mistake in it, I pressed stop on the tape recorder, and fell asleep where I sat. My brother came in later shortly after wards, as the whole house realized I had stopped playing. My mother and brother lifted me to my bed, a man obsessed. I had nothing left to give to my craft. The scales sustained me, and I hated them for it.


In the end, the teacher received the auditions, and found no fault in them. The music of honor band was finally mine. As I walked into class, I realized that no one who played music here was ordinary. More than that, I realized that in honor band everyone was royalty. There were kings, queens, dukes, princes, and princesses. Common folk had no place in this lot; the peasantry did not understand the passion. Never again would I be alone in my prison of scales. Nay, my scales made me a king among these people. They labeled me a lord among them. They called me the Lord of the Scales, and I took the title with no hesitation. I hefted scales as my weapon in that great court. Oh how I hated them so, but yet they brought me victory. They cost me my friendships of old. I was afraid of scales, and yet I had them to thank for restoring me to my