I quietly sit through another Thursday Aural class as my teacher goes over solfege. Again. Community college is easy. At least so far community college is easy, but it is only week 4. I learned most of the things we are going over in elementary and middle school. I sit here in my kitchen, eating my blueberry acia yogurt very frustrated at the fact I am paying for a review. I know it must get more difficult as the year progresses, but I was hoping to be intellectually stimulated. Instead, I am surrounded by a bunch of kids who talk about Pokemon, still live at home, and whose parents pay the bills. I supposed this is what I get for going late. I mentally prepared myself for long nights of hard studying and strenuous papers. I am ready to be tested, instead the only thing that is currently being tested is my patience. I have hit a wall.
I am going to school for a music degree. I’m not sure what kind, but one that will get me out of bars and into a classroom filled with eager and talented students. One of the classes I am taking this semester is Jazz Ensemble: this is where a few of us are put into a room and told to pick and play songs. Shall I go back to I wanted to be tested. Sure, this is how it is in real life, BUT I’VE ALREADY DONE THIS FOR THE LAST FIVE YEARS. It’s ridiculously frustrating to me to spend four hours a week listening to these people practice. I want to scream to them “just give me the material two days before the gig and I’ll show up 30 minutes early and we will rehearse one time before we go on”. I guess college isn’t like real life in that way. I was hoping to be instructed, to be pushed, to be taught. This is my wall. I am a brat. When it comes to music, I am a conceded, pompous brat. Instead of taking this as an opportunity for this to be my classroom, I sulk quietly in a corner praying the hours will be over soon. It didn’t occur to me that for the girl with the teal striped hair, this might be her first time. She may be elated. Why didn’t I direct my focus on helping her? For God’s sake I said I wanted to teach. How can I be a teacher if I have a false pretentiousness of being the most experienced one in the room? I’m being scarily honest here people. Let’s be honest with ourselves. I have a wall I need to climb. It’s called myself. It blocks me from crossing over into a happier more successful part of life.
I also have a wall at church. I have a tendency to avoid church people like the plague. Hypocritical of me, I know. Friends from church are the ones that have cut me the deepest, so I unintentionally refuse to meet my friends through a church. This year I realized I had built a wall surrounding the church. I am cold when I walk through those doors. Ice cold, I avoid eye contact, hellos, hugs, and small talk. Honestly, one of my biggest pet peeves is when people try to act like they are closer to you than they really are. Which these particular people are great at. Sure, it’s their “job” to be welcoming and warm but, they don’t know me and I do not want them to know me. How is this fair? How does this benefit me? These people only want to show me love, and accept me and I push them away. Climb the wall. Smash the wall. Work on the wall.
I know I have talked a lot about myself in this blog post. Maybe this can be applicable to an area in your life. Personally, I like hearing people’s stories. I like being apart of their journeys, and learning from their judgements and mistakes. I also believe that venting through writing is powerful, and you can learn a lot about yourself by doing so. Thank you for listening to my venting. If you have a wall, it may not be smash-able all in one day, but pick up the hammer anyway.