A POST ABOUT PIANO.

If you're asking me what I'm doing right now.

I'm doing some pattern cutting.

On my left is the brand new piano. On my right is the tea table I use for bags and pillows. In front of me is the TV. On the upper right stands the mirror. Next to it is the sliding door made of wood. Behind the TV is my skating board, Under the TV rack is a pair of shiny black oxfords. Above me is the ceiling fan in the same color with the ceiling itself, porcelain white. The edges, where the ceiling meets the wall, are engraved with two separate, yet same-in-design, patterns. Each one has two lines. There's something French about them. The night lamp is nailed onto the right wall, which I'd like to call as 'the tiny planet'. The tiny planet gives out dreamy yellow light. Under it is the world map my sister bought in New York. I know this map is old because Sudan isn't separated into two different countries. Below the map are my shoes, two pair of trainers, one in black, the other in white, and a pair of black leather boots. Behind me is my bed, where Hedi's peacefully lying on. Actually, nevermind. I think he sneaked out somehow. Hedi should be in the kitchen by now. Bathena: A Concert Waltz is playing. I watched The Curious Case of Benjamin earlier this week. Again and again, every time feels like the first time. 

I'm doing some pattern cutting. 

I realize no one really cares about how well a person can play the piano. They care about themselves more, how the pianist makes them feel. A good pianist may surf on the keyboard gracefully. But it's the great pianist that touches the people's heart. Somehow, a bad pianist can be great just by winning his or her audience's attention. By making them remember. It's all about feelings. Music can't be delivered without it. An excellent singer spends most of her life complaining how little people know about vocals and therefore, how good she is in singing the notes right. Unfortunately, she never spends the same amount of time questioning "What have I done to drive the audience away?" The audience, the ear, doesn't only listen to the sound coming out from one singer's stomach. They also feel. Their applause is for the feelings that were given during the performance. Isn't it difficult, yet easy, to be great? We spend our life time practicing to be good at something. Then one day we realize the next level we're aiming at doesn't take another long row of years, but a deep study of self. The greatness comes from within. If someone has it, he or she will have it.