rivka

I'm having one of those evenings where I feel lonely and at loose ends. I'm supposed to be working on my dissertation, and slowly I'm actually developing inclinations to do so - it usually takes a while - but in the meantime I've been drifting from book to computer to TV without really settling in anywhere.

I sat down at my piano for the first time in a long time. Many, many years ago, I was a good pianist. Not concert good, or jazz improv good, but I used to play classical pieces well enough to please myself and the casual listener. The last time that was true was... wow. The last time that was true was my first year of college, twelve years ago.

I stopped practicing when I moved off campus and no longer had easy access to an instrument. In graduate school, I bought a piano, but that seems to have been too late. At that point I was so far out of practice that I only felt comfortable playing when no one was home, so that no one would hear my stumbling fingers. More importantly, I had lost my piano muscles. Because of the way my right elbow doesn't bend, I have to hold my arm at an awkward angle to play, and eventually it starts aching. When I was well practiced, "eventually" meant "after about an hour." Today it was closer to five minutes.

It makes me a little wistful to think of how much better I was at this when I was fourteen. I don't know whether I'll ever get back to playing regularly, or if it will always be a talent I had and then lost.

I'll borrow a style from