I Need A Silent Piano!!!

Yup, the silent piano is a need, not a want. I need a silent piano (ok, I think I've just mentioned that, but I just can't contain it anymore, not even in a bracketed statement. I NEED a silent piano!!! Arrrgh!!! Oops... I think I'd better exit the bracket and continue ranting lest I should blog an entire entry in a bracket)!!!

Well, I need a silent piano (OK, I think I should just stop repeating this lest readers of this blog would only see mostly repetitions of "I need a silent piano" throughout this whole entry). And this is because:

1) More often than not, I get told off/reminded/told-off-in-a-nice-manner or get merely a silent protest from my dad through an exploding tv volume of decibels 10x of the big bang, if it even existed (which is not so silent after all, come to think about it. In fact, it's loud, very, very loud.).

2) The only times I have time to play the piano is after I reach home straight after school/church (which is not quite possible), straight after they start their nap if I reach home early (which is a serious no-no with unimaginable consequences), straight after dinner about an hour later (with the tv still being watched, but not by me - which is not quite nice/uncomplicated/stressful), and after my parents go to bed after tv (which is a serious no-no with greater unimaginable consequences. Well, although both sleeping time consequences are unimaginable and should hence be non-quantifiable, the latter is greater as my dad might well help to give the consequences on behalf on the neighbours also).

3) Even with the practise pedal being depressed, and with a light touch on the piano as compared to a lot of people, I could still be scolded for waking my parents up.

4) After getting the above 2 situations after 1.5 years, I think I had enough =\

5) After getting scolded not too long ago, which is a subset of the 3rd point, and with awareness of the existence of the silent piano, I just felt the ever-increasing need for one of those silent pianos. Arrrgh, I need a silent piano!

And of course, since hoping for a silent piano would not get me anywhere, I thought I might as well do something about it. Thus, I have:

1) Enlisted my sister's help, and in exchange, I shall help psycho my dad to allow her to go into NIE to teach P.E. and save her from the ever-dreaded engineering (or 'dreaded-to-be', for unsuspecting people who are about to get into it) come the day she gets her results and matriculation form.

2) Managed to start a conversation with my dear piano teacher, and hopefully it would somehow reach the point where she would help me psycho my dad to get me a silent piano because it is a dire need. Of course, 5 rabbits would be part of the bribery attempt.

3) As much as I'm trying to think of what I could possibly do to get a silent piano, what I have in mind (to be elaborated as you read on) may not be a very good idea although it may somehow achieve the same result: Play more (in terms of quantity of notes), longer and louder during the times my dad is watching tv and/or when my parents are asleep. Although this might cause him to finally reach the stage where I am, seeing the need for a silent piano... well, I might not live to see the day the silent piano come from just half the number of consequences. Thus, this is not an option. Hey, come to think about it, ironically this is the very thing I'm trying not to do, so this point should be placed as a minus/opposite/opposing point instead.

Sigh, I guess all these simply boil down to the fact that I do not dare (not that I'm afraid of my dad) to ask my dad for a silent piano. It's expensive and a very big thing to ask for =\

4) OK, this might seem a little off-format since here's a point after the concluding paragraph before I end, but, I guess I should just pray for a silent piano on top of all that I'm about to do. That would probably set all things in order =)

Thought: I NEED a silent piano. Sigh...

The Nightmare...

Nope, this blog is not about a crappy subconscious trying to play tricks on me during my sleep. Rather, it's about reality. Just last week, it was my first theory lesson after a long time, since I thought I'd better do something about incomplete items (I knew that my incomplete theory grades, like sight-reading, would somehow come back to haunt me one fine day when I decided to stop it many years back. Hmmm...) in my music life. Well, for a start, it was freaky to me. That's because... Hmmm, I think it's better to give a rough recount (ie. disclaimer: inaccuracy of the exact words and probably the order may be present) of what had happened:

[Note: although the word 'handwriting' is used, it is referred to music handwriting - if there's such a term for it - or better known as my tau gei writings. It is not the usual handwriting in the form of english words]

Miss R: OK, bring out/me your grade 6 theory books...

Glass Cookie (after searching for some books here and there): Here they are.

Miss R (fliping through a book): Oh, so you have this book. I think this is one of the better ones.

[Glass Cookie (G.C.) caught a glance of the contents in the book and thought to himself: No, no, this can't be my book. At most it would be one of those hand-down books or from somewhere unknown to me. That's because... I could tell by judging from the handwriting of those scores. In fact, those seemed to be the tau geis of a grade 1 kiddo. The tau geis resembled those that were planted beside a nuclear reactor with leaks, and somehow, they mutated and grew up to be huge and somewhat thick. Well, check out the pic below (although musicians would be able to better appreciate the nature of score writing)...]


G.C. (confidently): Yup, and it's definitely not mine.

Miss R: Is it? But look at this... this is my handwriting on the book.

G.C. (in disbelief): Huh? Cannot be la. I mean, take a look at the handwriting. It's not mine. Maybe that particular teacher happened to have a similar handwriting as you? I have a classmate whose handwriting is so similar to mine so much so that I sometimes get confused over whether her answer script was mine during labs, and vice versa.

Miss R: No, I know my handwriting. Look at this (pointing to something in the book). Only I would write something like that. I know my style.

G.C. (with his confidence starting to erode): No, no, this can't be. I mean, could it be? The handwriting is horrible la... (G.C. recalls an earlier time in secondary school when someone mentioned that his tau geis looked somewhat nice to that can't-remember-who-someone, rationalizes, and is trying to gain back that confidence. Sadly, erosion takes place at an exponential/geometric rate whereas the confidence builds up at merely an arithmetic rate). Nope, it can't be mine. ... ... I hope (but the last two words were not voiced out so as to maintain that outward appearance of composure and confidence of G.C's stand).

Miss R (with confidence): It has to be la. I can't be wrong about my handwriting. You see this (pointing to yet another portion in the book)... This is definitely my handwriting/style la.

G.C. (seemingly entering the first stage of denial): Oh no, this can't be. You mean my handwriting was actually that bad? Oh no... (feelings of a mild depression has started to creep in, at the thought of his handwriting being that bad merely a few years back)

Miss R (beaming, somewhat): You see, you see, just that you don't know how bad it was only.

G.C. (something's telling him that something [though this something is not referring to the earlier something at the start of the rounded brackets. OK, if it's confusing, ignore it. It's 2 a.m. and crappiness is increasing] is really not right): Hmmm... give me a minute. Let me check. I just cannot believe that it's my handwriting.

[G.C. goes off to the side of the piano to get out other music theory books to verify the existence of a freaky handwriting in his past]

G.C. (with relief): Aha! I found it. I knew it! It's not mine. Phew! You see how thick and huge those tau geis are... how could it be mine?

[OK, from this point onwards, G.C's terrapins life would be hanging on the line/in danger/at high risk (yup, this is a clue as to whose book it might well have been, if you have been checking out this blog often enough. Then again, it doesn't really matter since it would be mentioned anyway. Hmmm, why then am I bothering to type so much? Hmmm, better get back to the topic...) as more would be revealed]

Miss R (thinking, then recalling something): Oh, I remember now. It's actually [Glass Cookie's sis]'s book. [Glass Cookie's sis] actually took grade 6 theory from me also?

G.C. (almost fainting from such a mistake): What???!!! Well, I'm glad that was not my handwriting. See, I told you...

And, just to prove the point that it is definitely not my handwriting, and as to why I could possibly feel depressed over having [Glass Cookie's sis]'s kind of handwriting, it's because of this: I've always taken pride in writing tau geis that look acceptable to me (I dare not say it looked nice or great, but I do take effort in writing those tau geis out). And with that kind of effort put in, only to get the above-displayed (I guess 'above-mentioned' would be inappropriate since I did post a picture, and a picture speaks a thousand words. Then again, if a picture did speak a thousand words, shouldn't it be 'above-said' or 'above-spoken'? Still, a mere picture doesn't produce voice [and if it did speak, it would be really freaky] and as such, it can't be the case. Hmmm... or should it be 'above-displayed-cum-quasi-spoken'? OK, it seems that once again, I have drifted from the topic again. Back to the topic...) kind of result, it's definitely a depressive thought. Just in case you're curious, here's a sample of my tau geis:


Thought: Sigh, if only my english handwriting looked half as neat as my music and chinese (yup, you didn't read wrongly. But that's another topic, another day if I ever get to blog about it) handwriting, I could have easily saved myself half the complaints from teachers since primary school.

Hmmm... Hmmm... HMMM...

In recent months, I've been thinking/pondering/frustrating/exasperated over one irritating, there's-no-answer-to-it-yet-but-I-cannot-avoid-thinking-about-it kind of question that's on my mind: What am I supposed to do in the future? And, because I've been thinking about it more often that not (hmmm... or perhaps I've been thinking too little about it previously, and now it's payback time... [gasp]) these recent months, I happened to notice/discover the following:

- When my friends talked about developments in the aer*space arena, engines, plane models and whatever-else-there-is, as hard as I tried (since it was the seemingly right thing to do anyway), I couldn't share their excitement or their interest. The only successful thing I managed to do was to appear interested and merely listen, and that's about it. Other than that, attempting to contribute anything would be a joke, or perhaps a walk down memory lane since all that I knew would probably be relatively ancient or merely common knowledge.

- I had countless people (ok, maybe they weren't that countless after all since I'm pretty sure I could count from 1 to 1000 without a problem, and it's quite sad if I had problems doing a simple thing as counting. Rather, I've lost count of the number of people ever since I entered aer*space engineering) asking me why I wasn't doing computer engineering, and predicting that I would do pretty well in that (of which I beg to differ, considering how my roomie is mugging like crap in computer engineering currently. And just in case you didn't know, I 'abandoned' him for aer*space). Well, I've got no idea.

- Barely a few months ago, a piano dip seemed to be a joke told to me by my dear piano teacher. And when someone asked me this particular question just last sunday (I can't remember the exact phrasing), I was surprised at my own answer: "You mean you actually prefer mugging tau geis to aer*space???!!!". And as you've guessed (well, if you bothered, that is. Come to think about it, using this phrase would require the condition that I guessed correctly that you guessed correctly. Hmmm... Nah, let's not go into some guessing game that leads to probably nowhere and return to the topic lest I stray further away from it), my answer was a 'Yes'. The scary part was that, I didn't have much of a doubt with that answer. Ahhh... never underestimate the exasperating powers of aer*space engineering.

- Sadly, up till now, I cannot answer the not-as-countless-as-the-computer-engineering-question-but-countless-enough-nonetheless question as to why I entered aer*space engineering. Perhaps it was for the crappy prestige at the sound of it? Perhaps it was the promised bright future and supposedly large pay that accompanied it (which felt more like a fantasy as the days passed on in aer*space. In my opinion, it's the managers that get the large pays. Engineers do the very thing that most [if not, 'all'] engineers are for: to make things work for the managers)? Perhaps it was my parents' suggestion? (Hmmm... I've got a big feeling from memory that... never mind...). Should I be asked this question again, it would be the same answer as usual, as always, and will always be: "I have no idea".

Well, although I do not have the answers to some of the above questions, there's one question I could answer though =)

Question: How do you find aer*space engineering?

Answer: I dare say, with a burning (actually, burning would be an understatement. More accurately, it's more like a nuclear fusion/fission) passion, that... ihateengineeringihateengineeringihateengineeringihateengineering
ihateengineeringihateengineeringihateengineeringihateengineering
ihateengineeringihateengineeringihateengineeringihateengineering
x [(x infinity ^ infinity ^ infinity... the list goes on for infinity) ^
(x infinity ^ infinity ^ infinity...) ^ (...) ^ (...)] ^ [...] ^ [...]... the powers go on for infinity.

Thought: Arrrgh, I must stop thinking about it. =\ But I can't... but I must... but... but...

If Only...

Since it's pretty close to midnight (well, it's actually extremely close. I mean, it might well be midnight before I finish typing this sentence because... it's 23:59. Oh, it's midnight now. OK, that's besides the point), here I am blogging because, well, there's nothing else better to do other than gaming (and blogging beats gaming anytime, any day - when there's something crappy to blog about).

And since my piano practice has been prematurely cut short due to time constraints, this has created something to blog about (though it was mostly inspired by boredom) because at such a time as this, it is then that I wished: If only I had a silent piano. You see, if I had a silent piano...

(1) I wouldn't be wishing, wishing and wishing that I had a silent piano.

(2) I could well game much less because I could simply play my piano till 3 a.m. if I really wanted to, since games are a substitute to my piano late at night.

(3) I would feel less guilty playing so much games to occupy my sleepless hours till 3 a.m.

(4) I would not have to test the limits by playing till close to midnight.

(5) I wouldn't be scolded by my parents for disturbing them should I miscalculate and exceed the limits.

(6) I wouldn't be scolded by my parents for disturbing my neighbours on their behalf (You see, I believe playing the piano late at night and disturbing my neighbours would cause a high level of irritation in them. But they being nice/tolerant/patient/long-suffering [literally, in whichever sense you might take it, be it patience or suffering for a long time] neighbours... it's quite unlikely that they would come knocking at the door and lodging a complaint. So, when my parents start scolding me and bringing them into the picture, yup, you get the idea. But then again, rationalization would steer me towards the direction of good civil and materials engineering in the area of sound proofing/filtering through cement walls. But let's not go into that one lest I end up finishing this blog entry with a totally different topic altogether...).

(7) I wouldn't be thinking of weird plans of trying to squeeze in a silent piano inside the house somehow, because there is no space and I do have feelings/attachments to this old piano of mine.

(8) I wouldn't be thinking of cutting the piano strings (well, for those out there who do not know that although the piano is not a stringed instrument like a violin, it's an instrument made up of strings nonetheless... now you know) to make it a permanently silent piano (That is in the event that I go mad. But then again, if I really went mad, I'd probably be capable of doing something like that with or without a time constraint.) so that I could get a silent piano.

(9) I wouldn't end up really injured in the event that I go mad and end up cutting the piano strings, since releasing the tension within those strings might do collateral damage to other strings and me (FYI, the total amount of tension within those strings in the piano could support an amount of about 3 tonnes I think).

(10) I wouldn't be hospitalised (and suffering from severe injuries = pain, more pain and lots and lots of pain) in the event I end up going mad and cutting the piano strings.

(11) I wouldn't have wasted money on hospital bills when I could have directed that lump of cash towards getting a silent piano instead.

(12) I wouldn't be blogging about crappy ideas and situations if I had a silent piano.

Thought: Sigh, if only I had a silent piano...