My beloved A tells me that I expound on the past too much: “I wish I had done this” or “if only life hadn’t gone this way.” My biggest complaint as of late is that I’ve spent too much of my life doing things that I don’t like to do.
“Sometimes you have to do things that you don’t like to do.”
We hear this ALL the time, especially as kids. On the other side of our dislike will be happiness and fulfillment, or so they say. At the very least, we’ll grow up to be responsible members of society.
But is life meant to be full of things we dislike? What if we filled our lives with things we loved instead?
School
I’ve always had mixed feelings about school. I loved preschool, when I ruled the playground as princess, hero, mother, etc., and singing Christmas carols at the top of my lungs for our Christmas concert. Prior to the concert, the teachers would urge my parents to make sure I made it to the show, because I sang the loudest and basically was the choir. (Can you tell I loved being the star of the show?)
But in elementary school, I became terribly shy and self-aware. I think there was a layer of trauma-induced self-esteem too. Because of these changes to my confidence and sense of self, school became a source of constant anxiety. I dreaded roll call, fearing my voice would crack when I said “here”, speaking my first and sometimes only word of the day. I hated being called on in class, fearing that I would say the wrong answer. Most of all, I was terrified of being rejected by my peers, fearing that I would never fit in as the one Asian person in my classes.
I dreaded it so much that I would pull the covers over my head in the morning. My older sister, who was responsible for me, would threaten to pour cold water over my head or leave without me (the latter was the worst for me, oddly).
I begged my mom to homeschool me instead, but she worked full-time and didn’t read or write English well. I wish we had the technology that we do now. I think I would’ve thrived in online, asynchronous classes, where you participate in forums and email your teachers if you have questions.
Thinking back, it’s not that I didn’t like school. I think life was pretty hard at that time, with my family in the midst of reshaping itself. I actually love learning, but I probably would’ve fit in better at an arts school where I could’ve tapped into my “big emotions” (as Constance Wu calls it) and my love for performance.
What if I had been more adamant about continuing piano lessons or being artistic rather than getting good grades without learning bigger life lessons? What if I had empowered myself to choose and reap the rewards of that choice?
Music School
I imagine myself having all the self-assurance and confidence, that I still aspire to have, at 18 or 20 ish, standing my ground and telling my percussion teachers: “No, I just want to play marimba. I don’t even know what orchestral percussion is!” What an amazing time I might have had in undergrad, relentlessly pursuing my dream to be the best marimbist I could ever be.
Instead, I took my teachers’ advice to become a more well-rounded percussionist. I don’t blame them though, it was my choice. There also isn’t really a framework for becoming a professional marimbist, at least not in the United States. Being well-rounded served me well, especially as a freelance percussionist.
However, COVID-19 threw a wrench in the budding performance careers of many. Even when the gigs came back, they were few and far between. And during that time, when most of us were cooped up at home, studying or teaching online, I didn’t spend my time playing snare solos or getting really good at castanets. I just played marimba.
Recently, I learned that picking up the other instruments again, particularly snare drum, was not like riding a bike (at least not for this marimbist).
A college acquaintance of mine is a band director at a local high school in San Diego. About a month ago, I dropped by to check out their Saturday band rehearsal. He was so kind to tell his students how great of a player I was (“even better than I am!” he said. Thank you, but you are a far better player for sure!) and then asked me to jump in and play the snare drum part for the march they were rehearsing. A few things happened: I lost count after about 8 bars (to be honest, probably sooner), dropped out after those 8 measures, and jumped back in at the repeat of the beginning–just to get lost again. The embarrassment!
The drumsticks felt so foreign in my hands. What happened to all those years of hitting a drum pad in front of a practice room mirror and playing snare drum solos for juries?
Failing spectacularly that day, it felt like I hadn’t gained much by doing what I disliked (namely snare drumming). After all, once the expectations of school were gone, I went back to only playing marimba.
A friend of mine passionately pursued the art of marimba-ing, refusing to be a “percussionist” and performing marimba-only recitals while enrolled in a percussion program. She is a wonderful artist, who has such confidence and comfort on the instrument. I haven’t had quite the success that she’s had or well-rounded career as a marimbist (not yet, at least! I’m still hopeful). I wonder, if I had been similar to her back then, what kind of musician would I be now, and what confidence might I have gained in the success I found by pursuing what I loved?
Conclusion
A is right–there is not too much point in ruminating on and deeply regretting the past when our energies should be put towards the actions we can take today. But I like to think that a little bit of both reminds me that doing things I don’t want to do hasn’t always born the fruit I hoped for. And so, perhaps it’s worth building a life that is full of things that I like to do.
Revised on August 19, 2024
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