Ballade No. 1, Opus 23 (Chopin)

Have I mentioned previously how great it is to be a Music major? I don’t mean to snub other, more practical choices but I would like to point out that today, at four o’clock, I finished my academic load with a class about Chopin’s Etudes.  That’s right. While many of my fellow classmates trudged their way to a class on Aerospace Engineering, Calculus, or some other such scientific hobnob; I went and listened to Chopin’s Etudes for an hour. I sat in a class room and listened to a lecture about how Chopin took the nocturne and turned it into an aria. I listened to musical examples in a room with a pipe organ and stain glass windows. Bliss.

An even purer bliss, however, is the professors who teach these courses.  They are, without a doubt, the most glorious characters I have ever seen. Quirky men who wear glasses and what looks to be clothing their mothers picked out. They pace, they absentmindedly lose everything they need in the five minutes before a lecture, they think that Haydn’s use of the bassoon in his symphonies is freaking hilarious (which, coincidentally, it is). They are a work of art. Why, just today, one of my lovely professors said that listening to Chopin is like biting into a piece of Belgian chocolate and discovering what is on the inside. I love it! I love watching them ramble on and get all excited for the unusual modulation in a particular piece of music. I love when something happens and they, no joke, giggle to themselves with anticipation.

I wish I could explain the joy I get from studying music. I look around the room everyday thinking, “How did I get so lucky?” I have chosen a major where I get to talk about inverted chords and music history. I have a whole class where all I do is watch performances. Granted, I spend roughly ten hours a week in the practice room and also have to perform in that same class, but I still get to listen to music for an hour, ninety-nine percent of the time.  I feel so lucky. And then, when you add in the whole "studying in Ireland" thing, my mind just about blows up. How did this happen (besides the obvious answer, lots of hard work and dedication, blah, blah, blah)? I walk down the street with a skip in my step and a grin so wide people wonder what is wrong with me. But I cannot help it. I could not imagine a more exciting life to lead. I know that sounds so very naive; I could be doing so much more with my life - saving the rain forests, or puppies, or children in Africa. But I am so unbelievably happy leading this uneventful, non-Nobel Peace Prize life that I could not imagine a better place to be. Yesterday I looked up from my studies and was overwhelmed with joy. Every now and again, the reality of it all bombards my brain and I sit with a bewildered look on my face until my mind accepts the notion of studying abroad for a year and I go back to being happy in a little music bubble.

Well, I must go - i have to study up on Rossini and the Italian opera. (Oh snap, jealous yet?)

Kelsey