Play the following clip first and set the atmosphere.
No, it’s not the final time we will see each other for something which is school related – we’ve still got exams, Speech Night and rehearsals, and I would say final assembly, except that sadly, I won’t be attending. And there will be subsequent and appropriate blog posts for those events.
However, this one will get the ball rolling. And the first thing I want to say is thank you. Seeing as a large portion of you are musically-inclined, and as I met you as a result of said musical-inclination, this will be largely music related.
Thank you for making me a part of the family, especially for those kids who took me in at the end of year nine, who Facebook-stalked me, that piano family who I’ve had such fun times with for the past two years or so for which I’ve known you. It’s slightly daunting having to lead what remains, and what will always remain, of your legacy. Slightly frightening to be the oldest (although we all know Shuyu was nowhere near the oldest. Ever). But we will try. Thank you for inviting me into that world in the first place.
It’s been amazing making music with you guys for the past two years (I won’t count most of year nine cause I didn’t actually know anyone then, which is something I missed out on). There’s something in performing, in creating something with other people that just can’t be found anywhere else. Yes, I’m getting lame and cliché, but clichés have to start from some grain of truth. And it’s only because so many people realise it as a truth that it becomes cliché.
That adrenalin rush of performing, the embarrassment of screwing up, the elation after something so perfectly successful that you just want to play it over and over. Thank you so much for letting me be a part of that. It’s something which I myself will miss once I leave, and I’ll miss having you guys around to be a part of it.
Above all, there are a few which I would like to give a shout out to. Flic, you mentorship and guidance, and how you freak out and manage to coordinate everything anyway. It’s slightly amusing watching you freak out with such vehemence. Ange, you popping out to have that short walk down the stairs after I’ve had spesh, that randomly walking up to me and going “SRASHIIIEEEE. SEND ME ALMOND. ALMOND”. You really are a very grandmotherly figure.
And Lydia, my piano buddy, aunt turned adoptive-mother, who will most likely never read this because she doesn’t “EVER GO ON FACEBOOK. LIKE, EVER”, so I’ll assume she’s not really into blogs either. But, wow, my music buddy, you are amazing. I’ve enjoyed music so damn much because you’ve been in my class, because of that crazy passion you throw into it. Le Bal was amazing, and it was one of the best musical experiences I’ve ever had. It’s one of those performances you want to repeat again and again. Although we probably shouldn’t, cause then would make us tire of it, which may lead us to further radical changes beyond the dramatisation of the intro. But that’s beside the point. The point is, you’re amazing. That’s the point.
You’re all amazing, especially those kids for whom those two rows of seats behind the piano are reserved at Speech Night rehearsals who I haven’t mentioned. Anna, Shuyu. Thank you for the fun and good times, for those crazy insane bits. For your offers of tutorship, Shuyu. I remember walking to Middle School Soirée in year nine and singing the Speech Night medley at the top of our lungs like drunkards.
I remember screwing up so badly at Speech Night at year nine, but no one thought any worse of me, and that was the best which that shy little year nine with the could have ever asked from anyone.
I remember all those epic piano ensembles of Ms Mik’s, and playing Three Blind Mice which was absolutely crazy. Romeo and Juliet and that frantic changing to vibraphone.
I remember that picnic, that perfect day sitting on the grass in the “hammer-throw-man-park”, eating chicken and laughing at Mandy’s “scones”, and that melting cake.
I remember Wednesday, with us all crying because we never wanted to let go. And those excited texts which followed after we found out the results.
Thank you for letting me share that excitement with you.
The piece is from Up, which you may have deduced from the balloons and footage and stuff which I assume will be on the clip as soon as I find it. If said images are not present, apologies. It’s called Stuff We Did, which is rather appropriate. Looking back, and going forward. So as the final strains of the music die away (I hope they haven’t died away yet. And that you aren’t a quick reader and therefore the music has only just reached its peak), I wish you all the best. You’re all incredibly talented people, and you will go far.
My love goes to you all. And I will most likely see you very soon. But I felt it was appropriate, seeing as the year 12s’ last day is all over the internet, blogs, Facebook and such. And I did need to say thank you.
Thank you.
However, this one will get the ball rolling. And the first thing I want to say is thank you. Seeing as a large portion of you are musically-inclined, and as I met you as a result of said musical-inclination, this will be largely music related.
Thank you for making me a part of the family, especially for those kids who took me in at the end of year nine, who Facebook-stalked me, that piano family who I’ve had such fun times with for the past two years or so for which I’ve known you. It’s slightly daunting having to lead what remains, and what will always remain, of your legacy. Slightly frightening to be the oldest (although we all know Shuyu was nowhere near the oldest. Ever). But we will try. Thank you for inviting me into that world in the first place.
It’s been amazing making music with you guys for the past two years (I won’t count most of year nine cause I didn’t actually know anyone then, which is something I missed out on). There’s something in performing, in creating something with other people that just can’t be found anywhere else. Yes, I’m getting lame and cliché, but clichés have to start from some grain of truth. And it’s only because so many people realise it as a truth that it becomes cliché.
That adrenalin rush of performing, the embarrassment of screwing up, the elation after something so perfectly successful that you just want to play it over and over. Thank you so much for letting me be a part of that. It’s something which I myself will miss once I leave, and I’ll miss having you guys around to be a part of it.
Above all, there are a few which I would like to give a shout out to. Flic, you mentorship and guidance, and how you freak out and manage to coordinate everything anyway. It’s slightly amusing watching you freak out with such vehemence. Ange, you popping out to have that short walk down the stairs after I’ve had spesh, that randomly walking up to me and going “SRASHIIIEEEE. SEND ME ALMOND. ALMOND”. You really are a very grandmotherly figure.
And Lydia, my piano buddy, aunt turned adoptive-mother, who will most likely never read this because she doesn’t “EVER GO ON FACEBOOK. LIKE, EVER”, so I’ll assume she’s not really into blogs either. But, wow, my music buddy, you are amazing. I’ve enjoyed music so damn much because you’ve been in my class, because of that crazy passion you throw into it. Le Bal was amazing, and it was one of the best musical experiences I’ve ever had. It’s one of those performances you want to repeat again and again. Although we probably shouldn’t, cause then would make us tire of it, which may lead us to further radical changes beyond the dramatisation of the intro. But that’s beside the point. The point is, you’re amazing. That’s the point.
You’re all amazing, especially those kids for whom those two rows of seats behind the piano are reserved at Speech Night rehearsals who I haven’t mentioned. Anna, Shuyu. Thank you for the fun and good times, for those crazy insane bits. For your offers of tutorship, Shuyu. I remember walking to Middle School Soirée in year nine and singing the Speech Night medley at the top of our lungs like drunkards.
I remember screwing up so badly at Speech Night at year nine, but no one thought any worse of me, and that was the best which that shy little year nine with the could have ever asked from anyone.
I remember all those epic piano ensembles of Ms Mik’s, and playing Three Blind Mice which was absolutely crazy. Romeo and Juliet and that frantic changing to vibraphone.
I remember that picnic, that perfect day sitting on the grass in the “hammer-throw-man-park”, eating chicken and laughing at Mandy’s “scones”, and that melting cake.
I remember Wednesday, with us all crying because we never wanted to let go. And those excited texts which followed after we found out the results.
Thank you for letting me share that excitement with you.
The piece is from Up, which you may have deduced from the balloons and footage and stuff which I assume will be on the clip as soon as I find it. If said images are not present, apologies. It’s called Stuff We Did, which is rather appropriate. Looking back, and going forward. So as the final strains of the music die away (I hope they haven’t died away yet. And that you aren’t a quick reader and therefore the music has only just reached its peak), I wish you all the best. You’re all incredibly talented people, and you will go far.
My love goes to you all. And I will most likely see you very soon. But I felt it was appropriate, seeing as the year 12s’ last day is all over the internet, blogs, Facebook and such. And I did need to say thank you.
Thank you.
It pretty much made my life when the end credits of Up included a few bars of the main theme. (Sorry for the irrelevant comment.)
ReplyDeleteI don't even want to think about being the oldest year level next year. It doesn't make sense to me that the year 12s won't be there :(