Hey everyone,

A few days from now, on July 1, the Lasallian Youth Orchestra—of which I am a part—will be hosting its annual concert: Forte. This iteration is special because Forte is finally returning live after being forced online for three years due to the pandemic.

This event has been in the works for half a year, and preparations have ramped up in the past month. It’s been a delight to make more and more friends within the organization as a result of the preparations. Although, to say things are hectic would be an understatement. I’m barely hanging on myself as I try to balance this with my academics. Hence, my lack of newsletter releases.

Nevertheless, I have incessantly been talking about the concert with friends, people at school, and on my social media accounts. When given an audience, however big or small, I fervently tell people about the incredible musicians taking the stage and the pieces that will be played.

I invite people to watch not because of the sleep and academics I have sacrificed, not because I expect my friends to support my endeavors, and not because I want my efforts to be acknowledged.

I invite people to watch because I believe, with my whole heart, that this is a celebration of music worth experiencing.

How about you, what will you be playing?

A pause. Hesitation.

If only it were a question to which I had no response. If only I had the answer that most people expected. If only I could maintain the facade and escape the confines of reality.

Behind my passionate promotions and felicitous demeanor lies the truth.

Ah, I won’t be performing.

Then melancholy.

Even after dedicating my utmost effort and energy, giving up several hours, and being forced into an executive role on short notice, I will not be met with the comfort of a stage. I will not have an audience to applaud me. As part of the management team, I will be an afterthought for most.

Then yearning.

Rehearsals, performances, and jamming sessions engulf me in admiration and desire. Upon hearing the arrangement for the Undertale medley, my tears cascaded uncontrollably. And that was not the last time. Even as I dance in a symphony of my own endeavors, for a moment, I long for nothing more than to once again face the lights alongside them, to relive the euphoria of harmony and expression.

Then frustration.

I failed two auditions. Why am I not practicing more? How can I distract myself with the banalities of life when I could be refining my craft? Can I truly say I cherish music when, in arduous periods, my practice time is always the first to falter, the first to be replaced?

Then regret.

I shouldn’t have taken that break away from music during the pandemic. I shouldn’t have avoided classical training for all those years. I should have stuck with the guitar. I should have taken music more seriously.

Then acceptance.

This is the result of the choices I have made throughout my life. To dwell on them is futile. I am not good enough. I can only practice more. There is no other way around it. But I am already spinning more plates than I can handle. To give my musicality the time it deserves, to perform the works I dream of, I will have to drop one—perhaps several. Decisions must be made. I cannot do it all.

As I am on track to take a higher, albeit still non-playing position, within the orchestra, these feelings may remain for a while longer. Only time will tell if I choose to audition yet again.

In spite of my storm of emotions, I will continue to spread and indulge in the art form that has become my home. I may have realized my limits, but I am not conceding. I don't think I'll ever let it go. The stage may continue to elude me, the performance of a lifetime might not arrive, and I may never become the musician in my dreams.

But a musician I will always be.

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If you’ve come this far in the piece, I thank you dearly for reading. This was actually supposed to be a longer essay for my blog, but all my exposition and meticulousness caused by my entire musical life story dragged the essay. I was not searching for consolation or pity, merely catharsis.

As a result, I wrote this piece on a whim, starting only last night. My writing here may be unpolished, given the short timeframe, but I wanted to release it sooner rather than later, while my emotions were at their peak. Plus, the topic would hardly be relevant if I posted this after the concert.

Have a wonderful day (or night) ahead of you, I hope you enjoyed this ramble of mine.

All the best,
- Enrique :)

P.S. After posting this, I realize the piece is awfully dramatic. I might come off as ungrateful or unhappy. But I really do love the orchestra: my position, the work I do, and the people I am able to meet. I guess the stress and anxiety just took quite the hold.

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Quick note: There’s a good chance you found this in the promotions or social section of your inbox. If so, I’m surprised you even found this. But more importantly, if you want to have any future emails from me land in your primary inbox, simply drag this email to the “Primary” inbox section. I’d greatly appreciate it if you could take the time to do this, but only do it if you want to!

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