Calling it Quits.

Back when I was young and when I was still innocent and thought that the world was my oyster, I once wanted to be a musician.

I used to play the keyboard, the guitar, and the tenor saxophone. Not so good with the saxophone but I was, once upon a time, quite accomplished with the keyboard and the guitar. Got up to Grade 7 on the keys and with the guitar, it was mostly self taught and that I got to quite a respectable level. With the keys, I was a one man band. I was the drums, the bass, the guitars, the piano, whatever you needed. And I provided vocals. Erring on the side of arrogance, I was quite the musical talent. 

I wanted to be a musician. I thought that I had everything planned out. 

I would finish high school and the join a music college in Sydney. For AUS$20,000 for 3 years study, I get to pick an instrument of my choice, train in it for the next three years, do gigs, song compositions and when I graduate, I would join the music company that was affiliated to the music college. I thought I was sorted. 

The biggest problem was telling the Higher Authorities about my plan. To be more specific, the male counterpart. Knowing that the female counterpart won't agree, I thought that maybe, you know, the whole male bonding thing would be good so I let down my guard and told him that "I would really like to pursue this music opportunity further in Sydney. I outlined the plans to him, I told him about my contingency plans, part time work during school and classes and getting paid to do gigs or tutor music, and then when I am 20, I'll already be working. How awesome would that be, right?

The one thing I didn't quite foresee was that the marriage bond was probably stronger than male bonding periods. 

I was sat down and told in no uncertain terms that they were VERY disappointed in me and that there was NO way in hell that I was going to end up a musician and that no matter what I wanted to do after high school, I was going to be dragged kicking and screaming to Kiwiland. 

Great.

There was one specific incident though, that stopped me from playing altogether. It was a gig (if you would call it a gig) and out of a hall that could fit about 350 people had 10 people in total. My guitarist was fscking up with trying to do bar chords when he could have done normal chords and I just about lost it there and then. 

So I came home and I told the female Higher Authority, "You're right. I quit."

Ever since that time, I have never handled any musical instrument seriously again. Oh, I occasionally pick up the guitar and strum a few chords and sing a few tunes but never seriously again. I think my infatuation (or so I call it) faded with time and now, its just something I used to do in the past. A lot of fond memories, for sure, but its just that. A memory.

So why the elongated wordy verbal diarrhoea post?

'Cos I'm quitting dancing. 

There. I said it. 

I've got one more pair of dance shoes and its been completely ripped to shreds. The leather has split from the soles and I'm just able to turn in it still. 

I'll have one more dance and then my shoes go into the rubbish bin. That's it. 

Would it be an infatuation, this thing about dancing? Perhaps its just as crazy as wanting to become a musician. Me and my amateurish skills on the guitar or the keys, or playing the saxophone while puffed out, and wanting to make something amazing happen with music and notes and composition.

So what if I've done a few performances? A few choreographies? How much do I want it? 

Not enough, I guess.

Maybe its time for me to grow up and stop playing games.