Self-Indulgence

Here comes a big spoonful thereof.

So the talent show went fine. I was more nervous than I thought I would be - the place was jammed, 500 people or more. And they had us all sitting in the "green room" watching the feed on a TV before we would go on. It was surreal - all of us nervous, probably, and watching each person march out to the spotlights and then march back in. We'd cheer them when they came in, tell them they did well. Even if they hadn't.

That very afternoon, right as school got out, I had gone down to a nice park area and had a jog, then come back to the school and eaten. Then I just wandered around a bit, killing time. I went down to the theater, where they were doing sound checks, and where Peter and Beth, two teachers who are former musicians, were practicing. They're really, really good. Competent musiciansd, who'd come up with an original song about the school's mascot. And I have to say, sitting there listening to them, I got a sinking feeling. I thought I was pretty good, but these guys were amazing. To my ears, anyway.

I went back up and ran over my song in my head, and wondered about a particular little "zap" sound that Latin guitar players seem to get when they play. I'd never been able to figure out how to do it. So I went to my room and went to Youtube and did a search to see if there was anyone who gave a tutorial on such things. And I found this guy. If you watch, at about 3:09, he shows exactly how it's done:



Strange, but that's the first guy I'd ever see explain that little move. I went down to where my guitar was (the teacher's cafeteria) and tried it out. I had a bit of a hard time doing it in a natural way, but after a few minutes I more or less had it. And I had this strange feeling that I should incorporate it into the song I was going to play.

So the long and the short of it is that when I made that long, but extremely short, walk from the greenroom to backstage and out into the lights, I was about to play this song in a way which was more authentic, but which I'd never really run through completely. Which added to the nerves.

I heard a female student call out, as I settled in to my chair, which I'd had to carry out with me: "Mister Johnson, you rock my world!" Others around her laughed, and she did too, and so did I. It was very nice of her - it really helped to break the glass around the moment.

And y'know what? That little rasgueo I'd just learned kind of worked. Once it started not working (which was probably hard to notice, since if it doesn't work, all you hear is the chord being played), I stopped trying to work it in. And it seemed to be pretty well received by the Publikum. I got a nice round of applause, very warm and seemingly sincere. Much louder than I expected - that was a lot of people.

The nicest moment, though, was when I came back into the greenroom. All my assembled brothers in arms - a lot of students of mine, others I know but haven't ever taught, many I don't know, along with a few faculty - hit me with an absolute wall of sustained, vigorous applause. I grinned and nodded and said "thank you", but really couldn't adequately thank them for how nice that made me feel.

The students were amazing throughout. No matter how painful or long or boring the things on stage might have seemed, no one - No one, not once, never - made anyone feel bad. Everybody was cheered on, and some of the warbliest, stock-still, nervous performances of the night were met with the fiercest applause. Everybody seemed to know how much it had taken for those particular people to stand up there and pull their chests open and expose their beating hearts like they did, and their peers and friends rewarded them with blazing firehoses of affirmation. I stood in the back and smiled and cheered and watched any number of kids go through what was quite possibly the most transformative moment in their lives. It felt like a real privilege to witness it.

And Peter and Beth absolutely brought the house down at the end.

In other news, I'm tired, and I'm going to bed.