When Things Taken for Granted

Most human beings have an absolute and infinite capacity for taking things for granted. (Aldous Huxley)

Among things I hate in this world, people who take things for granted are one of them. When I see someone does it, either to me or to someone else, it usually starts me boiling. 

Lately I have been feeling that I'm outgrowing a friendship with a person, well, a friend, of course.We've known each other for quite a long time, and we've been through so-so-times and not-so-good-times but never at all time can I really tell if I can call this person my "best friend". But I haven't got a chance to decide until we grow more and more apart. She's really a kind person, but just like romance, sometime the chemistry just ran off and suddenly I got bored silly when I'm near her. Then my psychoanalytical mind starts to see that during the course of our friendship, she was taking me for granted. I didn't mind, at first because I knew she wasn't doing it on purpose. She didn't intentionally do it. And in a way, being taken for granted could mean a compliment. It means that somebody feels at home with you, no matter what they do. But so it happened, I got tired of accepting. And because I'm too lazy to tell her that she needs to change, after all it's easier for me to change, so I let it go.

But in this one particular circumstance, I'm not sure that I can let go that easy. 

I organized a concert this week. It was probably the worst concert I've ever organized in my entire concert-management career, and I surely hope it will be the last of such concert that I will do in my life. To this day I still feel disappointed, violated, frustrated and angry, as this stupid incident happened simply because the artists weren't prepared to give a performance. For me, it's a sign that they were taking things for granted. They assume that people, at least some people, will still think that their playing is awesome. They think that they can escape criticism. They think people, at least those who don't really understand classical music, won't be able to tell the difference between making music and just hitting notes on the piano. It's unforgivable.
 

I need not tell how bad the concert was. There is no miracle that will help an unprepared artist for a show, and it was unethical and close to immoral, if the so-called "artists" had indeed proper, adequate trainings in music and claimed themselves "professional". If I am allowed to compare this one with so many concerts by our young, amateur musicians in the city, who could also be quite excruciating sometimes, I would say this is almost inexcusable. In many cases, these youngsters don't have good music education, their techniques are limited, their (and a lot of time their teacher's) understanding of the repertoire could be very much on the surface, so it was only natural if the presentation isn't excellent. But even with their confined abilities, most of the time they prepare themselves very well, they practice very hard with everything they've got even if it's not a lot, and they still earn respect in the end. After that concert I lost not just respect but also trust in Indonesian "professional" musicians. How can I not? For me as organizer, what they've done is disrespectful to what I've done as the concert promoter. It's always an effort to bring people to concert hall, and local projects hardly bring any profit. But I did my part. They didn't do theirs. So how am I to trust them again? And sadly now, more and more "professionals" are doing this.

But as usual, there's always something to learn out of every calamity, a silver lining even in the darkest clouds. No one and nothing should be taken for granted. It is human, like every other thing in life, that when we're on top of things, when we're enjoying a position of high status, we tend to assume that we will stay there forever no matter what we do; that we can get away with everything, even if what we do is rubbish. I've seen in many cases that when we start to take things for granted, we're actually starting to lose them. 

As for me personally, I hope that I will learn to never take things for granted. Because even the smallest thing in life is a gift, and I'd like to return to the house of my Lord with the angels saying to me, “God blessed you with unique talents and abilities, and you have used those gifts well! You've taken nothing for granted; rather, you have worked hard to prepare for a challenging future.”

Allergy

Allergy: an abnormally high sensitivity to certain substances, such as pollens, foods, or microorganisms. Common indications of allergy may include sneezing, itching, and skin rashes.
(The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Third Edition copyright © 1992 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Electronic version licensed from INSO Corporation; further reproduction and distribution restricted in accordance with the Copyright Law of the United States. All rights reserved.)

I used to have asthma when I was a kid, then around my teenage years it disappeared completely, supposedly caused by more relenting behavior, but recently I got it back. Not only that, I got allergic reactions all over my skin when I ate something bad or breathed something strange or simply when it's too cold. Two days ago, it was so hot in class that I had to turn on the air-con while teaching. At one point I stood right down it then something stopped my breath, and that time it wasn't because my pupil pressed the wrong note. Ihe old air-con was blowing some germ right into my lungs and all of a sudden, I had trouble breathing and I incessantly coughed. My poor pupil was so confused and worried that I had to tell him to practice by himself for a few minutes while I tried to get some help for myself.

It started when I move things in my bedroom to get a more ample space. I succeeded, but afterward I began to wake up with itches all over my body and skin rashes. Born in a family with a strong allergic tradition, my parents helped analyze why I was suddenly so allergy-prone. My brother prescribed some medicine which worked to cure the reaction, but not-so-worked to prevent it from happening. My mum, as usual, blamed it on my nocturnal life-style and my dad, always the more temperate, said that I simply had to wake up earlier to soak myself in sunshine to cure them all. 

The GREAT thing about coping with allergies is, and I really don't mean to be ironic here, that it builds a connection between me (a.k.a my brain) and my body. I used to take my body for granted and never really care about it. Normally I don't really care about eating super-spicy street food which sometimes left a burning sensation in my stomach, or taking medicine to immediately cure a discomfort. But one day I was eating chicken with chili sauce when suddenly I lost my voice and felt funny in the throat. Two seconds later I couldn't breath. That time I really had to take my asthma tablet because it was bad. In another occassion, my brother came home and brought some spring rolls. I ate two and afterward I felt as is I've just swallow a ping-pong ball because there was this lump in my throat. I still breathed normally, but the lump just wouldn't go away. Then my brain stated to draw connection, with all those cases, and finally arrived at the conclusion that I'm allergic to not-so-fresh shrimps. The chili sauce had shrimp paste in it (made of bad shrimp, too!), and so the rolls. And now I've moved the piano in my class so I don't have to stand under the AC anymore. With the skin allergies, I made more experiments. Two weeks ago I moved my furnitures again, put my bed facing the window so I'd get a flowing air. I still woke up with red blotches. Then I cleaned my bookshelves and my books, and found out that the red blotches in my skin still existed although reduced in the morning. Ah-ha! My books, as I suspected, aren't liable. The dust on it: could be. Last week, I had my bed comforter washed and for a week I slept with no blanket on, and amazingly all the red blotches were gone. I then googled and found out that some materials in blankets,  maybe synthetic wool, could cause allergy. I now switched to cotton blanket and woke up clean.

I also begin exercising regularly now. From the medical web I subscribe myself to, people with allergy should raise their immune system through sport. In the past, sport for me was a complete non-sense and a time-waster. Why would I want to sweat myself when I can enjoy another one hour in my warm bed? But I (finally) tried to do it for a whole week and felt so much better afterward that it just changed my mind completely. 

These days I still got my allergies, but now I'm handling them more skillfully than ever. I even began to be able to persuade myself not to take any medication whenever a reaction occurs. Normally, for example with troubled breathing, I once restored my respiration to normal once the allergen, the culprit, was discarded off my system, by breathing fresh air, drinking as much water as I can, or taking a natural muscle-loosener like coffee. It's good to know that I'm now "together" with my body, that my brain is protecting it from diseases and trying to get it fit. After all, my body is my temple.

Facing Adversity

Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul? (John Keats)

Last day of April, 11 pm. I turned off my computer, put all papers I was working on in a pile, then looked at my May agenda. This is a normal thing I do at the end of each month, just to see how far (or how close) I am to a project. Then I broke into cold sweat. There I found my own writing, in red: HAYDN CONCERTO. The next morning, despite sleeping pills taken the previous night, I woke up at 4.30 and knew instantly that my days of turmoil will begin.

Silly me. 4 months ago, when the kids at University asked me to play the piano concerto, I wasn’t thinking 10 times before I said yes. All I thought at that time was: “Yay! Finally a chance to play with an orchestra!” Fun! Hip! Cool! But I should’ve known myself better. I should’ve known that I would take matters too seriously and not being casual about it. I should’ve known that I would spend at least two weeks before the concert becoming sick and sleepless.

Back in February, I could think of hundreds of good, proper reason why I should play. It would force me to practice regularly again: something I haven’t done in the past 6 years. It would send me back to the core of my education. It would prepare me mentally for smaller things…like school concerts, which still make me jittery. sometimes In principal, I was clear as crystal that this opportunity has a lot of good things in store.

The problem is, I forgot that I am teacherless at the moment. It’s a good thing that my best friend came to stay for a month, because then he’d be able to teach me and gave me the necessary technical instructions to conquer the piece. But as my practice session began, I found some difficulties, especially when I had to to very quick passages. A combination of anxiety and stress and excitement caused my arm muscles to strained and after at successive of quick notes, I would get pain in my lower arm. The worst thing is, my friend isn’t here anymore, so all I can have is a virtual advice on not to sprained my muscles. The third movement of the concerto presents another problem. It was so fast that my brain still couldn’t be able to cope with the running notes. Without instructions from the brain, my fingers just refuse to go by itself. Okay, fair enough.

However, having no one to come to every week to guide me really make me think of all aspects to solve my problems. I don’t think I ever practice with so much awareness before, and never in my life do I have to be so resourceful. Now when things go wrong or when some pain occurs, I stop and think what did I do wrong, and try to find another way of doing it. And I must say, practice has never been so fun and fulfilling!

I just hope that in time I can tell myself that everything’s going to be fine. It’s another mental exercise I have to do, besides all the physical efforts on the piano. I’ve printed in large fonth a quote from William Bryant that said, “Difficulty, my brethren, is the nurse of greatness—a harsh nurse, who roughly rocks her foster-children into strength and athletic proportion.” All I have to do is keep these words in mind.