I am on Youtube

… finally?

It had been almost a year since I contemplated posting some YouTube videos of me playing the piano because it seemed everyone is doing it these days, and plus I would obviously love to share my work with a wider audience. But the YouTube account that I set up had been gathering dust and spider webs, possibly because of my round the clock busyness and my reluctance to get into the whole video and audio editing mess (I am a perfectionist, so my videos, if I post them, had to be perfect!)

Today I spent one solid day to get some videos up and running. So what prompted such a change in behavior? Well, last Saturday I did some piano performance and was asked if I am on YouTube. I said I did not. And while I said that I made a note to myself that it is about time I do just that.

Preparing the videos were …arduous, and the mere thought of it was enervating: Converting videos, editing audio, transferring files from the thumb drive and SD card, restarting the entire computer three times when the computer refuses to acknowledge the SD card as a hardware, constructing a video in Windows Movie Maker. That lastly mentioned task truly deserves a special mention. Windows Movie Maker decided to make life difficult for me by refusing cooperate. It freezes the audio and video at its will. I literally felt like torching the entire computer, throw all items on my desk to the ground, screaming my lungs out, “WHY WON’T THE SOFTWARES JUST … WORK??”

Somehow I persevered and ended up doing lots of extra, tedious work. The videos are up. No subscribers, not many view counts yet. But hey, Rome wasn’t build in one day, and once I figured out how to oil things up, “streamline” the process and get efficient – from the black and white keys to YouTube, I am hopeful that things will change. Or you can contribute to my number of subscribers and view counts by clicking on my YouTube channel and viewing the videos. And a comment or two make my day too!

The King And I

9.30am – the watch on my left wrist read. It has been 9.30am for quite some time. I wanted the performance to be over as quickly as possible, but as with all bad times, every second in the backstage seemed like an eternity. I stood mechanically in the backstage while resting the violin on my left shoulder complete with complex wirings of a remote microphone. But my calm façade was misleading.

Increasingly I grew conscious of the air gushing in and out of my nostrils as I recalled the grandiose reception for “the man” that I witnessed earlier of the day. Ushers bowed on their knees as he graced the red carpet accompanied by sweet sounding gamelan music. He then stood before the edge of the VIP viewing chamber. As the police marching band performed the national anthem the audiences below the VIP viewing chamber realigned themselves to front him, a dramatic scene not unlike the movie poster of the Disney’s Lion King depicting a lion roaring above the cliff while its subjects concede its authority.

Male Appeal

On two separate occasions, people were surprised to learn that I do not have a girlfriend. I was accused of not trying hard enough, because I play the piano and the violin (and recently the saxophone) and “girls have a soft spot for male musicians”, or so I was told.

My quick mental cogitation suggest that such phenomena, if indeed exist, stemmed from the cultural stereotype of these male musicians. The archetypal male pianist – so often perpetuated by mass media, especially in the form of Taiwanese idol drama or Korean melodrama – is quiet, introverted, yet expressive. He channeled his innermost feelings from his bosom, whether anger or joy, with sheer decorum and lyricism – through the keys of the piano. The same can be said of the male violinist, although “expressive” deserved an emphasis since violin is known to be the most expressive of musical intruments. I would also go as far as saying the male violinist emanates a sense of profundity, aptitude, and prodigiousness, given that the violin is said to be the most difficult instrument to master.

The Big Bang

In an event of aberration, I worked at the Mandarin Oriental today. Mandarin Oriental was where I began as a pianist. It was the first domino, which sets off a chain of events which otherwise would not have occurred: play the saxophone, change to a better violin teacher, learn under a jazz piano maestro, upgrade laptop, buy books, groomed myself, buy clothes and accessories, play on a 9 feet Steinway and Sons grand piano, etc, etc. It all started in Mandarin Oriental some two years ago.

So today was a reflective day. I recalled having arrived late by train for the meeting with the agent at Mandarin Oriental on my first day. It was a Friday. I quickly changed into a white shirt, bow tie, black pants and catch this: a dark blue blazer from mydays as a school prefect. (Which compels me to issue a fashion faux pas warning!) I put on some hair gel and tweaked all my hair to the back of my head, leaving my forehead bald. And finally, I put on my glasses – the nerdy thick frame one – just in time for my scheduled performance at 3pm.

On Becoming a Saxophonist

I found myself counting the minutes. My saxophone teacher is scheduled to arrive at 8.30pm. By 8pm I am officially paralyzed, doing nothing except browsing through saxophone pictures on Google Image over and over again and peering over my shoulder to track the minute hand on the clock against the wall.

He arrived much earlier than promised, which helped tame my anxiety tremendously. He then retrieved a brown rectangular box and handed it to me. It was heavy, but I am not complaining. I stood still for a few seconds to savour the moment. It was a milestone.

Four Years

Four years ago, I wanted so badly to become a songwriter. I thought that was something I could do better than others. So I emailed a producer and asked him about becoming a songwriter. The how, who, and what.

Write good songs, and let the right person listen to them, he said. Gladly he offered to listen to my compositions. Elated I was, that I anchored before my music notation software for a several months and began churning out the melody, then the harmony, then the rhythm. Thinking dreams could be kicked started so easily in a matter of a few audio clips sent as email attachments, I was crushed.

A Business Card, a RM50 Bill, and a An Invitation

Half enthralled at the avalanche while struggling to maintain my decorum, I clamped the edges of his business card with my thumb and index finger, searching for a hint to provide an answer to his invitation. 

Momentarily, my imagination possessed my mind. A “yes” would potentially fly me to parts of “Western Europe”, sitting before a grand piano whose posh ebony draped with vivid reflections of the rising Eiffel Tower or the grand vista of the Palace of Westminster. His generosity, evident in the RM50 bill enveloping his business card which I had hesitantly accepted was tempting for a nod. 

To Apply or Not to Apply, That is the Question.

As my last name does not spell Gates, Trump, Buffett, or Hilton (much to my dismay) getting money for college is ultimately one of my greatest concerns. This is aggravated by the policy (called “need-aware policy”) of the university of my choice to take into account my financial status in making admission decision.

Jottings from the Player’s Seat

Silence. Silence?
The decibel meter recorded no significant motion, but the players begged to differ, as they sensed a huge surge of internal decibels. Tunes that would ensue played in their minds, together with the rhythmic pulse of anticipation to slice the external atmosphere with oscillating sound waves.

A Fiddler’s Conundrum (Part 2)

Reeling from the harsh realization the sorry state of the violin on which the author plays had disadvantaged him, he was overwhelmed by hatred for his own life for more disadvantages that he soon discovered.

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Eyes on other violinists of the orchestra, it is usually hard for me to pay attention to the position of my fingers on the finger board and the string on which my bow is sweeping across. The tunes are played with jealousy and envy originated from the bowels of my heart. These 13 or 14-year-olds can play better violin than I do. Some had taken the diploma, some had played in famous places. I was caught in an inferiority complex – I have not even started playing the violin when I was of that age.

During a KLPAC concert last week, I was both intrigued and impressed by the piano performances of one of the pianist. Scrutinizing his profile I discovered that he started playing piano at the age of four. I started at the age of THREE. He studied under some of the most famous piano teachers who themselves won competitions and awards while at the same time I took my lessons in a small town music school under some teachers whose names were beyond my recollection. Today he’s 21. I’m 19. He won more than 10 piano competitions, both locally and regionally, while I am a nobody.

I went for the declarative – my personal circumstances had limited myself. I could have attain similar attainments had I been given the chance to be the apprentice of famous teachers, to learn the violin at a younger age, to be able to attend master classes by renowned musicians, to be equipped with better instruments set. I lamented injustice. I questioned why a person’s “wealth-being” is increasingly an important determinant in his/her success.

I despair. I was wrong about the world. I expected tenacity and hard work to contribute to one’s success. I made an effort to practice playing the piano every single day – except I was doing it all alone, without anyone to guide me. While I managed to make some money with this effort that I’ve put in, the Type A person in me felt I could have been further. And when I realized the dollar sign starts coming into the picture, I knew I was wrong about the world.

Shamefully, I blamed fate. I asked why I was born to this family that does not feed me with a silver spoon and a golden fork, buy me a decent violin, get me a better piano, get me top teachers and instruct them to turn me a child prodigy. I sank deeper into the quicksand of despair, knowing that I could not be as competitive as I can be, as competitive as some people out there.

As this feeling of unfulfilment persisted, my conscience chastised me for my lack of gratitude. It plays me the moving pictures of the suffering of the Hmong people in Laos. It captures scenes of maltreatments of foreign maids at my very own home. It replays the voices of my friends who had express admiration for my privilege of attending music lessons, albeit not the ones conducted by famous people.

And I realized, I was lucky.

I wasn’t very fortunate, but I wasn’t too unfortunate too. I am sandwiched in the middle. I shuddered to think I could be born to some other bodies that fell under the “unfortunate” bracket. Birth, is arbitrary. I could have been more unfortunate, but by chances, I narrowly escaped the greater sufferings.

With a heart feeling contrite and repentant, reality and rationalism further reminded me that no matter how much my personal circumstances had became my preoccupation, things will never get better. Unless you bring in ridiculous stuffs like winning a lottery, getting the seeds of the money tree, and discovering that I have links to the British or Brunei royal family. Because some things are beyond my control. We cannot control birth. By chance I ended up in the body of Aaron Lo. That is it. The entire issue of hating myself and blaming my circumstances, hence, does not arise.

Suddenly, the conundrum that shrouded me made way. Like a rainbow that manifests itself after a severe storm. Like the sun that shines after darkness. I cannot control birth, but I can control what to do with the resources showered on me. I can make full use of what I have. I can learn things on my own, with additional effort, determination, hardwork, will, and heart – because these really are the things that are in my hands, that should really be my preoccupation.

I learn to appreciate my existing resources, for I know too well how it felt not having resources showered on the “fortunate” bracket. The fact that I am disadvantaged, will always remind me of the importance of hardwork, conscientiousness, and tenacity, and caution me against mediocrity, complacency, indolence, arrogance and prodigality.

As I placed the violin on my jaw and started bowing on its strings, I played the tune of gratitude and ebullience. As if I am the sublimely proud owner of a RM380 violin.