Meep meep meep. My alarm clock goes off. I really don’t want to wake up, but I have to so, I groan and get off the bed to have breakfast downstairs. Today I have waffles with extra syrup and some coffee, a rare treat in our house. I quickly eat my waffles, gulp down my coffee and then head over to Juilliard. It’s located at 60 Lincoln Center Plaza in New York, New York.

I go to their pre college program with all of my fellow students. I arrive there at seven forty five, with about five minutes to spare. Most of the people in my class are already there. My teacher is warming up some students and running errands, such as copying music and getting an extra swig of coffee just before class starts.

“Good morning Ms. Schlimmer.”

“Good morning Mellie.”

“You did a great job on your performance last night.” Ms. Schlimmer remarks with a soft smile on her face.

A huge wave of relief rolls over me. It feels like a huge burden is lifted from your shoulders. My sulking turns into a normal stance, maybe even a proud one.

Then Ms. Schlimmer goes on to hand out a pile of new music for most people. I get two new pieces; one by Schubert, one by Liszt. Réminiscences de Don Juan, S. 418, My piece by Liszt, looks pretty hard, but my Schubert looks pretty easy. I can easily manage the notes within a week or two. Most of my classmates also performed last night in the same show, so more than three quarters of the group get new music. Only about four get a pile. In those four, three of them have been in the program for quite a while, and the fourth one has several big concerts planned for next year.

The day goes on pretty well and I have some stuff to sight read.

My daily schedule goes on like this:

7:50: Group class

9:00: Composition

10:00: Master class

11:30: Free time

12:00: Practice time

3:00: Aural and Sight reading class

4:00: Private lesson from Ms. Schlimmer

6:00: Chamber music

8:00: Go back home

It’s pretty long, but I go through this every day, so it’s not a big deal for me anyways. After school I have tutor, homework, and some more practice to do. I go to sleep at around 11 in the night. I sort of like my life, but wish it could be less busy and packed. Some of the times I am really pressured to do beyond what I can think I can do, such as auditioning for Juilliard when I'm only seven. It was really hard on me as I was a normal person leading a normal life like everyone else.

I also remember the piece I played when I was auditioning. It was the twinkle twinkle little star variations. I know it doesn't sound so hard.

You're probably thinking," Of course I can play that! Everyone can play that!"

Think again. The version you hear all of the time is a very condensed version of the theme Mozart wrote. Well, only the very first part, the original theme that get repeated over and over again in different versions is easy. After the first one, there are a bunch of running notes that keep running and never stop, to me. The hard part of this piece is that you have to make it very light and calm. This is the part I still struggle a bit even today. When I reflect on this, It makes me feel really lucky that I actually made it in.

Of course, with a bit (just kidding, a LOT) of effort, you can pull yourself together and practice Mozart for about two hours without tiring our your mind and hands with all of Mozart's "light" style. I'm one of the lucky ones that has graduated from having Mozart all of the time. So lucky me!

Unfortunately, I still have some Mozart then and there, but it isn't so bad as having at least one Mozart piece that's bothering you so bad that you can't even do anything but practice it until you got it. In chamber I do Mozart with the rest of my group.

"Mila, you need to practice right now." Mom crooned in front of my door.

"Ok mom, I'll be there in a sec."


I slide down the spiral staircase and head into the piano room. The piano room is an large, empty room that has several bookcases for my piano books and a grand Steinway and Sons piano. I've had this piano for about four years already. I have played everything imaginable on here, stretched it's limits, and have a deep relationship with it. If you have a good relationship with a piano, it tends to conform to what you want the music to be. If it doesn't, then chances are that you need to play more on it. However, if you wind up on a piano, that you really can't play on (ie: keys way too heavy, too resonant, too soft, won't play what you want to, does the exact opposite) then it's just tough luck.

I set my hand on the whitish yellowish keys and start warming up with a full round of scales, arpeggios, etc. Then I move on to finger excersices. All of this takes me about an hour or so. It's crazy, but once you get to that level, it's necessary. I walk over to to bookcases, pick out a book, and then choose a random piece in it. I flipped to one piece that looks easy to me. I do a full run through, playing it with a few mistakes and takes me about fifteen minutes to get this piece done with. I head on to the new pieces I was handed today. Then the unexpected happens.

I start playing this, and it's feeling pretty good. As I progress through the piece, I start to understand the true meaning of the piece, the understanding, the story Liszt is trying to tell. I get why I got into Juilliard, why people get all teary eyed when they hear me perform.

It's because I'm so good at conveying the piece, bringing out the true meaning of the song, it makes people cry. And I'm serious about this. Every time, no matter what it is, a recital, or a normal day outside my house, every time I'm done with a piece, there's always at least one person, a passerby, a prodigy, whatever, that alway that looks up with tears welling up in their eyes.

I get that many pianist get into Juilliard because their fingers just fit into the piano and they play so many extremely hard pieces that nobody, even Juilliard can ignore. I was one of the special ones. My fingers were like the average person that has about three years of experience. It was the magic in my fingertips that gave the automatic ticket to Juilliard.

All of those thought course into my mind and tears start forming in my eyes. I choke them back and force myself to complete the piece before I do anything else. This is a great day for me, even though it's like ten in the night and I'm really tired with my mom yelling at me all day long and with a pile of homework still to do.

All of a sudden, it's like I have been sucked into the piece and I see the story playing through my mind. I see a little boy, with ragged clothes, in bad weather. The thunder booms as the little boy cries in the rains. It starts to pours now. The boy's crying crying turns into sobbing, then choking. The weather turns even more violent. Lightning strikes all over the place. The whole place suddenly turns sunny. There are bird chirping in the meadow that sits right in front of the boy. Apparently, this boy turns out to be a good singer and is singing this simple song. The bird imitate and add a little song of of their own into the boy's original song. Let's name this boy James. Now James is walking back with a knapsack of some kind. The birds sing a song that ranges greaty with arpeggios, scales, and some of the tune. The bird are following James home. He starts to sing again, and the birds add something little then and there. James picks up the pace and the birds are chasing him while singing and begging him not to go. The birds find out James is just playing a game and they are playfully chasing him now. The chase becomes faster and faster until the birds catch him. James evades the bird and tiptoes outside. The birds finds out and are setting out to find James. James is walking and singing the same tone. Then it's that same ending that all grand plays have.

It's so intriguing and awesome I can't wait to play it again. I do a full run through of the piece several times, each taking me about fifteen minutes until my mom is yelling at me yet again

"MILA HUFFMAN YOU GET DOWN HERE THIS SECOND!!!!!!!!!!"

"Ok, ok, I will."

I open the door and my mom is standing out there with a dirty look on her face.

"What have you been doing there making all that racket when you are supposed to be doing your homework?"

"Come on. I was so sucked into this piece that I totally needed to play it a few more times."

"Yeah right about the I totally needed to part."

"I mean really."

"Now you need to go do your homework and get your stuff all together for tomorrow. You have math and science and SAT and compostition tutors tomorrow; blah blah blah."

"Fine I'll do it then."

I glare at her and she shoots a dirty look back at me. Doesn't matter anymore. We're equal.

I go up to my room and organize my big homework pile into six piles. I first do my composition. That's easy. I jot down a passage of notes for the oboe in a couple of minutes. I'm done with that within about ten minute. Then comes the SAT. Ugh, ugh double ugh. I hate SAT tutor. There are so many word to learn and memorize, my head is about to explode with words, note, and homework! But anyways, I still force myself to get done with all of my homework in an hour and a half. Now it's eleven thirty. I shove all of my homework aside and get ready for bed.

As I lie in my bed, I reflect on what I really do, and how I got to this point. Truth is, it's been really rough these few years. I just want a whiteboard cleaner and wipe off everything that has been my past life and start with a clean slate.

It's another day at Juilliard, and I'm getting sick of my life. I just want to tell my mom that I need a clean slate again. I tell her this when I'm on my way home from Juilliard.

"Mom, I need to tell you something."

"Yes, what do you need to tell me?"

"I'm sort of getting sick of my life, so is it ok if I quit Juilliard for a little bit and start over?"

Mom shoots me an are you sure look.

"Yes I'm sure Mom."

"Well honey, you've been here for so long. You should juste keep going and have a good future."

"Come on, please?"

"Fine then, you can quit, but you will soon find out the consequences."

To Be Continued...