I would really appreciate some opinion, mainly on the quality of this essay, suggestions to improve are greatly appreciated, thanks!
Two husky men carrying a large brown box rang the doorbell-exciting! Bearing the traditional ignorance that comes with having lived for just over a decade, I had no clue what was in it until my older brother confided in me that he was attending his first piano class that he was going to use the new digital piano to practice. Unfortunately, that aspiration didn't take him very far and after not more than two "useless" lessons he decided he wasn't going to pursue it further. In a way it was godsend: (not that he had quit but that he had ever started) after he abandoned piano playing with a bad taste in the mouth it was up to me to make use of the expensive instrument. It began for me as a mischievous pastime, pressing keys in a haphazard fashion. Later I began recreating simple melodies from songs that struck my fancy. From then on conquering each song more difficult than the previous was a thrilling and gratifying adventure for me.
Just like the Caucasian who, surrounded by Indians in the Hindu temple every Diwali, stood out for more than one reason, I too seemed a foreigner to the trade. While the white man made an effort to slip into the festival covertly, his prayer rang more spiritedly than the more belonging Indians. I never had formal instruction nor did I know how to read music, so it was natural that I lived on a separate world to the common pianist. I was left cluelessly scratching my head when someone asked me if what I played was "in B major or B minor"; I developed my own terms for the same concepts, granting me a different perspective and above all a priceless sense of discovery to each new idea of sound.
I grudgingly spent a summer chained to the piano bench learning to decipher the scrawl of music notes on an emotionless 'staff'. But with the ability to read music and with my perspective from the less efficient means of learning a piece I realized an important thing: it's not the piano piece that reflects the sheet music, rather the sheet is an adaptation of the piece itself. It was a grueling task, listening to the piece hundreds of times to find every single note, but watching every gesture of the pianist and every impulse of the piano accounted for the reason my piece purportedly "actually sounds like the composer played it!" I always attributed the rich and warm sounds of a pianist's playing to the price tag on the piano, but my learning has brought me to realize that behind the commonly tossed around "posture" and "tempo" there exist a dimension of subtleties. The ink on a sheet of paper cannot document the precious nuances that enliven a piece of music, instead they tap into the pianist's innate sense of euphony-without which piano is dull and mechanical. For the past eight years, the melodious composition and first-hand discovery of art of piano have made me want to come back the black bench every day. (516 words)
I'd mostly like to know how it is as is, actual correction is additional.
Two husky men carrying a large brown box rang the doorbell-exciting! Bearing the traditional ignorance that comes with having lived for just over a decade, I had no clue what was in it until my older brother confided in me that he was attending his first piano class that he was going to use the new digital piano to practice. Unfortunately, that aspiration didn't take him very far and after not more than two "useless" lessons he decided he wasn't going to pursue it further. In a way it was godsend: (not that he had quit but that he had ever started) after he abandoned piano playing with a bad taste in the mouth it was up to me to make use of the expensive instrument. It began for me as a mischievous pastime, pressing keys in a haphazard fashion. Later I began recreating simple melodies from songs that struck my fancy. From then on conquering each song more difficult than the previous was a thrilling and gratifying adventure for me.
Just like the Caucasian who, surrounded by Indians in the Hindu temple every Diwali, stood out for more than one reason, I too seemed a foreigner to the trade. While the white man made an effort to slip into the festival covertly, his prayer rang more spiritedly than the more belonging Indians. I never had formal instruction nor did I know how to read music, so it was natural that I lived on a separate world to the common pianist. I was left cluelessly scratching my head when someone asked me if what I played was "in B major or B minor"; I developed my own terms for the same concepts, granting me a different perspective and above all a priceless sense of discovery to each new idea of sound.
I grudgingly spent a summer chained to the piano bench learning to decipher the scrawl of music notes on an emotionless 'staff'. But with the ability to read music and with my perspective from the less efficient means of learning a piece I realized an important thing: it's not the piano piece that reflects the sheet music, rather the sheet is an adaptation of the piece itself. It was a grueling task, listening to the piece hundreds of times to find every single note, but watching every gesture of the pianist and every impulse of the piano accounted for the reason my piece purportedly "actually sounds like the composer played it!" I always attributed the rich and warm sounds of a pianist's playing to the price tag on the piano, but my learning has brought me to realize that behind the commonly tossed around "posture" and "tempo" there exist a dimension of subtleties. The ink on a sheet of paper cannot document the precious nuances that enliven a piece of music, instead they tap into the pianist's innate sense of euphony-without which piano is dull and mechanical. For the past eight years, the melodious composition and first-hand discovery of art of piano have made me want to come back the black bench every day. (516 words)
I'd mostly like to know how it is as is, actual correction is additional.