I feel like my conclusion is weak. Does anyone have any ideas regarding how I could improve it? I also realize that it takes me a while to come right out and say, "This is what the experience says about me," because I was going more for a story that gave a peek into how I felt when I created music. Thanks in advance!
The Reunion
As I gazed down at a moonlight-bathed Rochester from thousands of feet in the air, I was blanketed in warm tranquility. After a long month's absence, the familiar scenery below was comforting and reassuring: this was home.
The impact of the plane's wheels against the gravelly runway jolted me out of my cloudy serenity. My thoughts raced back to earth, and I remembered something. I couldn't stop thinking about it as we exited the plane, retrieved our luggage, and drove home: a reunion was in store.
I nearly tripped and fell as I hurled myself with reckless abandon down the staircase and into my basement. My feet made contact with only three steps. I did not make a conscious decision to leap over the other nine; the euphoric anticipation which filled my mind left little room for any such processing. This night had been a long time coming, and I was not about to waste another moment on such trivial matters as self-preservation. My exhilaration reached a fever pitch as I raced across the white-carpeted floor and pulled open the small wooden door.
And there it sat, bathed in the familiar and comforting half-light of this little room. It appeared just as I had left it a month earlier, on the day my family and I had packed up for Europe. Eighty-eight gleaming teeth beckoned, and I took my seat in front of the magnificent creature. Tonight, it would sing again.
My fingers danced across the teeth and the creature sang. Melodies swirled about the room-some familiar, others alien-each one carrying with it an experience or sensation. As I released all that had built up inside of me over the past month, a creative energy surged through me.
I began to make order out of the chaos. One by one, I plucked embryonic ideas from the pandemonium. I transmuted them, giving them structure. At the same time, I allowed them to continually shift and grow, subject always to a moment's whim. Slowly but surely, a series of loose compositions surfaced.
By the time the next day dawned, I was ready to publish A Night of Piano Music. Twenty-three minutes in length, the largely improvisational EP comprised five original pieces, all recorded over the course of the night. Although it was not my most ambitious musical endeavor, the moment I uploaded the finished product, I felt a profound sense of satisfaction.
The great joy I experienced in the reunion made me realize something. I not only relish the excitement and challenge of understanding new concepts and teaching myself new skills; I also crave creating something with that knowledge to share with other people. Whether through compositions that relate unique experiences or computer programs that solve problems in new ways, I feel that my lifelong desire for learning and my insatiable curiosity are finally beginning to develop into beneficial contributions.
The Reunion
As I gazed down at a moonlight-bathed Rochester from thousands of feet in the air, I was blanketed in warm tranquility. After a long month's absence, the familiar scenery below was comforting and reassuring: this was home.
The impact of the plane's wheels against the gravelly runway jolted me out of my cloudy serenity. My thoughts raced back to earth, and I remembered something. I couldn't stop thinking about it as we exited the plane, retrieved our luggage, and drove home: a reunion was in store.
I nearly tripped and fell as I hurled myself with reckless abandon down the staircase and into my basement. My feet made contact with only three steps. I did not make a conscious decision to leap over the other nine; the euphoric anticipation which filled my mind left little room for any such processing. This night had been a long time coming, and I was not about to waste another moment on such trivial matters as self-preservation. My exhilaration reached a fever pitch as I raced across the white-carpeted floor and pulled open the small wooden door.
And there it sat, bathed in the familiar and comforting half-light of this little room. It appeared just as I had left it a month earlier, on the day my family and I had packed up for Europe. Eighty-eight gleaming teeth beckoned, and I took my seat in front of the magnificent creature. Tonight, it would sing again.
My fingers danced across the teeth and the creature sang. Melodies swirled about the room-some familiar, others alien-each one carrying with it an experience or sensation. As I released all that had built up inside of me over the past month, a creative energy surged through me.
I began to make order out of the chaos. One by one, I plucked embryonic ideas from the pandemonium. I transmuted them, giving them structure. At the same time, I allowed them to continually shift and grow, subject always to a moment's whim. Slowly but surely, a series of loose compositions surfaced.
By the time the next day dawned, I was ready to publish A Night of Piano Music. Twenty-three minutes in length, the largely improvisational EP comprised five original pieces, all recorded over the course of the night. Although it was not my most ambitious musical endeavor, the moment I uploaded the finished product, I felt a profound sense of satisfaction.
The great joy I experienced in the reunion made me realize something. I not only relish the excitement and challenge of understanding new concepts and teaching myself new skills; I also crave creating something with that knowledge to share with other people. Whether through compositions that relate unique experiences or computer programs that solve problems in new ways, I feel that my lifelong desire for learning and my insatiable curiosity are finally beginning to develop into beneficial contributions.