When I was 11, my mom took me to special piano lessons to get ready to apply for Julliard music school. I went to them, just sort of following along, did well, all the while imagining what going to that school and what a life as a professional musician might be like. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew I didn’t want it. Perfect practice makes perfect, getting constantly judged… So, after six months of special lessons I knew she couldn’t afford, nervous I’d disappoint her for wasting her money and time, I said that I didn’t want to go to that music school, bracing myself for anger. But, she said “ok” and that was that. To this day, I _still_ occasionally thank her that she listened to me when it mattered.

When I was 11, my mom took me to special piano lessons to get ready to apply for Julliard music school. I went to them, just sort of following along, did well, all the while imagining what going to that school and what a life as a professional musician might be like.

But the more I thought about it, the more I knew I didn’t want it. Perfect practice makes perfect, getting constantly judged…

So, after six months of special lessons I knew she couldn’t afford, nervous I’d disappoint her for wasting her money and time, I said that I didn’t want to go to that music school, bracing myself for anger. But, she said “ok” and that was that.

To this day, I _still_ occasionally thank her that she listened to me when it mattered.

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