the building

The cold air bites my ears, my backpack weighs heavy, and my steps are slow as I make my way to the music building laden with an armload of things. I can see my breath, there is mud on my shoes, and the only things I can hear are my slightly labored breathing and the hum of a car in the distance. I open the door to the building... and whoosh! It hits me! A wave of toasty warm air. AND the sound of many pianos being rapidly played by musicians. This is my building, my world, my life. At least for the moment it is. Suddenly life is good again. Sure, entering that building means hours and hours of work for me. But it also means a strange sense of comforting normalacy. I am not in this world of music and practice and performance alone. The music building contains a sweet sense of comraderie, although often you go hours without talking to anyone because of practice. Maybe its just knowing other people are doing exactly what you are doing, or maybe its just that they are musicians, or maybe its that we all love music. I don't quite know. But somehow and in some misterious and geekishly musical sort of way the music building and its occupents are a family. We are united in the common love of music. We slave away hours upon hours to accomplish and perfect just a few pages of music, which in reality are thousands of notes. We learn theory and history together. We make mistakes in front of each other. Our greatest highs and our greatest lows (musically speaking) are often experienced in front of each other. We critique each other and yet our greatest encouragers are members of this music department.
We puzzle and wonder over the most trivial of phrases or cadences. We laugh and cry over performances of pieces. We get each other. Its kind of an unspoken thing. But it exists. Thats why... I just love the music building and its people.