Calming Mit s Fear of BoysChapter 2 Mit Has More Questions
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Opus OneChapter 15: Mit Inniger Empfindung free porn video
Irina took a deep breath, wondering where to begin. It wasn't that he was doing something wrong, but rather that he wasn't progressing like he should. This was his fourth — no, fifth lesson now, and over the last few weeks he seemed to be less ... prepared. He had gained some expression in certain aspects of his playing, but technically he seemed underpracticed and a little sloppy.
She had checked with Eric in financial aid to see that Richard was not somehow being asked to work too much for his work study contract. She was pleased to find that he had switched to the audio recording job. She liked David, and Richard would gain much more musical benefit by recording concerts than by sitting at the front desk answering phones. She would need to speak with David, to make sure he didn't overuse Richard.
Irina had wanted Richard to be fully on scholarship, but the conservatory needed students to work the menial jobs. So unless a student's family could afford to pay, first-years were invariably put into the work study force. Next year, though, she would make sure Richard was not working.
Next year was far away, though. Right now, she needed to get Richard on track with his piano studies.
At a time when a student was still building a trust with her, Irina always found it a challenge to bring up the subject of a flagging work ethic. At the same time, though, he needed to know her expectations were not being met. He was taking longer to adjust to the conservatory than most students.
He is here to play the piano, first and foremost, she thought.
Irina stopped Richard as he stumbled on a passage for the second time.
"Okay, let us stop for a minute," she said.
Richard sat still, with drawn face.
"How is your practicing going?" Irina asked him gently.
Richard shrugged. "I haven't been able to do as much as I want," he admitted.
"Are you having trouble in the classes?"
"Um, no ... I think I'm doing okay in them. It seems like I should be able to practice more, but things keep piling up. I think I just need to figure out my time better."
Irina nodded. "You have made some progress with what we talked about, but not enough, I think. The first semester is difficult, since many things are new. But you need to keep your eyes on the music, Richard. On the piano. Everything else comes second."
Richard nodded slowly. Irina stood and walked to the window.
"Do you want to be a pianist?" Irina asked him directly.
"Yes, I do."
"Then you must put yourself into it fully," she said simply. For a moment she stared out at the field where a pickup soccer game was in progress. "It is not an easy life. Even with talent, it is not easy. Now is an important time for you."
Irina walked over to him, looking him in the eye. "I can teach you many things, but in the end, everything must come from you. It must come from here," she said gently, tapping his chest. "You have talent there, Richard. But you cannot express it without knowing how to express it. The details make a great performance. Through the details, we can hear the interpretation. And technique makes the details perfect."
Richard nodded. "When I was practicing the fourth variation of the Beethoven I saw how there was technique that I didn't have. But I could hear the music in my head! I just couldn't play it the way I heard it."
"Yes, yes! That is why you must practice. You need to be able to play anything you want to play. Anything you hear in your head."
"Should I start doing more exercises?" he asked.
Irina smiled. "No. That is not music. Many pianists have slaved away at exercises for hours every day, and they can play almost anything, yes. But they do not play music. They play exercises. Some are famous," she said, raising a brow.
She could tell he wanted to know who she was thinking of, but she continued the subject instead.
"Many students of your age think that they must practice technique so that it becomes the focus of their playing. That is the path to lifeless music, Richard. You must practice technique so it becomes invisible, not the focus. In that way you can translate what is in here," she said, again tapping his heart, "to what is in there." Irina pointed to the piano. "Technique is only standing in the way of that."
"I think I understand," Richard said slowly.
"Good. Let us return to work."
Sandra was late to Dr. Dobra's class by a few minutes, but surprisingly, he didn't even seem to notice her as she slipped across the back of the room and settled quietly into her chair next to Richard.
"Hey," she whispered.
"You're late!" Richard replied, keeping an eye on Dobra's back as he wrote up some chords.
"Piano class ran over," Sandra explained.
"Dr. Dobra didn't seem —"
"Richard, if you are finished talking, do sing the notes of the first chord I wrote. Low to high, if you please," Dr. Dobra said. He played a note on the piano. "First note."
"Re, Fa, Si," Richard sang. He wished he had a nice voice like Sandra, so his in-class performances didn't sound so much like a tired bullfrog. He just hoped that Dobra had been serious when he had said that voice quality didn't matter. Still, it sounded much better when Sandra sang things.
"And the chord is?" Dobra asked.
"B-flat major," Richard answered.
"Good. Next chord, please, Richard."
Dobra had Richard do the entire run of chords. It wasn't particularly difficult, but by the end Richard was feeling awkward at being the subject of Dobra's intense stare for so long. The punishment for talking, I suppose.
When at last Dobra moved onto the next concept for the day, Richard gave Sandra a relieved look.
Sorry! she wrote in the margin of her notebook.
Richard gave her a confused look.
I was the one who started talking. And I was late! she penned underneath.
Maybe Jenna WAS right. Richard wrote back.
Huh?
He has a soft spot for beautiful women.
Eew! But thank you... :)
"Are you coming to dinner?" Emily asked. She had her horn in her hand, and had popped her head into Richard's room.
Richard looked at his watch. "Damn, it's five already?"
"Time flies..." she said. "Come on, let's get Sandra."
Richard sighed. "I think I'm going to skip dinner. I really need to finish this chord analysis for tomorrow."
"You need to eat," Emily chided.
"I'm not hungry. Besides, the food there isn't even food, really. What's the point?"
"Skip the concert tonight," Emily said.
"No, I want to hear you play."
"Oh, don't worry about that. I'm not principle or anything. You won't even hear me."
"I still want to hear you play. And I told Sandra I'd go with her."
"I'd rather eat dinner with you," Emily persisted.
Richard thought for a moment, and then closed his book with a shrug. "All right, I'll work on this later."
Emily brightened. "I can help you out, if you want. And don't worry about the concert," she said as they headed downstairs to find Sandra.
"No, I am going. I'll finish that stupid analysis after the concert, I guess. I don't see what the point of these theory courses is, really. I mean, they're interesting, but I don't know how figuring out inversions and passing tones is helping me play better."
Emily shrugged. "They have to do something other than teach us lessons once a week."
Sandra was also working on a theory assignment when they got to her room.
"Dinner time!" Emily said.
"Aargh!" Sandra let out. "I can't, I need to finish this."
Richard laughed knowingly. "No, we're going to dinner, and that's final. Or so said Emily."
"Did you guys have this assigned in your class?" Sandra asked them, pointing to the passage she was working on. Richard took a look at the page.
"Yeah," Richard said. "Actually I was just working on it, too."
"So is this E minor with a passing tone C..."
" ... or C major with a leading tone B?" Richard finished. "Yeah, I don't know. I put C major."
"It's E minor," Emily chimed in.
"Why?"
Emily gave some reasons which made sense given the rest of the passage. Sandra nodded as she saw the logic. She penciled in the change, and then closed her book.
"You know what's funny?" she said.
"What?"
"The music is exactly the same, whether I've written those chords underneath it or not," she said. "It's the same whether I call it C major or E minor. It's just labeling. I'd sing it the same way. So why are we spending hours on this stuff?"
No one had an answer as they headed towards Tapler dining hall.
"Do you want to dress up a little tonight?" Sandra asked Richard.
"Dress up? For the orchestra concert?"
"No, for the cafeteria," she said sarcastically, as Emily sniggered. "Of course for the concert!"
"Well, I was going to change into unripped jeans," Richard said, eyeing the gash at his knee.
"Nice. But let's go a little bit fancier."
Richard shrugged. "I can put on a clean shirt?" he offered.
Sandra backhanded his chest playfully. "I was thinking more like a suit."
"A suit?"
"Yeah. You'd look hot."
"Yeah," Emily agreed.
"But, no one will be wearing a suit, I bet," Richard said. "I'll look a little out of place. Overdressed."
"If you look good, you can't be overdressed. Besides, it'll be fun!" Sandra said.
"All right, fine. I'll try and find my suit in the closet."
"Good," Sandra said simply.
"This is your idea," Richard reminded her.
"Don't worry, Richard, no one will be looking at you, with Sandra on your arm," Emily said. She winked at Sandra, who giggled.
"Um, thanks?" Richard said.
At seven-twenty, Richard knocked on Sandra's door, in his suit. He did look decent in it after all, he decided.
"Wow!" was all he could say when she opened the door. Richard stepped back to admire her as she made a little pirouette in the doorway, smiling radiantly. She had a black evening dress on. Her hair was loose and flowing, and she had a touch of makeup on. The pretty necklace she wore pointed down to her modestly exposed cleavage. And her shoes were black, strappy, and very sexy, Richard thought.
"Wow," he repeated as he went into the room. Emily was right, no one will be looking at me! Sandra's dress was very alluring, yet elegant.
When Sandra kissed him, he considered skipping the concert, and not so he could work on theory homework. But then Sandra reminded him they were late.
As they walked from the dorm to the conservatory building, a few people cracked slight smiles as they passed. Richard felt like he was going to a prom. And with the prettiest girl in school, too.
When they got to the entrance to the concert hall, there was already a large group of people arranged somewhat roughly in a line, waiting to enter the hall. The concerts were free, and seating was first-come, first-serve to the public. Apparently the concerts were also very popular.
"This line is crazy!" Richard said. He noticed that no one was wearing a suit.
Sandra eyed the line. "Oh, wait, Gwen is working tonight. Maybe she can let us in."
They went over to Gwen, who was standing guard to the entrance of the hall along with another usher.
"Hi Sandra!" Gwen said brightly. "Wow, you look nice. Where are you off to?" Gwen eyed Richard with a smile.
"Off to? We're coming to watch the concert! This is Richard, by the way. Richard, Gwen."
Richard and Gwen shook hands. "Nice to meet you," Gwen said.
"Gwen is also a singer," Sandra explained to Richard. "Hey, can you get us in?" Sandra asked her quietly.
Gwen looked at her watch, and then shrugged. "Um, sure. Come on. Rob, I'll be right back," she said to the other usher, who nodded nonchalantly.
Gwen took them around the hallway and in through a side door into the hall. Richard laughed at the sign on it, asking concert-goers to please enter by the main entrance.
"Programs?" Gwen offered, holding out two of the thin folded paper booklets. She flashed them a smile before heading back to open the main doors.
"The benefit of connections," Sandra said as they found some seats near the front, and right in the center. A smattering of musicians were warming up on the stage. An oboist was fussing with her reeds, and a few violinists were playing or tuning. Jer was rosining his bow. He spotted them and waved, grinning broadly.
Richard waved back casually, wondering what Jer thought of his attire. Then again, Jer was in a tuxedo. Being overdressed was really just a matter of circumstance and location, Richard decided.
A few minutes after settling into their seats and browsing the program (including a grin at seeing Emily's name printed in the horn section), the main doors opened and people began to file in, filling the space with crowd noise.
"There's Emily," Sandra said, pointing to the stage.
Dressed in concert black, Emily made her way through the brass section and to her seat. Somehow she managed to spot Sandra and Richard in the thickening audience, and gave a little smile and a small kiss. Richard and Sandra waved back.
After what seemed forever, the concert began. The overture that was performed first was enjoyable, but what really blew Richard away was the violin concerto. The violinist was amazing. At one point during the second movement, Richard had his eyes closed, and he recalled his discussion with Mrs. Tertychnaya about technique. This violinist had transparent technique. He shaped the melody perfectly, in duration, expression, volume, and phrasing. It was as if Richard could hear him singing the melody from his heart.
There was a certain quality about his playing, as if he was on the edge of recklessly losing control of the piece. But Richard realized it wasn't due to barely adequate technique. Rather it was the violinist's interpretation, and it sounded passionate and urgent. And to do that, he needed to have the utmost control of that recklessness.
The last notes of the finale were immediately greeted by a thousand people roaring and rising to their feet. A few in the front, presumably family members, threw a couple of bouquets to the beaming young man.
Richard hoped he could be up there in a few years.
Richard left his jacket over their chairs for intermission, and Sandra and he strolled outside for some air; the hall had gotten stuffy.
"Do you ever want to do that?" Richard asked her.
"Sing with the orchestra? Well, yeah!" Sandra exclaimed.
"Me too. I've never done it. I learned one concerto last year, but I never had an orchestra to play it with."
"Same here. I've learned lots of opera arias, but so far I've only been able to do them with piano."
"It must be so powerful to play with a hundred other people behind you," Richard said.
"Yeah. But it's also powerful to play with one other person too." Sandra smiled at Richard.
"Mm hmm," Richard agreed. "You look really fabulous."
"Thanks."
"People are checking us out," Richard whispered.
Sandra looked around coyly. "No!"
"Yeah, that couple over there was watching us."
"I so want to kiss you right now," Sandra said breathily.
"Why don't you?"
"Because! People are all around. Then they'll know."
"So?" Richard asked.
"What about Emily?"
Richard silenced her with a kiss.
"Mm. Okay, now that that's out of the way," Sandra said. She kissed him again, a little harder and longer.
"Not so bad, huh?" Richard said.
"No. What are you doing after the concert?"
"Practicing, and finishing my homework," Richard lamented.
"Oh, that's too bad," Sandra said mysteriously.
"Why?"
"I have secrets!"
"What secrets?"
"Sexy secrets," she whispered.
"What are they?" Richard said, his voice getting a little more animated.
"Not telling," Sandra teased.
"You can't do that!" Richard exclaimed.
"Can't do what?"
"Say you have secrets, and then not tell me."
"I just did."
"Do I have to torture it out of you?"
"I don't know ... What do you have in mind?" Sandra said wickedly.
"You are terrible," Richard said, shaking his head. "I can't take you anywhere!"
Sandra pouted, which made Richard laugh.
As they headed back to their seats, Richard couldn't avoid noticing the looks they got. They were definitely dressed a cut above the crowd, although now Richard was happy that they were. He felt on top of the world next to Sandra. Even if she did hold secrets.
"When are you going to tell me?" he whispered as the lights dimmed for the second half of the program.
Sandra shrugged. "I might not tell you at all."
Richard let out a groan. "Great, now I won't be able to concentrate on the concert."
"Why not?" Sandra asked, though she knew full well why.
"I'm going to be wondering what the secret is," Richard admitted.
"Well, if I did tell you, you wouldn't be able to concentrate on the concert either."
"I don't know about that."
"I do."
"Try me," Richard challenged.
Sandra gave Richard an impish grin, but said nothing as the audience began to clap for the conductor's entrance. She was preparing to start the symphony when Sandra leaned over to Richard's ear.
"I'm not wearing any panties."
Richard pulled back and gave her a wide-eyed look.
"What? You're —"
"Shh!" she shushed, just as the symphony started with its two loud chords. Richard watched a grin spread across her lips, even though she tried valiantly to contain it. When she looked at Richard, who was still staring at her, she pointed to the stage again and mouthed "Concentrate!"
It took Richard a good part of the first movement to get into the concert again. He couldn't help glancing at Sandra, eyeing her smooth legs, and knowing that she was wearing but one piece of clothing. Even when he wasn't looking at her, his imagination took over quite nicely.
The symphony was very familiar to Richard, and soon it enveloped him with its ebullient melodies. His father, while being unschooled in music (and some who judged on outward impressions would even call him uncultured) would often take Richard to Lincoln Center in the city to watch concerts. Richard had seen his first opera at the Met, Rigoletto, at the age of eight. His father was a huge fan of Verdi. Since then, Richard guessed he had seen perhaps three hundred concerts and operas live. It was an amazing number, considering how much tickets cost, and how tight money was in the Mazzini household.
That first opera had been such a highlight for him. He had never stayed out so late, and that night he was going to be up past midnight, and in the city no less! As they approached Lincoln Center from the subway station, the opera house looked amazing at night, its gigantically tall arching front windows illuminated in golden and ruddy light. Vittorio let Richard hand the usher their tickets and hold the programs they got in exchange. They went up the central staircase, and even at his age, Richard knew he was an odd sight. The average age was probably over fifty, and Richard saw no one as young as himself.
After looking over the vast lobby from the upper landing, they walked the rest of the way up through the curving staircase on the side. At last they reached the family circle, the highest seating in the house. It was at a dizzying elevation above the stage. The golden curtain rose almost to their level. At the time, Richard thought they were in the best seats, since they were so high up!
After Richard and his father had settled into their velvety red chairs, Richard read over the playbill, fascinated with the list of names of those in the orchestra, and the slate of singers. He asked his father what those desks were along the sides of the balcony. People sat there with little lights illuminating their books. Were they really reading during the performance? But his father explained that they were following the music score. When Richard asked why they wouldn't watch the stage instead, Vittorio shrugged. Perhaps they were students of music, he offered. Richard was fascinated by the idea.
To say that Richard was riveted to the opera would be an understatement. He never touched the back of his chair during the first two acts. Even at his distance from the stage, the music and singing was unbelievably powerful to this eight year old boy.
Alas, after the second intermission, Richard was getting tired. At some point during the third act, he fell asleep. Vittorio didn't nudge him until right before the ending, when Rigoletto was delivered the body. Richard woke up to lightning and saw the misshapen father gleeful at the death of the hated count. Richard still remembered the chill of sadness that ran through his own spine as Rigoletto opened the body bag, and discovered the truth. Such tragedy filled his voice... !
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