Living Room Concert

Is it illegal to hate parents? Because, I kind of do right now.

It's Thanksgiving. Happy Turkey Day, everyone! :) All my *close* relatives are over, and I was having a great time, until my mom announced that I would be doing my Living Room Concert tonight.

Living Room Concerts are assigned in band class, usually over breaks, where kids have to play for their families and the families get to leave comments and signatures to prove that parents and relatives heard that they played. And I absolutely HATE doing them. I mean, it's not that I hate playing clarinet, no, I absolutely love playing. It's just playing in front of my family that bothers me. I don't know why, but there are times when I want all the attention on me [which usually occurs when the attention isn't supposed to be on me] and there are other times when I'd rather not have the attention on me [which usually happens when it's supposed to be on me, like when playing clarinet or at birthday parties] but unfortunately, that's one of those times.

And it doesn't help at all that my step-grandma [who I call Nana] has never heard me play, and she'd really like to.

But of course, I have very legitimate reasons for not wanting to play.

~Most of the pieces the band director has given out are winter-themed, and I want to save them for the [stupid] Holiday Concert, mostly because it's not Christmas season-y yet.

~The pieces that I like that AREN'T holiday themed, yeah, I DON'T HAVE THE MELODY. I'll play some, and rest for seven measures, and then the audience will totally have missed the important part, because I don't play it. Blame the freaking trumpets for getting all the glory.

And the by far most important reason:

~I. Just. Don't. Want. To.

Although, my mom protests "Who said you get to make all the descisions in what you do?!" She says.

Me. That's who, mother.

I'm gonna sound all hippie here, and all, but aren't I my own person? I mean, sure, I'm a twelve year old girl living under the rule of her parents, but I live in the United States of America, and our Constitution allows Freedom of Speech, thank you very much. I think I'm old enough to decide for myself when I do my homework.

And of course, my brother, shy old Alex, has no problem fiddling away on his violin. My family could sit and watch him for hours, playing pieces I've never heard of that he claims are famous. They haven't cared to listen to ME play my glorious woodwind until now, of course, exactly when I don't want to. I'd play for my grandpa, Pa, when he came to visit with donuts on the weekends, but he never bothers to ask because he doesn't seem to care.

Blegch.


~Er•n~