|the essence of my violin|
This is a sort of elaboration upon response to a comment OzDoc left that brought up an aspect of my new instrument I hadn't discussed.
I hadn't given that any air time to the scent of the wood of the violin -- a scent which defies description -- roughly akin, I would imagine, to experiencing an east coast deciduous forest in autumn when the leaves have first begin to take on the colors of leaves in the fall. (For the most part, I'm a coniferous forest lover, but in this case a deciduous forest is more fitting.) Between the sound, the feel, the unadulterated olfactory effect, and the physical beauty of the instrument, it's a sensory-overloading experience for me. I loved and continue to love the piano my Godparents gave to me, though I was probably a bit on the young side to truly appreciate just what an extravagant gift it was and still is. I hope, though I was merely twelve when I was given it, that I managed to convey appropriate gratitude when my Godparents gave it to me, and each year when I write a thank you note for whatever excessive present they've bought or check they've written out for my birthday, I thank them once again for the piano, which was a gift beyond any normal gift for the birthday of a twelve-year-old. The time will probably come when I will eventually own a Steinway piano. I pray that my Godparents won't feel that it's their responsibility to provide it,, as it can wait until my salary is sufficient for me to procure without making an imprudent dent in my savings, and it's nice to feel that at least some of one's prized possessions have come as the fruit of one's own labors and not merely as the gift from financially comfortable relatives. Still, future Steinway notwithstanding, the precious Kawai will always occupy a place of honor in both my home and in my heart.
As my heart goes, I will, I hope, someday meet a man with whom I would choose to spend the rest of my life. It will be essential to the success of our relationship that he understand that he must share a sizable and meaningful portion of my heart with a Kawai piano and a Tetsuo Matsuda violin. I've heard that one's capacity to love expands as the demand increases, I certainly hope such to be the case. Priorities have a way of working themselves out, though I do know that I would give up either of my two instruments in a heartbeat if doing so would somehow spare the lives of either of my two Godchildren. Fortunately for me, such scenarios are far more common in Lifetime TV movies and soap operas than in real life. The possibility of anyone dear to me ever needing my new violin or any other possession of mine for ransom or any other life-sparing purpose exceeds the bounds of reality by a considerable stretch.
My brother has suggested that my violin needs a name, in much the way adolescent boys name their cars. I have yet to be persuaded. Tetsuo Matsuda seems to fill the bill just fine. If if's not easy for Matthew to articulate, tough toenails where he is concerned.. He's going to need to learn to pronounce tons of medical terms far more technically difficult around which to get his mouth [though not Japsnese in origin for the most pat] than Tetsuo Matsuda. I suggest he practice it in front of mirror ten or twenty times a day until he gets it right, as opposed to my naming the violin Savannah, which is the name of his most recent date. I'm not naming my violin Savannah, who will probably be old news before he could have learned to pronounce Tetsuo Matsuda, anyway.
i believe fences are mending as far as my parents have concerned. My dad has asked my uncle for a copy of the studio portrait my uncle had taken on Saturday so that he can put a copy in one of his offices. He said it's his favorite picture of me.
|The real case has arrived.|