I've been trying to find these gorgeous stripped Pattern warm up pants I look on the the intermezzo website and it doesnt sell to the USA but dancers in us have it i just wanna be let in on the secretππΎπ©
I've been playing since I was 4 and I'm 40. I played on and off through the years and didn't really explore many genres as I should have. For the first time last year, I picked up Brahms' Intermezzo 118-2 and I absolutely fell madly in love with the piece. I can't believe I never played any of his pieces. And I feel like ever since I finished that piece I'm looking for another that could offer a similar experience.
What I loved about that particular piece is that it really felt like a journey or a story. The melody itself pulled at my heart strings in a way no other piece did. Some parts felt hopeful and sweet; others felt ruptured and messy, and then again some structure and orderly. It's like a melting pot of many segments that are so different yet it all meshes so well together in one big beautiful masterpiece.
Can anyone suggest something wonderful like this to embark on? Melody for me is huge so even if the piece is beautifully written if the tune isn't gripping, I probably won't stick through it. Not sure how to describe this other than the music felt so heartbreaking yet beautiful. Not just technical-wise wonderful.
Might be worth adding that I'm a female pianist with petite hands so Liszt is out of the question for me. I also have a shoulder injury and cannot play heavily demanding pieces anymore without my neck disc acting up.
Note: Doesn't have to be Brahms... any other composer!
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this so far and thank you in advance if you're going to suggest anything ππ»
Have a great day.
2000 wasn't too bad of a year for me. In general, that is. It started off rough, but eventually improved.
I had been hitting the sauce very hard. One of the few things I consumed in the last few months of 1999 was a copious amount of whiskey. I was drinking a lot; at least 5 bottles a week. I was couch surfing. My parents had all but given up on me, even though I had begged them desperately for help. But, I could see that my friends were tiring of my situation as well.
Lost, alone, without direction, I had no job and was $12,000 in debt to OU (four quarters of housing costs incurred while I was living in the dorms and not actually attending class). I faced another crisis of character on March 1, 2000: I had run out of goodwill. I had used up all of my couches and there was nowhere left for me to go. I was truly brought low.
By chance, I met a very kind and generous family in Marietta. Very forgiving they welcomed me into their home and gave me something that I hadn't seen in almost 9 months: a bed. I hadn't slept in a bed since I left your apartment in Athens June 9, 1999.
I slept for 3 days straight.
I got a job. It wasn't much: line cook at Bob Evan's, but it was something. The family didn't require anything of me like rent; they just required that I have a plan.
My plan was simple: get back to OU.
My focus on getting back to OU was almost cult-like. If I could get back there, I could fix my life. I could make it all right.
I didn't realize that was just a goal. Plans are different. Plans start with a goal, and work backward from there. I didn't know how to get from there to here. So, I found myself back at Cedar Point that summer. I tried to force you out of my heart. I fucked a lot of women of every age and every color that summer just to get rid of my obsession with you. No luck. I found a lot of physical satisfaction, but no romance nor intimacy. I definitely didn't find love.
I haven't since. I can't hold another woman in my arms, lay next to her, kiss her lips, or neck, or breasts, or clitoris, and feel anything but sexual gratification. I think it might be part of my mental illness; this obsession with you; this inability to find a new love. Who knows?
After the summer, I went back to Marietta, to my adopted family. Halloween came and went but I stayed in the valley and passed out candy to the kids. Fall turned to winter and I had a fine Thanksgiving and Christmas.
I thought of you on your birthday after 2000 turned to 2001
... keep reading on reddit β‘I am breaking my workday into SkiErg "breaks" and I have been just popping off my treadmill desk, onto my personal SkiErg, doing a few minutes, and then going back to my treadmill desk. Should I program in 500 meters, for example, or should I program in another metric? Time? Distance? Calories? I just want to break up my day working on my treadmill desk but I was wondering if a plan would be better? Primarily to see, over time, if and how I am getting stronger. I am thinking maybe 3 or 5 minutes so that I can see if my meters increase, but I would love your advice. Thanks in advance!
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The last few days had seemed to come and pass without Marisa's notice, and already, the Daedalia Planum was behind her, an uneasy course around the Aganippe Fossa navigated and mapped. She was over halfway to Etna, but her thoughts traversed little in that direction.
All she could see when she closed her eyes at night, or when she looked across the wastes, or in the mirrors of her cruiser, was Hakan's beaten and bloody face, and his lifeless body hanging limp from a rope. The plague of guilt hadn't left her in any small part. Even if he was a sick man, riddled with arrogance and contempt, in death he was as anyone else: a sack of limp flesh, pallid and defecating to the tune of a people's chorus. She cursed at his death, that he may leave the world but linger still in the corner of her mind, his presence such that she feared to look inward.
But at times when her courage swelled and she dared to glance, her introspection curdled, and she saw the silhouette of the gallows, with only a single beastly figure. It wore a garnet crown atop an icy pate, grinning with jagged teeth out into the ether of her mind. The person she saw was both the condemned and the condemner, changing with the wind.
In her dreams she saw her repeatedly, and so she slept little.
From the lack of sleep came a surge in progress. By her estimates she had driven an extra half-day's worth in the three days since leaving, and would reach Etna by another half-day's passing. She propelled herself with both the thoughts of reaching the last colony on her journey, and leaving Dujib as far behind her as she could. Even still, a tempest of unrest brewed beneath the skin. Words that King Lee told her reverberated in her consciousness, dredging up sights and sounds and smells from the gallows, curdling the pit of her stomach.
It was fine if she stopped early to rest, she determined. She tried to make the argument against it, but stress had dulled her mind, her pillow a failing whetstone
... keep reading on reddit β‘