english,
I’m Jordan. You’ve probably heard my name in the news; the 13 year-old Mozart-Beethoven-Tchaikovsky hybrid; the child prodigy, retired at 13.
Ever since I was but a fetus in my Mother’s womb, I’ve been showing signs of exceptional genius; I remember being asked basic mathematical questions, and responding to them by tapping Mom’s uterine walls according to the answer. If I was asked “What’s three taken one?” I would tap two times.
But the most interesting of all was my reaction to musical stimuli. Whenever my Mom would play classical music, I would tap my feet along with the music, eventually the tapping of the foot turned into the waltz of my nimble fingers, which then turned into actually playing along as if envisioning an imaginary piano.
Six months after I was conceived, I’ve already developed perfect pitch. My Mom was delighted and surprised, for she taught me to correlate the frequency with a letter in the alphabet just for the heck of it. So whenever she says C, I would babble in the key of C, when she says G minor, I would cry in G minor.
When I turned one, she bought me a custom made electronic keyboard, one with soft and little keys. The grand piano at home had big keys, which my petite fingers had a hard time reaching and pressing. After a day of getting to know the basics of piano, I was already playing Turkish March flawlessly, but with my Mom telling me which keys to play. Three days after I learned to sight-read, and almost perfected Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata in a span of weeks.
When I reached two, she brought me to my first recital, where the world would start to recognize my talent. All of the other kids chose “Old McDonald” as their recital piece, but I blew them all away when I played Flight of the Bumblebee. Pianists, artists, composers, even reporters wanted to know who I am. After all, a two-year old prodigy does not come by so often. But still, all this attention felt unsettling.
When I was three, I started composing my own songs and studying music theory. I released my very first piece when I was 3 and a half, although it gathered lots of criticisms, it was still a critically acclaimed piece used in a variety of movies and soap operas.
Ever since then, I’ve been studying and been composing music: playing for musicals, theatres, movies, and dramas—
It was a very repetitive life, an unfulfilling life.
I did this until I was ten years old, when I entered Julliard for my doctorate in Music. I was a scholar there, but the miscellaneous fees aren’t covered by the scholarship that’s why I had to keep on creating mediocre music for these sellout films and series. But the major reason I had to keep doing it, was because of my Mom.
When I was five, my Mom suddenly felt very ill. We went to the hospital, and she was diagnosed with stage 2 lymphoma. The cancer had already spread out to other parts of her body, but there was still a way for her to get better. The treatments were very expensive, and Mom’s job as a music teacher in an elementary school isn’t enough.
I was five years old, and I was already the breadwinner of our family. Despite being a prodigy, it’s hard to keep up with the demands of these talent agencies. I had no freedom, I felt deprived of my creative freedom. I was five years old; I was supposed to be playing out in the field, not earning money.
My Mom was diagnosed cancer-free when I was eight years old, but I still had to keep working in order for us to live. The elementary school would not take her back, and it’s hard for her to find a job since she’s still too frail.
I’m happy my Mom’s okay, but I want my freedom back. It’s hard enough to study, but working for people who only see your craft as a profitable source? That’s the worst.
I’ve finally put an end to this. At age 11, I was teaching music theory at Julliard, and been conducting my own concertos.
I thought I would be happy. I thought I would be happy.
I’ve read articles about me, mostly praise, some criticism, but it’s just the same with every composer. I am not special— I am not a prodigy.
I’m now 13, with a doctorate in Music, countless awards to my name, numerous articles written about my success, but I’m not happy. I decided to have one last concerto, with only the people that matter to me as my audience. I rented out the whole conservatory for one night.
The only people I invited were my Mom and my teachers. I played them my latest Sonata: Coup de Feu.
After I was done, I heard the applause, the footsteps, and the silence. But the applauses echoed in my mind, the small crowd’s cheer reverberated through every inch of my being.
The curtains fell, and so did I.
I collapsed on the floor, the parquet soaking up my long overdue tears. I screamed, and I screamed, “Why me? Why me?!”
I heard footsteps, in a monotonous G-C-G-C melody. The footsteps stopped, and I felt a warm embrace surrounding me.
My tears won’t stop falling, “Why me? Why me?”
My Mother never told me the answer I wanted, but somehow she still managed to sing the words I needed, “I love you, son. Always.”
The darkness consumed the conservatory, and so did my blossoming musical career.
Literary: Coup de Feu
I’m Jordan. You’ve probably heard my name in the news; the 13 year-old Mozart-Beethoven-Tchaikovsky hybrid; the child prodigy, retired at 13.
Ever since I was but a fetus in my Mother’s womb, I’ve been showing signs of exceptional genius; I remember being asked basic mathematical questions, and responding to them by tapping Mom’s uterine walls according to the answer. If I was asked “What’s three taken one?” I would tap two times.
But the most interesting of all was my reaction to musical stimuli. Whenever my Mom would play classical music, I would tap my feet along with the music, eventually the tapping of the foot turned into the waltz of my nimble fingers, which then turned into actually playing along as if envisioning an imaginary piano.
Six months after I was conceived, I’ve already developed perfect pitch. My Mom was delighted and surprised, for she taught me to correlate the frequency with a letter in the alphabet just for the heck of it. So whenever she says C, I would babble in the key of C, when she says G minor, I would cry in G minor.
When I turned one, she bought me a custom made electronic keyboard, one with soft and little keys. The grand piano at home had big keys, which my petite fingers had a hard time reaching and pressing. After a day of getting to know the basics of piano, I was already playing Turkish March flawlessly, but with my Mom telling me which keys to play. Three days after I learned to sight-read, and almost perfected Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata in a span of weeks.
When I reached two, she brought me to my first recital, where the world would start to recognize my talent. All of the other kids chose “Old McDonald” as their recital piece, but I blew them all away when I played Flight of the Bumblebee. Pianists, artists, composers, even reporters wanted to know who I am. After all, a two-year old prodigy does not come by so often. But still, all this attention felt unsettling.
When I was three, I started composing my own songs and studying music theory. I released my very first piece when I was 3 and a half, although it gathered lots of criticisms, it was still a critically acclaimed piece used in a variety of movies and soap operas.
Ever since then, I’ve been studying and been composing music: playing for musicals, theatres, movies, and dramas—
It was a very repetitive life, an unfulfilling life.
I did this until I was ten years old, when I entered Julliard for my doctorate in Music. I was a scholar there, but the miscellaneous fees aren’t covered by the scholarship that’s why I had to keep on creating mediocre music for these sellout films and series. But the major reason I had to keep doing it, was because of my Mom.
When I was five, my Mom suddenly felt very ill. We went to the hospital, and she was diagnosed with stage 2 lymphoma. The cancer had already spread out to other parts of her body, but there was still a way for her to get better. The treatments were very expensive, and Mom’s job as a music teacher in an elementary school isn’t enough.
I was five years old, and I was already the breadwinner of our family. Despite being a prodigy, it’s hard to keep up with the demands of these talent agencies. I had no freedom, I felt deprived of my creative freedom. I was five years old; I was supposed to be playing out in the field, not earning money.
My Mom was diagnosed cancer-free when I was eight years old, but I still had to keep working in order for us to live. The elementary school would not take her back, and it’s hard for her to find a job since she’s still too frail.
I’m happy my Mom’s okay, but I want my freedom back. It’s hard enough to study, but working for people who only see your craft as a profitable source? That’s the worst.
I’ve finally put an end to this. At age 11, I was teaching music theory at Julliard, and been conducting my own concertos.
I thought I would be happy. I thought I would be happy.
I’ve read articles about me, mostly praise, some criticism, but it’s just the same with every composer. I am not special— I am not a prodigy.
I’m now 13, with a doctorate in Music, countless awards to my name, numerous articles written about my success, but I’m not happy. I decided to have one last concerto, with only the people that matter to me as my audience. I rented out the whole conservatory for one night.
The only people I invited were my Mom and my teachers. I played them my latest Sonata: Coup de Feu.
The curtains fell, and so did I.
I collapsed on the floor, the parquet soaking up my long overdue tears. I screamed, and I screamed, “Why me? Why me?!”
I heard footsteps, in a monotonous G-C-G-C melody. The footsteps stopped, and I felt a warm embrace surrounding me.
My tears won’t stop falling, “Why me? Why me?”
My Mother never told me the answer I wanted, but somehow she still managed to sing the words I needed, “I love you, son. Always.”
The darkness consumed the conservatory, and so did my blossoming musical career.
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