Classical goodness.

Growing up, I can only remember listening to two types of music. Classical music and these cassette tapes we had of happy Korean children happily singing happy Korean songs. 

Both types have been burned into my long-term memory. But today, I want to talk about classical music. I tend to associate classical music with early mornings and productive evenings.

People think being homeschooled for ten years meant I got to sleep in however late I wanted and do school whenever I wanted (while in my slippers and pj’s). Not so. That’s not how things worked with my mom. 

There was many a morning at 6:00 when I would be deep in sleep, only to be startled awake to the sound of Mozart’s Concert No. 40 (1st movement) or Vivaldi’s Spring bringing down the house. It is impossible to sleep through those strings when they are playing through a CD player turned up to full blast. 6:00am notwithstanding, I liked classical music.

Then I went through this phase in high school where I didn’t like classical music because it was “boring” and plus, I’d just discovered “cool” music. Who had time to listen to Beethoven or Chopin or Brahms when you had to stay atop of the Top 40?

However, my high school days are long over, and I’ve come full circle. I’ve picked up listening to classical music again within the last three years or so. I love it once more and all hail to my mom’s taste in music.  If I could change the alarm on my dinky African phone to Concerto No. 40 by Mozart, I totally would. (I can’t. I can barely text on the thing). 

This song is one of my favorites. It was on one of the CDs my mom used to own. It’s so simple, so poignant. I love piano pieces. 

Something about classical music is just so classy. I just finished working out—Jillian Michaels AND yoga, on a dirty cement floor, no less. I’m filthy, and when I say that, I mean that statement 100%. I’m not sure whether I’m dark because I’m actually getting tan or because I’m covered in a thin layer of dirt. My legs and ankles are covered in bug bites, and I have a chaco and farmer’s (or dirt) tan up the wazoo. I just spent the past five minutes on my hands and knees trying to track down and kill the bugs in my room. Furthermore, I am now sitting here in a towel, and I’m futilely waiting for the water to start working again because I’m desperate to take a shower. The water hasn’t been working every time I’ve tried to take a shower for the past three days. Three days. Tomorrow is day four. TMI? TMI. I’m so sorry.

The point of that uncalled for tirade: I could not possibly be any further from classy right now.

But I’m listening to Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, and man, do I feel classy.

It almost makes me feel better about the fact that I’m probably not getting my shower tonight either.