The Life of a Failed Musician-turned-Sociologist

I usually don't share very personal things on my blog. I like to keep things to myself, so I rarely talk about my trials and concerns with anybody. But I thought about it and decided, it's my blog. I can write whatever I want on it (whatever I want that I'm willing for other people to read, that is), and you can feel free to read it or ignore it. Also, the way I write may present a different impression about myself than I intend, so just take it with a grain of salt that I am very honest and matter-of-fact about how I see myself and those around me. That being said, I will now write what I intended to write.

For as long as I can remember, I have been a musician. I've been singing almost as long as I've been talking. I have perfect pitch, which enables me to identify the name of any pitch or basic chord upon hearing it. If I had more extensive training in music theory, I am sure I could get to a point at which I could identify any chord upon hearing it, but for now, I can identify them mostly by the pitches included in the chord. I can also do the reverse--if someone asks me to sing a certain pitch, I can do so. I learned that I had this gift when as a child, my sisters and I would sing along with Christine in Phantom of the Opera, and I'd know when they weren't singing the right pitch for her high scream (a double E), while good old Michael Crawford would be singing "Sing for me!" in the background. I've also played the piano since I was small; I remember whipping through the John Thompson piano books on my own when Mom didn't have time to teach me lessons. I would check off the songs that I "passed", or I would have Mom listen and give her approval that I pass them off. Even at that age, I wanted to be a concert pianist when I grew older. When I got into fourth grade, I picked up my sister's old flute and joined the band. The first day of band class, the older students spent the whole time teaching us how to make a sound on our instrument; I'd already figured that out, so I went ahead and learned a few notes. I quickly progressed to the more difficult songs, and went through the entire book within a few weeks. The rest of elementary school band left me impatient for junior high and more difficult music to learn. Of course, when I got to junior high I only had trouble with a few select songs; the rest for me were easy as pie. Meanwhile, I was singing in church regularly, and playing piano all the time. For my brother's missionary homecoming at church, when I was 11 years old, I accompanied my family on a Marvin Goldstein number. I learned to play the Maple Leaf Rag, Jon Schmidt music, and other difficult pieces. One day when I was 12, I sat down and played an old favorite, Für Elise. To shake things up a bit, I decided to figure it out in a different key. I transposed the main theme into another key, then another, then several more. It became a project, and I ended up transposing the entire song into all 12 keys. I played the piano for eight hours that day. Soon my mom found a new teacher for me, Dr. Jungwon Jin, at a nearby university, and there began my professional music study. I also began voice lessons around that time.

My mother began taking me to see performances by prominent LDS musicians such as Marvin Goldstein, Janice Kapp Perry, and Kenneth Cope, and we'd have them sign their music books for us. She also told each of them details about my musical talent, and they'd encourage me to work at it. Once, during a church concert by Marvin Goldstein, he motioned for me to come up and turn his pages for him while he played! Inspired by Brother Goldstein, I began arranging my own music, hymns, other songs, and writing music to perform. I went to the California state level competition for a musical piece I'd written. Every new piano piece that became popular, I learned to play. Movies would come out, and I'd figure out the piano part to the score before the piano books would come out. My parents purchased a beautiful Mason and Hamlin grand piano, which I loved (and still love) to play. I would stay at the keys for hours, practicing away, then head over to practice my flute. In band, it irked me to no end when those around me would consistently miss the same notes or rhythms and the band director never noticed. Sometimes I would turn around and tell the clarinets that they were missing their F#s or ask my friend A to tell the other trumpets that they were missing partials, not because I wanted to seem better than them but because I just wanted the music to sound good. That's all I wanted, and that's all I still want...I just want music to sound beautiful, as it is meant to. High school came, and I joined the marching band and symphonic band. Eventually I also joined the jazz band, where I met my first real struggle--although I loved jazz, I was never very good at jazz piano, likely due to my background training in classical piano. But I kept doing it, and I enjoyed it. I continued performing at school and playing in church. Piano competitions were common at first, but because I started professional lessons so late in life and I was competing with students who had been professionally trained since they were 3 or 4, I rarely placed. Our high school band had some promising talent but weak support, and we never did very well in performances. I was in the high school madrigal choir my senior year, but that program was also weak.

Soon I became discouraged with piano, even though I loved it. In band, I became complacent, because compared to most of the other students in the struggling music program at my high school, I was leaps and bounds ahead. I performed in local and regional honor bands and orchestras to challenge myself, but there wasn't much to be done. I learned to play the alto and tenor saxophones, the clarinet, and the French horn to keep from being bored. When I joined choir, many of the other members were talented, but careless with their talent. They were in it for the fun, while only a few like me wanted more out of the experience. At some point Dr. Jin moved back to Korea for a while, and I began studying piano with a new teacher at the university, Dr. Elvin Rodriguez. He challenged me a lot, but I still struggled. I taught piano lessons throughout high school. I loved band and invested time in 0-period jazz and after school marching band, even though we weren't very good. I enjoyed the time away from home, being with my band friends. I dated another talented musician in the band for much of my high school career, and the time I invested there also pulled me away from personal practice. I joined drumline and played the keyboards; the unfamiliar stress led me to develop cysts on my wrists that I had surgically removed. That, of course, limited my ability to play the piano for a while. I took difficult classes like the rest of my siblings, trying too hard to do too much, and I had less and less time for cultivating my most promising musical talent, piano. I became the drum major for the marching band my senior year, and I quickly fell in love with the idea of being a band conductor. The conflict between my love for conducting and my love for piano made it very difficult to prioritize, and I fell short on both as I tried to keep doing both. I would have done musical theater all my life if we'd had the programs in my schools, but we did not. I loved all things musical and tried to do everything I could, which made it impossible to really perfect any one instrument or voice. 


Nonetheless, soon it became time for me to put my lifelong dream of being a musician into action and apply for the Piano Performance major at the School of Music at BYU. I had been working on a Chopin Scherzo, as well as a Bach Prelude and Fugue and a Beethoven Sonata. I'd worked hard, and I felt confident that I would be accepted into the program. I took the AP Music Theory test my junior year of high school (even though we didn't have the course) and received top marks, and I knew that would help. I also took the Aural Skills exam, which is an exam given to all music school applicants, with tests in interval, chord, and rhythm studies. Everyone else who took it was really scared, because they warned us that most people had to take it twice or more to score a passing score (30 out of 64 was accepted as passing). I took it the one time and got a 62. All things considered, it seemed certain that I would get into the music program at BYU...but I did not. Everyone at home was shocked, including myself--we all thought that I would get in. But I would have to try out again the next year. I went to BYU and picked up a job to help pay for school. I continued to practice piano so that I could audition again for Piano Performance in January (auditions were only once a year). With the help of my parents, I purchased a good quality flute and prepared to also audition for Music Education. Unfortunately, if I wanted to become a band director for a high school or college, I could not audition on piano even though it was my best instrument: if I auditioned on piano for education, I could only teach elementary school music. So I had to prepare both instruments to audition on the same day, because all of the school of music auditions were held on one day, the same day every year. I was very prayerful about what I should do, and felt that auditioning on both would give me more options. I couldn't afford both piano and flute lessons through the school, so I took flute lessons only, hoping that my years of private training on piano would help me perfect the piano pieces I would perform. My ability on flute improved greatly, and I was excited to audition. I changed the pieces I was doing for piano; I dropped the Chopin Scherzo and worked on a Prokofiev Sonata (it was more difficult and more impressive), changed the Bach Prelude and Fugue, and chose another Beethoven Sonata. I worked hard on them. When I auditioned that January, I was fairly certain I had not gotten in on flute (they only had 2 spots available for about 50 applicants), but I was also fairly certain that I had done the best I could for Piano. As self-critical as I was, and knowing that I had done my best, I was sure I would get in, even in spite of the competition...but again, I did not. Three auditions down for the School of Music, and I didn't make any of them. 


At this point I became very discouraged. All I wanted to do with my life was music, but the BYU School of Music wouldn't let me get in! I was mostly done with my GE's by the time I finished my freshman year of college, and I didn't know whether or not I should wait around and audition a fourth time the next January. Even if I got in then, I wouldn't start the program until fall of my junior year, and then I would have four more years of my undergrad ahead of me. I considered transferring to another school, but felt that the Lord wanted me to stay at BYU. I took piano lessons from one of the faculty members for the Piano Department at BYU that fall, intending to audition the following January. My teacher was extremely hard on me, but not in what I felt was a positive way: he never complimented, never noted my progress, and constantly suggested that I look into studying something else. He told me that if I liked ANYTHING besides music, I should do that instead, because music was so grueling that it had to be your only option or you'd never be happy. Basically, he faked me out into thinking that I wasn't good enough for the music program, I couldn't do it, and I wasn't talented. All my life I had this confidence in my abilities as a musician. I KNEW I was talented. I knew that not because of what other people said, but because as I studied it more and more, I knew how to identify good quality music and I knew that I was able to produce it. But after being rejected three times by the School of Music for the one school at which I really wanted to study music, my confidence became very shaky and then fell apart altogether. I finished the semester of piano lessons because I'd paid for them, but I decided not to audition again. Maybe I should have auditioned on voice, but I didn't. My confidence as a musician was (and still is) completely shot. Instead, I figured I'd find something else to do with my life.


That is how I became a sociology major. I was trying to figure out what I enjoyed and what I could be happy doing with my life, and I decided sociology would be good because I like people and have always been a people person. At that point I didn't have a clear understanding of what sociology is, but I joined the major and went through the program anyway. By the time I graduated last April, I had developed good skills and was good at the subject matter--I got into the Master's program for it, so I knew I had to at least be a decent sociologist. I knew graduate studies would help me with career options later in life, and now I am a sociology Master's student. I think about what I am doing with my life, where I am going, and I really don't know the answers to those questions. I know that having a Master's Degree will open me up to more job opportunities that I might not have if I don't obtain the Master's. I know that what I am doing is a good thing. I know I am good at it. But I don't love it. I like it well enough. I've learned valuable things that will influence many of my relationships throughout my life. But I get out of my classes and the first thing I think is not about how I want to study more about this, but about how I want to take a break from it. My teachers say I need to eat, drink, and sleep sociology, but I don't. I do the bare minimum for my classes. Generally, I try to do well in my classes, not for a love of the subject matter but because from the time I was a child I was taught to do my best in school. But now, when I'm concerned about passing one class in particular, I don't have the drive necessary to work harder. I don't think, "I really love this and it will be so rewarding if I just stick it out." I don't tell myself, "I'm so glad I chose to study sociology and I got into the Master's program." I don't know if I really believe those statements. I just sit here, thinking about how I'm dissatisfied with my life. I'm doing the program because of a myriad of reasons, including my lack of confidence that I could find a decent job that I like with a BS in Sociology, and my memory that when I was a kid, my Dad, who had a Bachelor's Degree, had to go back to school after he was laid off in order to get a good job. I'd rather not have to do that in fifteen or twenty years so that I can get a good job to support my kids. I wouldn't mind going back to gain an education in another field because I enjoy it, but I would rather not have to do so then just so I can get a better job. After I graduated, I looked into getting another Bachelor's in music at a different school, but the schools I researched wouldn't accept students who already had degrees because too many people are going to college now. I am no longer a musician, but a sociologist (and that, only kind of). So here I am, not exactly prostrate with depression about where my life is going, but by no means fulfilling any dream of mine. I'm just...going along, dissatisfied.


I didn't write this with the intention of asking my readers for advice about what to do; I just needed to put it on "paper". But if you have advice or counsel, thoughts, experiences, etc., feel free to share. Like I said, I'm not doing anything important...I'm just sitting here, wondering what it is I'm doing and why I'm doing it...and wondering why I'm not doing something else.