|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Scaramouche Fandango Crew
|
 Posted: Thu May 02, 2013 12:00 pm
 Pale Moonlight stared at the sheet music paper propped against the piano's music stand. His latest composition had been carefully inscribed on it, and it was good... but was it enough?
It wasn't as if musical talents didn't run in the family. His grandfather and two of his fully-grown uncles were musicians- but they were certainly louder than he was- and, he had to admit it, more in touch with the modern world. He wanted to be a pianist and a composer, but was there really a place for him anymore? Could he be a successful classicist in a world that preferred highly polished and packaged pop or high-energy rock? He'd always thought that it might be his destiny to write languorous, delicate pieces, but... he just didn't know any more.
He'd experimented with other genres, but nothing seemed to fit quite so well. All of his forays into a more modern genre were messy, amateurish attempts. And besides, they made him feel ill at ease with himself. He didn't want to compromise his position on grace and elegance just for mass appeal, but could he even be relevant without doing so?
This threw him into a fit of melancholy for about a day and a half. Finally, after moping quite a bit, he decided to ask one of his parents about it. End of an Era couldn't much help him out; she'd always felt confident about her place in the world. All she could do was encourage him, but for once, she really couldn't answer his question. He understood this; parents weren't infallible, after all. But perhaps, she'd said, Taquita could help you out more- and so off he went to find his other mother.
"Mom?" he asked, thinking carefully about how to phrase the question. "How do you know the difference between a hobby and your life's purpose?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu May 02, 2013 5:32 pm
Taquita smiled a kind smile. "Ah, I remember what it was like when I was your age. My dad didn't understand me and my love of putting words on paper. Your grandfather... he's a a dunce." She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes, a habit she had never lost when talking about TACO.
The pink pony pointed a hoof at her son's heart. "You feel it in here. A hobby, a hobby you can get sick of. Your purpose, you never get sick of that. You love it, and as you love it, your talents for it will flourish. It pays you back tenfold what you put into it. It's something that feels effortless, and just... right."
"There's no other way to say it. You just know. I can't tell you what it feels like to have that cutie mark appear on your flank; you have to experience it to know."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Scaramouche Fandango Crew
|
Posted: Thu May 02, 2013 8:49 pm
This should have been the sort of thing he took time to agonize over, but as his mother spoke, Pale Moonlight realized that he'd only asked for reaffirmation. He knew well what truly lay within his heart; he just needed to hear that it was ok to feel that way.
What was in his heart? Delicacy. Tenderness. Emotion- not silly, sappy, bubblegum puppy love, but truly evocative feelings. Dancing in the moonlight. Duets. Waltzes. Whispers and shadowplay, fascination and distant voices. Gentle refrains carried away on the night breezes.
Suddenly, he had what could only be called a moment of clarity. Relevance didn't matter if he was happy. All that mattered was his own integrity.
"I- I think I get it. Thanks mom," he said, leaning up on his tiptoes to kiss Taquita's cheek, then galloped out of the room, back to the piano- which he hadn't touched in that wretched day and a half. His composition was good enough, and as he returned to his beloved instrument, he realized that yes, this was where he was meant to be. He didn't know when his cutie mark appeared; perhaps during the crescendo in the second movement, or perhaps on the long fermato at the end- but what he did know was that it was right. There was no need to sacrifice his own desires for the sake of relevance; the devil no longer danced within Pale Moonlight.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
