Es ist lustig, dass wenn man etwas praktizieren beginnt, wird man sich an dem sehr interessieren.

And that's exactly what happened with me and my trumpet.

I wasn't particularly good, and I must say that I likely still am not. But when I actually began practicing on my trumpet during Freshman year, I suddenly became more invested.

Part of it probably has to due with me losing interest in swimming, which was the only non-curricular activity I was doing.

The other part was that I was indeed improving.

My lessons would be on Day 6 Period 2's, and in the beginning of the year I often forgot about them. I still managed to get past the quarter with a B. I haven't the best memory of things when it matters most to recall them.

But I put in more effort. I made phone reminders and sticky notes. My sister had a free at that time, so if she saw me she'd remind me and I'd run over to the lesson room like my behind was aflame.

Rosa had band at the same time as my lesson. I would sometimes catch a glance at her hair when I went into the band room to get my trumpet. (That's really I could see of her.)

My lesson teacher and I didn't vibe on the same wavelength. But we got along alright. I was very nervous and he was the type who would take no bullshit. Which only made me more nervous, because I'm a adept bullshitter.

I just didn't have time to practice!

As I said, I got better. Practicing at home was very awkward because the loud sound would resonate through the house, and I was always sheepish that I was disturbing the evening peace (which I technically was).

Sometimes I'd lost track of time and my mom would get real pissed because she'd have listened to an hour straight of me tooting the same measure over and over.

It got real bad when COVID decided to drop down on us like Panzers in Warsaw. I was supposed to record myself paying, but the audio always sounded like it was captured on radio in China and put on a record.

I guess the good part was I could record as many times as I wished and then submit the best one.