What hobbies have been passed down from your family?

When I was 4, my mom tried teaching me violin. And piano. Among the many hobbies my parents urged me to try, music was one they especially emphasized. I guess it sort of ran in the family; my great uncle was supposedly a professional violinist back in Korea. But more than that, my mom just wanted me to have freedom to be whoever I wanted. Unfortunately for little me, I didn’t see it that way. 

Growing up (and even now), I loved my free time. I could spend the whole day playing out little battles in my head, tightly clutching an action figure in each hand and making wooshing noises as I imagined an epic clash between them. So you can imagine my dismay when those baby hands were pried off of my white and black LEGO Clone Troopers and placed onto white and black keys. Honestly, it’s kinda weird how I didn’t like music as a kid. I was always surrounded by it; my dad would sit on the living room couch blasting some Mozart opera, while drab car rides to school would be filled up with the sound of my mom’s classical CDs. Maybe that was it- I was overfed. I would see music as a leech, eating away at my precious hours through weekly lessons and daily practices. My parents had all my best interests in mind, but for me I think it was just too much. 

I remember the stories my mom would tell of her young days as a classical pianist, like the time she ran late to her winter recital and played with her hands shivering from the cold, or how she’d practice for hours every day to prepare for upcoming competitions. She’d look back with a hint of nostalgia, reminiscing on what could’ve been. She had quit in just fifth grade, having grown tired of the weight on her fingers. She told me she wanted to be a violinist, but when her request was shut down she left music for good. I was always somewhat inspired by her past endeavors, and made half-hearted attempts at measuring up to her hopes of my musical success. But I never really took off; there was no passion in the screeching sound of my own bow, no life in the dull keys that I gave up in second grade. 

It was in my last year of elementary school when the band teacher held open signups, and my parents encouraged me to give it a shot. Performing with my friends sounded exciting, and I had wanted to play the clarinet following the example of my cousin in middle school. The moment I put the reed to my lips I knew… I absolutely hated it. My fingers tangled over the buttons as I struggled to breathe. And yet I wasn’t ready to give up on my potentially illustrious elementary band career. The next day I picked up some drumsticks and hit a snare drum off-beat to the cacophony of my classmates. Through a number of sounds no human should ever hear, something clicked. It was more simple, more fun. I played for myself, tapping my fingers to a song in my head on the ride home. I think that was it; at the end of the day, hobbies are for yourself, not a chore you keep at for someone else. So I kept playing.

I still play violin; somehow, those years of slow torturous lessons never managed to put me down for good. Some things keep me going; the occasional YouTube prodigy, drama anime, or encouraging words from my mom help me through. The same ambition that drove her to put in all those hours drives me to practice a couple minutes a day. Honestly though, I love music. I probably will for the rest of my life, and I have my parents to thank for pushing me down this bumpy yet rewarding road. A little bit of my free time? Worth it.