Personal Narrative Essay: Playing The Violin At Carnegie Hall

The stage lights shone brightly, heating up all that was beneath them. I was seated in the first chair, with the rest of the violin section behind me. My eyes scanned the notes as the conductor waved his baton with gusto. I felt my fingers move swiftly across the fingerboard as my bow danced up and down across the strings. It was magical. The violin, an instrument that I once despised, has led me to the point of being able to perform anywhere. Furthermore, without having had the perseverance to continue to play this instrument, I would not have become the person and musician that I am today. The musical notes written on the page before me were ingrained in my memory, allowing me to catch the reflection of their image on the shiny wooden floor below. As my gaze moved across the audience, I was captivated by the tiny arc of lights that outlined the innumerable levels of red velvet seats. One could not help but notice the beauty of the diversity of the colors on the columns. Their capitals stood out. They were adorned with gold-embossed designs that glimmered magically in the dim light. What a moment. I was playing the violin at Carnegie Hall.

My journey as an instrumentalist began when

I like to think of this competition as a major turning point in my “musical life” life, as well as one of my “greatest” failures. After months and months of practicing one specific Concerto in preparation for the big performance, I timidly made my way up the aisle to the stage. I looked out into the audience and began to play the first notes of the piece. Suddenly, I froze and was not able to continue playing. I could feel embarrassment as tears welled in my eyes. My parents looked in disbelief as I walked off the stage. All I could think about was how disappointed I made my parents, and how much I hated that violin for bringing me up on that stage. I felt as though I never wanted to play the violin