The Enigmas of Musette

Musette is ruining my life. I hate this piece with a fiery passion. It's not even funny. I have a dumbed down version, of course, because I've only been taking piano for three months, but that doesn't change the fact that when you're playing pizzicato with one hand, and a "bagpipe imitation" with the other, you get a serious headache. It's like when five year olds decide to try and pat their head and rub their stomach at the same time. There isn't enough coordination in the world for them to do that. My hand-eye coordination stops at the Medium level on Guitar Hero. I can't really even catch a ball. And I'm 18. I don't know how to ride a bike. If I can't ride a bike, how am I supposed to figure out Musette?

Also, there's a little note at the top of each print of Musette. "

"Not written by Bach. Anonymous."

If it's anonymous, why is Bach's name in big letters on the sheet music? Why does he get to take credit for Mr(s).Anonymous. Maybe George Clooney wrote it. Is that really fair to Mr.Ocean if we give Bach the credit for Musette. Not that I want Clooney's good (?) name to be spoiled with the piece of toilet paper that is Musette, but still. It's up for consideration.

You might say that this post makes me sound uncultured right about now. You know, for referring to Musette as toilet paper. Not at all. I like Minuet. I like Claire de Lune. I like Moonlight Sonata. I love the theatre, and love art. Rephrase. I love LOOKING AT art. I can't draw worth poo. But I enjoy Da Vinci, Kahlo, Dali, and Van Gogh, the last of which is a semi-foreign concept in this school district. I like things that make sense. Even if they don't, like the awesome stuff in the Washington D.C. sculpture gardens. Don't ask me to analyze them, but I think they are pretty awesome. If you don't make me analyze the stuff and just let me appreciate, I'm good. If I didn't have to play Musette, I would probably like it.

So, from this, we can conclude that piano lessons makes you uncultured.