Learning to Crawl (Open)
Mar 6, 2012 17:49:47 GMT -5
Post by James Zect on Mar 6, 2012 17:49:47 GMT -5
James swallowed as he set up his keyboard and its stand. He could do this, it wasn’t like it was his first time playing in public, just the first time without his headphones in. And it was just like when he played like that. Except other people could hear him playing, not just see him playing. They could laugh at him and tell him how horrible he really was and drive him away from where he was. Maybe this was a bad idea after all... he could just pack up his keyboard again and head back to campus or something.... He shook his head, attempting to snap himself out of his thoughts. He needed to open up, to be more social. He also needed to earn more money, so it wasn’t really much of a choice.
Between his new bike, college costs, food expenses... well, just what he made for being a messenger and doing the occasional caricature at the beach in the Summer didn’t really cover it. And he hated having to ask his mom for money, he knew she didn’t earn a ton and she was helping to cover college as it was. He looked down, trying to force all his thoughts out of his mind. The more he thought, the more he was making himself nervous. When he looked down, he realized that he had finished setting up his things. It was beginning to warm up a little bit, so he was wearing shorts with a tee under his riding jacket. He picked up his helmet from where it was sitting on the ground, brushing a little bit of gravel off of it and put it in his messenger bag. There, now if someone wanted to steal his things they were mostly in one place for them.
He stared at the keyboard and swallowed, not really sure what he wanted to do anymore. He was frozen, his mind some kind of morbid mixture of anxiety, fear, and the shyness that had kept him from saying more than a dozen words to people over his high school career. “You can do this,” he muttered to himself. He thought about using his abilities to form the mask over his head, or maybe putting on his helmet. Let Reaper do this now, and let James stay back and hide in the shadows of his mind. But no, that would defeat the purpose of why he was here and what he was trying to do. If he hid behind a mask, whether it was a Halloween mask, his helmet, or one of his own creation, he wouldn’t be breaking out of his shell, he would be retreating back into it.
He sat down on the small stoop behind where he had set up the keyboard. He could remember making a rather long mental list of songs he could play while he was here, ranging from classical to pop rock, but they had all apparently fled his mind just as soon as he’d actually gotten here. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself down a little bit. It didn’t really work, but it did clear his mind a little. “Just calm down, and pretend there’s no one else around.” He shut his eyes, swallowing as his hands quickly found themselves in the familiar starting position. He started playing, muttering the lyrics under his breath. The song wasn’t overly complicated, it was familiar to both his hands and the people who would be listening (hopefully?), and, hopefully, was not a horrible enough one that someone might try to destroy the board or something. His breathing steadied and his nervousness melted away as he played. An instrument or a pencil in his hand was all it took to calm him down, take him away from the world.
When the song came to an end, he moved his hands off the board, but kept his eyes shut tight for a few moments more. Maybe he could stave off the panic attack that might come from knowing that people, complete strangers, had heard him play. After a few seconds, he hesitantly opened up an eye, looking to see if anyone was angrily waiting to tell him to move or not to play again. No one could have enjoyed that... right?
Song: Don’t Stop Believing/Small Town Girl ~ Journey
Between his new bike, college costs, food expenses... well, just what he made for being a messenger and doing the occasional caricature at the beach in the Summer didn’t really cover it. And he hated having to ask his mom for money, he knew she didn’t earn a ton and she was helping to cover college as it was. He looked down, trying to force all his thoughts out of his mind. The more he thought, the more he was making himself nervous. When he looked down, he realized that he had finished setting up his things. It was beginning to warm up a little bit, so he was wearing shorts with a tee under his riding jacket. He picked up his helmet from where it was sitting on the ground, brushing a little bit of gravel off of it and put it in his messenger bag. There, now if someone wanted to steal his things they were mostly in one place for them.
He stared at the keyboard and swallowed, not really sure what he wanted to do anymore. He was frozen, his mind some kind of morbid mixture of anxiety, fear, and the shyness that had kept him from saying more than a dozen words to people over his high school career. “You can do this,” he muttered to himself. He thought about using his abilities to form the mask over his head, or maybe putting on his helmet. Let Reaper do this now, and let James stay back and hide in the shadows of his mind. But no, that would defeat the purpose of why he was here and what he was trying to do. If he hid behind a mask, whether it was a Halloween mask, his helmet, or one of his own creation, he wouldn’t be breaking out of his shell, he would be retreating back into it.
He sat down on the small stoop behind where he had set up the keyboard. He could remember making a rather long mental list of songs he could play while he was here, ranging from classical to pop rock, but they had all apparently fled his mind just as soon as he’d actually gotten here. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself down a little bit. It didn’t really work, but it did clear his mind a little. “Just calm down, and pretend there’s no one else around.” He shut his eyes, swallowing as his hands quickly found themselves in the familiar starting position. He started playing, muttering the lyrics under his breath. The song wasn’t overly complicated, it was familiar to both his hands and the people who would be listening (hopefully?), and, hopefully, was not a horrible enough one that someone might try to destroy the board or something. His breathing steadied and his nervousness melted away as he played. An instrument or a pencil in his hand was all it took to calm him down, take him away from the world.
When the song came to an end, he moved his hands off the board, but kept his eyes shut tight for a few moments more. Maybe he could stave off the panic attack that might come from knowing that people, complete strangers, had heard him play. After a few seconds, he hesitantly opened up an eye, looking to see if anyone was angrily waiting to tell him to move or not to play again. No one could have enjoyed that... right?
Song: Don’t Stop Believing/Small Town Girl ~ Journey
