ARC TWO

risoluto
Origin: Italian
Resolutely; in an admirably purposeful, determined, and unwavering manner.

DISCLAIMER: The personalities and opinions of these characters do not represent those of actual idols themselves, the Juilliard students, the New York Philharmonic, or any of its employees. The Juilliard School is not responsible for the accuracy of information.

The Seventy-First Measure

Monday: May 3, 2021

It's jury week but before that, I visisted my audiologist, Dr. Jung. He's the husband of my online ASL instructor, father of Juilliard piano major Jung Wheein, and Chaeyoung's audiologist as well. The percussionist herself is also accompanying me to my appointment because she had nothing else to do after her morning jury. Mine is in the evening today so I have some time to spare.

Once we strode through the lavendar lobby of the NYC Audiologists Associates Building, Dr. Jung immediately recognized Chaeyoung. He pulled up the frames of his glasses before revealing his cordial smile, reaching his arm out to shake mine and Chaeyoung's hands. It turns out that he can use ASL too, albeit at a lower competency to that of his wife's. It helps because I'm still not a hundred percent confident in my skills either.

People would think that with all this intensive ASL studying that I would be up to par with the level of other advanced users but that's not true at all. I still make mistakes and sometimes I become so aggravated that I switch to the texting method instead. Today when Chaeyoung asked me if I had a drink before we left, I mixed up the different signs for the word "drink" (There are two signs for "drink" — one references drinking non-alcoholic beverages and the other (which I accidentally used) specifies drinking liquor. Chaeyoung perceived that I drank alcohol with my pancakes)

We're led into this small space with two chairs, a computer, and other various audiology equipment that I've encountered more than once before and after my surgeries. I sat down in one of the chairs, turned slightly to face a tinted poster with a quote that reads as this: 

"Where words fail, music speaks."

- Hans Christian Andersen

I feel as though someone had told me this quote before, but my memory is running blank.

Dr. Jung reintroduced himself with a wide grin, signing slowly so that I can understand him.

We spent the hour running over some hearing tests and discussing the state of my hearing — profound deafness in my right ear and moderate loss of hearing in my left ear. Then the remaining thirty minutes discussing potential ways to improve it, but not entirely "fix" it as able-bodied people would claim. He said that I qualify for both hearing aids and a cochlear implant, but I can only choose one over the other.

I looked over at Chaeyoung and she seemed queasy when he explained the process of the implant through a subtitled video. She became even more unsettled when he talked about the price of those things. I don't blame her; I don't think I'd be able to afford one by myself either.

At the end of the session, Chaeyoung and I stood at the platform waiting for the 1 Train to turn up. The one perk about not having a lot of hearing is that you don't get to hear the screeching train wheels against the railroad tracks, along with that one crazy preacher who always embarks at this time. I always wind up in the same car as him and I can't transfer into another car without the risk of not being able to find a seat. 

I hugged my bassoon case firmly between my legs so that I could sign to Chaeyoung, "The cochlear implant is expensive."

"It's not that", Chaeyoung gave off a weary smile.

"What is it?"

"I'm just afraid that you'll forget about Deaf people like me", she fretted, "Or worse, you'll become like those ableists, such as Reina."

That's true. While I was recovering from my second surgery, I read an article about the controversy behind cochlear implants. With the way that CI's are promoted as a "miracle cure" for deafness, it brought about agitation within the Deaf/HoH community because it implied that they're not functional and that they need to be fixed. The concern is particularly geared towards deaf or hard-of-hearing children whose hearing parents are forcing them to get CI's. They're not given the choice to think and decide for themselves. In other words, these kids aren't equipped with self-esteem within their hearing loss and their parents induce them to believe that they're broken. The frustration in the community makes sense because there are those who are proud of their Deaf heritage and don't feel that they need to change to appease hearing individuals. 

Chaeyoung and I kept silent during our train ride to Juilliard, or more like we kept our hands to ourselves since we don't really use our mouths to talk. She was playing with her Nintendo DS and I have a bassoon case to hold tight to just in case someone tries to steal it again.

Then she stuffed her console into her sweater pocket and jabbed my arm to grab my attention, "Mina, I'm sorry."

I tilted my head at her.

"I know that you're a better person than Reina and people like her", she signed with a sense of remorse, chapfallen eyes meeting mine, "I shouldn't be the one deciding what you want. I was just scared and it led to me being selfish."

I waited until we alighted at the next stop, allowing me to carry my case on my back and free my hands, "It's okay. I don't want them anyways."

Chaeyoung stopped halfway up the stairs to focus her gaze on me, "I'll support you."

"I don't even know if I'll like the implant. I can't afford it anyways."

"That's true", she sighed and stopped trying to convince me otherwise, "What about hearing aids then?"

I never reflected on that. There's different brackets of hearing aids but they're considerably cheaper than CI's. I know that Chaeyoung has hearing aids to accustom herself to the sounds of an ensemble but her degree of hearing loss is much more serious than mine's. That also explains why Chaeyoung's hearing aids are quite pricey, as those with severe-to-profound hearing loss need to carry higher output and gain, and yet it still doesn't benefit Chaeyoung in talking to others unless she's in a quiet space with one person. Sometimes, she doesn't turn on her hearing aids.

But when I'm alone with Chaeyoung, we still don't talk to each other. Why? Because she wanted me to practice my sign language and she can't process a whole conversation without her head hurting.

"You're not against it?" I asked.

"Mina, as long as you know that being hard of hearing doesn't mean that you're weak, you get to decide what your identity is as a hard of hearing person", Chaeyoung expressed thoughtfully, "I mean, I have hearing aids too. I just don't use them all of the time. There are pros and cons to it."

Chaeyoung has a point. I don't have to use hearing aids all of the time; just when really, really need to.

"We'll see." 

During individual study in one of the practice rooms, I sat in quiet contemplation about how I'm going to complete my jury with minimal hearing. My hands clenched my bassoon as I tried my best to stay calm, but it's not entirely helping. I didn't spend months rehearsing my jury repertoire in this condition before. It's times like these where I seriously want to consider attaining those hearing devices.

"Mina is very hard-working and innovative. She doesn't give in and is always looking for alternatives to resolutions."

"It is not merely about being in tune with your ears; it's about being in tune with your body."

"Becoming hard of hearing may look like an impasse, but it doesn't stop you from accomplishing great things."

"Just allow your mind and body to open up and become a resonating chamber. Let the music flow in places that you wouldn't think of."

"I think that good listening isn't exclusive to the ears"

Okay. I need to focus on the present first.

My jury is in two hours and I need to figure out an alternative way to pass this assessment. I can check pitch with my tuning application and with Yerin or Mingyu's feedback, scales are something that I can play in my sleep, and I've run over the repertoire over two hundred times this semester. I just need to have faith in my technique and expressiveness to get through each piece.

After practice, I got in line with Mingyu and the rest of the bassoonists queuing outside of the testing room, awaiting their turn to be evaluated in front of the bassoon instructors as well as other music professors at Juilliard. The upperclassmen are calm and composed while the underclassmen are frantically air- their bassoons. Entering juries appeared like a march towards execution because once a student prodded through those double doors, they would never come out (actually, they'd come out through another exit but I'm just analogizing). Juries are only supposed to last about fifteen minutes, but that stretch of time ultimately determines whether you deserve to stay enrolled in Juilliard or not.  

Five minutes in and Joshua, who was about to be tested, began grappling his own respective instrument with his sweaty palms. He seemed to have a meltdown and the upperclassmen were staring superficially at him, two even exchanging giggles. I wasn't laughing at all. I can relate to Joshua.

This morning, I internally convinced myself that I couldn't play this agony tube called the "bassoon", that I was going to lose my breath in the middle of a run, that my fingers are incompetent and will not operate at my own will, that I was going to forget everything that I learned in the past ten years of being strapped to the instrument's harness, and to the most dramatic conclusion that I couldn't perform ever again.

But then my mind backtracked to this late morning before I set off for my appointment with Dr. Jung. I was hanging out with Sana and watching her practice her repertoire for her jury in three days (Lucky girl gets more time to prepare than I do). 

As she was mastering Penderecki's Capriccio per Radovan "Il sogno di un cacciatore", an unaccompanied horn piece, the transient thought that ran through my head was that she was playing a piece as opposed to practicing it. French horns are significantly louder and more strident than bassoons, therefore my left ear could at least translate most of her music into my brain. I'll preface this by reminding you that Sana treats technical pieces as trivial with the presupposition that music is suppoed to be "fun". For the most part, Sana seems more relaxed and perhaps even joyful when she's making music. She treated every orchestra rehearsal as if it were a concert and every practice session as if it were a performance. Sana makes juries look like a breeze and at first I laughed at the thought that she could see past the cold adjudicators and have "fun" during her jury.



And then I found myself with the realization is that music IS in fact, fun. I skimmed through my repertoire and asked myself what I love about these pieces — the charming tone of Hummel's Grand Concerto for bassoon, the sweet and delicate essence of Vivaldi's Sonata in A Minor (Vivaldi isn't that bad after all), and the doleful spirit of the Andantino in Bernard Andres's Chants d'Arriere-Saison.

If music isn't fun, then why are we pursuing it? It is meant to be enjoyed, savored, appreciated; not stressed over. That's one of the points that my fanclub members made in the birthday video. They gravitate towards my playing style when I'm in my element.

I need to adjust my mindset and reframe it towards showing the adjudicators how I feel about each piece instead of working to please them.

Leafing through pages of sheet music, my eyes stumbled upon a neon pink sticky-note with something written with a thick sharpie pen:

Smile. You're going to do great :) — Sana

I smiled.

Eventually, it was my turn to face the judging panel, who consisted of the four bassoon instructors at Juilliard including Dr. Cseszneky, five other music professors including SinB's father, and lastly, President Polisi. The latter greeted me with a huge grin and a gracious handshake. 

I waited until each and every adjudicator had their full attention on me. Nobody gave me any vocal cues because they were informed about my loss of hearing ahead of time. I fastened my harness, locked my fingers in place, prepared my embouchure, and President Polisi nodded at me.

Alright, Mina. You got this The 4-7-8 method. Inhale through my nose to a mental count of four, hold my breath for a count of seven, and exhaling through my mouth to a count of eight. Rinse and repeat.

I took a deep breath and played.

The Seventy-Second Measure 

Thursday: May 20, 2021

Juries and final exams are over.

I'm usually good at forgetting those things after they're done, but not this time. Recollections of the judging table, the conscientious and watchful professors, and the shimmering copper walls of the testing room swelled within my brain. In my dreams, I would teleport to that very same room, at one fell swoop with the shudder down my spine and the familiar knot in my stomach, all before I could in the right amount of air needed to play the first few bars of a piece. I can't judge my performance because I could barely hear my own playing and my piano accompanist, Minyoung, was playing louder than me. While in queue, Mingyu also assisted me in tuning my instrument and picking out the best possible reed.

For the duration of my jury, I listened to my body, trusted my pitch, and relied on muscle memory to do the talking. Rolling R's against the palate intitiates flutter tonguing, alternating s or partly covering tone holes causes glissandos, movements within the diaphragm brings about vibrato — I could go on about playing techniques but you get the gist. Overall, it's difficult to judge how well I did.

At least I survived without a tick of tinnitus or vertigo. 

Following Juilliard Orchestra rehearsals for the graduation ceremony, Chaeyoung came over to my residence to practice Silent Sonata. The calendar application on my phone informed me that the Proms is in two months, which seems like an ample amount of time. However, time flies. We tell ourselves to put off things until later but before we know it, it's too late. After listening to what Seohyun had to say about my piece in the birthday video, I really want to give a meaningful performance. I need to redeem myself after losing to Sana in that competition in Paris but most importantly, I need to redeem myself from all of those years of thinking that music was only a competition.

I may have reduced hearing and the other symptoms from my acoustic neuroma, but I'm not going to let that stop me from playing.

In the middle of our practice session, Nayoung walked into the practice room with a package and a letter folded up in a fancy gold envelope. Chaeyoung peaked over my shoulder as I delicately opened the envelope, revealing a handwritten letter from Dr. Cseszneky, my private instructor.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Mina Myoui,

I'd like to inform you that you got straight A's on all of your jury sheets. We're sorry for stressing you out with the timing. We were supposed to hand you your results earlier, but myself and the adjudicators had so much to say about your performance that we needed more time to express our opinions. 

You have been such a pleasure to work with for both semesters and I hope that you will be assigned as my student next year. Your persistent and hardworking attitude makes our work fun and interesting, and I'm glad that you haven't given up on music because of your hearing loss. I really wish that you continue doing what you love because you're so talented and the world needs to recognize that.

There should've been a package that came along with this letter. Inside is a case of high-quality reeds that are handmade by my German friend who is a skilled artisan in reed-making. They're made from the best cane and every reed is tested before dispatch. Don't even think about paying me back; I'm giving these reeds to you for free. Try one out and see how much you like it. Maybe you can use one of them for the BBC Proms.

I'm looking forward to your performance this summer. I've already booked a flight to London and I'm printing out tickets as I'm writing this.

Sincerely, 

Kevin Cseszneky, D.M.A

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The letter is, without a doubt, written by my private instructor. He always adds his doctorate title after his full name.

I'll test out the German reeds with Dr. Cseszneky or another bassoonist during a different time but right now, I want to view my jury results and the commentary along with it. Within the envelope, there's another piece of paper. I unfolded it and tried to decipher the muddled handwriting.

Joshua's bassoon instructor noted how my vibrato sounded remarkably similiar to that of an operatic baritone.

Three professors raved about my clear-cut, definite tone, with one of them quoting, "It definitely has that characteristic bassoon sound."

But as I'm grazing through the review, my eyes cease at President Polisi's name and his report under it:

------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is one of the best jury performances I've witnessed and not just among bassoonists, but amongst all musicians. Despite your hearing loss, you hit every note and its accents perfectly, your tempo was one-hundred percent, and you paid close attention to the dynamics. I need not go into detail about the technicalities because the other adjudicators already highlighted them and it would be redundant for me to point them out again.

But you know that I value lyricism just as much as I value technicality. Playing with emotion is important because at Juilliard, we believe in crafting musicians that can add their own flair to their music and communicate those feelings with their audience. We encourage students to become advocates for the arts and use their artistic talents to influence and inspire others, and to the greatest extent, the world.

At first, I was worried because I'm aware that your parents raised you to believe that you needed to win every competition to become successful, and that can lead to musicians losing touch with their purpose in playing. But your jury performance showcased more than just progress; it showcased character development. I don't think I've ever shivered at Andre and Vivaldi before, and I've never heard Hummel's technical concerto ride with such ecstatic energy before. I noted the smile on your face before you placed the reed in your lips, and that just shows how much you love music and how you manage to find joy in these stressful situations. You remind me of that one hornist I evaluated on a different day.  

Anyways, I'm so proud of how far you've come since your first year here at Juilliard. You didn't let anything stop you, not even your hearing loss. It just comes to show that you can accomplish anything when you have the right mindset. I'm excited to see where the road will take you after you graduate next year. For instructors, I'm assigning you to Dr. Cseszneky again because I think he knows you the best.

Mina, don't give up. Don't let anyone tell you that you can't do great things for being hard-of-hearing. There are successful deaf and hard-of hearing musicians out there. Take Beethoven, Gabriel Fauré, Mandy Harvey, Sean Forbes, and Dame Evelyn Glennie for example.

Come to my office if you have any questions about your career options. You have my full support.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I can't believe it. I passed my jury with barely any hearing.

Chaeyoung gestured "congratulations" before reaching out for a brief hug. My friends are right. I should start believing in myself and not letting my loss of hearing act as an impediment from doing the things that I want. If Beethoven can do it, if Evelyn Glennie can do it, if Chaeyoung can do it, then so can I.

Before the day of graduation, we celebrated the end of juries with the Crack Squad and our other Pops Orchestra friends at miss KOREA, a chic Koreatown restaurant that specializes in authentic Korean cuisine. Discussions about after-graduation plans rotated within the fourth-years in our group, followed by eating Korean barbeque, uncontrollable sobbing from the underclassmen, drinking (except myself and the underaged members of the group), and then a few rounds of this Japanese game called "King's Game" because Momo wanted to.

Wooden chopsticks are shuffled randomly and each person must fish out one stick. The person who gets the red-marked chopstick is the king whereas the rest have chopsticks with numbers. The king gives an order and a number and the person with that number must do what they say. I won't go into detail about the events that occurred while playing, but let's just say that some designated kings ordered people to face.

More crying pursued after the underclassmen gave the graduates their regards, but I managed to stay composed because there's still tomorrow to deal with. It's not entirely the graduation ceremony that gets us musicians emotional; it's the commencement concert that follows.

I arrived home late, safe, sound, and unintoxicated. Nayoung and Yoojung had already gone home from their duties, so I was left with this copious amount of space all to myself. My limbs are sprawled all over the couch, head facing the glass walls and my bassoon sitting in its stand, imploring me to play her— I mean, play it! Gosh, Mina. What's going on in your head? You probably are a little intoxicated after all.

There's no way that I'd be having sober thoughts while I'm drunk so I shook off the voices in my head, propelled myself out of the couch, and advanced towards the bathroom to brush my teeth and take a quick bath. But before that, there's a black Sharpie pen sitting on my sink top.

And then I remembered something: I need new affirmation post-it notes.

Instead of showering, I hastily slipped on a long pajama shirt and darted to the office room within my house, yanking out a set of colorful sticky notes from one of the drawers while gripping my Sharpie pen. Taking heed to each point every person made in my birthday video, I began taking note of my strengths and tapping each post-it to the pasty pink wall in front of my bed.

I'm pretty — Yeoreum and Seola
I'm hot (lol) — Bambam
I'm reliable — Eunha
I'm always prepared — Youngjae and Yugyeom
I'm urgent ("I don't play games") — Jackson
I'm passionate — Jisoo
I'm always available and selfless — Joshua
I'm caring — Mingyu
I don't exploit other people's kindness — Nayoung
I'm hard-working — Chaekyung
I'm good and honest — Somi
I'm a great leader — Mark and Junior
I acknowledge everyone's efforts — Yerin
I'm inspirational — SinB
I make beautiful music, I guess — Sowon, Yuju, and Umji
I'm sensitive — Sunny
I'm innovative — Yuri
I have a great imagination — Seohyun
I'm relatable — Tzuyu
I have great potential for the future — Dahyun
I'm open to trying new things — Jihyo
I'm good at listening to others — Nayeon
I'm compassionate — Bona
I'm open to sharing my experiences and I'm courageous — Jeongyeon and Momo
I have a love of learning — Chaeyoung
I don't give in very easily — Sana
I'm simply amazing — Sungyeon

Wow. That's a lot of notes.

Leaning back and staring at a formerly-empty wall that is now cluttered with affirmation notes, I've learned that I barely acknowledge my personal strengths. Perhaps it's because I was raised in a competitive environment where I believed that I was never good enough, and therefore I was more prone to pointing out my weaknesses more than my strengths. It's good to have a balance of both; it gives you a better understanding of yourself. 

Sure knowing your weaknesses can encourage you to improve give you a clearer perception of things that may be holding you back, but understanding your strengths can also help you to grow confidence and aim higher to achieve even greater things. If we don't acknowledge our strengths every now and then, our self-confidence and enthusiasm decreases, thus weakening our overall performance. Fixating on our strengths enables us to seek opportunities instead of problems. Rather than trying to fix or get rid of our weaknesses, we can utilize our strengths to work around them. I didn't fret about failing my jury because of my hearing loss; I used alternative strategies that attributed to my innovativeness.

The Seventy-Third Measure

Friday: May 21, 2021

Clouds cleared the skies, the rain had washed the sidewalks and gutters cleaned, spring concluded with a yawn of blossoms and blooms, even the classic angry New Yorker was nowhere to be found. The vibrancy of New York City had bounced back just in time for a special day.

The graduation ceremony ended on a high note. The downs were the crying amongst families and friends, along with exhuastion from a formidable four years in this prized institution. As for the ups, this year offered opportunities for personal growth and introspection for myself and my friends. The hardships we had overcome just made ourselves even stronger and our bond even tighter. I realized the importance of surrounding myself with positive and confident people, some of whom are no longer students at Juilliard anymore.

Sana and I first went over to Chaekyung, who really isn't going anywhere. She's been accepted to Juilliard's Masters Program and will continue to work with the Juilliard Orchestra next year. In fact, she and her girlfriend, Kim Sohee, have sparked some interest in the Pops Orchestra as well.

We then gave our goodbyes to Jackson, Mark, and Junior. Yesterday at the restaurant, these three settled on moving outside of America to test the classical waters in Europe. Jackson is going to compete in the violin category at the famed International Tchaikovsky Competition, and he's pretty confident despite the volume of unforgiving competitors that he'll be up against. In order for Jackson to concentrate in his work overseas, he had to break up with Eunha.

Eunha is okay with it, though. In fact, she's genuinely happy for him and wants him to succeed.  

Then we walked over to Sowon, the former president of my fanclub. She pounced on me and gave me a suffocating hug in front of Yuju and Umji. She had transferred the "president" title to SinB, who is in the lobby of the Alice Tully Hall weeping to Yerin. The eldest amongst the couple has accepted a second-chair position with the Toronto Symphony Orchestra and now she has to move to another country.

Speaking of Yerin, she's weeping too. I wasn't sure if it was because she was leaving SinB or because she was offered a bassoon position with a professional orchestra fresh out of music school, but she's been in this state since President Polisi entrusted her with the degree that she deserved. Yerin's eyes were so fogged by her tears that she nearly tripped while sauntering down the steps.

And as soon as I came by to give her a hug, her tears soaked up my concert dress for the night.

I scrambled out of the lobby and straggled through crowds of overjoyed students and families to find Momo, whose parents gifted her a bouquet of bacon roses. I threatened to cry when the thought about her not being a member of the Pops Orchestra anymore came to mind, but then Momo plucked out one of her bacon roses and shoved it into my mouth to stop me from bawling. 

Undeterred by the fact that I couldn't hear my own voice in amidst the celebration, I still shouted "thank you" to Momo for the birthday video. She tilted her head in confusion at first, but she caught up slowly with my words. I guess my interpretation of having a loud voice doesn't match her's.

To stop myself from crying, I thought about Momo's entrance to the stage to receive her degree. She strutted down to President Polisi and made the stage her catwalk. I laughed because when Momo was shaking President Polisi's hand, one of her stiletto heels snapped and she decided to complete the perimeter of the stage with bare feet. But Momo remained confident as she was making her exit, and I'm happy for her.

Jeongyeon also bravely displayed a radiant face when she sashayed in her black graduation gown to President Polisi. He gagged on his spit from amusement and her degree slipped from his hand. However, Jeongyeon has great reflexes (probably due to the fact that she's a percussionist) and she managed to snatch the piece of paper, one centimeter before it hit the ground. 

"Congratulations", I told Jeongyeon after swallowing my bacon rose, enclosing her in my arms.

Jeongyeon released herself from the hug, sifting her hands out of her gown sleeves to sign something, "Thank you."

Even Jeongyeon is learning some sign language and it renders me speechless, literally. If it weren't for Jeongyeon with her persistence of keeping me in the Pops Orchestra and exposing my talents, I probably wouldn't hold as much confidence today. I look up to Jeongyeon in that she's charismatic and has a great sense of leadership, awareness, and energy. Even though she teases me more than the other Crack Squad members, Jeongyeon is also my number-one defender. She's the kind of friend that every person needs in their life and I'm going to miss her greatly.

"I think I owe you an apology", I started, gripping the fabric of my dress.

"Why?" she gestured.

"I misjudged you and your friends at first", I admitted as I looked down on the floor, "I didn't think that I would enjoy the Pops Orchestra and your company. Reina and the others kind of induced me to believe that you guys were nothing but s and giggles, and that's not true. You guys and the rest of the ensemble are among the most inspirational people I've ever met. My life has changed because of you guys."

The timpanist shot back a pleased smile and whispered something to Sana.

"She said that it's not your fault", Sana translated, "You didn't need to apologize."

"Okay, but I'm still sorry", I heaved a sigh of relief, handing Jeongyeon over to Sana before slipping out of the crowd once again. 

Nayeon had isolated herself from everyone else, dodging all of the typical celebratory camaraderie while meandering around the fountain at the Lincoln Center for Performing Arts. She had just stowed away her clarinet in David Geffen Hall's dressing room for tonight's performance, or so she claimed in her text message after the ceremony. I'm thinking about how there could something else that Nayeon is going through.

When our eyes met, Nayeon motioned me to sit next to her at the rim of the fountain. I sat on her right so that she could speak into my left ear. There's no one else here except us and the surrounding streets are not clogged up with noisy cars for once. The fountain is also shut off to conserve water.

"Hey, uhh... c-congratulations!" I said shakily, not knowing how to start the conversation.

"Thank you", there was something about Nayeon's voice that made me uneasy, like how tense she sounded when she spoke in my left ear.

Crap. What do I do?

"Mina", Nayeon began, clutching her the fabric of her graduation gown, "You don't have to stay with me. You can be with everyone else."

Nayeon didn't leave you as a friend, so don't leave her.

"I want to be here", I looked at her with a contented smile, "Besides, it's too loud over there. The hollering and the crying hurts my left ear."

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes, not knowing what else to say. Nayeon started to fiddle with the corners of her diploma while I envisioned what Nayeon's solo is going to look like tonight. I diverted my stare away from her as a trail of goosebumps started blooming in my wake. 

At first unsure about whether to speak out or not, Nayeon decided to steal her nerves and make an observation, "Everyone's parents are here."

Ah. So that's what's bothering her.

Now that I think about it. I don't recall anybody else except the Crack Squad and the Pops Orchestra members standing up and cheering for Nayeon as she walked across the graduation stage. Her parents must've seriously cut ties with her, and thus they didn't show up to her graduation.

"I'm so sorry", I addressed meekly, lowering my eyes to my feet.

"No, I'm sorry for being pessimistic for a bit", Nayeon sighed, leaning closer to my left ear again, "It's okay, Mina. I'm way over them now. I have Jihyo, Jihyo's parents, and you guys now. I consider all of you guys as part of my family."

I reached out to the clarinetist and pulled her into my arms, "Don't worry, Nayeon. You won't be the only one without parents at their graduation."

"Oh?" It took a while for her to process what I just said, "Mina, have you ever spoke with your parents since they got incarcerated?"

"Umm... no", I shivered, struggling for words, "I... I don't want..."

Nayeon turned towards me, cutting me off, "You don't have to. Just focus on yourself and the people you care about."

I don't plan on talking to anyone in my family right now — not my parents, not my aunts, not my uncles, not my grandmother, not my cousins, not anybody. It's just not realistic to think that my parents have overcome their alcohol addiction and let go of their practices. It's also not realistic to think that I'm going to secure ties with my relatives within such a short amount time. They're not part of my support system and they don't care about my well-being. I need to take care of myself as I'm thinking about what I'm going to do after my graduation next year.

"It's almost time for The Proms", Nayeon's head snapped up in elation, "I can't wait to hear you guys play."

"Yeah", I grinned, nodding.

"You do know that me, Jeongyeon, and the others are going to attend your night of The Proms, right?"

"You guys can afford to fly to London at this time?"

"Yup!", Nayeon said brightly, resting her head on my shoulder, rotating her head so that she's facing my ear, "We bought those plane tickets and reserved a hostel as early as possible. Also, SinB helped us with purchasing Proms tickets from the Royal Albert Hall's website."

"I love you guys", I murmured softly.

"Mina! You deserve it!" Nayeon laughed, pulling me into a hug and slapping me on the back. 

"You have a solo tonight too", I reminded her. 

Nayeon liberated me from her tight embrace and cupped her hands around my left ear, "There's a meaning behind this piece."

I'm sure there is, Nayeon. I'm sure there is. And you're going to nail it.

Sana and the rest of the Crack Squad found Nayeon and I at the fountain. They charged towards us like a flurry of race horses, Jeongyeon and Momo dragging behind as they're trying not to trip on their gowns. Those who had not greeted Nayeon earlier are surrounding her, giving her congratulatory words and carrying out their famous "hug attack". Taking into account the immense amount of people talking at once, I can't keep up with their conversation. I drifted from the congregation and stood next to Sana, who had just finished hugging Nayeon. 

"They're talking about Nayeon's solo and the London trip", she summarized with signs.

"I can't wait for London", I said to Sana, excited.

"You can't wait to perform?" her eyes widened, "I've never heard that from you before!"

But it's true. I really, really can't wait to stand on the stage of the Royal Albert Hall again. Sure the BBC Proms seems intimidating since it is a prestigious music festival and only the hottest acts are invited to perform, but in the end, the performers and the audience are all gathered for one purpose and that is to appreciate and enjoy classical music. It's no longer a horrifying thing to make your presence in front of thousands of people and share what you have to express. 

The Seventy-Fourth Measure 

Now it's time for the Juilliard Orchestra's Commencement Concert.

Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, also known as the Victory Symphony during the Second World War, was our piece for the first half. This symphony acted as a focal point of the unrest that the graduate students faced, whereas the finale highlighted the end of that arduous road to graduation (hence, their "Victory" Symphony). Years of auditions, endless studying, stiff rehearsals, sleepless nights, crying in practice rooms, and juries were thoughts that the graduating students could put behind them for now. All that was left was their final concert.

As the applause for Beethoven dissipated, I pulled my hair back and removed my earplugs, letting them dangle from the chord around my neck. Nayeon's solo is next and there are going to be no instances of raucous trombones from behind me. I honestly don't know how I got through Beethoven's symphony with very little hearing, but I made it. All I did was trust my pitch and technique, then let the vibrations of the orchestra envelop me. These vibrations are like music to me.

The applause relighted when Nayeon reappeared from the sidelines in this A-line, champagne pink dress with a sheer beaded bodice and floral appliques, corresponding to her piece Cherry Blossom. There are four movements, each movement representing a stage of Cherry Blossom tree growth and a season of the year, and each season signifying one year at Juilliard. Cherry Blossoms have a resplendent significance in that they suggest renewal. In Japanese culture, they illustrate growth, fragility, and the beauty of life.

Nayeon waited, searching for Jihyo's eyes in the viola section. The principal violist blew a kiss for her girlfriend to receive, and Nayeon took it with much joy. Using Jihyo's radiant eyes as a guide, Nayeon nodded at Maestro Gilbert to commence the piece.

I can't fully describe what Nayeon's playing sounds like, but I'll do my best to let it come to my imagination.

The first movement is "Summer", where after peak bloom, the cherry blossom petals are trying to remain their place on the tree and the leaves begin to turn green. The petals that do fall remind us to pay attention to our surroundings: our dear friends, our beloved instruments, the tall skyscrapers, the luscious discountcoffee from Indie, the vast stage of the Alice Tully Hall — these are aspects that won't be with us forever.

Buoyant clarinet notes surfaced from the bright orchestra, playful and kind. Nayeon's sound reached outwards towards the gaudy ceiling of the David Geffen Hall, weaving through the enthusiastic strings and brass, then tempered with her fellow woodwinds. 

As first-years, we're not fully aware about that beauty. We're disillusioned by others to think that Juilliard is a cutthroat environment where you'll create hostile rivalries and lose your love for the arts. At the same time, we could get caught up in the illusion that Juilliard is just fun and games, underestimating or even just without knowing the sacrifices you need to make to achieve your goals.

Then our second year at Juilliard arrives and we're on heat. Second-year students are called by a term whose roots are perplexing and perhaps even problematic. There is a common stereotype projected towards college sophomores, suggestive of them being intellectually bold, pretentious, overconfident, conceited, while at the same time, immature. Not all second-years pertain to this stereotype (e.g. Chaeyoung, Dahyun, Tzuyu, SinB) but I'll admit that The Six and I were at our most impudent selves in this year.

The second movement is entitled "Autumn" and it indicates the subsiding of sunlight, the arrival of brisk temperatures, and fallen leaves from the cherry blossom tree. Leaves are no longer painted a vibrant green, but rather intense and fierce shades of red, orange, and yellow.

Dynamics oscillate like an erratic storm, forte to piano, fortissimo to pianissimo, mezzo-forte to mezzo-piano, crescendo, decrescendo, and diminuendo. Eighth notes change to sixteenths before modulating dexterously into half notes, where Nayeon strayed the orchestra to a dramatic C major. I don't think I've ever heard Nayeon perform like this before. She's sending chills down my spine.

And speaking of chills...

The third movement "Winter" breezes in with frigid conditions and dark skies. It is the dormant period of the cherry tree, meaning that the cherry tree is inactive, similar to sleeping. As the last leaf falls from the tree, leaving the branches exposed and unattractive, the gray snow bequeaths a cold impression of difficulties, desperation, worries and anxieties, as well as more affirmative traits such as introspection and clarification.

This third stage of blooming identifies with our troublesome third year at Juilliard. We're all burnt out from our hectic school life, we're all trying to figure out what to do after our fourth year, and we're all just waiting to get our degree. At this rate, graduation seems so close yet so far. 

Her music, I imagine, is very contemplative. Nayeon's hardships of her third year after leaving The Six and being neglected by her family are reflected in her style of playing. My third year was also a hectic year, as I had also left The Six, dealt with my family and identity, and cope with my hearing loss. A detatched staccato tinkered quitely in the silent orchestral setting, then Nayeon brought up the most melodramatic vibrato that's ever flown out of her own instrument, filling up each and every crevice of the concert hall, shattering like cracked ice on the pavement.

But then the hall became peaceful, the instrumentation being clarinet with a harp, piano, and a signature first viola. Nayeon purposely gave Jihyo a viola feature to reiterate how their connection was substantial in keeping her sane and thoughtful. If it weren't for Jihyo and her unconditional support, Nayeon would've not been able to graduate, let alone stand on this stage and perform such a paramount composition.

The clarinet-viola duet is beautiful and placid enough to appease my ear. I let my reed leave my lips and sit back, savoring how Nayeon and Jihyo's notes are like magnetic forces — glissading and plucking from their respective instruments, delicate and imperious, soft and strong, yet never leaving each other's side. Jihyo and her viola had become a focal point to Nayeon's happiness.

The heartwarming clarinet and the soulful viola are likened to the beat of a heart, pounding as the orchestra returns to life for the finale. 

"Spring" is the final movement of this ruminative piece and it brings out so much intensity, just like the glorious blooming of cherry blossoms. Blooming season is vigorous, splendid and intoxicating, but unfortunately short-lived — a visual indication that our lives, too, are fleeting. Our last year at Juilliard is meant to be our most beautiful year, with thoughts of finality and the relief of stress. But at the same time, it is bittersweet. We also don't forget about the joyous memories and the new friends that we've made over the course of these four years. These are fleeting as well. We have to figure out what we're going to do with our degrees and everyone is bound to go their separate ways after graduation. 

Cherry blossoms are also revered as a motif of rebirth. Even though the trees seem deceased in the winter, they never truly die. Green buds will always sprout and become magnificent flowers as long as the tree is still standing. That being said, identity isn’t entirely innate nor is it static. You do have the power to renew yourself and improve. Identity changes overtime after said individual undergoes life experiences, delves into conversations with other people, and questions themselves. It may take time for a person to develop their self-concept, and identity can be subjected to change when that person is swayed by the opinions of other people or when other outside forces influence them to change. 

It's safe to say that I'm not the same person that I was last year, and I probably won't be the same person next year compared to today. I'm excited for what my fourth year at Juilliard will bring. Maybe new friends, new mindsets, new memories, new bassoon mentees, and most likely pieces that I've never played before. I'm also going to help Jihyo and Sana in leading the Pops Orchestra.

When the piece ended, there was a roaring applause. Nayeon looked around the ensemble, smiling with tears in her eyes before everyone stood up and bowed. By any statistical measure, Nayeon didn't believe that she deserved the center stage. There are other students who have better grades than me, is what she told me. But grades are not everything if the person does not have a good peresonality or drive.

Nayeon had made her last mark as a Juilliard student today. She had never once in her life thought that she could amount to this much grandeur after her downfall, but now Nayeon believes that she can conquer almost anything and everything. She's not scared about her life after Juilliard.

I feel very motivated now. I can't wait to perform at the BBC Proms, and I can't wait for my graduation. 

The Seventy-Fifth Measure 

Friday: July 16, 2021

London isn't always about the rain. July is one of the hottest months in the city and so far, there have been no reports of precipitation or fog.

Sana, Chaeyoung, and I are out the door of the Ambassadors Bloomsbury Hotel at one o'clock in the British afternoon, two hours after our nap following our arrival from Heathrow. We would've taken a longer nap had Sana not led us to the wrong suite and stopped fumbling with the room key.

The Underground is unbearably sweaty and congested, so I had to muster up the stamina to bear the train ride from Russell Square to South Kensington Station on the Piccadilly line. Although the trains have been rejuvenated to fit the modern age, many still lack air conditioning and cooling units. The trains and the tracks are also insufferably loud with its rumbling and noisy passengers, whom I suspect to be tourists, with big backpacks and city maps. I've been having a massive headache since the plane ride, which must've seem to arise from the haze of exhaustion and frustration I've been swamped in since I left New York City with a new pair of hearing aids. 

Dr. Jung, the audiologist, adjusted and fitted them in for me in June and no lie, it was a little tedious at first because hearing aids require constant maintenance and care (e.g. removing any built-up ear wax, removing them when taking a shower, replacing batteries). Hearing sounds for the first time after becoming hard-of-hearing felt overwhelming and I'm still struggling with getting used to this new feeling. 

I made this decision by myself, and consciously too. But that doesn't mean that I'm going to stop learning and practicing ASL, nor does it mean that I'm going to cease any communication with Chaeyoung or other Deaf/Hard of Hearing people.

After the tourists spilled out of the train into the Piccadilly Circus, leaving the three of us with enough space to stretch our legs, I sat down and settled my case on my lap. Sana and Chaeyoung shuffled to the two empty seats in front of me, placing their respective cases on their laps too. 

"Today is the day", Sana signed to the two of us.

That's right. Today is our Proms performance.

And I've never felt more excited about performing until now. I may be jetlagged but I'm not going to let that get in the way of my performance.

Once we arrived at the Royal Albert Hall, we went through soundcheck and afternoon tea in one of the eateries within the venue. Then the three of us had our nails done at the salon close to Kensington Palace; the place where Sooyoung and Taeyeon work at. I fell asleep during my manicure and woke up with filed nails and silvery polish. My hearing aids were off too so I couldn't tell when I was done.

On the walk back to the venue, there were already Prommers circling around the exterior of the building. People were snacking on digestive biscuits and chocolate bars on the steps of the rear entrance. From the entry point before the foyer, scalpers were bellowing their prices while waving tickets in the air. Traffic ensued around the structure and people scrambled out from the nearest bus and Tube stations.

I caught a quick glimpse of Dr. Cseszneky, his wife, and their four children in queue to get their tickets scanned. In another line was Nayeon and the others, fanning themselves with the programme in the sweltering London summer heat. Dahyun peeped her head and waved at me before disappearing into the crowd. I smiled gratefully and waved back. They really did come all the way from NYC to watch us perform live.

Sana halted me to do my makeup and transform my bedhead into a French twist with a Swarovski crystal bead and rhinestone hair clip. As she finished with me and moved onto Chaeyoung to do the same, I scurried to my allocated dressing room to change into my gown — an ivory open back halter dress with a high neckline, a bodice studded with diamonds, and a floor-length satin pleated skirt. 

I didn't want to feel like I lived in the dressing room. So instead of moping around like I used to do in my pre-performance liturgy, I soaked one of Dr. Cseszneky's high-quality German reeds for a couple of minutes, warmed up, and promptly left the room to search for Chaeyoung.

The wings offer a view of the stage and the audience. Everything about the interior of the Royal Albert Hall used to intimidate me, from the BBC Radio 3 box where presenters narrate your every move, to the standing gallery with spectators laying eyes on you as if you were an eagle's prey. But instead of noticing those things, my eyes landed on the front row of the arena standing section, just before the foot of the stage. The Crack Squad was there with LED boards labeling mine, Chaeyoung, and Sana's name in romanized letters, Hangul, and then Hiragana characters. Visitors and security guards were baffled by the signage as this form of cheering isn't customary in classical music concerts (they're more accustomed to K-pop concerts), but the six of them didn't care. Conformity is a concept that is foreign to them.

*poke*

"Ch-Chaeyoung!" I let out a squeak, then turned my head and clamped the area where I got poked. 

"You look like a white swan", Chaeyoung complimented, "A white swan that emerged from being a black swan."

"I don't remember the black swan turning into a white swan in the story."

"Well today you're rewriting that story. Or better, you're rewriting history", she interpreted before ping her case and extracting two pairs of mallets — one pair for the glockenspiel and another pair for the vibraphone. Chaeyoung's white chiffon dress had a bejeweled basque that shimmered just as bright as the two idiophones waiting to be struck by her mallets onstage.

Sana turned up from her dressing room, all groomed for her performance, only she had not changed into her dress because she doesn't make her appearance until after intermission. She was eating a roll of cheese kimbap that Chaeyoung had contrived at the hotel and smugged backstage.

"You're very pretty, Mina", Sana began after swallowing a bite of her roll.

I grinned sheepishly, pinching the skirt of my dress, "Thanks."

"Did you find Nayeon and the others in the audience?"

"With the signs and everything? Yes", I giggled, "They're in the front row of the arena standing section."

Sana stole a glance at the audience and laughed, then she perceived something else, "What about the person next to them?" 

"The person next to them?" 

A young woman draped her beige trenchcoat over her shoulders, revealing a dress just as dynamic as Sana's red dress for her concerto. In fact, she and Sana almost look related. Perhaps the woman passed on her genetics to her offspring, and that offspring could be—

Wait.

"Oh my god", I gasped a little too audibly, flinching away from the wings at the sight of that familiar woman. Sana rapidly cupped my hand over my mouth before I could say something aloud and expose myself in front of the audience.

"Did you see what I mean?"

I was nearly breathless at this point, "Th-That's your mom." 

Sana's mother secretly traveled all the way from San Francisco to London, just to watch our performances. I can imagine how euphoric Sana must be to see her mom all the way in the front row with our friends, finally about to witness Sana's improvement and musical breadth with her own eyes. She's not wearing any shoes either, which indicated that she's using the floor to "feel" the music.  

"Mina Myoui and Son Chaeyoung on standby, please", a staff member called.

"I think you better get going", Sana said with a smile, patting my back.
 
"For the first time in BBC Proms history, we are featuring performers with hearing loss", began a female announcer through the speakers hanging overhead, her presence possibly deriving from the BBC Radio 3 Box, "They are both accomplished musicians from the Juilliard School of Music. One of them we all know as the Black Swan, Mina Myoui, who performed at the 2019 Proms and is also the second-place winner of the Parisian Winter Music Festival Competition. The other girl is her percussionist friend who was specifically handpicked by Seohyun, the prized composer of The Black Swan as well as tonight's piece for the first half."

Hearing her mention The Black Swan again was oddly comforting.

"Seohyun said to me earlier that as she wrote this, she pictured the Black Swan from the past letting loose of its wounds and dark feathers, emerging into a happier White Swan" a male announcer added, "And right at the very end of the last movement, the White Swan turns around to look at us and tell us that everything is going to be okay. It's such a wonderful image to keep in your head as you listen to tonight's performance."

Chaeyoung wasn't kidding about the black swan-white swan analogy.

"Smile", Sana reminded me, pinching my cheeks in an attempt to relieve me from the jitters.

"For the first half of the night, the stage belongs to the two girls", the female announcer continued, "This piece begins with a simple yet powerful opening statement and ends with a radiant message that seems to approach some kind of epic truth or silence. Silent Sonata is about finding hope, passion, and self-discovery. This piece is going to rewrite history in the world of classical music."

Rewriting history, huh?

"Wait", I took a glimpse at the feet of Sana's mom.

I looked back at Chaeyoung and Sana, unclasping the straps on my high heels, tossing them aside, and planting my bare feet to the ground. My feet were hurting anyways. Chaeyoung was satisfied to know that she wouldn't be the only barefoot individual in this hall tonight. The clapping and stomping of feet from the audience instituted vibrations from the floor beneath me, all before I could feel tickling from my legs to my eardrums. They're transferring energy to different parts of my body, like an earthquake taking over my senses. 

"Mina", Sana was confounded as I plucked out the hearing aid on my left ear, "What are you doing?"

The announcer went on, "Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to our talented musicians, Mina and Chaeyoung."

"Put these back in the case", I ordered. After removing the hearing aid on my right ear, I couldn't hear Sana's words. As I picked up my bassoon from its stand, I sighed wistfully with the same unusual, anxious happiness from my previous jury wrenching my heart.  

Smile. You’re going to do great, Mina.

It was the last thing I told myself before fastening my bassoon to my harness and entering the stage, side-by-side with Chaeyoung.

The stage lights blinded my eyes again, forming bokeh circles in my eyes as if I were underwater. But I sought this as a light of hope rather than a light of fear. When my vision cleared, I shook hands with Chaeyoung and smiled at her, reverently. She did the same. 

Then we waited for the audience to simmer down from their continuous clapping. I could finally see each person with my own eyes, but I particularly gazed at the front row of the arena standing area, where The Crack Squad and Sana's mother are cheering us on with those silly signboards. But what I hadn't noticed from the left wing was that there were other guests with them, probably obscured by the curtain earlier. 

Mark, Junior, and their friends had actually constructed the signboards prior to the Proms.

Chaekyung and Nayoung were embracing each other, praying for our success.

Cheng Xiao, Yeoreum, and Seola were comforting Bona as she was overly-excited for what's to come. Sungyeon is being carried in Xuan Yi's arms.

Sowon, Yuju, Umji, SinB, Yerin, Eunha, Yoojung, and Somi were on the farthest left, pouring out their eyes.

Mingyu and the rest of my section are standing in the row behind them, looking hopeful.

And unexpectedly, Jisoo and Jennie were placed smack in the center of the front row, squeezing each other's hands. 

"You got this", Jennie seemed to mouth and I swore that I was going to choke on the incoming tears, but Chaeyoung grabbed my arm just in time to calm me down, linking my cold hand with her warm one as she placed her mallets on top of the vibraphone.

"She's different now. Jisoo texted me to tell you that", Chaeyoung signed after releasing my hand from her grasp. I regained my faltering breath in the assurance of her words, abandoning all shock that I had for a brief moment. Like it is implied in Nayeon's solo, people can change over time.

The audience sat down now. Chaeyoung stretched her arms and reclaimed her mallets. My long fingers rolled around the keys and fingerholes of my bassoon until they're in the correct position. Then I filled my lungs with air and searched for the sweet spot on my lips to fit my reed. 

And we played.

A/N: So... quite a few adjustments here. The dates for the Commencement Concert and the Graduation ceremony were flipped for a greater emotional impact (Usually it's the concert and then the ceremony, but here it's the ceremony and then the concert). Also, it's not just graduating students playing with the orchestra, it's also the original Juilliard Orchestra members as well.

Also, ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT. Don't worry we will talk about Mina and Chaeyoung's performance as well as Sana's concerto. It's just that it would be a freakishingly long chapter if it were to do be done here. Chapter 40 just might be one of the longest chapters and will take time, but thank you guys so holding out until the end. We're almost done!

No but it's true. They did have trouble opening their hotel room and locating their suites!

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