all thanks to the dad, i grew up loving music. i picked up playing the piano when i was 12. i was self taught. i could pick up tunes and figure out the notes. i didn't have formal training till i was about 17 (that's a wee bit old but at least i knew i wanted to learn it). that's another story.
so my love for the piano grew as i was growing up. being able to pick up tunes with a flick of your finger has its pros and cons. the downside of it was that it morphed me into a perfectionist for music.
i always knew my music had to be perfect. everytime i practiced on the piano, every note had to be perfect. every triplet had to be perfect. every rest in bars had to be perfect. every count had to be perfect. everything had to be well -executed! it didn't help when you had a concert pianist as your piano teacher. i did well in all my exams.
and then i met you. one thing led to another. i realized my perfectionism in music spilled over to other areas of my life. oh gosh! have i been so blinded that i failed to see perfectionism slowly creeping into parts of my life?
