Cold room with black and white keys...

Gearing up for my dip piano exam in end Nov. The last time I took a practical exam was seven years ago.
Practical exams are no joke. I could still remember my quivering hands.
“I’m not nervous. I’m not nervous,” I kept repeating to myself. And really, I wasn’t feeling THAT nervous. Or so I thought.
My hands knew the truth better. They tremoured. And tremoured. And tremoured. They just didn’t belong to me. It was a 7.0 on the Richter scale. Their persistence and willfulness went on until my ass was finally out of the exam studio.
After that, I’d start to hate myself.
“Why the hell are you so cowardly? It’s just one bloody exam. Why can’t you just play like you normally do at home? And you! Stupid hands! You!” With one hand beating the other, and the constant, nonsensical muttering, I was lucky no one made an emergency call to the IMH.
Finally, I’m on the road to fulfilling something on my to-do list. It’s been two years in planning. I’m glad I’ve held on. And frankly, this isn’t the exam that I’m hoping to stop at. I want to pursue further. But it probably is where it’s gonna stop, with teaching proper kicking in next year. I don’t think I can hold on much longer. It’s probably good-bye. Kind of sad, huh? That's life. That's reality.
I’ll tell you how much the Richter scale reads come end-November.