Turning Point: Aidan Hsia


I had prepared for a month. Having memorized the notes, my fingers played the spots without variation — all for one day. But, on that day, I varied.

The slick wood of the guitar and its strings under my hands, I played and I played poorly. The notes, the phrases, the positions, all forgotten. Blundered in front of a horde of listeners.

All eyes were on me; undivided attention. Their eyes just as leering as the stage lights that blared into mine. But, they could forget, just as I had forgotten the notes. They would move on, just like I could.