I know she loves me. I mean, she has to. It's in her job description. But every word goes in one ear and out the other, leaving her confused. Did you say something? I can't hear you, can you speak up? No mom, I can't. Scratch that- I won't. You want to hear me? I'm talking. What I'm saying is important. So turn off the t.v you're blasting- those people are characters frozen in time. You don't love them more than your own daughter, now do you? Their problem can be put on pause, rewound, and- get this- isn't even real. So can't you put it on pause for a minute so you can hear what I have to say? My life doesn't have a pause button. I'm asking you for help, you've got one chance, if you don't take it, don't chastise me for my mistakes.
Is that even the problem, though? Is it then? Is it because I'm a little far away, the t.v's a little loud, the washer's a bit too overpowering?
No.
Because I'm right next to you mom. I'm standing right next you in the kitchen and it's just the same story. What was that? I repeat. I can't hear you...
I can't hear you...
Is that what you mean?
What you say is that you can't hear me, but what you mean is "Give up. I'm not listening."
not listening not listening not listening.
How hard is it to just listen to your daughter?
And it's not just you, so don't feel bad.
"I guess when we were writing it we forgot that you'd have to be able to play it..."
No, you did. Because I showed you this song, and you took it. You took it from me. Every time you changed it, I cringed. Because this was my song. And you took that from me. That hurts, because I wrote it. It was simple because I liked it that way, not because I didn't have the ability to make it more complex. It's not a complex song- it's not your song. You don't know why that song was written, because you didn't write it. I almost don't want to get up there and perform it, because it's not my song any more.
"I just took it and rewrote the harmonies."
No, you took it and made it sound the way it did in your head. Your head, my song. No, not really. And you rewrote the end. Did you ask? No. I loved this song, and you ruined that for me. I don't want to play it anymore, because it's not what I wrote. It's not my song. I feel like going out there would be lying, because it's not me. That ending is not what I wanted. At all, but it's what you chose for the song I wrote.
I hate it. I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it.
I told you. I told you that this wasn't right, and that sounded wrong, and you kept saying that no, it sounds good! but good isn't right. Right is the way I- the person who wrote it, who put their heart into it, who has to perform it- wants it to be. You're not the one getting up there and performing it, you're not the one who has to explain why it's so different,
It doesn't sound the same.
No, no it doesn't. It's not my song any more.
I was so proud of it. Not any more.
I told you every time I had to record a piano part that I wouldn't remember it.
Did you listen? No. You were more concerned with me recording than being able to play it.
Why can't you play this, Rex?
Because you taught it to me in a minute, had me play it repeatedly until you got a take you could use, then moved on. You moved on as fast as you could.
It's not me on the recording.
It might as well be. You wrote and played the end, you re wrote the chorus, you re wrote the verse, you changed the song, YOU go up and play it. YOU get on that stage so I don't have to get up there and lie.
I don't want to play it. I don't want to. No no no no no no no no no.
But I guess I have to... because they expect me to. They expect me to get up there and perform the song that I wrote. I didn't though, did I? But I didn't though...
This wouldn't have happened if you would just listen to me. Who's more important, do you think? What you, the teacher, wants, or me, the artist? I put so much work into that song- I made it perfect. And you kinda sorta just completely ruined it.
And mom? I love you. But if you're not going to try and listen to me? Maybe I'll just stop talking.
I understand that what's going on is stressful for you. But you forgot. You completely forgot.
She's not the only one with problems, you know.
Did I say something?
No, I'm just telling you about my recital.
No, mother. Nothing at all.
I guess we forgot...
No, you forgot, D. You forgot.
Yeah. I guess so...
I'm sorry, I can't hear you.
Maybe you should listen...
It's not important.
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