Soundproof bubble, please

I've been back in the saddle again for a little over a week now, and it feels gooood.  Muscle memory is a beautiful thing, is it not?  While it's no fun getting back into shape, I've quite enjoyed being able to play loud and fast and high and low and short and long (almost) whenever I feel like it once again.  It's like my power steering fluid (yes, there's fluid in there!, as I recently learned) has been replenished.

But, as I have discovered this past week, not everyone in my vicinity shares my joy in being able to produce loud noises once again.  I have been in a bit of an unspoken battle with an unnamed professor who teaches a class near where I warm up in the mornings.  He has repeatedly asked me to stop practicing because it's disturbing his class.  And I have stopped, and I totally understand why it's annoying when you're trying to learn differential equations or quantum mechanics or any of those other subjects that have only been alluded to in my (now 7 years outdated) past classes to hear major scales and long tones and etudes while you're trying to concentrate.  Still.  It has gotten me thinking about how weird the perception of practicing is to those who aren't actually doing it.  When I'm in the zone, I forget not only that I'm making noise, but that others can hear that noise.  So when someone reminds me of that, either positively or negatively, it's a very jarring experience.

I read this book once called "The Unconsoled" by Kazuo Ishiguro (check it out, it's a very...uncomfortable read) about a concert pianist who could only practice when he was absolutely sure no one could hear him.  He asks for his practice facility to be this little shed out in the woods where no passers by could ever find him, and he cannot even sit down to the keys until he's absolutely alone.  And I can't lie, this sounds like paradise to me.  It's not that I'm embarrassed to have others listening, it's just that that's not truly practicing; it's performing, albeit to its smallest degree. 

I know I'm being super neurotic about this one guy asking me to stop practicing, but to me at least, it's a very personal, somewhat upsetting experience.  It's like someone has wandered in on me doing squats or something equally awkward and told me that my squats are affecting his squats.  Er, that metaphor went awry... but it makes me feel guilty for something I'm obligated to do. 

I'm over it, in this case, even though I've now immortalized it in cyberspace.  But my larger point is, parents who have kids learning an instrument- do not listen to them practice!  I mean, listen to make sure they are practicing, but don't sit in the room and make comments.  The practice room has to be a safe, private space where they answer to no one but that little voice in their head.  Who'll get smarter.  But not if you drown it out.