From Keys to Sticks: Part I — White Tuxedos, Wrong Notes, and Strong Foundations
Music was always playing in the background while I was growing up. Whether I was making a simple meal in the kitchen or working on a school project, there was always a rhythm filling the room. But I have always been a hands-on person. Just listening to music wasn't enough for me—I wanted to understand how it worked and create it myself.
| 2014/my first piano stage |
Most kids at that age might hesitate or wonder if they would be any good at it. I didn't think for even two seconds. "Yes!" I said instantly. To me, it sounded like a fun new adventure, so why not try?
The Finger Emoji Hack and the First Stage
When I sat in front of the piano for the first time, the 88 keys looked overwhelming. I constantly mixed up the order of the notes—Do, Re, Mi—and struggled to remember which finger belonged on which key.
| 2016/my last stage |
Instead of getting frustrated, I came up with my own visual trick: I grabbed a marker and drew tiny face emojis directly onto my fingertips to remember each note. A funny face with its tongue out stood for Do, and a smiling face stood for Re. It turned learning into a game.
Equipped with my fingertip emojis, I prepared for my very first official recital. I wore a tiny white tuxedo, stepped onto the stage, and played a popular children's song (Ceviz Adam) with the focus and seriousness of a professional pianist.
I fell in love with performing right then. I was so proud of playing that I even insisted on bringing our electronic home keyboard to kindergarten. I set it up in the classroom to show my friends—and secretly hoped to impress a girl I had a crush on back then. But beyond the childhood fun, the piano taught me my very first lesson in discipline. As a hyperactive kid who could never sit still, sitting at a piano bench and practicing slow melodies trained me to calm my mind and finish what I started.
The Two-Note Mistake: Learning to Accept Imperfection
| 2015/piano stage |
I walked onto the stage feeling confident. Midway through my piece, my fingers slipped, and I hit two wrong notes in a row. To my young mind, those two bad sounds felt as loud as thunder. I was convinced that I had ruined the entire performance and embarrassed myself in front of everyone in the auditorium. The second the song ended, I burst into tears and ran off the stage.
My piano teacher ran after me, sat me down, and explained something that changed my perspective forever: most people in the audience didn't even notice the mistake. They didn't know the sheet music by heart, so to them, it still sounded like a complete song. My panic wasn't caused by the mistake itself, but by my own pressure to be 100% perfect.
That moment marked the end of my piano years. Losing my excitement after that recital made me realize something important: the piano was a great starting point, but it wasn't my true passion. It didn't give me the raw, high-energy rhythm that I eventually found when I picked up drumsticks years later.
The Base Operating System
Even though I moved on from the piano, it built the mental foundation for everything I do today:
Understanding Music Logic: Learning sheet music at a young age gave me a clear, logical framework to read and analyze musical structures.
Brain Coordination: Forcing my left and right hands to play completely different rhythms trained my brain to handle multi-tasking and parallel focus.
The Value of Mentorship: My piano teacher became one of my first real mentors. She taught me how to learn from mistakes—a mindset I still use today when solving complex tech problems.
I always encourage anyone getting into music to start with the piano. You don't have to become a concert pianist. The piano simply gives you the foundational structure, and from there, you can build any passion you want.
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