This is it. Some writers hit the writer's block at times of their work - I live it. I mean, it's not like I write a lot or anything but I simply cannot put the pencil down on it. So I've decided the best way to remove the block is to start by writing about it.

You see, my old style of writing has always been one laden with grammatical errors, they used to be shorter and not filled with so many words, and they were also easier to digest, I guess. It's true, I've been influenced Chiling. You read someone's work, you absorb the language, and then it goes out in words. That happened too when I read Poe's work, and out came an adventurous work of an adventure that (I have to think of another word for 'happened' here because I've already used 'happened' once in a sentence and my girlfriend never uses the same word twice in a sentence it would be such a disgrace wouldn't it so I check thesaurus.com) transpired in the earlier part of the day.

Well whatever transpired in the earlier part of today was no more interesting than whatever that had HAPPENED in the past month. Months, should I say. In the space of 30 days I have aged 30 days and yet gained 30 months in life with my experience of playing with an orchestra.

I would be boasting if I said I didn't feel nervous at all, but unfortunately I am boasting. I really didn't feel nervous at all - in fact Budianda can vouch I was joking with him till 3 minutes before I performed; in which then I only had myself to joke with. I took the stage, bowed, and did the best I could. The Maestro had told me that I wouldn't be performing any encores for today and so I nodded as obediently as I could because I didn't want to spoil anything before the performance.

My friends spoilt it for me after that by asking why I didn't do an encore. I could only bow sheepishly on-stage and mouth, "I can't do an encore today I'm sorry guys!!!" but I knew it wasn't my fault anyway. I had the Faure Impromptu right at my fingertips. That was that, and I met the President and his wife, Mrs Nathan.

The couple were alright, though I did feel a sense of concern as one would for one's grandparents, and I found myself stranded after the mission-of-affairs said, "Thank you very much." In official speech, "Thank you very much" meant "You can f*** off now", but oh well, that I did.

It's funny how everything moves so fast when you're at the top of the world. Tchaikovsky's 6th symphony finished in 2 minutes, and I was out by the 3rd, meeting people again, people like my friends and my dad and Chiling and Dr Hecht. They have been an immense source of support for my concert. Thank you.

At this moment I find myself exhausted. I shall stop typing.