The Only Pirate at the Party

Maybe my best isn't as good as someone else's, but for a lot of people, my best is enough. Most importantly, for me it's enough.

I make art for the sake of art . . . and for my own selfish gratification, because I’m an artistic monster.

I don't claim to be the best musician. If being the best means I earn the right to look down on people and critique their accomplishments in defense of my own, I don't ever want to be. People can say what they want about my music being 'banal' and my skill level 'competent,' and it will hurt my feelings (because despite what some believe, I do still have them), but I won't let it determine my self-worth.

Life is kind, and full of great moments, but I think the greatest moment of my life is always ahead of me. When I reach it, there will be another, greater moment to come.

In the music industry I get a lot of public judgement. Any time the topic of my religion surfaces, there are always people who react negatively, telling me to leave my crazy beliefs out of it. The problem is, I can't. My beliefs are as much a part of my being as my music, or my family, or my obsession with earthy-tasting cereal. Luckily, after all the rejection I faced on my mission, I'm no longer afraid of negative reactions. I've already heard it all--- face-to-face. Hateful comments still hurt, but they don't hold the same weight they once did. Besides, say what you want, but I'm a short-haired angel. (Or at least I was to one man on a subway.)

I’ve never pushed a baby out myself, but I hear it’s comparable to doing squats over a pile of flaming swords. Even

That’s the best part about being a kid. Nothing seems impossible until someone bigger and older tells you it is. I grew up in a lovely little world where nothing was too far out of reach if I wanted to work for it. I think I still live in that world.

Am I the best violinist in the world? No. Do I need to be the best to bring people joy? No.

I think college is a lot like childbirth. I’ve never pushed a baby out myself, but I hear it’s comparable to doing squats over a pile of flaming swords. Even after that remarkable sensation, mothers all over the world go back for more. It's not that they don't remember the flaming swords; they just choose to focus on the more rewarding aspects of the experience.

If anorexia was really incurable, I'd still weigh ninety-two pounds--isolated in a world controlled by food and distorted versions of myself. I'm not that person anymore. I don't live in that world anymore. I hate the thought that someone, somewhere might read about their "incurable eating disorder" and believe it to be the truth. That's why I'm telling you, it's not.So hang in there, it's worth it. You're worth it.

My evolution as a violinist has included many thrilling performances, and I still love what I do, but there are times when even I get burned out. When this happens, I go back to that moment ten years ago. I picture myself on the stage with my bow in the air. I feel my heart racing, I see the faces in the audience smiling, and I remember the moment I thought, "I have to make this my life.

Any time the topic of my religion surfaces, there are always people who react negatively, telling me to leave my crazy beliefs out of it. The problem is, I can’t. My beliefs are as much a part of my being as my music, or my family, or my obsession with earthy-tasting cereal. Luckily,