I look around and see my two guitars, my keyboard, my cello, my violin, my b flat and bass clarinets, and of course my box full of highly organized music. There was no place I would rather be than my music lounge that I made out of a spare bedroom. It's where I make all my music, write my lyrics, practice singing my songs, and so much more. But truthfully, having a music room takes way more work than you would think: I had to move all the furniture from my room, meaning having a place for guests to stay in is difficult. If it's the room I'm going to spend lots of time in, I want it to be perfect... meaning:
- nice, dark hardwood floor for good acoustics
- walls painted and decorated artistically
- it has to make you think of music, think instrument.
But of course, there are great things, too, about being a musician.
- you know dedication and hard work
- you get to buy and teach yourself new instruments all the time
- you learn the language and 'texture' of music.
I just ordered a saxophone to learn for fun, and I'm getting an upright piano, because music is just how I spend my life. If I'm not playing an instrument or learning about a new one, I'm studying lyrics, bands and music in general. Well, that's what I play and how I like to spend my time... but there's one small problem: School.
Chapter 1
I gently got my violin out of my case and calmly began to draw the bow over the strings. The bow drew an A, like a magician may pull a rabbit from a hat. Then, manuevering my bow to the other side of my strings, I drew a G. I continued like this, making different notes, and adding a sharp every once and a while. To some, the song may have sounded like trash. But to me, the song represented life on a normal day, and the sharps are the bumps and curves in life. I put my violin back down in its case, meaning that I would be done pondering life for the day.
Looking around, I saw my vintage guitar tool box that I used for music equipment. I opened it and ruffled through the contents: guitar picks, CD's, maracas, jingle bells, some craft supplies, aux cords, a metronome, a pencil and three medals from solo competition awards. I reached into the box and pulled out a medal, running my finger over the front. I had been so stressed before I started, not with stage fright, but with the fear that I wouldn't do as good as the year before. But I walked out with a medal and the best score possible: a one.
I sighed and set the medal down. Someday, I would perform in front of thousands again. Last time I did I was in elementary at Church in plays that broadcasted to many countries and millions saw. But now, this is my time to shine solo. I have what it takes. I just need to be found. Or first, heard.
