"Soundtrack of My Life"

I stumbled onto this English assignment that Danielle wrote. I hesitated to put it on my blog, for fear of embarrassing her if she ever found out that I shared it. But, then after reading through my nieces embarrassing stories about her girls, I thought, "it's fine" just because they're 3 and she's 17 what's the difference?!?!!

right....

keep in mind it's her rough draft, but as parents, it touched our hearts.

"Microphone, headphones, guitars, drums.....chaos; the soundtrack of my life. The soundtrack I've learned to love. Music is a huge part of my life, I've been surrounded by it ever since I can remember. With a music obsessed-ex-band member Dad, a church singing-piano playing mother, and with a recording studio in my backyard, I had opportunity waiting a few steps out my back door, but no nerve to take the shot. I always felt this unspoken pressure to perform, to take on music like the rest of my family, and to be the best. Growing up I never even attempted to express myself through music, for the fear of not being impressive enough. Still, I wanted to know the feeling of finishing a song, laying down a track, of just being comforted by my nail beds dragging across the strings of a guitar. Music; I saw it, heard it, I had learned it, but I wanted to feel.

I saw it; guitars hanging on the wall, the piano in my living room, the endless rows of buttons on the soundboard, but not a clue what to do with any of it. I saw my father playing his guitar on his chair in the living room, eyes close, head down. I remember wishing I could be like that. I saw my mother sit on the bench playing boring hymns, but she loved it just the same. I saw my brother dripping of sweat while pounding away on the drums. I saw my small fragile fingers struggle to stretch across the keys of a piano, but the calculated specks of black ink on wrinkle coffee stained paper, just didn't impress me. I wanted more, I wanted to find my getaway, I wanted freedom. I saw my acoustic guitar collecting dust as it hung on my wall, and decided to give it a shot.

I heard it; the "nail on the chalkboard" type of twangs of my ten year old fingers strumming across the strings of my Christmas present that year. Just like the first time I tried it, not much had changed. I knew for certain, I was no natural, but, in time I would learn. I began to practice more and more each day, learning new chords which were demonstrated on a poster found in my studio. I heard the chords come together, finally starting to sound a little like music, practicing every night as my fingertips ached while callouses were starting to form.

I had learned; I learned the chords, the scales, and how to put them together. I was becoming better at it. I began to express myself through my guitar. Writing songs; lyrics, chords, meaning. I was finally starting to understand what all this fuss was about. It was definitely starting to grow on my. I was able to turn to my guitar and music for comfort. I could play my guitar in times of struggle, insecurity, and happiness. My guitar was the ultimate way to express myself.

I feel it; I feel the freedom, the euphoria, the passion, when playing my guitar. I can't help but feel infinite while I strum the strings of my guitar. I feel the stubborn callouses on my fingertips, the chips in the wood of my guitar, the strings as they drag across my nail beds. I feel the guitar is my getaway, music is my getaway.

Music has defined me in a way. It is a part of who I am. I see the opportunity and blessings I have in my life, I see the notebook full of lyrics on my dresser, the tracks I finally got the courage to record. I hear the soundtrack that makes up my life, the songs that play n my head throughout the day, the chords as I strum my guitar. I have learned that life is short, take up opportunities while you can, it's okay to show some emotion, show that you care, express yourself. I feel the impact music has made on my life, that one decision, like one off note, can make all the difference, that I want the soundtrack of my life to be made by me, no one else."