There I am, sitting, hidden by a black tenderly loved and cared for music stand, surrounded by clamorous and obnoxious noises. Sitting and waiting for what seems like an eternity. To my left I hear skweaks and high pitched screeches. To my right I hear blasts of loud blats and low eruptions that shake the stage completely. In a far away distance I hear low beats and ear-piercing crashes with the occasional drum roll or bass hit. Moments later I stand, move my chair, and put the podium where the chair once stood. I step onto the “podium of truth,” and raise my right hand. Every eye is on me, and silence overcomes the facility. The ensemble sit in silence watching and anticipating my next move. A flick of the wrist and a beautiful B flat tuning note was played. I tap my baton three times and the tuning is stopped and everyone is ready to play. I raise the baton and gently flick it giving tempo. My heart is racing, a drop of sweat drips from the tip of my nose. I raise both hands and give the down beat. On my left I hear long perfectly unison runs and high pitched heavens. On my right I hear the sycopated rhythms, redundant but beautiful. Heaven is upon me, surrounding me in angelic music.
“Hark hear the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away.” Voice is my natural instrument, which allow me to produce beautiful harmony and melody or clashing and dissonant music. Singing and music have followed mr throughout my life starting when I was five. I was placed in a music performance group called Sunshine Generation. We performed in many community events as well as our own concerts and shows. Why music, you might ask? The funny idea about this question is that I really don’t know the answer. Music is something I feel, something that is deep inside of me. When I was five my mom forced me to join this performance group. I hated the thought that when I got older I would become a “band geek” or a musician. I was a tomboy and preferred to be playing…

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