Music to My Ears
Sometimes people find that they have no idea why the things most important to them, are important to them. I sat down to write this essay planning on logically coming up with some sad story or some fun anecdote that paralleled my life, but my heat knew the thing most important to me, even if my head couldn’t figure it out. Something simple, that directly and indirectly greatly shapes my life through the simple use of my senses. I believe in the power of music.
I have songs to connect to my most poignant memories in my mind. My brain remembers not only what happened, but in many cases, what I listened to at the time. Even in normal day to day activity, I associate different types of music with them. I am continuously listening to music and I don’t know what my life would be like without it. I fall asleep to music every night, it helps, and I know it would be a big change for me if somehow my parents decided to throw out every stereo in the house. Music is beautiful, and powerful, in all forms.
Speaking on another of the human senses, I do not consider myself a visual person. When I draw, I draw stick figures. Some people write, or others succeed by speaking well or even sculpting, but I play music. My trumpet is my outlet for a way to express myself. If someone makes me sad, or angry, if I get into an argument, I will go and sit down and play my trumpet. It always makes me feel better, kind of like when people keep a journal. I express my emotions through my music.
Consequently, the idea of silence to me is absurd. My life without music would be empty. Music disappearing would force me to completely change my life and the way I live it. I do know not what I would do without band every morning, without singing in the shower. I admit, I sing. Loud. This is believe.
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