From the beginning, it was always music. My Mother introduced me to music at a very young age. At first it didn’t really matter to me, but now it has become such an important aspect of everyday life, I don’t think I could live without it. I believe in music; it is truly my passion.
When I was young, I didn’t really understand why Mom was gone a lot. Spending the night with a babysitter was not a rare occurrence, and was always for the same reason: Mom had a concert to play. It wasn’t a big deal to me, though; I knew when I woke up in the morning, she would be back and happy to see me again.
When I entered the fourth grade, Mom signed me up for music class. I had no idea how difficult playing music was. My first instrument was clarinet, and it was weeks before I could get any sound other than a horrible squeak out of it. Between the obnoxious squeaking and trying to memorize all the notes and musical terms, I was completely overwhelmed. I realized how much work I would have to put forth in order to be a good musician.
I would have given up for sure if it wasn’t for my Mom. I knew that music was such an important part of her life, and I wanted to be just like her, so I stuck with it. After some practice, I could make a decent sound (or at least one that didn’t make you shudder when you heard it), but I still wasn’t very good. My fingers often weren’t fast enough to keep up with the music, and I would still have to figure out which notes were on the page every once in a while. My teacher insisted that it would come easier if I would practice more often, but I didn’t want to practice because music was just no fun.
It wasn’t until eighth grade that I actually started liking music. In seventh grade, I switched to oboe and experienced the several weeks of horrendous sounds again, only this time I didn’t have to learn all of the music basics. The obnoxious sounds went away quickly this time, mostly because I practiced more. I liked the oboe a lot more than the clarinet, which made me actually want to practice. By the beginning of eighth grade, I felt far more confident in my musical abilities and made it into the advanced band. There, we got to play much more exciting music, and I started to enjoy playing.
Today I still play music just about everyday, and when I’m not playing it, I’m listening to it. Despite my early struggles, music has become my passion. I now understand why Mom left me with the babysitter all those nights. It’s because I share that same passion for music that she has. It’s because music is what I believe.
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