Im nervous. I never thought I would make it this far.

Before the spotlight hit me sweat was

already running down my forehead. The audience claps as I step up and a few seconds later there

was nothing, pure silence. I start to feel stiff as if I was entrapped in ice. The I took a deep breath

and the ice shatters, I was ready.

When I was in fourth grade a new opportunity came to me. It was a chance for a new

experience, But honestly back then it was more of an excuse to ditch class and have fun. I was

able to join the orchestra at my school, penn elementary. Without questioning it I picked violin

out instinct, It just seemed like the more fun instrument. A cello would be a pain to carry and a

viola was just strange to me. After one class of my excuse to ditch I was actually enjoying this. It

became something I liked to do at home although I didnt yet have an instrument of my own.

Every Time we would walk into the bungalows behind the school we would all try and find one

of the schools instruments to use for that hour of class. It was a struggle as sometimes people

didn't get an instrument for that day, there wasn't enough. My uncle Julio had heard of what I

was doing and he has always been supportive towards me. So out of his support he got me my

first violin, my very own and unique violin. For those two years I was one of the proud few who

had their instrument at all times. I loved it. We would perform once per semester and all the

parents would come and watch. Although I now realize that most of our songs were actually

different iterations of twinkle twinkle little star. Years later I think back and although it was fun

and a new start we sounded terrible back then. I have no idea how parents sat through that.
I had now shattered the ice and for the first time in my life I was performing as a soloist, it was a

dream come true, my dream, my goal I strived for, but in reality it was really just a dream. I

wake up back into reality and see the same withered sheet of paper taped to the top bunk of my

bed with goals and how to achieve them. My brother sleeping in the bunk above and I just

staring blankly at this sheet of paper of things I have achieved and things Ive given up. There

was a small crack of sunlight as the day had barely began and the curtains were not fully closed.

The light hit my face but I ignored it as I just stared blankly at this old piece of paper, reading the

list created a few years back. I never checked things as done.

I woke up to the reality of middle school. New campus, new people, starting all over again. As

time progressed I made new friends and adapted but I had left my musical interest behind just as

I did with penn elementary. I was encouraged to continue music by my family but I just ignored

their advice. That part of my life was over... or at least I thought it was. My middle school career

flew by. Besides that two classes we had every year, I had to deal with theatre and engineering

which werent exactly my forte or something I looked forward to, but then there was the third

class. As we learned the elements of art we later began to create our own. The three years flew

by and I was working on my last project as a middle schooler. 8th grade was when it all came

back to me. I looked around me everyday and everyone had their talents. The pianists, singers,

guitarists, and so on, then there was me. Talentless until someone that impacted my life came

around. I wanted to show this person what they meant to me but I didnt know how. My arts and

crafts are as good as picassos perfect representation of the average face, my voice as deep and

rigid as an untuned bass. And the one talent I used to have left behind. Due to my devotion them
I started back up. I went home that day digging the depths of my closet looking for my old

instrument. After much digging I finally noticed the black thread case in the corner of the dark

closet. The flashlight barely defined its shape. I took the case out and slowly opened it not

knowing what I might see after three years of storage. I finally see the familiar red velvet interior

just to find a pair of loose strings snapped from their place. I guess it was a way of the world

telling me you have a long road ahead. I got it fixed in a few days of finally getting up and

making the effort. Finally an old healed instrument back in my hands ready to be played after its

long wait. The first thing I heard as my bow struck the strings was like nails on a chalkboard.

Whatever I had in mind was not happening any time soon. I could barely read music or tell it

apart. I refreshed my memory as much as possible on notes and their places on the strings. I felt

like I had come back to elementary when I barely started, clueless.

After the long attempt at refurbishing my knowledge I knew there was nothing left I could teach

myself so I sought out a mentor. I have to give credit where its due to my 7th grade humanities

teacher Mr.Klein as for an entrepreneurship project we visited a local company by the name of

take lessons. I visited the website and after much research on the many options I had, Id found

the one.

We spoke through the website a few times just to get to see at what point at was at. I told her my

story of how I started a long time ago but gave it up, how I had my own instrument and I knew

the basics then the day came for my first lesson. As my mom got in the car and I was in the

passenger seat ready to go I started to feel shaky. My instrument and old music books in hand I

was depending on the impression I may give. The house was near where I lived but it felt like I
was on my way to Sinaloa, Mexico by car. The moment we arrived at the home I was hesitant

but knew that was the house. You could hear the dogs barking in the backyard of the white

painted home. I walked towards the small front porch which was covered by a small gate. It was

a nice part of the house but in my current state it felt like I was waiting to pass through TSA at

the airport. I knocked on the gate with a coin I had in my pocket since I wasnt aware of the

ringer outside the gate. I must have knocked to softly for them to hear so I knocked again with a

bit more force this time, I didnt want to seem aggressive or impatient. Suddenly I hear the locks

being turned on the inner door and a stranger Id only seen a picture of online came out through

the door. At first glance I could tell she had a gentle soul, a very kind person. Lucky I wasnt

wrong. Before I forget the mention it, my mother was there throughout the whole thing which

made me a little nervous. I understood why she needed to be there but although I love my mom

very much... it was kind of embarrassing for me, a fifteen year old being followed around by his

mom as if still baby isnt exactly what a fifteen year old would want. Anyways, once we went

inside the house was a bit crowded by furniture, family pictures everywhere. Some of the

furniture seemed antique but fit the house perfectly. This first lesson was basically a review to

see what I truly knew. We went over scales and mostly talked about what exactly I had been

doing. I would speak normally but inside I wanted to get the lesson over with just to get the

embarrassing mess ups and terrible intonation done. In the end I knew she was going to be a

great teacher and that I would learn so much, I had found a new start.

After blankly staring at this list for the rest of the morning I finally had the energy to sit up and

look around the room. The pale wooden desk cluttered with many papers and figures. The
shelves on it barely closed but overflowed with materials that never came to use. The brown

carpet floor felt soft against the bottom of my feet. I looked a bit to my left to see the mirror over

the sink in the small corner of my room. My hair the equivalent of a hurricane and my face with

a forest of facial hair. The time was 10:30am. I stood up and approached the sink to brush the

terrible morning breath out of my mouth. As I scrub up and down, left and right I just look at

myself and the mirror and think will that dream ever come true? Will I ever be as good as I

want to be? I began to doubt myself as my days sometimes just fly by. I just looked in the

mirror and kept thinking that to myself.

As I was growing up Ive told myself I wanted to be a lot of things. I wanted to be a chef when I

was about six or seven. When I was ten I wanted to be an olympic swimmer. Towards the end of

middle school I wanted to be a psychologist or therapist. For most of middle school I wanted to

be a DJ and a little bit in my freshman year. And currently as you might have guessed I want to

become a violinist. Im just hoping this one isnt a phase like the rest. What Ive wanted to be

may tell you the kind of person I am. I cant really define that for myself. Each phase has had its

story, but this is the one that should continue.