Punished. Grounded. Bored out of my mind.

Consumed with guilt, I sat in my room

contemplating my choices. I look around my room to see what remained. All my

possessions were loaded into garbage bags and burried deep in the attic. All but one

thing: my electric guitar. Alone, I pick up my Epiphone Les Paul and start to play. I refer

to this moment as my “click”; the day music became an essential part of my life.

At the age of seven, I began weekly guitar lessons; however, it’s not like I had a choice.

Hating every second of it, my parents “encouraged” me to practice thirty minutes a day

and perform at my music studio’s yearly recital. As I went through the motions of each

lesson, I learned the basics of playing guitar, but without a care for the instrument.

Neither of my parents were musically inclined, but car rides were engulfed with Led

Zeppelin, Foo Fighters, Pearl Jam, and Rush. Once I had my “click,” I started listening

to more music, practicing theory and technique, and learning as many riffs as I could.

Soon enough, my desire to collaborate with other artists grew. I searched for other

aspiring musicians and eventually, I stumbled across School of Rock, an establishment

that provides private lessons on guitar, bass, drums, and vocals, along with various

bands to join, each playing a different genre of music. For the next two years, I learned

the responsibility of playing with a band, and later joined the elite group called “Street

Team. With connections from School of Rock, I started my own band called Just Add

Water, where we played a multitude of shows all over Long Island. Over those two

years, my playing improved significantly, and my life was forever changed because I

truly found something I love.

However, not everything is about the music I play, it’s also about what I listen to. As

much as I adore jamming out on stage to Rush and Led Zeppelin, often I find that

putting on my headphones and shuffling my 3,615 liked songs on Spotify is equally as

fulfilling. As extensive as that playlist may seem, each track has a dear place in my

heart. I have so many memories in my life where a specific song from that playlist made

each moment an unforgettable experience.

Although there are many examples of this, my favorite is when my friends and I went to

Jones Beach to watch the sunrise to conclude our senior summer. As we sat lined up in

our beach chairs, gazing into the horizon with our minds twisted on the fact that

summer’s already over, “Creep” by Radiohead played in the background. For me, it's

jaw-dropping at how it’s such a depressing song, but at the same time it manages to be

uplifting. I believe that very moment would be incomplete without Thom Yorke’s

melancholic voice faintly in the background.

I reflect on my punishment quite often. I refuse to believe that I fell in love with music

just because I needed something to do. If my “click” didn’t happen then it would have

happened later in my life. It’s music that makes cruising down the highway spectacular.

It’s music that energizes me to run like the wind at every cross country meet. It’s music

that fuels me with the drive to perform my heart out at Amityville Music Hall, jump till my

legs fall off, and headbang until I get whiplash. Whether I’m on stage playing guitar, or
casually listening to the radio, music has always been an important part of my life, and I

would be incomplete without it by my side.