My Music Haven As I walk up the dark, narrow stairs on the way to my multi-purpose music room I can hear my mom's bedroom TV coming through the vents located next to my bedroom door. As I turn the corner standing next to an ancient keyboard a sudden burst of light hits and I smile and embrace the warmth on my face.Then I see the two bright pink bean bag chairs accompanied by zebra print Big Joe. The pink bean bag chair at the very end off the line is almost always covered by a red and a green frog blanket, Mc Frogger, that my yorkie, Bella lays on well I mess around and come up with new songs . My Netflix is usually on so I can pass the time well practicing. Next to me there is usually a snack like an apple or a kiwi or more likely a
Although there are many objects and things that can define my culture, I believe that my music taste, my language and my manners makes me who I am today.
On your way downtown, no matter where you came from or where you are going, you pass something; A piano. The instrument is white and blue, covered from key to leg in paint splatters and bumper stickers until it resembles an incredibly odd work of graffiti. Most stride past, but my friends and I strode through, and into the Downtown Hudson music store. Adorning every wall, was every manner of stringed instruments, even ones I hadn’t the faintest idea existed. From Banjos to Electric Guitars, Mandolas to Baritone Ukuleles, the little shop was a wonderland for a music lover such as myself. The shop owners allowed us to take the forbidden fruit (for we hadn’t the money to pay for them) off the walls, and play. Nestled in the comfort of old leather
I found relaxing bamboo flute music on YouTube when I was doing bad in school. This soothing flute music helped me to control all my built up energy. I feel like this music helped me to concentrate and it also helped me focus. It was during the middle of freshman year I realized that I had a lot of trouble concentrating so I looked up relaxing music. Once I heard the bamboo flute I felt it calm me down. Like when I listen to this music I can concentrate better. When ever I am upset or angry I put this song on and my feelings just go away, it's like the music puts me into a dreamland. Growing up I always would have a hard to paying attention and concentrating but when I heard the bamboo flute I felt like it changed me.
“Dad!” Was the only word that had rushed out of Russell’s mouth the instant he saw his father enter the room. And, once he finished hugging Cary he then added, “Have you found him? What did those people you arrested say?”
“I’m going to break you.” She said. “Every single bone in your body and once you recover, I’ll do it again if I have to.”
At the start of the semester I had become more aware and grounded in my voice. In my everyday life, I would notice if I was holding my breath. The reason for this was because over the summer I had to stand-up to one of my shut-up judges, my dad. The incident was extremely emotional, and I coped with it through the use of my actor training; instead of checking out and holding tension, I chose to breathe deeply and stay grounded. This allowed me to speak up even when I was told to shut-up. This awareness of breath was developed through necessity rather than choice. I had to be strong. My strength didn’t only come from being grounded in my breath, but it also came using breathe to stay present in the room. The use of breath also allowed me to go into my body and release the build-up of emotions. As a result of these experiences, my voice was able to drop more consistently to my lower resonator rather than my typical chest voice.
As I walked into the music store I was overwhelmed with joy. Looking at every instrument I wish i could have. When out of the corner of my eye, I see it. A cherry red acoustic fender guitar. The light shined off of its mahogany wood as if the heavens themselves sent it from above. I brought it down from the wall and held it tight. It was lighter than I thought it would be. The body was smooth as glass, with no sharp
“Tell me, how does a pathetic, worthless, but yet intelligent person get into this mess and end up here?” Seymour asks, not really expecting an answer, but to dignify his still anger, uses his carved, smooth surface of his wooden baseball bat to strike her left knee, which has fell off for the fifth time now, since she awoken in the mysterious room. She was tired, hungry, thirsty, homesick, and yet so furious the adrenaline pumped bitter life into her and she sat, ropes to her chest, arms, and legs, thinking about life before this moment. “She gets the million dollar questions correct, but only by taking wild guesses,” she manages to say, hoping this sacred fuel will last forever. Before taking another swing at her leg, he chuckles, and then
My band director, Mr. Schmitt, always preached to us before the week of a competition that, “pressure and time turn coal into diamonds,” and this idea has established an admirable atmosphere that has created the diligent and determined person I am today. Band is a bizarre, dissimilar group of people that would never seem to get along due to drastic differences between one another. However, no matter what grade or section someone is in, everyone in the band loves music and we work towards success not only for ourselves but for each other. During my high school career, band has taken me 5,000 miles to Honolulu, Hawaii where we played in the 2014 Pearl Harbor Parade and in 2017, we played in the infamous Carnegie Hall in New York City. Consequently,
Inside the ambulance, Roy was relieved to find John’s vitals were unchanged when he rechecked them. Although he had hoped they would improve with the IV, at least they weren't getting much worse.
Natasha Romanoff smirks as she watches a wayward demi-god grimace at the sealed package of cup-a-noodles in his hand. He leans a hip against the island counter, habitually feigning nonchalance. However, as an astute student of body language she can read the subtle tension in musculature of his face. She pauses for only an instant at the entryway to observe him, confirming for herself again, that he actually is trying fit in here. She would never presume to mention it to Director Fury, not without a direct inquiry from him, but she had had her own concerns when S.H.I.E.L.D. agreed to take Loki on as part of some sort of Asgardian rehabilitation program. Now she’s less certain of her opinion. Not wanting to be noticed spying, she breezes into the common area and crosses to the refrigerator, perusing the offerings briefly before grabbing a bottled smoothie. She can feel
I don’t get why my sister is sending me here, sending me to rehab. Its not like I have a problem. Ok, I have a slight problem but that doesn’t mean I need to go to rehab for it. She thinks it will help me “get better”. I get so annoyed with her when she says that. All she ever says to me now is do this and you’ll get better, try harder and maybe things would work out. Try harder. You don’t think I’ve tried my whole life to fix the things that are wrong with me. I have. I fought every single day and nothing ever changed. I’m still the same way I was since I was little. I’m still messed up. I know I am but she can’t honestly think that rehab is going to help can she? I highly doubt it.
You never actually said your name out loud to anyone, and I'm not entirely sure how I managed to find it out in the first place. I'm sure it was through the whisper chains you hear every so often in this cafe. You have a soft voice you know, it's barely audible when you say things, it's not quite what I'd call gruff or gritty, it just has this sort of toughness. It's as though you've steadily built up a defence mechanism in your voice so people don't ask you things you'd rather not answer.
Out the window and down the fire escape, twenty floors was nothing at this point, and considering police would have to get here and go all the way up to the top, I was in the clear. As I slide down the ladder to the ground, I heard the sirens pulling up in the front, perfect timing, I walked out the alley, taking off my hoodie and slowly joining the crowd forming behind the cop cars. “The best place to hide is in plain sight,” something grandpa told me that I'll never forget, though considering I was a college student with a backpack in New York, blending in was a given. Making my way to the side of the crowd, trying to catch a word of what the officers were saying. “Suspect, average height, weight, witness says all they saw was a shadow going out the window.
After listening to segment five of prx.org the nerve Music identity, I learned that no one person listens to music the same way. Individually, infants, they are so brilliant; according to the video story “infants by twelve months of age show a bias shaping of how they hear things” (prx). Furthermore, infants select differences in a rhythm that adults cannot. The rationale is adults lose flexibility as they age. What is interesting is adults may have the potential to select differences in rhythm like infants. However, infants listen better than adults. Therefore, they can absorb more variations in rhythm. Thus, active listening remains a critical component to memory and retention of data encoded and stored in the hippocampus.