Purmela Story

In the time of our adventurous preteen stage, we tried many new and sometimes strange things. From wanting to dye our hair and get facial piercings to telling the world how we felt through boisterous song. It was different for all of us. For Conley, it was an eye opening experience. He met someone who had similar interests as him, particularly music, his name was Cameron. Conley became friends with him and they formed a strong brotherly bond. One day after school Conley went to Cameron’s house to watch movies and play videogames. While there Cameron’s father brought out his guitar and began playing. This sparked intrigue and curiosity into Conley. He wanted to know how just a few simple cords could make such a smooth sound. Cameron’s father

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

After I had listened to Rylynn for the first time, it really had me questioning what made something “music”. Over time, I had started to become more open to trying new things; of course, it started with music, but eventually it bled into all areas of life. I noticed myself generally more relaxed, and enjoying life more, because I wasn’t sweating the small stuff and gave everything a chance – people, things, places, whatever else. If I could say anything to my great-uncle now I’d thank him for the guitar and for aiding me in changing for the

In middle school, all students were required to play some form of instrument. Most students took the traditional route choosing band or chorus, but my school offered a unique program in guitar. Guitar seemed like an interesting instrument to play and my brother had already started guitar and loved it. I could instantly imagine myself rocking out some guitar solos and learning hot new songs. I quickly learned that I wouldn’t be rocking out any time soon. First of all, most of the music we played was classical, but the greater challenge was learning how to play. My first year of guitar in middle school was pretty rough; the first teacher never showed up and after that we had a revolving door of teachers. Some had guitar experience and others

Two years ago, I was watching a talent show on TV, and there was a girl playing guitar while singing. The sound of guitar is like the whisper of a stream in the woods. Her fingers moved so easily and quickly between six strings. It suddenly drew my attention. At that time, I knew that I like this instrument and I want to be able to play just like that girl. This is what I am finally very interested in doing. So I begged my parents and got this really old guitar from my dad on my birthday, and the guitar is probably even older than me. However, because of my old history of giving up everything, my mom wouldn’t sign me up for any classes. I had to learn

My family and I came to realize my music talent when I was in second grade. My dad bought me a bass guitar and a tutorial book. As I followed through the instructions, I found myself progressing easily to the next challenging lessons. Within two weeks, I completed the entire book and began to play along with the Intermediate level bass CD companion. My dad, who is also a guitar player, was amazed at how fast and naturally I learned to read the music sheet and play the instrument. From there, I realized that I have a natural musical talent and the love of music. Since my middle school years, I have been playing bass for the worship band at our church twice a month. I enjoy being on the worship team because I am able to put my talent into practice

If any of my close friends or family were asked to list a few adjectives to describe me, “musical” would surely be at the top of the list. Music is at the core of my creative identity, and after spending thousands of hours over thirteen years either traveling the world singing with the Philadelphia Boys Choir, competing in flute competitions, playing ukulele at open mic nights, or leading my a cappella group, I have found that there is no better outlet for me to express my myself and connect with my emotions. My parents often remind me of the time when I was in timeout when I was ten years old; I locked myself in my room and composed my very first original song: “Mom is Mean.” On a serious note, music and songwriting have been ways for me to cope

And i got an award for being one of the best guitar players out there and i was glad i earned the award a lot. Here is my story of how i wanted play the guitar it was twenty

My father began teaching me music with an extraordinary rigor and brutality that affected me for the rest of his life. Neighbors witness me as a small boy weeping while I played the clavier, standing on top of a footstool to reach the keys. My father beat me for each hesitation or mistake I made. He hoped that I would be recognized as a musical prodigy à la Mozart. My father arranged my first public recital for March 26, 1778. I played my best and was most impressive, but

On Saturday, I escaped to my room to take yet another attempt at my guitar. I opened my window to get some fresh air and the sweet smell of summer filled my I strummed some chords, just for the fun of it, and to my surprise, they were strummed right back again. I looked up to see the neighbor boy on his electric guitar, playing through his open window. Oh boy, I thought. I was starting to miss the privacy of my old town. “Hey, I’m Tony,” he uttered. I was embarrassed since I can’t play guitar for my life and I hadn’t socialized with someone my age in a few months. I managed a nervous laugh and rushed to say, “Glad to meet you, Tony. I’m Taylor.”

It brought back a lot of memories. I’ve never seen anyone play a guitar with more passion than you.”

It has been a long time since I have challenged myself to fulfill something out of my customary schedule. Bringing music closer into my life, would be something I would thank myself for in the future. I have been playing the guitar since I was twelve, and when I was younger my brother had taught me how to play the piano. However, I have had a piano sitting against a wall in my room, and it has now been four years since I have played it. So, for the past twenty one days, I have challenged myself to re-learn the piano. Throughout my process, I found many similarities and differences between learning how to play the guitar and learning how to play the piano.

Around the age of seven, my family and I went to the mall that included a music store. I would roam all around the store to experiment with almost every instruments that were put on display. This led to the first instrument that I got, which was an electric guitar. I would continually beg my mother for it, promising that I will be the most exceptional child ever. Now I don't fully recall as to why I had a desire for an electric guitar, but I do remember there was a time in my life that my brothers and I wanted to form a band. Which was a ridiculous idea because neither of us knew how to play an instrument or how to sing, so our "band" would have been a tremendous fiasco. I was ecstatic with the new guitar I received that as soon as we came home I went berserk upon opening it. I even have

I snatched my guitar and ran out the door. The crisp fall air ran against my cheeks as I went to go play guitar in my usual spot. After I wiped the mildew off the bench, I set up my guitar case and set up for my afternoon playing. I watched children play around the park, others enjoying an afternoon snack, and affluent mothers strutting in their stilettos with handfuls of shopping bags in each palm. However, I remained to myself and hoped I gained a few dollars to keep me fed throughout the week. The sun slowly peaked out of the clouds, ensuring me that my father was now listening. Three years have passed since his death, but everyday I play for him and pursue my dreams as he once did. After releasing my hand from the locket, I allowed each brush of the strings take me into my happy place. With one glide, I sat by the pool with my mom and dad enjoying the perfect Georgia fall day. Another glide took me to a stage where millions of people laughed and sang along to my country songs. Hours passed and I continued strumming along on my guitar. With closed eyes I sang the thoughts and emotions cramped inside my brain. The sun slowly began to set: my que to pack up. I

Finally, the time came to open the tall gift. It was, in fact, for me. Once I had the okay from my parents, I clawed at it and all I felt was cardboard, thick hard-to-open cardboard. I began to see on the box an image of the neck of a guitar. “No way!” I exclaimed, “Did you get me a real guitar?” Tearing the wrapping paper apart even faster now, I saw the full picture on the box. In the corner, it stated that it came with five guitar picks, a capo, and a tuner. I’ve been talking about wanting this for months, and now it’s finally here! My dad was looking for a pair of good scissors to open the cardboard. Once he found them, he looked up and asked, “So, what do you think, Sarah?” “I love it!” I joyously replied. As my dad was opening the box, revealing the guitar and all of its embellishments, I gazed at the six-string instrument with wide eyes like a little kid looking at all the candy they got on Halloween. “Now, Sarah,” My mother explained, “with this guitar comes responsibility. You have to be careful with it and not let your friends use it in case they break it.” “Mom, relax. They wouldn’t do that,” I told her with an annoyed tone.