Song of my Life

     I can't even begin to describe how vital music is to me; those who know me well know how a sweet midday, motley tune contributes to the beating in my heart and the rushing blood in my veins almost like my body emits its own song internally. Many will read this and say "of course music is vital to life, without it we have nothing and no way to describe ourselves.." But even saying "music is my" life has a slightly deeper meaning.

    In my family, consisting of dogmatic Irish folk (though mostly German blood) and liberal war veterans, music or song was, and still is, a way of telling stories. Tales of heroics, young sailors hungry for adventure and glory--and duh, women--were told to me every winter nestled by a fire from the voice of my grandfather, much like he did for his comrades back in the 1870s. From child to teen, he had sung those songs to me, never spoke them. There came a time when I questioned why they were sung and not spoken if they were merely stories and not legitimate songs. His answer was this "stories are fine for when you crave slumber, but a song gets your blood running and your feet tapping--much better to dance to a story than to sleep by it." I found this very true, especially when my friends and I laugh at how we monotonly spoke popular songs instead of singing them and how boring and awkward they were. Songs excite you, they drive your blood to your feet and make you want to move. Music brings joy in this manner. Because, sitting and being antisocial is not as wonderful as looking into another's eyes to a song that is cherished.

     Although music does bring excitement and joy, it does bring sadness as well. But to keep this little essay a bit uplifting, I'll keep it on the joyful side. I suffer every minute, everyday, every year, with depression and anxiety. Fear and sadness. For me, it just happens. Sometimes I get so intimidated that I can't order food at a restaurant, or get so sad that I cry over absolutely nothing in the night. Of course it has its meanings, but that shall stick with the writer. I was desperate to find a non medical solution to my problem, since I was rather high on the spectrum for this defect. I had read how certain instruments bring joy like the flute or particularly the ukulele. I knew the ukulele was a small, Hawaiian guitar but knew nothing more. Still thirsting for a solution to my problem, I bought a ukulele for $25. I learned to play it. And realized, contrary to the guitar or trumpet, I couldn't not conceive a melancholy tone upon its strings. Some Spanish ones, but not sad. This enlightened me, I played till my thumb grew hard with callous and my fingers fast. I learned many chords and played them loudly and proudly and laughed as I played. This small guitar brought me so much joy, that I bought a more expensive one that pleased me. Today, and probably forever, it will be my prized jewel.

     But you why this is, don't you? Depression and anxiety, sometimes, lead to suicide. Death. I did not want to become so consumed in fear in sadness that I would brainlessly take my own life. I had friends and family, whom I loved dearly with all of the matter in my being! Music had always been a vital aspect in my life since birth. So to say music is life would be better worded as music sustains my life. Keeps me alive. Keeps my heart beating and my blood flowing. It is not just the ukulele that brings me joy. My trumpet brings me pride and honor, my piano brings me calming, my guitar spunk, and my drums excites me. Music brings me life, when I feel life shall doom me. I cannot always rely on my friends to help me, so strings and keys aid me best in hard times. So to say music is life would be a bit incorrect, music brings me life. Keeps my heart beating, and my blood flowing.