Essay We had finally done it! We were good enough to play on stage. We had practice so long for the concert. We could play the Christmas songs we practiced for in front of our parents. We were all friends to begin with, no bragging about who was the best instrument section in our band, just a friendly group of kids ready to play. My band teacher was one of the funniest teachers I had. It had been a few years of constant playing, to meet him. One by one, we would have yet another song to add to our Rehearsal. We would do theory day some practices. I woke up the next day after our last practice before the concert. It was a horrible night. I couldn't get any sleep what-so-ever. I was constantly thinking of the show
My memoir is about the good memories of when i used to be in elementary school as a little girl in my country. I was very happy with the school even do my teacher Ms. Johanne was very strict i won't ever forget her, with 30 of us inside of the classroom she sure knows how to handle all of us with her sense of teaching style.
There I was, halfway through a 17 dollar meal of fish and chips, thinking about what I had gotten myself into this time. Me, my band director, and about ten other instrumentalists from my high school were eating at a nearby Cheesecake Factory, preparing for our performance in Continental League Honor Band. Me, and around 200 other musicians, would all perform a concert at Boettcher Concert Hall in Denver, and I was about to play first chair French Horn in a building that could seat well over a thousand.
“You know somethin’, Gloria? This sweet ole cat and me has been together for fifteen years. We’ve lasted longer than most marriages,” (“Everybody Loves Opal”).
The eight-year-old version of myself (V 8.0) could not tolerate the Nietzsche-esque “god is dead” prognosis. I stubbornly wanted to believe Santa and his workforce of elves could render moral justice and realize the dreams of children all across the world. Much to my chagrin, the cruel honesty of my peers and adults convinced me that the existence of Santa was highly unlikely.
I’ve always been a creative person since I was born, but it wasn’t until August 14, 2013, that I really understood that part of me. That day changed me for the better it was the day I saw my first Broadway show. It was the day I fell in love with the “city that never sleeps”, New York City, Times Square to be exact. A couple months prior I had really been invested in the show Wicked. I guess seeing musicals on broadway was the hit thing, because I became obsessed. Broadway shows just seemed like this magical experience like Disney World or Christmas. Then one day my father had gave in.
Every summer I participate in the Musical through our local Parks and Recreation program, and last year the musical was Beauty and the Beast. At first I was apprehensive because this was a musical with few female roles, and our theater department had a plethora of talented female actors. Regardless, I was excited to perform with my friends because my opportunities to perform before I went to college were shrinking. The audition was relaxed, and I even got a callback the next day. The only problem was I had to fly out to Nashville the same day, so I finished my callback and rushed myself to the Kansas City Airport. The cast list was scheduled to come out that evening, and I was receiving anxious texts from my fellow actors. As the plane was
thing I could think of was “my dog ate it”- and that never seems to
When I was in sixth grade I was told by teacher that I wasn’t necessarily “strong” enough for the task she needed done. I felt insulted and useless at the time. I thought offering to help carry a desk down the hall was a nice gesture and it turned out not to be. She told me she wanted to wait for “some big strong boys to get back”. I didn’t understand why, but that didn't sit right with me. I wondered why I wasn’t good enough. I thought I was just as capable as the “strong boys”. I’m not the one to speak up for myself so I sat in silence. I’ll never forget this because I didn't feel good enough.
I would like to attend the opera because opera is an inspiring art form that provides deep insight into music and also includes certain aspects of storytelling and visual arts. As a musician, I have a passion for both creating and experiencing music. I have always been a fan of film and theater, as it brings together my interests in storytelling and visual arts. I have never seen an opera live before, but based on my various experiences of it on television and on YouTube, the opera seems to bring together my various interests, combining its focus on music with elements of storytelling and visual art.
For the second time in six months I found myself and my family gathered around each other with few words and many emotions. This journey began in 2011 when I came home to find out my older sister had collapsed at school earlier in the day. Me being a sixth grader I did not think much about it. As months went by it had become a frequent occurrence. Over a long period of time my sister faced numerous tests at some of the top hospitals in the region, but this phenomenon remained an enigma to all doctors. During that time, I wondered why her. She looks so normal on the outside. How could this happen. She is my best friend, she plays soccer, figure skates, and is a normal teenager. Through out this process I was determined
Music is one of the most influential notions available to human beings. It has influenced my existence in ways I never would have presumed it would. The earliest form of music was first prominent around 4000 BCE by the Egyptians in the form of a percussion based instrument, similar to a drum. Ever since the dawn of time, people have been incorporating music in their essence. Whether it is the chirping of birds melodically, or the beat of a band on stage. Music has evolved in ways much more beyond theme and tune. It has emerged into a doctrine. It has become so much more than just a beat. Music is empowering, a mood-changer, strength in hard times, a memory creator, and so much more. The beauty of music is more importantly what it is to each
As the lights go down, the roaring crowd simmers to a whisper; The first strings of the guitar and bass are plucked, I can feel the drums in the ache of my bones and every inch of my body. The vocals start and the once quieted crowd is now going wild. There are people screaming, jumping, and even moshing; bodies are swaying back and forth freely, and people are singing off the top of their lungs. Screaming each lyric that is burnt into the back of my mind after countless nights of listening to the same songs over and over again. Music is the reason I was comfortable being around thousands of strangers, even though I am the most socially awkward person on the face of the earth. A thousand strangers but we all share something in common, the love and passion for music.
From the moment I stepped on stage, I have known that musical theater will always be a significant part of my life. Musical theater opens doors to different realities and allows the performer to create their own world and version of the story. I have been involved with Hub Theater Group for seven years now trying to become more knowledgeable about the inner workings of theater as a whole, but I never knew that my best teachers would be a bunch of little children from the camp I volunteer at. Shining Stars, the camp I have been volunteering at for four years, has been one of my most treasured experiences because I get to help children come out of their shy shell and become amazingly flamboyant actors and actresses. Since I worked with Hub, I have seen campers come back year after year and become more personable because of the work my fellow counselors and I are doing.
“Please tell your fellow classmates a little about yourself, including your major, family, hobbies, work and your favorite kind of ice cream (at least 100 words).” I laid back in my chair with a sigh of relief. The first assignment of the year is always easy!
Who knew a mouse could make all of my wildest dreams come true? Imagine being a child, and being told that you are about to spend the day at “The Happiest Place on Earth.” To any four year old, a day filled with candy, adventurous rides, and even Mickey Mouse himself sounds like paradise. To this day, I am filled with the same excitement going to Disneyland as I was fifteen years ago. Even driving to the parking deck has some sort of magic only Disney could pull off. My first time at Disney was filled with wonderful rides, my loving family, and memories I would keep close to my heart forever.