“I am an artist,” I said.
“What is your medium? Clay, paint, charcoal . . .?” they asked me.
“None of those . . . I am a musician, a writer, and an actress.”
“Then you’re not an artist- can you draw?”
“Well, no. But . . .”
“Then you’re not an artist,” they said.
“But I am.” They looked at me disbelievingly, and some raised their eyebrows. “If you don’t believe me, then tell me why every elective I have ever taken is classified as fine arts.”
“You’re not an artist. You’re a musician,” they informed me.
“But I write and act, too.”
“You’re a busy musician. That’s all. Maybe a bit on the eclectic side, but not an artist.”
In my four years at Deering High School, I have tried to find the perfect word to describe me. I decided that there wasn’t one- I was involved in too many different activities and capable of too many things to be simply one type. How can I be just a musician when there is my undeniable love of poetry and stage? How can I be an actress or a writer without explaining away my years of musical studies? If I had to choose one, I would say musician, because it has been my one true and constant love. Drama and writing came later, and carried some upsets and frustrations with them. Music, however, has always touched my life. I have known since I was in second grade that I was going to be a musician. I didn’t know what type, or in what context, but I knew what I loved. Now, as a senior preparing to venture out into the “great beyond”(they say there really is a world outside the walls of this high school) I have made the decision to pursue music education.
Although, whenever anyone reads a poem I wrote, or a short story, or cries when I give a moving monologue, I wonder. When my friend Stephanie Hofsaes wrote “the soon to be famous” on the title page of my writing portfolio, I saw a glimpse of a different future, a different path. When my father introduced me to the wonderful world of the internet, I toyed with the idea of becoming a computer programmer. Both times, I became incredibly scared. I was terrified that if I let myself pursue another career choice, I would lose my love of music. I confided in a friend, and he told me not to worry. “That would never happen to you. You love music too much- it’s a part of you. You’ll never lose it.” Even though I eventually realized that he was right, I knew that my fears were only pointing me more in the direction of music.
Over the past summer, I grew up. I realized quite frankly that I haven’t put enough time into one instrument to really be a great performer(like Christian Lindberg, the super-giant of the music industry), but I have an incredible musical background. I can learn any instrument very quickly, and I now know that I can teach others the same skill. I have had experience playing a multitude of instruments and retain a basic knowledge of each. I am learning to read other clefs, studying the advice my teachers give to the woodwinds, and remembering what brand of valve oil is best for a silver trumpet.
Over the summer I also realized how important all the music teachers I have ever had have been to me. I have taken something from every instructor and filed it away for later use. I realized that I could make even more of a difference if I can show students my love of music and inspire it in them. Teaching is where the real power lies. For years, I didn’t want to teach, because I thought I could find something more challenging or something that was more right for me, but teaching is right for me. I want to show how beautiful the world is, and what a difference sitting up in your chair can make on the tone quality of a brass instrument. But, most of all, I want to learn. I know that I will learn more about myself through teaching, more about music and about life. I hope to take the best qualities from all of my teachers and transform my dreams into reality.
So, even though I classify myself as an artist, I still have the musician’s heart. I know that I will always be dramatic and somewhat eccentric- I don’t need to worry about that- and I also know that whatever experiences come my way, I’ll be able to make a poem out of them. For example; when Scott Croteau, of Lewiston, was found to have committed suicide, the way I dealt with my tormenting emotions was to write a poem called “Dear Scott.” This is a quote from that poem.“Yes, life is painful, but it can also be beautiful. Don’t give up your chance to fall in love . . . to realize your dreams, to make new ones . . .” So, even though I am capable of using my writing as an emotional catharsis, or playing a brilliantly evil Lady Macbeth, what I don’t know is whether I’d make a difference to people in those fields . . . in this one I know that I will.
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