*The actual handwritten copy of this sucks. All I remember is that I was on a trip to Tarleton. I don't remember the day
Sometimes in April after or on the eleventh. =
I remember the dream I had of being a band director. As life went on through writing took over my life and music became an occupation. My love for music hasn’t died. I still want to be a musician. Oh. Right. I remember what I said. I didn’t want to get paid immensely on something I enjoyed. I felt like if I did then I wouldn’t have as much fun with it.
Digital media wise I can see myself wanting to put the effort and time into creating a masterpiece. Besides, I rather play for fun, like those bands do. I want to be in Jazz. I’m not much for a convert band fan when it comes to my instrument. We play cords. We’re the most important but still. Melody is like “O.o” for us.
In order for me to be in the ASU Jazz band I have to know all my Jazz scales. I only have the major concert ones, 1, 3, 5, 7, 9… I get that but I don’t skip notes very well purposely. I’m tired. I want to go to sleep. I slept on the way here and even through McDonalds. Apparently, I was out.
YOU ARE READING
Condemning Conspiracy
PoetryCensure the scheme of those who know not what they have done but reveal the results with a light show. Third book of the Evolution series brings the passion of poetry to life ending the series with a bow.
