The world seems ever so much brighter with three year old eyes. To be born with a vigorous lust for life is both a gift and a curse. Unwrapping the world with a pair of fresh-out-of-the-box eyes allows for a few years of euphoria. A few years of each day holding a brand-new present that Santa left the night before. However, once you've sufficiently ripped off the wrapping paper from your life, those few years of bliss are only a memory. You're left with an unquenchable thirst for feeling absolutely alive. And unfortunately, it's part of growing up and any attempt to relive that time would be futile.


I'm sorry, have I mentioned that I'm a liar?

Well, I am, in fact, a complete and total liar.

I could say my previous statement with a smile as genuine as an ever unchanging restaurant flower and pretend that I believe the empty words leaving my mouth. I could believe it and set myself up to live a simple, monotonous adult life where taxes and a desk job replace the need to feel alive. However, that feeling of life and passion refuses to fade from my mind. It seems that my heart and soul have grown arms with Herculean strength in an effort to cling on to this feeling. So, this feeling, the epitome of youth, continues to consume my mind, but only for moments. Only one moment, really. Well, one original moment that branches off in a million directions, twisting and distorting until each branch grows into a moment that is superficially very different, however, the roots are shared by all.

There is a pink dress dancing among the knees of strangers. It jumps at each blinding light that disturbs the dimness of the run down, beer-sodden, musty pub as though they are lightening strikes. Its chest falls with a sigh every time it survives another deafening clash of the cymbal. The pink dress reveals a dimpled face and blonde braids as it pushes through the crowd to get closer to the mountain, where all of the sound is emanating from. The little girl squeals with delight as the noise becomes purposeful, with words and melodies and beats and people attached to every part of it. This strange new sound ignites what will prove to be an eternal love within her. She lets the music take her hand and spin her around while she laughs with boundless energy. However, a high-pitched gasp, audible even above the blast of music, and eyes about to rain indicate the end; a pair of arms are lifting her out of the cherished commotion. As she approaches the door to leave, she whispers something unintelligible into the ear belonging to the pair of arms. Suddenly, she skips toward the mountain once again, this time to place a dollar in a guitar case. Stifling a yawn, the little girl in a pink dress stands proudly in front of the band, raises her arm up high with her thumb holding her doll-size ring and middle finger to her palm and shouts, "Rock on," and sprints back into the pair of arms, giggling as she leaves.

I will never be that child again. I cannot look upon everything with a childlike wonder. Greeting the world with open arms and an unsuspecting attitude has become a foreign idea. However, in making and experiencing music, I'm occasionally transported back into the body and mind of that little girl in a pink dress. In that moment, I get to discover the magic of music for the first time, all over again. The whole world puts on a layer of makeup just for me, brightening up and accentuating its best features, and I truly feel alive. These experiences have both inspired and fueled my quest in life. When I fall asleep, melodies and lyrics orbit my brain while music runs rampant in my dreams of the future; becoming a musician is my aspiration. If I start to view trying as a waste of time, I play my favorite song and pay a visit to the little girl who originally fell in love with music and it instantly gives me hope. Every decision I make is intermingled with a vague memory of getting dragged to one mediocre concert at a mediocre venue by a mediocre band because my mother forgot to get a babysitter that night. And as it turned out, this single decision let me keep a part of my childhood in my pocket forever, ready to remind me what it's like to live and love, so I'll never forget.