Personal Narrative: My Theme Song

As I wake up, I am greeted by the same room I have been in since we moved here from California. My pink and brown walls welcome me as I roll over. I glance over at the clock. 8:34 a.m. Rolling onto my back, the ceiling stares at me. I close my eyes momentarily. It was strange waking up this early, mom usually wakes me up at nine for breakfast. One of my papers on the wall flutters up and back down. The wind from my ceiling fan makes it move, but the pins keep it in place. My green eyes scan the two walls that my bed is on. You can barely see the pink or brown wallpaper because of how many pictures and drawings are on them. I do not freehand very often for tracing is more of my style. Towards the end of my bed, my eyes fall on the pictures from

Meet my Jazz band. This is a picture of us in New Orleans my junior year during spring break to play Jazz. I decided upon this picture because this band has had such a profound impact on how I frame my future.

With the clock slowly approaching 5 in the morning and my yaws become harder to control we finally left and made our way back to Frank's east Las Vegas house, with the purple dawn rays of the sun creeping through go the mountain that range circles the city.

Regardless of those horrors during his time as a police officer, the horror he is exposed to ever since he joined the special unit, by far overshadows his days as a cop.

It was New Year 's Eve the year of 2007, I had just turned 9 years old and little did I know my life was about to change forever. My parents took my sister and I on the Queen Mary 2, a cruise ship, to celebrate the holiday season. My family and I went to watch the musical playing at the cruise 's theater, Beatlemania, which is a musical focusing on the music of The Beatles and as a 9 year old boy I was completely unaware the impact this band had left in the world. As I began listening to the music all of a sudden I found myself immersed in all the rhythms and harmonies. The feeling I felt listening to them play couldn 't be compared to anything in the world and I felt like my mind was being introduced to this whole new side of the universe.

The radio station of 87.3 PST looks bleak until the lights are turned on and computers and sound boards whirr alive while the host takes his or her seat at the microphone. The red recording light starts blinking and we are back live in ..3…2…1! The song, It Wasn’t Me, by Shaggy fades out and the radio host, Elizabeth Decaprio (yours truly) welcomes back the listeners to the show, ‘DeCaprio-Oh-No-You-Didn’t’ and refreshes the mind of the listener by reintroducing herself and the topic for the day, “Today’s segment I’ll be focusing on the topic of being wrong and how it affects every day life.” Since it is a new topic for her to delve into, I know she will be sure to crack a joke to break the ice. She’s already grinning from ear to ear as she

I was diagnosed with depression when I was thirteen years old. I didn 't tell my parents about how I felt until one year after I realized my affliction. I often wallowed in self pity. For the next three years, I thought I was never good enough. I finally realized that the road I was on was not where I wanted to be. I felt useless, and so I would put such little effort into the things I would do. But despite not knowing who I was, I knew I wasn’t going to let depression define me.

Losing track of time becomes effortless while driving aimlessly with my best friend, Reagan. With music in the background, serene landscapes passing by and discussing our future plans for college, time ceased to exist. Reagan and I were heavily engaged in our conversation, to the point where we failed to notice the time. By then it was twenty to eleven and we were lost somewhere in Somers. After realizing how late was, our tranquil ride turned into a chaotic frenzy within seconds. I tried to ease the tension by plugging in the gps and putting on our favorite song, No Such Thing by John Mayer. Instantly our worries returned to good vibes and terrible singing voices; as we retraced our steps and drove off into the direction we came

We tiptoed sideways through the waist-high weeds toward the fortress. The closer we got, the more the air smelled like a troll with intestinal issues and something worse.

The next day as I come sprinting around the corner of the store, I see this guy covered in makeup. The first thought racing through my head is “it’s Michael Jackson” ,but then I think there’s no way! As I’m galloping home through the park I see this person singing “I want you.” It sounds exactly like Marvin Gaye, but why would he be in town? At last I get home and I’m walking in my house and I hear Fred Astaire’s voice! I think maybe I’m just going crazy so I just go inside. I set down the groceries that have been weighing me down for 5 blocks now. The doorbell rang as soon as I collapsed on my bed. I jump up and open the door and see nobody. I go and start making the dinner for the party. The house is filled with a mouthwatering smell. (Ding

The freezing cold, Siberian wind bit my dry skin as I was trying to fall asleep on the decrepit hotel bed. The bed sheets stank as awful as a skunk. Wallpaper was peeling off the walls. It had an abstract image printed on it. Outlandish, mysterious shapes looking at me..

Bubbles erupt from my regulator as I let out a muffled laugh. Oscar, the gentle sixty-pound Pacific octopus, suckles my fingers, tickling every nerve in my body. Suddenly, my attention is diverted to the neighboring tank. Pixie, the peevish pacu, is freaking out, hungry for attention as she thrashes around like a mad woman. I am calm. I have been trained for this. I eagerly make my way to the other tank and lower myself in, the water slowly washing away the pressures of the real world. I willingly relinquish my body and mind to the creatures of the sea that surround me.

Penny checked the time on her smart phone. “We have to be seated before the ceremony begins. I don’t want to be late. Okay?”

My apologies in advance, for I will not be home for much of the day when you read this. In order to save time, I logically figured you could perhaps get started with today’s instructions without my presence, yes? You are an intelligent girl, and I am positive that you can do these simple tasks. Remember our deal and do your best. I may be harsh, but you are both my charge now and my student, as much as you may not truly like it, and I will not be cruel to you. Much.

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to study music. I have been singing since I could talk and have been in choir my whole life. Being in choir has affected me in ways that nothing else could ever come close to. Not only have I’ve met so many incredible individuals who I have the honor of calling friends, but I have made numerous memories which I have no doubt that I will remember for the rest of my life. Music has impacted my life in numerous ways. It’s my escape from reality and I do not know what I would do without it.