It's hard to believe that this was me four years ago. Four years ago, I made a speech which took form as a poem which would change my life in ways I had never imagined. I wrote "Speech of the Masquerade" in late summer of 2009, but it wasn't until the spring of 2010 when I shared this poem with anyone. As I said in the video, writing for me was an escape--a place where I could freely express myself. As a shy high school introvert, I struggled expressing myself in front of people. Fear of criticism was debilitating. Like the speaker of my poem, I kept my thoughts locked up in a notebook. In the spring of 2010, I submitted this poem to Poetry Matters Contest after an English teacher mentioned the submission guidelines for the poetry contest. Honestly, I didn't expect anything, but still, I had nothing to lose. This was the first time I had submitted writing for any kind of competition. A month or so later, I received an email congratulating me for winning first place in the high school category for poetry. I danced, I shouted in joy, and exclaimed to friends about this accomplishment...but then I realized the catch. I'd have to publically recite my poem at the awards ceremony. This thought was enough to paralyze me. For as long as I could remember, I cursed public speaking. The experiences I had with it involved memorized recitations in front of classmates who either paid meticulous attention or fell asleep in the middle of your presentation. Needless to say, my experiences with presentations was rather negative. The idea of reading in front of a crowd was daunting, especially if it was in front of adults. In a way, I was afraid of how my poem would be received by those around me. About week or so before my recitation, I sought help from a former English teacher of mine who seemed to be the guru of public speaking. She coached me and reminded me of my narrator's strength. My narrator had the power to command speech. The speaker is unafraid to speak and reveal her true self. In reality, I was the narrator and I had the power to speak my mind. When I read this poem at the awards ceremony, I feel an unexplainable bout of confidence. This doesn't mean I wasn't nervous because I was terribly afraid before the ceremony began. I mean to say that as I spoke the words of poem I felt the power of what I had written. I was vulnerable, but this openness was the start of change. Who knew that this change would lead to publication of my in a poetry anthology. Now when I think about this poem, I think of how this poem has changed me. I still am nervous presenting my poetry, but I've grown more comfortable on the stage. I go to open mics, I share my poetry with strangers, and I have found my voice in writing. "Speech of the Masquerade" is more than a poem. "Speech of the Masquerade" is my voice.
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In my time, I've heard a good amount of music. Radio music. Symphony Hall music. Bluegrass music. Street music. Middle school music. Every single time, music manages to surprise me and cast a spell which never ceases to enchant me. A good number of years ago, I fell under music's charm. I joined the band, learned a stringed instrument on the side, and began playing music around Aiken with my duo partner. I couldn't get enough of this wonderful art. I spent my evenings practicing for several hours and allowed my free time to be used up with YouTube music listening. Around this time, I had met my angel of music who inspired me to my passion for music. This person opened opportunities for me and taught unique details about music. I say all this to imply the divine splendor of music. Plato once wrote, "Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything." There is something truly divine about music after all, it is a gift given to us by God. Music is something which defeats all boundaries. It transcends language barriers, social class barriers, and age barriers. It embraces diversity and gives a home to anyone and everyone. It's true that not everyone capable of attending the great performances at the Lincoln Center or Carnegie Hall, but still everyone has the opportunity to find music and listen. Listening takes talent. This talent requires you to open up your mind to the possibilities, to be open to whatever you may hear. Listening is directive something little kids have trouble with and an unattainable act some elderly possess. In our time on this earth, we must open our minds, our ears, and most importantly, our hearts to music. Some years ago, I discovered that listening--truly listening--was a choice and gift. I used to listen to music in the dark quiet of the night when all was silent in the house. I'd turn off the lights in the room, close my eyes, listen to the music, and let its sound wash over me. In those moments, I could feel the music, feel every emotion woven into the melodies and harmonies. In my mind, I'd separate the sounds of particular instruments and allow my ear to hear the journey of that one instrument. I could move my ear about the ensemble and remark on the dependence one instrument had upon another. It never ceases to amaze me how melody, harmony, and rhythm work together to create a product which contains so much unspoken meaning. Expression through music is something which has always manages to fascinate me. I doubt I'll ever forget my love for music. |
AuthorKendall Driscoll is an accomplished writer/ musician/ artist/ academic scholar. Archives
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