Cereal Bowls And Guitar Chords

Then came Christian. He lived in the same dilapidated projects as I did, but it wasn’t the concrete jungle that brought us together – it was the church. A place where we sought refuge from the chaos that surrounded us, where the hymns drowned out the sirens and the prayers offered a glimmer of hope. Our passion for music connected us, and I spent countless hours in his cramped apartment, listening to CDs that ranged from grunge to punk, with the scent of stale air and the faint aroma of his mother’s cooking in the background. We chiseled away at the process of learning how to play guitar, our fingers calloused and sore from the relentless practice. We were far from perfect, but our enthusiasm knew no bounds. The makeshift band, Path To Orion, came to life in a dingy basement, with Christian, Eddie, Rudy, and Little Eddy, all squeezed in like sardines, fueled by a mutual love for music. Christian and I, both vocalists, focused on developing different sounds, pushing the boundaries of our vocal cords. We had screaming sessions that would make the walls tremble and our voices hoarse, yet we stretched our capabilities far beyond what our singing voices naturally allowed. My dedication to cereal-eating came in handy, as I began collecting empty boxes of Cocoa Pebbles, repurposing them as makeshift soundproofing for a vocal booth in my cramped bedroom, where dreams of rock stardom danced in my head. The church, once a sanctuary for us, started to take notice of our musical aspirations and spoke against them at every turn. Stern-faced elders condemned our art, calling it the devil’s work, but their disapproval only added fuel to our fire. It neither discouraged nor deterred us from pursuing our dream. I saw a clear road to my “pop” and wasn’t turning back. The consequences of my dedication soon became apparent. I started cutting school to go to band practice, my education sacrificed at the altar of music. As expected, my mom found out and called Eddie’s mom in a fit of fury. I was forbidden from setting foot in that basement where I had spent so much of my childhood – wrestling, playing, and singing – a space that held countless memories. It felt like a part of me had been taken away, but I knew I couldn’t let this setback destroy my dreams. I had to forge ahead, solo if need be. My journey had only just begun, and nothing would stop me.

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