The Light of Golden Treasure

Odysseus being tempted by the Sirens.

"One's destination is never a place but a new way of seeing things."

- Henry Miller

I like this quote because for me, life is all about newness; about things, people, places, ideas gradually evolving and growing based on what they were before and their surroundings. This isn't necessarily what I want life to "be all about," but it's something I've come to accept. What really stays the same anyways? Back to the quote, it's humbling to realize that you only know a few ways there are to see things when there are virtually countless ways to see things. It reminds me of this quote credited to Socrates: "The more I learn, the more I learn how little I know." As an educated person, I do not let myself fall into the pretentious, cocky, know-it-all category (even though an uncle of mine would disagree), but rather as an educated person I humbly admit that I know very little. And actually, 'pretentious' and 'cocky' more commonly describe uneducated people, based on my experiences. 

After reflecting on my music career and my subsequent departure from it, I've thought a lot about something that happens constantly to each one of us: change. Our lives are filled with changes. Some changes we create and some are unexpected, but we must react to each one. In fact, I'd say life is basically a never-ending cycle of evaluating events (changes), reactions, and decisions. It sounds like a cliché, but life really is more about how you react to what happens to you than the events or changes themselves. This philosophical (or at least semi-philosophical) stuff is fascinating to me, probably more so than to many people I know. But I think when you really think about what life consists of it opens you up to more and more possibilities. I think it also causes you to 'let go' somewhat, and allows you to be more accepting of what life brings. After all, change is inevitable, and sometimes even undesirable. And in some cases change is undesirable at first but ends up being a great thing. To highlight this, one can think of what events or changes got them to where they are today; it's unlikely that they were all positive, expected, or desirable. For instance, maybe you were forced to move against your will, but in your new city you met your best friend, whom you would have never met if you didn't move. One day when I was subbing in AP World History, I told the students the story of how my grandparents met because of World War II. I was showing them how we're all connected to history. So I told the story of how my grandpa was stationed in Berlin, where my grandma was born and raised, and how they met. As I was talking, I came to the realization that I would have never been born if it weren't for WWII. Then I realized that I never would have been born if my great-grandparents had never met, and so on. Pretty mind-boggling when you think about it.  

From this, I often think about how we react to changes, and how, really, it's our choice. For the most part, we decide how we feel about a change in life. Like the quote says, it's about new ways of seeing things. Of course there are those changes that make us feel a certain way and we can't do much about it, but even those eventually require some decision-making. For me it's exciting to see just how many changes are around me all the time, whether they're mine or other people's. Right now, I have friends getting married soon, relatives with great, new job opportunities, and others I can see grow more each time we meet. Also, I tend to surround myself with positive people, so most of them are handling these changes well and embracing them. For me, my ideas and expectations are changing every day (it's a little goofy, perhaps). They are changing because each day I'm learning new things, re-evaluating prospects, negotiating logistics, etc. For example, until recently I was pretty set on moving to Spain this fall and "figuring it out" when I got there. I could still do this if I wanted (people do this a lot in Western Europe, apparently), but I've decided that if I really plan it out, and not rush it, it will probably be a better experience overall. So, in reaction to this change I've decided that I need to continue to remain open to other possibilities instead of feeling disappointed. After all, I could theoretically still be in Madrid by September, but I know now that if I go then my opportunities there would be different than if I continue to explore the available options. A simple change-reaction-decision scenario. I'll be there one day, though. In fact, I just discovered a new way I could end up there, and it sounds like it could be a pretty sweet setup.

"How could he know this new dawn's light would change his life forever? Set sail to sea but pulled off course by the light of golden treasure."

 - The Unforgiven III by Metallica

Yep, a quote from a heavy metal song. Those two lines, however, are universally relatable. What has pulled you off course? What was the result? Do you really know what the course was in the first place? I have a general idea of the course I'm on, but at the same time I know that some other "golden treasure" could pull me off course yet again. That's not necessarily a bad thing. One more quote to close (author unknown): "A ship is safe in a harbour, but that is not what ships are built for." 

Leaving Music To Find Balance

 
This post will be more meaningful if you read my two previous posts first. Also, musician friends: This is not meant to discount or belittle the extraordinary amount of dedication, hard work, perseverance, and love it takes to be a great musician. I believe music is a noble pursuit that adds an incalculable amount of positivity into the world.

I've spent lots of time reflecting on why I decided to completely change paths in life and all but leave what I'd been doing so intensely for five years. It took a while before I could truly understand and articulate why, but the process of this increasing clarity was illuminating for me. When I decided to discontinue my Master's in music in 2010, I basically just knew I could (and should) do more with my life. I got to the point where I felt like all I was doing was going to school to the practice hallways, getting my bass and all my gear, unpacking everything into a closet-sized room, and slaving away towards a distant, seemingly out-of-reach goal. I think every musician (and other artists) feel this way at one point or another: the feeling that your art and your work won't be appreciated enough, and the joy you get out of it isn't quite enough to keep you going. I became concerned when I started to feel this way. After all, I'd gone years with total focus and positivity toward my certain, music-filled future. It's hard to say what each factor was that contributed to my decision, but my primary reason for leaving was a feeling of intellectual stifled-ness, or being intellectually stifled. I felt hindered, impeded, held back from being able to pursue other interests because music took up all my time and energy. Not everyone knows this feeling, but musicians do. It's the I-can't-actually-relax-because-I-need-to-practice feeling. No matter where you are, what you've already accomplished on a given day, or how much you've already practiced, the ever-looming, ominous feeling comes back. You MUST practice! It makes you feel like an abnormal person sometimes. "You should travel to Europe sometime." "Yes, but what about my bass? I can't just not practice. And what about keeping it humidified?" Etc., etc. [I forgot to mention this in my previous post, but not only did I leave Cincinnati as soon as I could, I also turned down three summer music opportunities: The Chautauqua Music Festival in New York (for which I auditioned and earned a $3,000 scholarship), Pierre Monteux again (turned down another scholarship), and a chance to play opera in Italy (yes, I even turned this down)].

Quite honestly, I began to grow weary of this constant mini-struggle. I began to read more about history, particularly Ancient Greece; I wanted to know more about politics and our government; I wanted to start being more of a normal member of society who didn't have to stress out about practicing all the time and who could go do things with a clear head. As I said earlier, I knew I wouldn't leave music for good, but I knew I couldn't maintain the life I'd been living.

About seven months after leaving Cincinnati I enrolled in four social studies classes at Metropolitan State University of Denver. I needed these classes to get into the teaching program at CU Denver as a teacher candidate with a social studies focus. This was after I'd studied for the Social Studies Praxis test (nationwide teacher test), which required many books and many hours. The test covers everything you need to be proficient in to teach social studies: U.S. history, world history, civics, economics, psychology, sociology, and anthropology. Luckily, I passed that test in the fall of 2010. To some these classes may have seemed like a burden, but I was really looking forward to taking some fresh college classes. I took Colorado History, Constitutional Law, Macroeconomics, and Ancient Greece. They were all great classes: I learned a ton, was challenged, and felt accomplished after earning good grades in them after being solely a musician for so long. Ancient Greece really changed my perspective on life, and I'm forever thankful that I took that class and for the professor, Mr. O'Bryan.

He taught us about everything Greek, and after a few classes I knew that this was the kind of intellectual stimulation I'd been craving. The Greek notion of arête, as discussed in the previous post, was an incredible discovery for me. The level of thinking that this ancient society reached, and is fortunately preserved and still accessible, is truly astounding. You could argue that the world we live in as we know it would not be the same had the Greeks not existed, at least the Western world. Arête is roughly translated to being the best you can be, excellence, human excellence, being virtuous, moderation, and balance. The Greeks sought arête in many aspects of life, from art to architecture to the entire idea of being human. The Greek notion of moderation and balance in life is one that resonates with me. Can a devoted classical musician be balanced in life? Yes. Is it difficult? Yes. To me, very difficult.

Mr. O'Bryan once told the class something along the lines of, 'The Greeks believed that a great flute player, for example, one who is only a master of flute and nothing else, is not an example of arête. Being a great flute player would not make you a great person. Arête is achieved through balance in life.' This example, coincidentally and fittingly about a musician, really made me think, and it brought up questions that affirmed my decision was right for me. What does being a great bassist really mean? What does it say? What impact does it have? Should I attempt to be the best bass player I can be, or the best overall person I can be?

Of course, phrases such as "the best person" are very subjective, and furthermore, we must think of it in the Greek sense with "best" being one who achieves arête (moderation, balance, excellence). Another key piece of arête is the struggle of body-passion vs. mind-reason (want to do vs. ought to do; desire vs. duty). This is one of the greatest conflicts Greek thinkers labeled when discussing arête. And arête is of course in direct contrast to hubris, or excessive arrogance. So, balance in life, something I'd already been striving for, was made that much more important after learning about arête. Are you tired of that word yet?

In the large scheme of things, and after learning more about our world, both past and present, why should I do only one thing in life well? Can I do more? Should I? Why? My teacher education program instilled in us the idea of privilege. We are all privileged. If you are reading this, on a computer or a smart phone, you are privileged. People who share my socioeconomic status and those who are even higher are among the most privileged people on earth. For the most part, we all have a car, a phone, TVs, computers, nice clothes, food, shelter, water, and access to education and medical care. You've probably heard of "First-World Problems." Well, I'd say a lot of the problems we face are just first-world problems. We aren't worried if we'll eat later today, or if we'll be warm enough at night. To me, with my privilege and access to education, I choose to make the most of that and I want to be a lifelong learner. This is a big part of why I went into education. I absolutely want to make an impact and help young people learn and more importantly, learn how to learn; but I also know that teachers learn as much as students do. People say to me, 'Wow, you must really like school if you want to teach after being in college for so long.' And I say, "Yep, I do."

This past year and a half or so, starting in January 2011, I started making progress towards balance. I was in school, working on the weekends (not always fun, but part of the balance), playing with an orchestra once or twice a week, and finally being able to relax with people I enjoyed being around. As student teaching starting becoming more demanding, I adjusted accordingly and shifted balance more heavily towards lesson planning and doing my own research (mostly about world history -- good stuff). For almost two months I was going 7 days a week in a continuous cycle: teaching, orchestra, work, homework, planning, a little sleep, and repeat. Despite this wacky schedule, so many positive things happened during this time. The students at DCIS taught me more than I thought possible, I made connections with great people, and I finally got to play some real músia clásica de España, Joaquin Rodrigo's Concierto de Aranjuez.

Even still, I always think back to music. Music teaches you to manage your time, to set goals, to plan your actions, to work with people, and to work with yourself. I would not be as successful a student in social studies or education if I weren't a musician. A current goal of mine is to learn Spanish so I can be a more effective teacher in Denver. I'm currently working towards moving to Spain to teach English, learn Spanish, and see Europe. It's quite a process, but I'm trying. When I talk to my friends who are still dedicated to music I feel happy for them that they're doing what they love, and I feel happy that I made a decision that was right for me. Some people told me I was brave, and some thought I was making a huge mistake. Either way, and touching on another Greek thought, no matter what outside influences affect you or may guide you, you are the one who ultimately decides what you do in life.

The Greeks and Arête

Alright, now that I've told my story about my life as a classical musician and how I (mostly) left it, I'll explain why I left it. But first, you must understand arête. This is a great piece by S. Snyder. 

Arête: The Greek Idea of Excellence

By S. Snyder

Quick! What's the point of going to college? Don't think about it; just answer with the first thought that comes to you.

If you're like most people, you probably said to get a job. That's not surprising. It's what the majority of students and many parents see as the point of a college education. And certainly it's an important aspect that shouldn't be dismissed, but it can't in itself be the main reason to go to college.

After all, people get jobs without college degrees. Ah, yes, comes the response, but the goal is to get a good job. And I respond: "Define good." Now at this point, someone usually says something like "Good equals $5,000,000 a year," which means that for him or her earning a lot of money is the reason for going to college.

But this can't be the ultimate reason either because money is simply a means to acquiring something else, and as a means it can't also be an end. Let's face it: a billionaire on a desert island is unlikely to be satisfied sitting alone on the beach with his suitcases full of cash.

Okay, so maybe the point isn't money. Maybe we go to college to get the good jobs that earn us the money that buys us the things we need to be happy. So, in the end, maybe the point is happiness. But this isn't it either, because it's quite possible to be happy without a college degree. In fact, some say ignorance is bliss, which suggests that people without degrees are happier than those who have them.

You know, when it comes right down to it, the only reason for going to college that makes any kind of sense is the fuzzy notion that college might somehow, in some strange way, make us better, and that being better is a worthwhile thing in and of itself. After all, we expect college-educated people to think better, to express themselves better, and to understand the world around them better. Indeed, if students aren't in some way better after four years of education, we usually say that college was wasted on them.

Now step back and think about this for a minute. The idea that it is possible to better ourselves is rather an astonishing assumption. So far as we know, house cats, horse flies and hippos do not assume that self-improvement is a worthwhile activity. But human beings do. They make this astonishing assumption about themselves. And guess what. It is also the assumption upon which the entire structure of education in Western civilization is based.

In our society, we tend to believe--without any hard proof, mind you-- that we each have a potential that we can and, more importantly, should work toward realizing. In fact, most people agree that the best of us are those who strive to lead lives of excellence, who seek to perform at the peak of our abilities no matter the circumstances.

But where did this idea of an individual human potential come from? It can't have come from Christianity, a religion that views human nature as innately flawed and unable to perfect itself without divine assistance. After all, the aim of life in Christianity is not achieving excellence; it's salvation.

No, to locate the source of our belief that we can be better, we have to look to the Greeks, for they developed a concept known as Arête. Putting this word into modern English is difficult. Some translators use the word goodness, others excellence and still others virtue. However we translate it, though, it seems to mean something like "being the best it is possible to be."

Moreover, the Greek notion of a human arête changed over time. In the Iliad, an epic tale emerging from the distant Greek past, it is a term associated with warriors who exemplify bravery, fierceness and physical skill. Characters like Achilles or Hector represent a nearly perfect realization of humanity in a war-like, tribal society.

In The Odyssey, a slightly later epic, arête is used to describe Odysseus, who combines the warrior-hero's courage with wit, cunning and resourcefulness. Arête is also used to describe Odysseus's wife, Penelope, who demonstrates that even misfortune and sorrow can be suffered with excellence.

And lastly, the Greeks provide us with still another manifestation of arête : Socrates, a very new and different kind of Greek hero. Socrates was a real person, a Fifth Century BCE Athenian who has come to symbolize for us the life dedicated to the pursuit of moral and intellectual excellence.

Last time, of course, I told you that this class was a seminar in which we would explore two thematic questions. To remind you, those questions were

What is an educated person? In other words, what do they know? What can they do? How should we define one? And just as importantly, am I
one?

And what responsibilities do educated people have to society? Do they have any? And if so, what are they?

Found at http://faculty.grandview.edu/ssnyder/470/Arete.html  

Being a Classical Musician

This is mostly a way for me to get my thoughts down and reflect about the time when my life was literally only about classical music. Well to start, I grew up with opera and classical music because my Dad is a classically trained tenor (formally with Opera Colorado). I never didn't like it, but I didn't really appreciate it until I got maybe around 9th or 10th grade. By 11th grade I was pretty inspired by it, along with funk/disco music (yes, I had a disco phase. I still love it, and the funk is for life!). Anyways, hearing the classics before knowing what they were, like The Nutcracker, Romeo and Juliet (Tchaikovsky's, although Prokofiev's is brilliant), Beethoven's 5th, and of course lots of Italian opera, I loved the sound and could tell it was something more than what you hear on the radio. I had played around the on piano as a kid, but never got serious about it. One of my best friends, Sam Pfohl, and I discovered the Red Hot Chili Peppers in middle school, and of course shortly thereafter bought an electric guitar and bass. So, we spent lots of time jamming in his garage, playing improvised funk and Chili Peppers songs, and eventually had two pretty fun talent show performances in high school. We even played at a Greek sandwich shop and got free lunch once! The owners also asked us if we could play anything people would recognize...

During high school I played with the jazz bands and some of the wind ensembles. I'm not really sure why, but the idea of picking up the classical bass hadn't hit me yet. That didn't happen until I met Ali, the only girl I've ever loved. I still love her, or at least the memory of her. She was a huge inspiration to me because she was a serious French horn player. She got me thinking, 'I should play classical music, too. I mean, it's real music.' Ali was very dedicated: She took lessons, played with youth orchestras, practiced a couple hours per day, and she was passionate about it. This girl still inspires me today because of her love and desire to help people, understand new cultures, learn languages, and her determination to reach her goals despite any obstacles that might be in her way.

Once it was time to choose a major for college, I just figured music would be fun. I applied to Colorado State University because my two best friends, Sam and Kevin, were going there, and my Aunt Karen said it was cool. I didn't really care to research colleges during my senior year, plus, and more importantly, I knew I wasn't good enough to just pick up a bass and audition at music programs. I was very lucky that CSU had a "Pre-Music" program that put students on the path to become music majors, and even luckier that the new bass professor, Forest Greenough, was willing to start me on classical bass lessons. If it weren't for him, I may not have gone very far with classical music. CSU had its ups and downs for me. I loved the orchestra, loved bass lessons, hated being away from Ali, and didn't really like Ft. Collins. I knew CU Boulder had a more respected music program, so I went and auditioned to transfer after only playing for four months. Amazingly, I got in.

Paul Erhard, my teacher for my three years at CU, is an absolutely brilliant bassist, musician, and person. He's very New York (grew up there, went to Eastman and Juilliard), old school in some ways, and "new school" in more ways. I could say a lot about Paul, but to keep it brief I'll just say that I love him, he's one of my mentors, and my life would be less without him. Check out his Indian music trio, Atmic Vision, online if you can. My time at CU was pretty incredible. I made great, lifelong friends, played in countless concerts, recitals, outside gigs, and practiced many, many hours in a tiny, square room. One of the best experiences of my life was during my senior year when I played principal bass on Puccini's La bohème with CU Opera. It was life-changing. It made me so happy and it still makes me happy just thinking about it. Another highlight was playing Jean Sibelius' Symphony No. 1 in e minor. My senior year I also was awarded the scholarship for most outstanding bass major, and I played my last recital with a program of all Italian music. Other good times at CU include: getting food with my bro, James Foster; playing in the summer opera; driving back to the music building at night (and weekends) to practice more; hanging out in "The Lounge" in the music building; taking all of the World Music classes the College of Music offered; playing in the Black Pioneers of Music orchestra (opera arias); playing MahlerFest twice; being the bass soloist on Darius Milaud's La Creation du Monde; and finally being around great people all the time for three years. Of course, I can't help but remember lots of drama (mostly good) with girls.

As I neared graduation I planned on taking at least a semester off before continuing on to graduate school to earn a Master of Music degree. I wanted to practice in a low-stress environment and let some of the progress I made sink in and solidify. But a couple opportunities came up that I couldn't turn down. Paul encouraged me to audition for a summer orchestra festival in Maine, and my fellow bassist, Ben, convinced me to apply to the Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music. I got into both, with a 90% scholarship for CCM. So, I was home with my Mom for a few weeks and then hit the road with just my bass and clothes to Maine. It was a long drive (over four days), but it was a great experience. I can't say enough about my time in Maine, the people I met there, or the music I was lucky enough to play there (over 70 pieces of incredible literature!). Some highlights include: Beethoven's Symphony No. 6 in F Major 'Pastoral,' Sibelius' Symphony No. 2 in D Major, and selections from Johann Sebastian Bach's Overture No. 2 in b minor arranged for just flute and bass with the lovely Pénélope Turgeon (she is amazing in every way). What an amazing six weeks at the Pierre Monteux School -- I hope to go back one summer. Oh, can't forget to mention the famous pig roast! On the way back my friend Shannon and I stopped in Boston for a day, New York City for two days, Philadelphia for a day, and then headed to Cincinnati. Like Maine, my time in Cincinnati, while not as scenic or relaxing as Maine, was very fun and I learned a lot from that city. I studied bass with Al Laszlo, who is a hugely respected member of the classical music world. I had many fantastic times with Jason McNeel, Kyle Elkins, Tim Crawford, Russ Zokaites, and many others. I played some pretty timeless pieces of music while at CCM, including some great opera. Anton Bruckner's Symphony No. 7 in E Major, Mozart's Idomeneo, and Puccini's Gianni Schicchi were some highlights.

The pig with Carolina Mustard sauce.

Near the end of the first year of my Master's I had what I would call an epiphany or revelation: I didn't want to do music full-time anymore. One day I was practicing for an upcoming symphony audition for the Lexington (KY) Philharmonic, and I just put my bass and bow down, went and found Jason (who was also practicing), and said, "I don't think I want to do music anymore." This led to a big chain reaction from friends and family, but my mind was made up. It was a dark time for me. I stopped practicing completely, I showed up to lessons unprepared, same with rehearsals. I practiced just enough to know my music for orchestra, but other than that the thought or act of practicing made me sick. I completely changed my view and suddenly all these people so focused on practicing seemed strange to me. What I had done for the past five years seemed pointless to me. The bookshelves of sheet music, scores, recordings, bass gear, time... what was it all for? Like I said, it was a dark place, and I knew in the back of my mind that music wasn't done completely for me. I just needed a break, so I took one. As soon as all my school stuff was done, I packed everything I owned in Cinci into my car and drove home to Denver. Regrettably I didn't say goodbye to the friends I'd made there (which I still feel bad about), but I only had one thing on my mind and that was getting home. I got home, loosened the strings on my bass, put it in a corner, and didn't touch it for three months. I spent the summer with a girl, which kept my mind off of music (somewhat), and started thinking about what else I could do. That fall I decided I couldn't let music go and I couldn't let bass go, so I started practicing again and auditioned for a local orchestra, which I still play with today. I also taught some bass lessons.

It's always interesting for me to think back on my time as a classical musician. I still am a classical musician, but it's no longer my primary focus. I believe Western Art Music is man's most awe-inspiring creation, and there's a reason why it's still so prevalent in today's society. And while it's still around and being played, it's sad to me that it's not appreciated as much as it should be, at least here in the U.S. Either way, I am first and foremost a musician, and that shapes who I am and how I approach all other areas of my life -- teaching social studies, English, playing soccer, social interactions, communication... everything. This was mostly for me to get my thoughts down, but if you read it all, thank you!

Thanks to DCIS

Last Day at DCIS

I'm forever grateful to the students I worked with during the 2011-2012 school year. They added a lot to my life and confirmed for me that teaching in an urban environment is what I want to do. Each student I worked with was inspirational to me, but a special thanks goes to the Spanish speakers who helped me work on my Spanish. Although it was a challenging period of my life -- at the school five days a week, working both days of the weekend, continuously working on my Teacher Work Sample (which ended up being close to 40 pages), weekly orchestra rehearsals, and making time for family and friends -- I enjoyed what I did every day and I learned more every day. I'm pleased and humbled that I made an impact on these students as well. The purple butcher paper, made by the 8th grade soccer girls (who also brought me a red velvet cake), says, "Mr. Ortiz, you rock! We'll miss you!!"

Here are what the white pieces of paper say:

"Best student teacher ever!"

"We'll miss you very much."

"Don't leave 4 Spain! We like you better."

"We're going to miss you Ortiz."

"We love Mr. Ortiz."

"Good luck Mr. Ortiz."

"We love you!"

"Come back soon!"

"Have fun in Spain."

"Thank you for everything."

Big thanks also go out to my Clinical Teacher, Gerardo Muñoz, who was supportive, helpful, considerate, and most of all a good friend. He's the best teacher in the school -- I think the students would agree. Thanks also to my site coordinator, Heidi Hursh, and site professor, Marjorie Larner. Finally, I wouldn't have made it through the year without my classmate and friend, Marissa Ranberger. Ami Stone was awesome too.

What's an Afterglow?

I was inspired to choose this name for my blog because of a song by John Frusciante and Josh Klinghoffer, from their album A Sphere In The Heart of Silence. If you don't know who they are, you should find out, like, now. Also, I really like what the word means. According to the Oxford American Dictionary on my computer, afterglow (noun) is "light or radiance remaining in the sky after the sun has set." And, "Good feelings remaining after a pleasurable or successful experience." I love John Frusciante and I think he's the best guitarist to ever live, and he's a pretty incredible musician overall. John and Josh both play and have played with the Red Hot Chili Peppers, my favorite band.

YouTube video of the track:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3FgKuJXkMCU

Thank You, Jonathan Larson.

"Thank you, Jonahtan Larson." Words spoken by an anonymous audience member to break the silence after the premiere performance of RENT, at which the composer-playwright was absent due to his unexpected death the previous night after returning home from the immensely successful final dress rehearsal. What an incredibly sad and bittersweet moment that must have been. The groundbreaking rock opera (and later excellent movie featuring most of the original cast) based on arguably the greatest opera ever written (and my absolute favorite), Giacomo Puccini's La bohème, inspires me every time I watch it or listen to the soundtrack. Even more inspiring is the story of Jonathan Larson. Larson worked tirelessly on his music, ignoring the steady stream of setbacks and rejections, had one major success, but didn't live to see its tremendous success and positive impact on people all over the world. Like other brilliant musicians, such as Mozart and Schubert, he died at the age of 35, leaving people to forever wonder what other creations could have come from such a talented mind. He lived like a poor bohemian, but like the timeless characters of La bohème, he was happy and lived for his family, friends, and his art. He never got to experience the glory his masterpiece would bring him, nevertheless, RENT and its legacy keeps him alive. His story inspires me because he didn't care what people thought about his passion -- he just pursued it, non-stop, changed the world of music and theatre, and whether he knows it or not, succeeded in his dream. I believe this story can be inspiring to everyone who has a dream. I've had lots of dreams, I would say, and I've learned in my experiences that the only way to get closer to achieving one is to get started. Just go for it. Things may change along the way, but you have to keep moving forward regardless. And there's no better time to start than now. Current dream: España.

"There's only us
There's only this
Forget regret
Or life is yours to miss
No other road
No other way
No day but today"