How One Letter Crushed My Nashville Drumming Dreams…Yet Gave Me Everything I Have Today

The envelope sat on the kitchen table, staring up at me. This was it. This moment would decide my future. What was about to take place would set into motion the course of the rest of my life… what friends I’d have, what kind of music career I’d have, where I’d live…who I’d marry. All of this would be determined by one of two words: …pleased… or …regret… Which would it be?

Hundreds of emotions coursed through my unemotional persona on this spring afternoon my senior year of high school. Would my dream college accept me? Will plan A work? I had worked so hard for this. I had practiced like crazy all through my senior year, preparing for a music school audition I honestly had no business attempting. I had never played percussion before, yet I had signed up for a percussion audition. I had never played jazz drumset before, yet I auditioned for the drumset program. My high school drum teacher had put me through a crash...

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