Locked down and restless, we were all confined to our bedrooms, the world outside feeling distant and unreachable. The pandemic had isolated us, but that night, something extraordinary happened. Music brought us together in a surreal and unforgettable experience. As the first notes filled the air, a transformation took place. We were no longer individuals of different races, religions, and creeds; we became a unified community. The audience sang, "It's times like these we learn to love again," and at that moment, there was nowhere else we wanted to be. We all belonged right there, sharing the magic of the music. I started playing guitar as a toddler. Music class was the only place where nuts weren't allowed in the mommy-and-me group, and I had contact-reactive food allergies at the time. A sippy cup of milk for me was a threat. Music gave me structure and a place to build my confidence and grit. Music got me. Music helped me through difficult times and gave me a voice when I felt I didn't have one. I want to pursue a music career to give the world what music has given me. My vision, drive, and work is to write music that makes the audience think wow, that song gets me. Whether it's the melody, the beat, or the lyrics, I want to write music that speaks to people's problems, dreams, and aspirations. Making music a part of children's lives is essential, especially in grade school. Grade school years are the building blocks for everything later in life, and the lessons students learn then will stick with them for the rest of their lives. Especially in the early years, where all other subjects are about getting an A+ on a test, music is about creating something and pouring your heart into art that connects with people. While defeat, frustration, and demotivation are all part of the process, pushing through these emotions by focusing on practice will instill in kids that they can not only play any song they want but can accomplish anything they want. When you can finally play a song you've wanted to play for a while, the excitement is visceral, and you want to share it with others to enjoy. I remember when I first made it into the advanced group guitar class. I was the youngest (and worst) player there. One day, I heard the oldest student play a piece called The Malegueña. I was mesmerized by it. In my private lesson, I told my guitar teacher that I wanted nothing more than to learn it. But he told me it was too difficult, and we couldn't work on it yet. Unwilling to take no for an answer, I went home and began learning it on my own. I practiced for hours and brought my progress to my next lesson. Seeing what I had done independently, my teacher agreed to work on it with me. I continued to excel quickly. Through my musical journey, I've learned to never give up and that all problems can be solved. Just as it did for me, music empowers young students and develops their ability to deal with obstacles so they are prepared to take on whatever the world has for them.

Locked down and restless, we were all confined to our bedrooms, the world outside feeling distant and unreachable. The pandemic had isolated us, but that night, something extraordinary happened. Music brought us together in a surreal and unforgettable experience. As the first notes filled the air, a transformation took place. We were no longer individuals of different races, religions, and creeds; we became a unified community. The audience sang, "It's times like these we learn to love again," and at that moment, there was nowhere else we wanted to be. We all belonged right there, sharing the magic of the music. I started playing guitar as a toddler. Music class was the only place where nuts weren't allowed in the mommy-and-me group, and I had contact-reactive food allergies at the time. A sippy cup of milk for me was a threat. Music gave me structure and a place to build my confidence and grit. Music got me. Music helped me through difficult times and gave me a voice when I felt I didn't have one. I'm passionate to give that back to the world. My vision, drive, and work is to write music that makes the audience think wow, that song gets me. Whether it's the melody, the beat, or the lyrics, I want to write music that speaks to people's problems, dreams, and aspirations. But playing guitar became much more difficult after I began Jiu-Jitsu last summer. After constant gi-gripping and sweating, I noticed that my hands became unbearably itchy, painful, and swollen. It was a major problem. The itching kept me up at night and distracted me at school. I have had bouts with eczema before, but jiu-jitsu triggered it epically. While I was worried eczema would stay with me forever this time, music made me appreciate that all problems needed unique and creative solutions, just like writing a song. I was ready to get creative with my eczema. Hoping the irritation would subside, I quit jiu-jitsu, stopped lifting weights, and avoided gripping anything, but the improvement was minimal. So I saw the doctor. I slathered steroids and oddly-named prescription creams, took vitamins, and wore gloves at home, but nothing restored my hands to normal. The eczema began to remind me of working on a stubborn song I couldn't complete, like making progress on a verse, but the chorus wouldn't come to me to fully complete the story. I knew I needed to attack this problem differently. Around the ninth month of this grueling struggle, I discovered a diet focused on fruits, veggies, and green smoothies, along with ample water and nutrient intake. Desperate, I committed to the diet for two weeks. The results were good but not enough to live normally again. I continued the diet, but my skin was rough, bumpy, and STILL ITCHY. After hours of scouring PubMed, I learned I might've changed my skin microbiome while doing jiu-jitsu. I had to view the eczema from a two-pronged approach - inside AND outside. I stumbled upon a novel approach using a probiotic and prebiotic-based soak. While I couldn't find exact strains, I jerry-rigged what I could find to re-normalize my skin microbiome. I'm only a few days in, but I already feel less itchy. I continue to build my protocol, and playing guitar feels wonderful again. This scholarship is going to help me attend my dream school in Nashville. I know music is not a linear path, but this scholarship will really help me on my next step on this journey toward sharing what music has given me with others.

"Oh my God, you're bleeding…" my bassist said as he stared at my fingers. This was nothing new; I had practiced for several hours before until the strings of my guitar wore the tips of my fingers to blood. There was no way a little pain could overshadow the overwhelming feeling of excitement and nervousness I felt as my band and I started our next set. I had never performed for more than one thousand people before. The theater went black, and we hurried onto the stage. I fumbled through a bunch of cables and found my position. The spotlight came back on us. The songs went perfectly, and the audience roared as we started to play Times Like These by The Foo Fighters. This was June 2021, and everyone had just come out of their bedrooms, stir-crazy from being locked down due to the pandemic. But that night, we were all brought together through the unique and surreal experience of music. The music transformed us from a room of people of all races, religions, and creeds into a community.   "It's times like these we learn to love again," the audience sang. There was nowhere else we wanted to be; we all belonged there at that moment. It was an unforgettable night. I started playing music as a toddler. Music class was the only place where nuts weren't allowed in the mommy-and-me group, and I had contact-reactive food allergies at the time. A sippy cup of milk for me was a threat. Music gave me structure and a place to build my confidence and grit. Music got me. My vision, drive, and work is to write music where the audience thinks wow, that song gets me. I want to write music that speaks to people's problems, dreams, and aspirations. Whether it's the melody, the beat, or the lyrics, making music like that is my passion. Music has helped me through difficult times and given me a voice when I felt I didn't have one. I want to use my passion to give that back to the world. This scholarship is going to help me attend my dream school in Nashville. The professors are in the industry, and theres a studio that I'll hav access to the first year. I know music is not a linear path, but this scholarship will really help me on my next step on this journey towards sharing what music has given me with others.

"Oh my God, you're bleeding…" my bassist said. There wasn't time to do anything, and we started the next song. Playing my custom-built-one-of-a-kind-sent-from-the-universe guitar with bleeding fingers wasn't anything new. The guitar and I go back several years - it is my first new guitar. It was made for me by my guitar teacher, who had been guided by God.  You must know that I have food allergies to understand how the guitar and I came together. When I was little, I was contact-reactive to cow, goat, sheep dairy, eggs, all nuts, sesame seeds, and mustard. If I try hard enough, I can summon up the taste of Benadryl - YUK. I still carry an Epi-pen, but I have outgrown many allergies and have done off-grid protocols for others. Around the time that the ThunderHawk came into my life, I was scheduled to "try" sesame with one such off-grid protocol called ART, an energy-healing-start-eating-the-food-you're-allergic-to protocol. I was scared to try something I'd avoided my entire life. The last time I "tried" a food I was allergic to, I needed an epinephrine injector, steroids, and benadryl - not fun. The appointment was scheduled two weeks out, and I couldn't stop thinking about it. My mother's best friend, Darcy, came over for dinner one night. Darcy had that sort of essential-oil-flowy-clothing sort of way about her. She knew everything there was to know about yoga and astrology. As we spoke, my mom brought up the sesame challenge. Should we do it? Should we not?... Darcy turned to me and asked, "James, do you want to do it?" I told her that I didn't know and I didn't know how to decide. Darcy suggested I "ask the universe." I had no idea what this meant. She explained that I should ask the universe for a sign, but it had to be super specific - like "if the answer is yes, I want to see a…. And if the answer is no, I want to see a…." So that night, while I lay in bed, "Universe," I said, "Please tell me if I should do this sesame thing. Please give me a specific sign. If the answer is no, I want to see a… fox. If the answer is yes, I want to see a … hawk. And when I see one of these things, I need it to be so strong and obvious that I know it's you sending me the answer." We live in the city - so seeing a fox or hawk is ultra-rare, if not impossible.  I repeated this request nightly for a week. Yet, as the date of the sesame protocol approached, I grew increasingly concerned, having not received my answer. But then, one night, my mom got a text from my guitar teacher. The text read, "Denise, God told me to make and give this guitar to James. But he said that I should make sure it's OK with you first. Is it OK for me to give this to James?" Attached was a picture of a custom-built, sunset gradient, matte finish Harden guitar. My mom showed me the text when we noticed "ThunderHawk" scrawled across the bottom. This was the sign. The rest is history. I eat sesame now. And the ThunderHawk and I have had many adventures. We got a full scholarship to the Berklee 5-Week Summer Program and a spot in the all-star band at the same program; we were the only ones to have received both awards that year. ThunderHawk and I have also graced many Chicago stages from small clubs with friends to popular summer street festivals. We'll continue to write and perform moving music that connects with people. It's the only guitar I've played with such intensity that I've lost myself in the music enough to bleed. It will never be only a guitar for me. It's become a part of me.