Rise

A.J. Pallante
Prof Boland
English 329
10 February 2009
Autobiographical Assignment #4
If it was not for music, I would have never made it through high school. For many reasons that are not relevant to this discussion, I was never a member of the “in” crowd. I spent the majority of those four years in the discipline office, as I literally fought my way through high school. During my time spent in exile, I met others who expressed a similar distaste for mainstream idiocy. We began hanging out, and soon realized that we all shared two main beliefs. We all loved hardcore music, and we all hated the sheep that constituted the “popular” circle. As previously stated, music has been my salvation for quite some time. With this drive, I taught myself how to play every instrument needed to make a band. Taking this to the next level, around tenth grade, me and my collective of miscreants decided to form a band.
Now, I am capable of playing drums, bass and guitar. This made me useful when writing music; however, my each of my friends only knew how to play one instrument. So, after it was decided that what they played was going to be their position in the band. I was left with nothing to play in a band that did not have a vocalist. Before this, I had no experience fronting a band. I would often scream along with my favorite songs when my house was empty, but never had I done this in front of people. When they asked me to do vocals for the band, I will never forget the feeling I got in my stomach. It was as if vertigo mixed with the incessant need to break things had overtaken me all at one. I was stoked. We began practicing, and I found that screaming was such a great way to release all the anger I had been keeping in. After about a week or two of practicing, we landed our first gig. We had the opportunity to play at our high school during lunch. The night before our first show, we decided on a band name. As a slap in the face to every student of the “popular” crew, we called ourselves Elite.
The night before the show, I did not sleep at all. I was so nervous that I began pacing around my house at two thirty in the morning. I did not even bother going to my first four classes, as it was impossible for me to sit still. Finally, the moment of truth had arrived. I can clearly remember the divide in front of the stage, on one side, the outcasts, on the other, the spoiled. It was only a matter of seconds into the first song before one of my other friends ran over to the popular group and began punching this dude in the face, and a fight broke out. Here is where this assignment prompt becomes evident. I could have easily stopped the chaos that was unleashed, as I had the microphone. But, I did not. I began commanding the crowd to fight harder. I will never forget what it felt like being able to take out my frustrations with people at my command. Needless to say, the campus police called in their backup to disperse the melee. I got called into the discipline office, which at this point was like my second home, and got suspended for three days, I believe. I had to meet with the principal once a week and serve Saturday school for the rest of the year, about six months.
But the day I came back, I soon saw that the punishment was well worth it. The comments and remarks made against my crew were replaced with nothing but silence and respect. The people that once made fun of us now began forming “hardcore” bands of their own. They were complete jokes, but it was interesting none the less to see them attempt to mimic what had happened with us, almost as if trying to somehow reclaim their popularity. They would play at lunch with only three people standing in front of the stage. This was over eight years ago, and I am now friends with many of these people that once mocked me, but there is definitely that unsaid understanding between us acknowledging what once was.