In The Studio

So, here I am, once more, in the studio. On Monday's I have four frees that cover my morning. Your average, or 'normal' kid would be greatful to have a chance to sleep some more and stay at home doing nothing. But here I am. My second home. My safe place.

As I look around, I'm surrounded by posters that used to talk to me when I was feeling a little bit lonely. Spider man has a beard and my 18th JEP picture of me with my grand dad's hat on when I was about four years old is to my left. On my right lives Duck Vader and a little model of the motor bike I'm determined to drive myself in the future. Above these monuments of the genius' brain is a poster of the Incredibles, Jack Black and the South Park version of Mr. S that a past student stuck there (I think). Behind me was the station I poured my soul out to, when I composed the Pin Cushion Queen. In front of that station was a poster of the might Queen, Freddie winking down at me. There's even a scattering of posters on the ceiling that comfort when you're feeling a little sleepy. This little room is littered with guitars and keyboards, macs and bike jackets. There's even a crate filled with old CD cases that we throw away. There's drum sticks and pen drives, miracles and oranges. There's the big watch on the wall that tells the right time twice a day. There's even a Taz outfit. Right in front of me are four post it notes. The one on the left reads this:

• Hope
• Education
• Friends
• Family
• Understanding
• Hope.

Each are ticked. There's even a man at the bottom of the page. The second note that lives on the screen of the main mac reads "More pot noodles for everyone... fingerprints." It's still a mystery as to who wrote that down, but it's a very true message. To the right of the apple sign is a post it note that reads "Greater than the greatest great thing that ever called itself great. (That's very great) =) " And finally the last one says "Greatness". And they're all so true.

I can't even begin to describe how I'm feeling about leaving school. The place, the people. I don't think there's words to match. The thought of leaving all this behind, the jealousy of someone else spending all their time down here and not being able to myself... but, onto new horizons. All the laughs, talent, music, compositions, posters, drummers, tears, Christmas parties, morning doors, experience, Smokin' Vincents, hic-ups and burps, that fart that followed him in, the acoustic guitar head banger, guitar lessons, tutus and ties, the keyboards that are so damn small it's impossible to get down an idea quick enough... that damn fart machine, connecting an output to an output... so many memories, feelings, good times, hard times, safe...

All I can really do now is thank you, everyone, everything, that made that room my home. I'm gonna miss it all beyond words.