My mornings are like the intro to a movie. I’ll set the scene. A lone camera follows me out of the band room. Crashing cymbals and scattered trumpet blasts fade as a chilly breeze smacks me in the face. I step outside for a ...

I used to lay down in my backyard all the time, no matter how much my mom yelled at me from my window. The grass would be wet from having been watered and slightly itchy, but it never bothered me because the real focus of my at...