I have always been hesitant towards claiming the title of “musician.” Ever since I was little, I have been enthralled by those that have.

Growing up in Austin, Texas, a city bustling with a very present music scene, I attended concerts with my father as a toddler bobbing to the loud drums on his shoulders. I have memories of my sister and I rocking out in his little white Nissan to artists like The Beatles, Ween, Marvin Gay, Queens of the Stone Age, and Sade. I would thoughtfully examine pictures of my college-aged uncle playing the guitar in his dark-jazz band on the fridge and imagine being up on that stage too. In the annual children’s Christmas pageant at church, I was quick to remember all the words, every vocal inflection, every hand motion. While it’s taken me a while to admit this, I have always wanted to be a musician.

In kindergarten, you do this activity where you draw what you want to be when you grow up. Of course, half the class wanted to be a rock-star, while I actually wanted to be a rock star. But I also didn’t want to be like everyone else. I wanted to be special, to make special music; the kind you grow up listening to, the kind that you can dance like crazy to, the kind that makes you listen. However, for the sake of what I thought at the time was “sophisticated,” and “original,” I think I drew that I wanted to be a writer.

In a way, that is what I am. A writer of melodic poetry, sheet music, chord charts, and rhythm. Over the years, I’ve been a flutist in my middle school band, a soprano for the brief time I tried high school choir, and an eager student in music theory classes. No matter how not-special being just one flute player of twelve, or one soprano of thirty felt, I wasn't able to stay away from the wonder that is merely organized sound waves.

While I’ve been writing my own songs since I was 14, teaching myself instruments since I was 10, and singing since I learned to talk, at age 20, I think I’ll finally claim the title of musician. Despite the scariness of committing to a label that carries expectations, and my own insecurities of not being “good enough,” I’ve decided to come to terms with the fact that this is what I love: to sing, play instruments, and perform for people. That doesn’t mean everyone is going to like what that looks or sounds like, which has terrified me as someone who tends to be a "people-pleaser.” But I think I’ve decided that that’s okay.

For those that have read this far, thank you. I appreciate you wanting to know my story. If you want to learn more, my songs are my way of sharing that. Of retelling my experiences. My proof that I am, in fact, only human--trying my best, and breathing in, breathing out.

With Love, 
Sierra

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