I sit with my back against my bedpost (my crappy wooden chair now only had three legs) half stumbling through the intro riff to enter Sandman. Frustrated, I put down my guitar and started blasting my live Metallica DVD through the television. At this time, I was 14, and full of aggression. I yearned for a way to channel that anger and, being a metalhead with a desire to riff like James Hetfield I asked my mom, “Can I take guitar lessons?” I asked hesitantly (not liking to ask my parents for anything). But to my surprise, she said yes. The time to rock had come.

This was the first week of January. The cold barren waste that becomes of Wisconsin every year was in full effect. It was Wednesday, dark and full of gloom. That would have bugged me had it not been for what was about to occur. I ecstatically went into the White House of Music when I met the man, or boy, rather. Evan Webster was his name, a well dressed blonde 6 foot tall guy not much older than myself, with a 5 O’clock shadow (that I made fun of from time to time.) “Ready to rock?” he asked. It was at that moment, I knew I had asked for the right thing.

Wednesday after Wednesday passed and I progressed decently with the guitar. I learned how to read sheet music and play songs just by listening. But more importantly, I made a friend that could give me advice and learn to calm down. I had never been an angry person, but household problems combined with the transition to high school did not treat me well. Going to the small room not much larger than a cubicle every week gave an opportunity to both learn how to play music and shrug off my coat of negativity.

I struggled with an over cramped schedule, cross country and living nearly 40 minutes from my school and felt as if at any second I could explode. I was stressed out and did not know how to manage it. Rather than just tell me that everything is okay and to do what is easiest, Evan said simply something along the lines of “Learn to enjoy what you are doing and take it one one step at a time. You are young and should enjoy the time you have.”

Wider than the Red Sea, his vast musical knowledge was a stream with no end. It was easy to get along with him because was young enough to be relatable, yet old enough to have lived what I was currently going through. Evan introduced me to many previously unknown bands such as Havok, Opeth and Killswitch Engage, (among others) that I would never have considered elsewhere. At that point I was a strictly Metallica, Megadeth and Pantera type of guy. Through him I learned how to become acceptive different styles of music without immediately judging them. I began for the first time to view music as an art, and my catalog developed into a wide range of various genres.

I sit with my back against a chair (I know have a not so crappy metal one) comfortably cranking through the works of my idols. Harvester of Sorrow, Disposable Heroes and Fade to Black are just a few of the many songs before becoming an acquaintance with Evan that had seemed only a dream. I am more composed and do not get rattled by the changes of everyday life. I learned how to play music, but also how to take everything in stride. To relax and shake bad days off as another memory that has no hindrance on the those moving forward. I owe this composure to a composer named Evan Webster, as insignificant as it may have seemed, you have helped me to develop into a carefree riffing machine, regardless of the struggles that may arise.