Growing up as a kid, I would fall asleep to the music that my dad used to play on his old, rusty record player. Hendrix, Zappa, Doobie Brothers, Bowie, I've heard it all. I would slip downstairs and watch my dad sit in front of his little music maker, jamming along on his guitar, but he would never hit the right notes, it frustrated him.
Today, I'm older. I'm supposed to have all these responsibilities like a job and good grades. But sometimes I just like to pass by that old record player and listen to some great music that I used to hear back in the days. I share this passion with my dad. Music. Our house ain't much, but it's filled with music. Every now and then I browse in my dad's vinyl collection, looking for some tunes that will set the mood. I sit down, just like how my dad used to do, and I listen. Music can carry you away, music can sooth you. It did to me, music took care of me when I wasn't able to take care of myself.
One day I hope to have my own turntable, and a good amount of records that I can play. I would visit flea markets to look for some hidden gems that need to be taken care of. That's all I want, really.