In the words of fellow WIRED writer Jess Grey, "It's the closest thing to learning magic in real life." Regardless of why you pick up an instrument-or what instrument you pick-my two decades holding drum sticks has taught me one thing: Learning to play music will do you good. It helps me feel connected to a world I am privileged enough to mostly see through a computer screen. I've found myself pounding away on the drum kit more and more in the past year and a half. I'd plug my headphones into my silver Phillips boombox, pretend the lights had just come up at a huge stadium, and wail out a take of the Beatles' “Help” while pretending to be Ringo. Shimmering atop the checkered carpet was a black Pearl drum kit. Whenever I got made fun of for my hair gel or my white Chuck Taylors (apparently mine were the girls' version, even though Chandler from Friends wore the exact pair I did), I'd descend into my suburban basement. I was in middle school when I discovered my stress-release superpower.
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