Wishful Thinking Musician

I’ve always wanted to be a musician.  Having always been passionate about music, it just seemed natural.  I took piano lessons when I was about 10, which lasted only a short time.  My teacher had these unnecessarily long fingernails that caused you hear more click-clack than piano.  I also didn’t really try.  I had aspirations to practice and to progress, but it really didn’t happen.  I hate to even admit it, but my mind gets really flustered when I look at sheets of music.  I used to think it was because I was a kid and couldn’t wrap my brain around the notes, but I still struggle.

I bought my first guitar when I was 15.  It was a Fender Strat, Sunburst coloring.  John Frusciante of the Red Hot Chili Peppers had a vintage version of it and I just had to have it.  I taught myself some tabs and even faked my way through some songs.  My boyfriend even asked me to teach him and I did…the one song I felt confident about.  By the way, he quickly grasped the instrument and became a pretty great guitarist and wrote his own music.  Meanwhile, my guitar started to gather dust.  Sure I picked it up now and then, but simply had no idea where the hell to go next with it.

The guitar sat for almost 10 years.

This past spring, we had a yard sale.  I’d toyed around with selling my guitar but didn’t have the heart to part with it.  A father and son came up, beeline to my little table and asked if I had any guitars or instruments to sell.  My heart sank.  “I was thinking about selling my Strat”, I said.  He was very interested and I went into the house to get it.  The deal was made and he offered me what I’d have sold it for.  “Give it a good home” I told him.  Then I instantly burst into tears.

Why was I so attached to this?  Was it because it defined a part of my youth?  I have to admit, I looked pretty good with my sassy short and spikey hair, eyebrow ring and tight jeans.  It fit me and I fit it.  It travelled with me to California and back regularly.  It was a big investment at the time and it was gone.

Needless to say, I’ve decided to truly learn to read music and play guitar.  I even took lessons, which unfortunately ended due to the tragic zucchini slicing accident of September 2011.  My left ring finger tip was never the same again.  I exaggerate, it took a longtime, but it is fine now.  And I have full intentions of dusting off my newest acoustic and not waiting 10 years to strum again.