Monday, February 8, 2010

Guitar lessons

I promised myself that when I became unemployed, I would learn how to play the guitar. A goal, a sense of purpose, doing something on my life "wish list", a challenge! My sweet man gave me a basic guitar for our anniversary in October, I became unemployed in November, then December came and went with a busy blur, January I was umm, recovering from December, and now it's February. It is time.

Not being able to afford guitar lessons or find a class time that works, and since everyone says the guitar is so simple, I'm attempting to learn the basics from watching a "learn to play the guitar" dvd. Or am I just making excuses because I don't want to feel totally lame in a class full of teenagers? Am I really that insecure? Humm... Anyway, several viewings and practices later, I'm not feeling too confident that I will ever be any good. In fact, yesterday while trying in vein to switch between A and D chords while strumming and singing Frerachaka, I burst into pathetic tears. Considering that I just baked fresh chocolate chips cookies for myself for no reason, everyone is getting on my nerves, and I'm feeling quite blue and horribly cranky, it might not be the right time of the month to remotely attempt to master the guitar, if you know what I'm sayin'.

My kids are fascinated that I want to learn the guitar and how much there is to it. At least someone in the family is enjoying the process. They see that pressing down on the strings with different fingers makes different sounds, guitar picks are fun to play with (and easy to lose...grrrr), and there are these odd things called callouses that develop on fingers so it doesn't hurt so much. No way am I giving up ("winners never quit and quitters never win") not only because I want to learn the guitar, darn it!!, but I want to be a good example to my kids that once you decide to do something you should never give up and must try try try again. I'll admit, though, it's hard to stay motivated...

My daughter can get pretty emotional. Yep, she's a girl alright. The biggest trigger for tears are feeling left out, frustration, feeling sad (needing cuddles), getting hurt of course, and when we call her out on her bullshizzle. The bullshizzle (a word I made up because I don't want to curse on this blog) is when there are the most opportunities for teaching. If she grabs the toy from her brother, he gets mad, we tell her that wasn't very nice, then she starts crying because two years ago he took the last strawberry yogurt so she should be able to play with the red car at this very moment. She's not taking responsibility and making excuses. Ummm, not so good but very much expected at this age.

My man is more concerned about these "excessive" emotional outbursts than me. After all, I just shed tears on my guitar and drowned my sorrows in chocolate chip cookies. Anyway, a few days ago after a particularly emotional bullshizzle moment, he sits her down on the couch for a daddy-daughter talk. I was soooo close to stepping in, fearing that he would make her feel bad for being emotional, but decided to hold back and wait to talk to him (protest) later. But, then he asked her if she remembers what callouses are. She remembers. He said when you learn the guitar you develop callouses on your fingers as you practice more and more and soon it gets easier to play because it doesn't hurt so much. He went on to explain that life is kind of like that - when you want to cry or give up, if you practice being stronger, then the more you do it the easier it gets. Of course, he said it better than I'm typing it, but hopefully I'm relaying the gist of it.

The main point is that she understood the metaphor. She smiled and laughed and took it to heart. Applause to her dad for that sheer moment of genius. He recognized the perfect opportunity for a life lesson with love. I smile at the thought that my little guitar ambition can have a positive impact in more ways than one. It certainly gives me motive to keep practicing and developing those prized callouses. Perhaps those callouses will give me the courage to sign myself up for some real lessons, too.

1 comment:

  1. You have a good husband. Even if he does give me a heart attack over a police megaphone for picking my nose. Asshole! I can cuss. It's not my blog.