Saturday, March 22, 2008
Turning Pleasure Into Work and Vice Versa
A dive master once told me that the worst thing you can do if you love scuba diving is to turn it in to a job. There's probably some truth to that.
I picked up a guitar for the first time a little under two years ago, for one reason: To play The Fetching Mrs Crime Dog a song for her birthday. It was the same one played at our wedding in 1974. I learned that song - John Denver's For Baby (For Bobbie), but also found that the guitar was a great stress reliever in the very difficult months following the death of my mother. For a few minutes, I could do something that required my full concentration. Everything else just disappeared.
Now, here I am, not quite two years later, and I love all things acoustic. I'm really not very good at it, but I just love making music, no matter how bad it might be. Hell, I've only recently stopped eschewing any song that required a barre chord, and have found that I can actually barre a chord fairly well if I make a little effort. Go figure. Now, the hard part seems to be seamlessly moving to and from a barre chord. Margaritaville wasn't built in a day, I guess.
TFMCD has encouraged me for a long time now to go take some lessons. Not so much because I suck, even though I do, but because she knows that's probably the only way I will ever get better. TFMCD will sit and listen to me and enjoy it, no matter how bad it is, but she wants me to be better for me, not for herself.
I finally took her advice and signed up for one lesson per week. My instructor seems like a nice guy, but I came away from my first lesson on Thursday believing the man to be completely deluded. My wrists and hands simply are not designed for the sort of things he expects me to do:
You actually want me to use FOUR fingers?
My thumb won't go there.
No, my pinky will NOT reach the fourth fret, pal.
I don't want to do that. It hurts.
He even gave me homework. Stuff that I was incapable of doing in his presence, somehow this madman thinks I can do alone. Something called a "Blues Scale." There I was, Thursday night, trying to practice what he made look so effortless. Suddenly, I was reminded of what the dive master told me many years ago. This kind of guitar playing was work. This wasn't fun.
So, I did what any red blooded American male would have done in that situation: I blamed my wife.
How am I supposed to hit the first and fourth frets at once, way up there on the low 'E'?? It's impossible! Why did you want me to do this? It isn't FUN! Playing my guitar is supposed to be FUN!
TFMCD put a stop to that real fast.
Maybe not, but if you work hard and get better, it will be a lot MORE fun, won't it?
Ummm, yeah....guess so. That's one reason she's such a great Mom. She brooks no whining.
So, I plugged away. Thursday night. Friday before work. Friday till after midnight. I picked up my guitar this morning and went back to the Blues Scale once again.
What the.....?
Somehow, I could simultaneously hit the 1st and 4th fret of the low 'E.' It wasn't even difficult.
Hey, honey! C'mere! You gotta SEE this! So, she sat down and patiently watched me play the Blues Scale. Without even cracking a smile, she said But remember? You can't DO that. She knew before I did that I could do it. Smarty pants.
My Blues Scale was slow, and choppy, and ugly, but I did it. This guitar stuff is a lot of fun.
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I picked up a guitar for the first time a little under two years ago, for one reason: To play The Fetching Mrs Crime Dog a song for her birthday. It was the same one played at our wedding in 1974. I learned that song - John Denver's For Baby (For Bobbie), but also found that the guitar was a great stress reliever in the very difficult months following the death of my mother. For a few minutes, I could do something that required my full concentration. Everything else just disappeared.
Now, here I am, not quite two years later, and I love all things acoustic. I'm really not very good at it, but I just love making music, no matter how bad it might be. Hell, I've only recently stopped eschewing any song that required a barre chord, and have found that I can actually barre a chord fairly well if I make a little effort. Go figure. Now, the hard part seems to be seamlessly moving to and from a barre chord. Margaritaville wasn't built in a day, I guess.
TFMCD has encouraged me for a long time now to go take some lessons. Not so much because I suck, even though I do, but because she knows that's probably the only way I will ever get better. TFMCD will sit and listen to me and enjoy it, no matter how bad it is, but she wants me to be better for me, not for herself.
I finally took her advice and signed up for one lesson per week. My instructor seems like a nice guy, but I came away from my first lesson on Thursday believing the man to be completely deluded. My wrists and hands simply are not designed for the sort of things he expects me to do:
You actually want me to use FOUR fingers?
My thumb won't go there.
No, my pinky will NOT reach the fourth fret, pal.
I don't want to do that. It hurts.
He even gave me homework. Stuff that I was incapable of doing in his presence, somehow this madman thinks I can do alone. Something called a "Blues Scale." There I was, Thursday night, trying to practice what he made look so effortless. Suddenly, I was reminded of what the dive master told me many years ago. This kind of guitar playing was work. This wasn't fun.
So, I did what any red blooded American male would have done in that situation: I blamed my wife.
How am I supposed to hit the first and fourth frets at once, way up there on the low 'E'?? It's impossible! Why did you want me to do this? It isn't FUN! Playing my guitar is supposed to be FUN!
TFMCD put a stop to that real fast.
Maybe not, but if you work hard and get better, it will be a lot MORE fun, won't it?
Ummm, yeah....guess so. That's one reason she's such a great Mom. She brooks no whining.
So, I plugged away. Thursday night. Friday before work. Friday till after midnight. I picked up my guitar this morning and went back to the Blues Scale once again.
What the.....?
Somehow, I could simultaneously hit the 1st and 4th fret of the low 'E.' It wasn't even difficult.
Hey, honey! C'mere! You gotta SEE this! So, she sat down and patiently watched me play the Blues Scale. Without even cracking a smile, she said But remember? You can't DO that. She knew before I did that I could do it. Smarty pants.
My Blues Scale was slow, and choppy, and ugly, but I did it. This guitar stuff is a lot of fun.
