Don't Come Around / I've Got My Own Hell to Raise

But first--more joy from www.toothpastefordinner.com:



Man, I love this site.

A very good description of myself from my lady Ani:

The one person who really knows me best
Says I'm like a cat
Yeah the kind of cat that you just can't pick up
And throw into your lap
No, the kind that doesn't mind being held
Only when its her idea
Yeah, the kind that feels what she decides to feel
When she is good and ready to feel it

And it's very true. Aron calls it the "No Touch Carrie" effect. But when I'm good and ready to feel...well, then watch out. Spring calls it my "windmill." But as much as I'm a cat, I've also been described as a terrier. Because when I really sink my teeth into something, saying it's hard to pry me off is a bit of an understatement.

Not so good in my personal relationships. But it's why I'm a very good dancer. I sunk my teeth into it and wouldn't let go until I did what I went there to do.

And it's happened again. And I haven't felt this inspired to do something since then. For the first time, I have completely stopped worrying about boys. They're fairly useless creatures in the end and for what I want them for. I get annoyed I spend so much time thinking about them. But not lately. Lately, a different sort of Everest has presented itself to me to climb.

I buckled down and decided to do it. And I'm dead serious about it. I've been dreaming about it for a while.

That's right. I have decided to Learn Guitar. Hoozah. I'll be starting my Ani Difranco Cover Band in no time.

Right...

I asked Jeremy to help me because I think he'd be the perfect teacher for me. He's a very talented player himself, but moreso, extremely focused and would be a Task Master, which is good when your pupil is Little Miss A.D.D. I need someone to ride my ass. I ain't playing around, kids. I'm playing for keeps.

He sent me the neck diagrams for Chord C to practice before I meet with him in person for my first official lesson. He reiterates that he ain't playing around, either. I appreciate that. But most people who see me take very little seriously in my life don't really know the sort of grit determination that I can get when I decide when I want to do something. It's been decided.

This is what a neck diagram looks like:



What the hell? When did playing guitar become a Crossword Puzzle? Oh, shit. Now, I may be determined, but I get frustrated VERY easily. Not that I expected to pick up the guitar and suddenly be Jimi Hendrix or something, but just trying to get my hands on this bitch and the fingering right was driving me nuts. And we're talking ONE FUCKING CHORD. That's not even a drop in the bucket. At a certain point, I'm pretty thankful that I'm borrowing Derek's guitar and that this isn't mine because I now totally understand why people smash guitars. Totally.

I can't get a hold of Jeremy. So I call my next Rock Star on call, Mr. Chris. He gives some pointers, lets me know what to expect in the terms of hand cramping and finger callouses, plays the C chord for me so I know what sound I'm looking for and wishes me luck. Thank you, kind sir. I believe I might need it.

It makes me appreciate every musician I've ever met. Man, they're amazing. I'm a loser. What the Hell am I thinking?

But before I drop down the Carrie Shame Spiral Special, I remember that it's all a dance. These boys AND GIRLS SEE SHARON GIRLS ARE RAWKERS TOO!!! are good at dancing their fingers on the bridge and the neck and around chords and majors and minors and that's amazing and I'm very proud and they should be, too. But I'm no slacker, either. If you stuck them onstage with point shoes and told them to do a petite allegro into a grande allegro leading into the grande pas de deux, they'd probably shit themselves right there. I just dance in a different capacity.

And if I were teaching them ballet, I wouldn't come down on them for not knowing grand allegro. You get there. But you got to start with plie [for those of you who don't know ballet, it's just bending your knees. Only a shitload harder, but it's the fundamental root of every movement that follows. And every class and every dancer, no matter how advanced or talented, starts every class with a combination of plies. If you need a visual, this is what it looks like]. And this goddamn C chord is my plie.

Breathe. You take it slow and then you build from there.

Giving myself the freedom to be a novice relaxes me. I sit and if it doesn't feel right, I pause and try again. I sit for two hours until my left hand feels like a gnarled up corpse. When I get stuck, I go online and research. I learn new terms and go to sites that will play the C chord for you so I know what sound to play for. I play it, and then I arrange my hands as best I can and try to imitate it. Sometimes I get it, sometimes it sounds like a cat being sent through a shredder. I stop when I can't do it anymore. But by the time I've stopped, I've hit the C chord more than I've missed it, and it's just as exciting to me as hitting the G spot for the first time.

Better than sex. Less temporal. I woke up this morning with sore hands and my heart all a-flutter. I haven't been in this good a mood in a really long time. This is going to be Long, and Painful, and Frustrating. This is going to Suck Hard. But these things that do tend to pay off in far more rewarding ways than had I picked up the guitar and played Stairway to Heaven without even thinking about it. And maybe I'll turn out to be a far worse guitar player than dancer, but I'm going to put my guts into it for real so I know for sure.

2005 was me Half-Assing it. It was me Fumbling toward Parody. 2006 is the Year of the Fabulous and I've sunk my teeth into something truly delicious. And I ain't letting go till I feel I'm done. That took 18 years for ballet. We'll see what happens with guitar. But I'm excited either way.