Little strummer girl - Day 19 of 35 days to 35

Music is a huge part of my life. Every major moment in my life, all of my favorite memories, every special person in my life is connected to a song. I also labor under the delusion that I am walking around as if I am in a movie and there is a soundtrack following me throughout my day. I think life would be way more fun if it were like a musical and we could all break out in song at any moment. All this being said, I have very little musical talent. I am not afraid to admit that music is not one of the things for which I have a natural feel. Sure I played the flute and piccolo in elementary and junior high school, but I was never a natural. I practiced many hours to be mediocre at best yet my passion for music continued to grow. I can't sing either, though I do it all the time (but only in front of Sammi who has yet to realize how bad I suck). I have always said that if my talent for music was equivalent to my love of music, I would have a wall full of Grammys by now.

Admittedly, the flute was not the "sexy" choice of instrument to learn to play. What I really wanted to play was the saxophone, but my mother said it was a boy instrument and refused to let me play it (how I would love to tie her down and make her listen to my lecture on the social construction of gender). My choices were basically the flute or the clarinet and I didn’t' want to have to worry about breaking reeds so I chose the flute. If the Susitna Elementary School band had included a guitar section, I would have definitely insisted that I be allowed channel my inner Jewel and master the six string. But I was stuck with the flute. Needless to say, my relationship with the flute was short lived. Since our break up, I have thought many times about learning the instrument that I really wanted to learn but have come up with all sorts of reasons why I didn't have time for guitar lessons. After all, I didn't have a guitar, had very limited time, and had no idea where to even begin to find someone to teach me. These excuses are exactly why I found myself on Google trying to find a guitar teacher to play his part in this whole 35 day thing.

I wasn't sure how to go about choosing a teacher from the plethora of websites all touting the greatness of their respective instructors. What qualities should I be looking for? Should I take individual lessons or try to join a class? Should I try to find a male or female? These are the types of things I would have loved to ask someone who has taken guitar lessons before but since all of my friends are sane and not willing to inflict upon themselves the frustration of learning to play an instrument, I am on my own. I quickly dismiss the idea of a class. I know I will suck initially, that is a given. But I don't have to advertise my suckiness to a class full of people who may not be equally sucky. Humiliation was not part of the plan so individual lessons will definitely be the way to go. There were very few female guitar instructors listed and the few I found were either way more expensive or only taught group classes so it looked like I was going to be taking lessons from a dude. Oooooh, maybe he'll be hot. Scratch that, I would be even more nervous and suck even worse then be pissed because I sucked in front of a hot guy, so no, he definitely needs to be as ugly as possible. Okay, that sounds mean...I don't mean ugly; just not someone I think is hot.

After hours (oh okay, an hour!) of research I settle on Richard at Octogon Guitar Instruction. He is a little older has a pleasant face, and I like the fact that he says that he can teach a range of different types of music. I shoot him an email asking him if he is taking new students, and then play the waiting game. It takes a few days, but I finally get a response saying that yes, he is taking new students and I can start immediately. WOO HOO, I'm gonna play the guitar! By the time we confirm my first lesson for Friday morning I am practically bubbling over with excitement. And then it hits me, I need a guitar. I guess I will have to buy one, but again, no clue where to start. About all I know about my new hobby is what a guitar looks like, oh and that you play it with a pick. That's about all I got. So I know I need to find a place where Hendrix is god and life begins when you hold a guitar for the first time. There is only one option: Guitar Center

I make plans to purchase my guitar the Wednesday before my lesson. I'll pick Sammi up from school and we'll make our way to Guitar Center. I briefly consider that a music store filled with expensive and breakable equipment may not be the best place for a three year old, but figure that it shouldn't take too long. I mean, how many different guitars could there possibly be? As soon as we walk through the door I get my answer: a lot! There seems to be a zillion guitars on the walls, on stands and on almost every other surface and I am immediately overwhelmed. I look down at Sammi realizing this is so not gonna be a quick trip and silently thank God that I have a bag of M and M's in my purse. One of the friendly sales guy's pointed me to the acoustic room and said that Ron would be there to help me find what I needed. As I peruse the room, I see some of the most beautiful guitars. There are some really ornate (read EXPENSIVE) ones and all kinds of colors and wood grains. I have no idea how I will choose...oh, yeah I do... price! I'm floating away in my daydream of myself on a stool in a flowy dress playing a song I wrote and singing in someone else's really nice voice when Ron walks up and introduces himself. I explain that I am about to start guitar lessons and am in need of a good beginners guitar that is not going to break the bank. He points out several guitars that he thinks would work for me and tells me to hold them and see which one I like best. I pick up each of them and realize first that I have no idea to hold a guitar correctly, and second, I have no idea how it is supposed to feel. I feel like I should have a definitive answer for him but I am totally clueless so I go with the prettiest one. Made sense to me! Ron sends me on my way with my new guitar, case and picks, and as I cross the parking lot holding my new baby, I think that if I never learn to play well, at least I look the part.

Friday morning can't come soon enough. I arrive at my lesson 15 minutes early but don't want to seem too eager, so I wait in the car. I am a little nervous because I don't want to look completely inexperienced (which I am) and I don't really know what to expect of my first lesson. By five till, I can't stand it anymore, so I get out of the car and head into the studio. I open the door to see Richard sitting on a stool, guitar in hand looking over some music. The studio is the coolest little room and there are guitars everywhere. I wonder if they are all his?? I take a seat and we get down to business. First we go over each part of the guitar. I want to be offended that he is starting at the very beginning like I know nothing, but who are we kidding? I know nothing. So I am secretly relieved that we are taking baby steps. He tells me that we are going to go over scales and by the end of the hour I will be starting to play my first song, Wonderwall by Oasis. Um, dude, you do know this is my first lesson right?? After the way I butcher the scales I am fairly certain what I am playing by the end of the hour will in no way sound like Wonderwall.

I was prepared for this to be a little challenging but I had no idea it would be this hard. The first issue is my fingernails. It is hard for me to even hold down the strings and play anything because they are too long and won't let my fingers do what they need to do. Before I even tried to play, Richard looked at my hands and said, "Oh you'll have to cut those." Now I figured my nails would need to be short, so before class I had trimmed them to a length that I consider short. Yeah, I guess they weren't short enough. After five minutes of trying unsuccessfully to hold the strings down I was about ready to rip my nails off with my teeth. Normally, I don't cut my nails for ANYTHING, but I am determined to master this thing and if that means sacrificing my nails...then so be it. I will probably cry, but the nails will have to go.

The rest of the hour flies by, and, as I suspected, my rendition of Wonderwall would have made the writer weep. But Richard assures me that if I practice for an hour a day, every day, that I will get better faster. Oh and he told me to be prepared for extremely sore fingers. Small price to pay to look cool playing the guitar so I'm ready for it.

We schedule lessons for the next several Fridays and I am practically skipping as I leave. Yeah, I sucked. Yeah, I have to give up my beloved nails. Yeah, my fingers are probably gonna hurt like hell for a few weeks. But, I LOVE IT!! Maybe I’ll get that Grammy after all......