January 2011 was a strange time for me. In between (in many ways), struggling with difficult emotions and dark places within myself. So I picked up the guitar gathering dust in the basement– the one I’d bought for $10 from our neighbor and decided to learn on ten years ago and never made it past the “what are chords?” point– and I just did it.
I looked up tuning on the internet, then searched chords, formed them with my fingers, and played them. I slowly learned a few and played them one after the other. I looked up songs online that sounded easy enough and were interesting to me and learned to play them. I practiced every day, and still do for the most part.
Teaching myself a new skill, learning a new language, a new way of expressing, communicating and even feeling was the exact thing I needed. Feeling my way through a song is something I have always wanted to do, even if I didn’t know it consciously. I’ve dated a few musicians in my time, and being close to music was always a thrill, a craving. It never really seemed like something I could actually do myself. But I can.
The guitar in this drawing is one a very good friend is letting me borrow. It has a distinctly better sound than my old Vasquez (bless her warped neck) and feels delicious to play.