ROCKSTAR

Let me start by apologizing, my fine readers, for my short leave of absence. I’ve been out of the country, otherwise known as, California. And while I had a few great ideas to share with you, my visit with old friends threw all my thoughts into jumbled crazy words that had no intention or meaning. Now that I’m back home, I’ve been able to sort through the craziness and give you some insight into what I had learned over the past week or so.

My trip started in the Sierra Nevada Mountains at 5000 feet, where the air was thin and the weather ever changing. We experienced all four seasons within twenty-four hours. And let me tell you, a woman from the Midwest doesn’t take too kindly to snow in late spring. The Californians were ecstatic, waking up to white puffs of frozen precipitation lining the mountain side. I, on the other hand, made a few explicit comments and told the group I wasn’t shoveling. I’d had my fair share of the white crap over a polar vortex of a winter. Luckily, we didn’t have to go anywhere because the band’s stage was already set, warmed up, and ready to rock.

If by chance you’re not aware, I’ve been taking guitar lessons for the past few months with the intent of rocking out with my musical friends. It was my first time playing in a group and my first time with an electric guitar. I was pumped, nervous, anxious, and excited, all at once. Or maybe it was in stages that flashed through my system too quickly for me to realize that the emotions were separated. I might have to get back to you on that one.

            At this point, if you’d like to redirect your attention to the video attached, courtesy of David Skaff, you’ll see me trying very hard to keep up with my fellow band members who have nearly perfected their stage presence. It was my first set with other people and I stumbled through chords. Strumming seemed impossible. It was then that I wished my audience was only my dogs.

I know. I know. Keep practicing. Got it. Quit harping.

            You see, I know I’m not great. I know I’m not awesome. I wish I were, but my friends took the time to encourage me. They were patient. In between sets, we discussed how the rhythm rang in our bodies and how different the nylon strings verses acoustic strings felt under fingertips as the sound sang through the speakers.

They let me screw up. We sang chords together so my amateur fingers found the frets more easily. Most importantly, they never gave up on me. And I love them for that.

After a few days, and several sets later, you’ll see and hear in video two, our last set of the long weekend, that their encouragement and my perseverance started to pay off. And if I must say so myself, I didn’t sound too shabby.

Thank you, friends. I love you all.