stuff

I picked up my guitar for the first time in years a few days ago.  My fingers are starting to become calloused, which is good, but they are sore.  It makes typing a little uncomfortable.

I got my guitar when I was 14.  It was a Christmas present.  Sadly, I never became adept at it.  I had my piano then, and that was pretty much the love of my life.  I knew a few chords, but that was about it.  It recently struck me, though, that I have a great opportunity to get serious about it, since I don’t have my piano anymore and I DO have an abundance of free time. 

The frustration comes from being unable to express myself with it.  It’s like trying to write a poem when you only know 15 words.  I can’t say a whole lot at the moment, and it makes it hard to sit down and play.  This is both a good and a bad thing.  When I was learning the piano, I had the same problem, and it pushed me to learn quickly.  In the meantime, I’m going to be frustrated and discouraged.

I started learning the piano when I was about 11.  I wonder what, at that age, I had wanted to express.

I learned that Billy Joel’s album “Cold Spring Harbor” (the album “Tomorrow is Today is on) was recorded oddly, so that it sounds a lot higher than it’s supposed to.  I have a sound editing program, Audacity, which I used to slow down the song to what it was supposed to be.  It’s quite the improvement.  I can export the end product as an mp3 and put it on my ipod.

Audacity is actually a lot of fun.  I’ve been doing some recording of myself singing, editing it and such.  What I’ve realized through this is that I am not a very good singer.  I can carry a tune, I just have a voice only a mother could love.  It’s all right, though, I guess.  Not particularly fair, but what is?

I used to want to be a professional musician.  At some point, I convinced myself I wasn’t good enough to go that route.  I guess I’ll never know.  I don’t think I would have made it big, though.  My music isn’t what’s popular.  And I don’t know how to play the guitar.  Oh, and I’m a woman.  Which shouldn’t be an issue, but let’s face it, it is.

Fly

I never wanted to fly away
like a bird or something freer.
I’ve got this thing where I’ve got no wings
and I don’t expect them to appear.
In my dreams I’m always falling,
and it’s always towards my end.
But if I fly or if I die,
I may, at last, transcend.