music person

My dedication to the guitar is only growing, the more I play.  The hours I spent with the instrument are often the most satisfying of the day, and leave me with a peace that I have not felt since I left my piano behind in 2007.

I am not a nature-walk person, or a yoga person, or a drink-til-you-pass-out person.  I am a music person, and music is my catharsis.

I used to spend hours playing my piano, and not because my parents wanted me to practice.  I’m fairly sure they would have been happier if I had NOT practiced, since my playing was regarded (at least by my mother) as “noise” that was interrupting her TV watching.  My father was marginally more supportive.

No, I played my piano for hours because I wanted to.  I took to the instrument (and most others) with a kind of focus and intensity that I only wish I could have in any other part of my life.  It was a kind of hard work that I found enjoyable.  No, not enjoyable.  Satisfying?  Maybe.

The guitar is rather the same.  I do not mind the strings biting into my fingers, and I don’t mind playing the same thing 20 times in a row until I get it right.  I think the piano is my true love, but the guitar is suitable for a tryst, especially until I can be reunited with my piano, or acquire one for here.

Now that I have my own place, I can practice as much as I damn well want without bothering anyone.  I’ll play until my fingers bleed, if it suits me.  Although I’m developing some pretty serious calluses, so that’s unlikely.