“There are blisters on my fingers!”

~The Beatles, Helter Skelter


Indeed there are.

Calluses are forming once more, where they used to be from so many years of playing the cello, so many years ago.

The first guitar lesson was yesterday.

The teach: Soft-spoken but musically keen. He makes it seem so easy, yet explains it all so well. He has kind eyes and when he plays and/or sings, it’s as if he and the guitar are the only people in the room. His presence is respectable but not altogether intimidating. A creative type, he’s messily organized in a way in which I can easily relate.

Musicians can have that air about them. You know the god complex sort of thing? He’s missing that and though he gracefully accepts compliments (he really does make it seem so easy) there’s this endearing almost humble quality that won me over.

He knows what he’s talking about. What I do remember of music theory and how it relates to cello is different from the guitar. There aren’t many chords played in orchestra. And yet, as he explained how it relates to the guitar, it starts to make much more sense.

I needed help with strumming techniques- and how! It’s not the rhythm I was lacking, it was the pattern. He solved that with a few jots of arrows down on a sheet of blank paper.

“Let’s see how you can read tabs…”

“You’re just mastering everything. I’m going to have to throw in the big guns to throw you off!” He says. I laugh. It’s probably beginner’s luck. Or maybe I am starting to get it. The keys and switching between chords will give me the most trouble at first.

A renewed love for music is getting me further away from the hurt feelings and renewing my strength as a singleton. There’s that smile that hasn’t been so easy in the past couple of weeks. It’s returned and is in full force.

“Hot damn!” I think, “This is the best substitute for a bad relationship, ever!”

God, it’s good to be single.