There was a moment, just - a moment, a couple of months ago that I thought I might try to teach myself to play the guitar. I felt like my life was falling apart and I just wanted something to do that was different and hopefully therapeutic, and also relatively easy (or so I thought). It's not that I thought learning the guitar would be easy - far from it. I just thought it might be a bit less difficult because I actually took a semester of guitar when I was in college. Surely, I thought, I could pick it back up and at least be able to play a few chords.
I have owned a guitar (and that lovely pitch pipe in the image above) since I was about 8 or 9 years old. And yet, I never learned to play. My parents couldn't pay for lessons, and my dad, who knew how to play a little bit, didn't try for long to teach me (I actually don't remember him ever trying to teach me, but surely he did). I wasn't interested in it enough to teach myself when I was young, but when I needed an instrument credit in college, it seemed to be the logical choice. I did alright in the class; over the course of the semester I developed the calluses needed to hold the strings. I kept the nails on my left hand short and the nails on the right hand long to pick with. Playing was pretty fun, but as soon as the class was over, I put the instrument away. With the exception of a few brief moments to show the kids, it hadn't seen the light of day until this summer.
I pulled it out one night and found my training books and tried to will my fingers to remember how to hold the strings.
Though I wouldn't want to see myself try to ride a bike either.
Maybe someday I can afford to take some lessons. Until then I will have to be content with singing to the steering wheel. ;-)