Pretty in Pink

I've been "playing" the guitar for about 4 months now. I only know 3 chords and one song that consists of 18 picked notes repeated over. I'm not very good, needless to say. Last night after my failed attempt at writing some awe-inspiring genius for this very blog, I picked up my pink electric beauty. I carefully traced my finger along her curves, admiring her, wanting to make the beautiful music for which she was meant. I wanted to miraculously be able to play and not hear the buzz of the strings from my inexperience. I so badly wanted to close my eyes and let my fingers effortlessly dance over the strings in a blur of perfection. That didn't happen. I wasn't suddenly imparted with knowledge and talent that people work at for years.

It was just me. Angela Riley: amateur guitarist.

All my flaws were blatantly exposed. I couldn't run from them. I couldn't pretend they weren't there. I stared into the eyes of my inadequacies, but for some strange reason, I was so comfortable behind that amazing piece of musical equipment. All my uneasiness and awkwardness of the past four months faded away. And this time as I started to strum, it wasn't too bad. My fingers found the chords more naturally than before. It was easier than last time, noticeably so. Finally, I feel like I am making progress. It definitely didn't happen over night; it was actually work! (Who knew?) But last night, it was worth every blister, every frustration along the way. And even if that sense of immense satisfaction only lasted a few brief moments (precisely 18 picked notes), I know there will be more. I'm so looking forward to that!