Intro to Blogging? Will I get an A professor?
Current mood:  anxious

"WHOOoooooaaaa..." Tom delonge snarled, as the autotune soaks up his voice playing one of the most overrated blink-182 songs known to man, First Date.

Hey guys, guess this is my formal introductory blog post to this site. Never thought I'd be on an old-school, nostalgic designed website that allows you to create blog posts, yet here I am! I love this way more than having to type out lengthy thoughts on Instagram, while everyone passively just likes my post without reading the caption.

Been thinking of my youth tonight as I'm about to inevitably pass out like a dog on a Hot Summer's Day. I'm reminded of a time in fifth grade at 11 years old, when me and my two closest friends would just walk around the school soccer field every recess discussing the most random of topics....sometimes, it was reciting the most juvenile of "youtube poop" meme videos of the era while we hollered at our heart's content. Other times, it was discussing my various crushes on girls that I had no realistic chance of obtaining, yet the gossip and thought of it all nevertheless made the subject exciting. Tonight though, my mind brings flashes of how we all could've grown up to play music together.

It first started off as a novelty idea...being mutually huge Beatles fans, my one friend and I's brainchild was to be the secondcoming of them...to be called....drumroll please..."The Beatles 2." As you can tell, I consistently got passing grades in Art class for creativity. While we'd debate over the phone who'd play what instrument (there's no way I wasn't gonna be the frontman, Paul was my hero ffs I WAS TO BE FRONT AND CENTER), we'd later age onward to middle school and start to etch the beginnings roots of our musical interests.

After seeing this one friend, lets call him, Reggie, learn to play guitar, while simultaneously being this multi instrumentalist with also playing the French Horn in Band class, I thought "FüCK, why don't I pursue this too?" After all, my favorite music at the time..."The Beatles" and nothing else, was guitar based music with pop melodies I could only yearn to create. So, at my musical Drop-Off Summer Camp that year, I set sail on the guitar playing mystery tour, had my mom buy me a gorgeous Takamine 6 string acoustic guitar from the local music shop, and rooted my beginnings in the enrollment of Guitar I to become the next biggest rock star only Dave Grohl, the multi-trick wonder, wished he could ascend to.

Or...So I thought.

Enrolling me in the course landed me with a scruffy, grey haired looking man by the name of, let's say Mr. Bob. Mr. Bob resembled an aged Tiny Tim, with his curly scraggly grey locks hanging down...merely separated by a face which screamed "I wish I had a better opportunity in life." He started us out playing one note root chords, which to my knowledge was practically the whole course outside of learning cheesy "Smoke On The Water" and this stereotypically, cliche mystery sounding riff on the low E string...wish I remembered the name of it for the life of me! Anywho, I carried this beginner knowledge with me into his sequel course for the next two summers, all the while I was constantly matched against another singular classmate (because well, only two people wanted to enroll in Guitar II every single year) that was better skilled than me at the guitar. The first time, it was against a really cute girl who I knew loved to ride horses, which solidified a brief crush for her because also being into learning an instrument is a combo I thought was so coolly unique. So hell, I had NO PROBLEM being consistently worse at learning songs than her when I was just simply thankful to see her at that one class period for the few weeks music camp lasted. It wasn't till the following summer when my next singular classmate I was paired with would later grow into becoming one of my best friends (and now sadly, despised enemies)...we'll call him Carl.

Guitar II followed the same premise as the previous summer, with the chiseled looking, internally depressed instructor asking us in a derpy "HOW DO YOU DO KIDS?!?" voice which songs we wanted to learn. Us being both mutually shy, we'd both rarely answer, hoping dearly the instructor would just pick a song for us to learn. On one specific day however, he did....by a band I used to swear I would try to become one day...The Rolling Stones.....oh wait no, thats the other working class British band with the yoga instructor prancing singer reminiscent of a Richard Simmons dance class.

No, our instructor picked out Come Together, by John, Paul, George and Ringo. And boy, was I intimidated from the moment he enthusiastically whipped out the sheet music in front of us. I thought in my head upon seeing the sheet music "these guys are virtuoso musicians, there's no way I"m gonna be able to learn this song!" And as fate would have it, my thoughts would yearn correct.

We started with learning the intro chords and riff opener to the almighty anthem and boy, did I feel like my brain was TV static. I watched in awe as my guitar instructor not only played the parts flawlessly, but my singular friend Carl when called upon nailed it too. I thought to myself "well, maybe I wasn't meant to play the guitar. Maybe this is all a fluke."

Mr. Bob then peered at me with his curious eyes, waiting in initial enthusiasm as he exclaimed...."your turn."

I tried playing the part, and all Carl and Mr. Bob could hear are the thumpings and static of string being mauled by an anxious tiger cub scared of being thrown into the wild.

"Sorry," I laughed out nervously, as I attempted again to play the riff for their skilled musicianships to witness while awaiting the far away class bell to finally ring.

THUD

Same Result.

THUD 

Same result again.

This ill-advised playing reminiscent of a cat gnawing on acoustic guitar strings felt like it lasted an eternity, before a few reality minutes went by and my Guitar Teacher began to grow visibly restless. As he sighed and pouted with each failed take of the song, the frustration boiled inside of him until the KettlePot finally met its threshold.

With one bold statement, he singlehandedly crushed my attempts and confidence of playing music that's sadly carried into my adulthood life. With this very sentence, he bitterly stated

"I'm starting to question your dedication to your instrument."

To be continued...