My Guitar!

I got a guitar for Christmas. It's black and shiny, and it came with an amp, a strap, a cord to attach it to the amp, a pitchpipe , 3 picks, and some kind of string twister/tuner-type thingy. "Thingy". You can tell that I know a lot about guitars, can't you? I will clear the record before we get started on recounting my adventures, and confess that when I unzippped its luxurious black bag on December the 25th, I knew virtually nothing about it. I do mean nothing. "What string is this again? E? D? Does it even have a D string?" On that fateful Christmas morn, still clad in pajamas and looking suspiciously like I'd just crawled out of bed, I strapped that baby on, plugged 'er in, and proceeded to bang the pick wildly across all the strings, playing chord (and I use that term lightly ) after chord of unfiltered, unadulterated, unwatered-down OPEN NOTES! While striking my absolute best rock-star poses and howling in incoherent ecstasy. My mom hurried in from the porch and announced that the neighbors did not want to know about my guitar! I slammed the pick across the strings with great force and hopped around the living room! "LOUD!! LOUD!!!" Jess editorialized from the window seat! "That's how I like it, baby!" I explained in a polite manner, thrusting both of my middle fingers in the air!

Well, okay, it didn't happen quite like that. Let's just say it started off like that, but then I flashed my artistic license and sped off on that wild tangent. (Editing this bit, Jess thinks I should add, "pardon me, I'm crazy." So pardon me, I'm crazy). Needless to say, I was enamored. I wasn't even expecting a guitar!

So I got a book of chords that did not tell me what notes I was playing or anything actually useful like that, but had a collection of "100+ Essential Guitar Chords." After a few minutes of trying them out, my hands felt awful, etc., so I quit.

Day 2: I wake up in the morning, and discouragement sets in as I try to tune it for forty-five minutes, and get it nowhere close. I have no ear! I can tell it's wrong, but I can't decide how to fix it! I'll never be a rock star. I go back to sleep and wake up with the flu.

Later, my sister and I manage to get it fairly in tune with itself, if not that goddamn pitchpipe, so I try some more chords. No fun. My fingers hurt. I'll never be able to play this stupid thing.

We go to see my guitar-guy, who had accompanied my guitar with a nice letter from him saying that I should come in and see him. He plugs my baby in. He tunes her (quickly and expertly). He plays the beginnings of some songs. My guitar can make these noises? My guitar can sound this good? We discuss what kind of music I like. We discuss my cello-playing (ha!) abilities. We discuss me taking lessons. We discuss K records, 7 Year Bitch, and The Presidents of the United States of America. I slyly mention that my main goal at this point is to be able to play "Wipeout." He plays it! He says, "here, why don't you play it?" and hands me the guitar. "No, no, I couldn't possibly," I sputter, trying to hand it back. Sure I can. He tells me which fingers, and points to them saying "...one, two, three three three ..." I begin to get it. He helps someone else. I fiddle around. I've got it! I've got it too slow, with copious mistakes, but I do indeed have it. Hooray!

I practice my one song over and over and over and I'm getting much better. I don't have full-fledged calluses yet, but I almost do! I do know what the strings are now, and I'm teaching myself treble clef, since I only know bass clef. I know a bunch of chords, and the key of A. So I can make up little ditties in that key. Now it only takes 1/2 an hour to tune it. Tuning is by far the most frustrating part of this. I've learned the pentatonic scale, and can play parts of various Doors songs, thanks to the Doors guitar book my mom got me. I also know a blues riff. So there! I emerge triumphant!