Picking on the guitar

The finger tips on my left hand are all tingly and a little bit sore.

Usually this is a sign of romance, but this time it's because I have once again gotten the urge to learn how to play a guitar.

As of this writing, I have practiced three days in a row, for a time period of about 40 minutes or so. I run through a fingering exercise that was taught to me by JG Lightborne, a local performer. I strum through some chords, E, A and D, think, but God knows what they really are.

The trouble I am having is that my fingers, although not particularly fat, seem moosh onto more than one string at a time. This gives most chords a rather dull sound.

Now, I am in "working" phase of the 5 stages of mediocrity. And my question is this: Will more practice help ease this finger issue? Or do I suffer a guitar disability that cannot improve no matter what? Will a new guitar help?

Maybe I'll just try the harmonica.

Shorts weather

When you live in Wisconsin, life revolves around the weather.
So when there's a significant turning point, one must take the time to acknowledge the mark.
Today was such a day. I wore shorts on my run, first time for 2009.
I do love winter, really, I do. But there times when it starts to feel like a prison. The environment itself seems to bear down on you. It's as if you're wearing a suit of lead, one that has been stored in the freezer, at that.
So the first shorts day gives one the feeling of true liberation, freedom. It must be how birds feel when they take their first flight.
It all reminds me of that old joke about the guy who wears too tight shoes, because they feel so good when you take them off.
Winter is great, because it makes summer feel like heaven.

***

Of course, like anything in life, the bliss of spring must have it's cruddy counterbalance. For us, it's ankle-deep puddles, barf-colored left over snow and mud. My run today took me through a large local cemetery. It's one of my favorite routes, because there's no traffic and it's easy on the legs.
But the gravel roads are now soft and gushy. This particular run reminded me of the "Mud 'N' Grunters" race Dave and I ran in the Hudson Valley north of New York. Ugh.

Saying goodbye

Although I love winter, I do believe it is now time to move on.
Like old friends, winter and I have moved apart. Yeah, the skiing was fun. The bitter cold spurred me to grow a beard. And it's pretty.
But I would like to starting riding my bicycle outside now.
Photo by Kris.

The five phases of mediocrity

Of course, this all was very predictable, and you certainly can't say you weren't warned.
The progress of this blog has mirrored just about every other single endeavor I've undertaken in my life.
It's a five step process, and it goes something like this:

• 1. Idea phase -- In which it occurs to me, often after I've had a gin and tonic or two, that I should do something. Now that something can be a variety of things. It can be running a marathon, riding with the group of bike racers in town on their the weekly rides or playing the guitar.
• 2. Excitement phase -- In which I excitedly embrace something. I read books about the activity. I prepare plans. I buy equipment. I bore everyone around me with constant chatter about fartleks, bicycle tire choices or the fact that the ends of my fingers have callouses.
• 3. Starting phase -- In which I start actually doing said something. This is usually done with a flurry of activity, and is indeed, the most pleasurable phase of mediocrity. Because I am a beginner, I can still harbor the delusion that I might actually be good as said something. This spurs me to greater activity, usually to the point of overdoing said activity. I'll usually end up hurting myself.
• 4. Work phase -- In which I begin to become somewhat proficient at said something, but just enough to understand how much further I have to go to reach whatever murky, fanciful and unattainable goal I have set. Skill levels will plateau, and I'll become frustrated. Reality will set in and I'll become disillusioned. The thought "This sucks" will enter my mind often.
• 5. I quit.

So in some ways, this blog attempt is a resounding success, in that I've gone through the five phases, but have returned to continue on. That's progress. That's growth. I'm so proud of myself.