Scares away his woes. -Cervantes
When I sing, it tends to not scare away not only my woes, but also any man, woman, child, animal, or unbroken piece of glass within earshot.
Which can be a pain in the rear. I mean, sitting in the car humming along to the radio is fun... Until the driver and other passengers turn the volume up in order to tune me out. Or when my parents say, "Well, you are good at some things... Like reading. But music, you should probably just leave alone." Or when my roommates start singing and playing guitar and sounding beautiful, and I'm sitting off to the side, feeling foolish and getting more cranky by the second.
So when hannaHRose pulled out the bass a few days ago and started strumming on it, and I saw that it was something I thought I could maybe do, I was intrigued.
I'm not someone who asks for help willingly, and I'm not very teachable. (I'm working on it.) So... I was NOT willing to ask hannaHRose to teach me.
Until, that is, I tried to Google it. And realized that reading bass tabs is absolutely ridiculous.
I gave in and asked. And discovered that hannaHRose is a very good teacher, if and when I allow myself to be taught.
So, I can offically (kind of, anyway) play "Seven Nation Army" on the bass.
My left pointer finger is purple, and I can feel my pulse beating in each of my fingertips.
And yet... Even as my brain is telling me that I won't ever want to pick up the bass again, the sense of accomplishment I have right now is reminding me that I will do it tomorrow. And probably the next day. And maybe the next.
Until either I fail miserably enough at musical talent that I want to beat the bass in... Or, I semi-master it and discover that maybe, somewhere, there is a musical gene in me.