Tear Drops On My Guitar

My first test at teaching myself something new each week did not go as gracefully as initially planned. Who would've thought learning the guitar would be so hard, really? I've gone to many concerts in the past couple of years, and those guys just pick the piece of wood, move their fingers with poise, and make nothing of it. So, I too picked up old Clarence (my guitar that's named after the legendary saxophonist from Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. RIP, Big Man) and went to work. I thought, "In no time I'll be jamming like the best of the best." 

"But they're professionals!" My roommates and family would say to make me feel better after failed attempts. Well isn't Jeff Gordon a "professional" driver? When I first learned to drive, I didn't go hitting everything in sight, flip the car, and blow up the engine. No, I turned on the engine, tapped the gas pedal, and then crashed, flipped, and blew up the car. Just kidding. I was able to drive around an old abandoned warehouse, that my dad somehow knew about, without crashing. I quickly learned that the guitar was not going to be the same old drive through the park. It's more like dropping a 16 year old in an 18-wheeler and telling him to drive down the Turnpike in rush hour. Luckily the guitar isn't quite as life threatening, in general. 

After struggling and seriously thinking of smashing Clarence, I quickly learned that starting small was probably the best way to go. So, I took a page out of my 4th grade trumpet teacher and Googled "How to play hot cross buns on the guitar." After watching one clip, my spirits were back, and I was determined to learn the old time classic. After all, didn't Jimi Hendricks even start with this song? I'm almost positive. Don't get too excited, though, because I soon learned another important lesson - this isn't just a piece of wood with 6 strings on it. No, it's a piece of wood with 6 steel, barb wire, pain inducing strings. But I was determined. So I pushed past the pain like Rocky fighting Creed in the ring. Eventually, I learned the 3 note anthem to struggling, wanna be musicians everywhere. With spirits high and fingers throbbing, I did my own salute to Rocky and danced around a bit.

My next attempt and goal for the week was to learn Green Day's "Good Riddance." My thought process was: the intro sounds cool and it didn't seem too difficult! Finally, I could picture myself strumming away to an actual song. And at first, it seemed like the past struggles had all paid off! Within the hour, I learned the intro and was strumming my way to the top of Mt. Everest. But, my success soon turned sour when I realized I couldn't transition between any chords. And I mean nothing. Imagine babies who can crawl like a champ, but as soon as you get them on two feet, they topple over like a Jenga set. I would do the short intro and then come to a screeching halt. I'd ask my roommate, who plays quite well, for help, he'd show me how easy it is, I would try, and fail again and again and again.

In hopes of learning something, I decided to fake it 'till I make it. How'd I do that? I simply played louder and louder. It shows confidence, you know. I'd look up with a huge smile on my face, only to see my roommate's horrid look, which looked like he just saw Fat Bastard doing hot yoga naked in our room. I knew what that meant - play louder. And with that, McDiPane was born, the non-Irish, Irish-Italian rock star. Imagine the mix of a pure Irish stout with the carb load of spaghetti carbonara and a slice of Papa John's to top it off. Truly art. 

After a few noise complaints and almost breaking the strings, I knew I finally had a calling in life. McDiPane was here to make it to the big stage: MSG with Bruce Springsteen as my opener.