Music Life Rebirth

Or, A Quiet Acoustic Hermit Tries to Bring Her Music Back Out of the Shadows

I have always thought of myself as a musician, but for the last six years or so, I don't think I would have felt comfortable saying so out loud. Up until September 2009, when I played two songs in front of forty or so of the lovely and forgiving ladies of the OWA (Organization of Women Architects) at our yearly retreat, I hadn't "performed" (in any capacity) since... I don't know when. As a solo performer I have played very rarely- in the seven years I've lived in California, the OWA stint is my only performance in front of an audience of more than, say, three people. Way back sometime in 2004, I did play a few songs on the UC Berkeley college radio station's latenite local program, with my friend the Flake. I count that as a performance but it's so long ago, and I feel like I was such a different person then, that I sometimes forget that I played it.

SO. Now it's 2010, and I'm coming to terms with the fact that I am drifting (drift defined). I never stopped caring about music, and Music, but somewhere along the line it took a definite backseat to the demands of my career and other more passive hobbies, and in deference to my nearly-incapacitating stage fright, I let it become a private hobby that I never talk about and never put forward. I play my guitar in my room, usually when my roommates aren't home, never after 10pm at night (wouldn't want to disturb the neighbors) and even then not too loudly. I don't know any other musicians in California (unless they are "shadow artists" like me, not talking about it) and my friends here, who are nonetheless creative, intelligent, and artists in their own right, are not musically inclined. Day-to-day life is so absurdly busy, and simultaneously mind-numbingly boring, it's so easy to lose track of how long it's been since I played my guitar at all... until one day I pick it up and discover that I no longer have calluses on my left hand at all. Now that's depressing.

But there is hope! Last year a friend of mine, the Doctor, taught me how to do a little finger-picking on the guitar, and with a bit of effort (quite a bit actually) I picked it up. Suddenly at the advanced age of 28, I realized that I am not, as I always assumed, limited by my 18-year-old guitar skill set. I can learn, I can improve! There's hope for me yet.