I have always been fascinated with people - guys for that matter - who play guitar. And I've always wanted to be the one who can play the guitar. I wanted to be a badass guitarist. You know. The one who plays with the band that lives and breathes beautiful music. That chic worshipped by rocker boys who got blown away by her jaw-dropping solo.

Back when guitarists were labeled "cool" and the one who'd always get the attention (and by guitarist, I mean anyone who can carry a tune with the instrument), I was pretty excited when one of my friends in high school taught me how to play the guitar. I grabbed the neck, laid it close to my chest, hugged the body, and made love with it. It was a beautiful moment. I told myself I'm going to be a budding female version of Slash sans the top hat. (I only know Slash because of Sweet Child O' Mine. Other than that... No, I won't pretend that I really know him. But yes, I wanted to have mad skills like Slash.)

That tryst came momentarily though. Nothing good came out when I started to strum. My fingers were too short. Too fidgety. Too slow. I don't press hard enough. I press too hard. I don't hit it right. I hit everything. I made a lot of excuses. It sucked. And it was a lot of effort. Even though I have enough passion for it that could have made me a pro by now, the only thing I lack and need is apparently a talent or a skill. So before my fingers could even bleed like how Bryan Adams did back in the summer of '69, I gave up and I knew then and there my rockstar chic dreams just walked away.

I'm just trying to look cool here.

Well, that isn't really new to me. Whenever I try to learn something new, my feel-good hormones would go on an overdrive and then bam! I'd suddenly lose it. This is the same reason I got bored after learning a few Spanish sentences or why I stopped planking after three religious weeks or why I never got to finish all those 30-day challenges. You see, I'm only good at the start - an enthusiastic starter at that. At least I think that's better than nothing.

I guess I have to blame that to the trait that seems to come so naturally for me, like it was imprinted on my DNA. Although none of my folks are like that. I am lazy. And these are the times I wish I could do something and become exceptionally good at it without selling my soul or having to practice ever. But life doesn't work that way - except for Mozart. His prodigious feat is an epitome of life being unfair. It will have to take years of practice to learn a skill or long frustrating hours and hard work to hone a talent. There are so many things I wish I'm good at without even trying. Cooking for example. Or Math. Or writing, to say the least.

Anyway, twelve years since my rockstar dreams walked away, I gave the guitar another go. And I've been having a love-hate relationship with it despite all the motivation and inspiration I am getting. It's been a year since I welcomed the six strings back into my fingers again, and all I can play perfectly is the G chord. I am thinking of practicing Better Than Ezra's Desperately Wanting after this post because the song title seems to fit my mood perfectly at the moment. But I realize the riff with distortion (whatever that means) at the bridge part looks difficult and might take time, so I'll just start tomorrow. And I don't know how to warm up my fingers either. They are kind of tired after typing this anyway. And I've got other things to do too, like getting distracted by anything from the internet.

Oh look, it's a dog!



Damn, I have got to stop making excuses.