I've Got the Music in Me

The dog* we're house sitting for doesn't really like it when I play the guitar.

He weighs 6 pounds and has a silly mustache so I don't really care what he thinks. (he's also a dog)

While he's in our house, I have to wait until he is completely distracted chewing on something to play the guitar. And while I know this is just because he is a tiny jerk (he's not), it does seem like the perfect metaphor for my singing/guitar playing--there always is a tiny jerk keeping me from doing it.

And most of the time that tiny jerk is me.

Because just like everyone, I am the one who gets in my way most of the time about most things. Especially music. Because there is nothing like the way I feel when I'm singing and playing the guitar, even if all I am doing is a ham-fisted cover of a song I love. For the two minutes or so that I'm wrapped up in a song I am wrapped up in it. Like a big comfy blanket, the music and the feelings envelop me. There is nothing else like it in the whole world.

I don't know where my fear comes from about singing/playing in front of people or with people but it is there and it is palpable. Maybe fear is the wrong word, maybe it is just hesitation. I hesitate before I play in front of someone (the singing isn't such a big deal to me, not quite sure why. Maybe it is because I've done it forever). It is like a physical barrier that I've got to leap over before I start playing. Once I'm over the barrier I'm totally fine but man, standing in front of it? It looks huge and insurmountable.

This is one of the lessons of my 25th year--to leap over the barrier. Especially for something that I really, REALLY like doing. Because on the other side, everything is just fine, even if I don't believe that pre-jump.

*to be clear, that is not the dog in these photos. The dog in these photos is my parent's dog, Matilda.