I began taking a guitar class at Old Town School of Folk, which I highly reccommend to anyone who wants a low key and warm environment in which to make poor attempts at rocking when you know nothing about music. Seriously, when you are jamming in class at Old Town , you FEEL like you are really mastering the instrument, and everyone supports your artistic endevors wholeheartedly. Its amazing. Also, they just throw you into learning songs...no music theory or chord progressions to slow you down. You simply pound out "Mercedes Benz" with your best Janis Joplin voice until your fingers bleed and you feel like a master.

Case in point--I had my first class Thurs (compliments of the best boy ever) and I enjoyed every minute of it. I learned chords called "D" and "A7" and through those two, I was able to play at least 4 songs that night. Incredible, I say. I felt the confidence of a true guitar player shine through my actual novice status solely because I could play an entire song. There is truly something to that--the sense accomplishment, especially on the first day. I think the instructors know that and that is why they use this "just get in there and play" technique. It is much more rewarding than talking about the music and chords and beats, etc. the entire class.

After jamming for two hours straight on Hank Williams, Bob Marley, Janis and Merle Haggard, I finished my beer (yes, I had beer while I played. Genius!) and walked to the train abuzz with pride.

Then I noticed the massive blister on the side of my thumb. It came so fast, without warning. But it was there, shouting out for me to pay attention to it with a throbbing pain I have not ever experienced on that part of my body before. The blister stayed for 3 days, not popping but threatening to every time I used the keyboard on the computer at work(which was often.) It made my whole thumb hot, despite the dropping Chicago tempatures, quite a feat, I must say.

I kept a close watch on it, waiting for the enevitable pop, only to be slightly disappointed when I woke up Saturday hung over and saw that somehow during the night while I slept, the liquid found a way to drain out undetected. All that remained of my tight little bubble was a deflated sack hanging off my thumb. And no wet spot anywhere on the bed to show for it. Oh well. At least it didn't explode in an embarassing scene somewhere public. I guess I should be grateful. So I will.

Now I am looking forward to the next lesson. I hope guitar doesn't end up like mandolin class, where my excitement for it lasted through the second session, and then suddenly I found myself so damn lost that my fingers looked at me in confusion and said "you want us to do WHAT? No way, we're outta here," and promptly gave up.

I think guitar is a little more accessible than mandolin, though, so maybe it will be a while before they introduce things that overwhelm my dumb fingers so much that they retreat back into my pockets in fear. I certainly hope so. I want to be able to rock any time, anywhere. That is my goal.

Here is to trying a new awesome thing. We should all make sure we are doing that whenever we start to get too comfortable. Challenges (even large bubbly ones on the side of our thumbs) are wonderful and necessary to our sense of pride in ourselves. May we all embrace them with glee.