I made a mistake. Not career-ending or soul-crushing, but just an idea that didn’t work out. See, as some who follow this blog know, I’m a student guitar player. By which I mean I’m not good enough to just say “I’m a guitar player,” because that would be a lie. It can hardly be said that what I’m doing is playing the guitar. More of playing “at” it, so that sometimes it vaguely sounds like music. A lot of the time it doesn’t. Regardless, getting to the mistake—not too long ago I bought a parlor size guitar because I liked the idea of keeping one downstairs so I could practice or just noodle about whenever the mood struck me (and needless to say, my wife is a very patient woman), but there was a problem—a parlor size guitar is just too small for me. Now, in some ways it was good practice, because it made me be super-precise in my left hand fretting, since the strings were so close together that I’d mute adjacent strings unless my fingers were exactly perpendicular—and sometimes even then. In short, the guitar was unforgiving, and in this stage of my development, I could really do with a bit of forgiveness.
If I could have tried it first I’d likely have seen the problem, but the closest guitar shops are a good way from here and I can only make it to an actual one now and again. I stuck it out with the parlor for a good while, but like a story that just won’t come together, this wasn’t working. My main acoustic is an OM size and body, and considering the space downstairs, that’s likely what I’ll go with when I replace the parlor guitar—good brand, good guitar, but not for me.
Some may ask why I’m spending money on another guitar. I have more than I need, minus one I feel comfortable leaving in the living area. I ask myself the same question. I think it has to do with optimism. One day I’ll call myself a guitar player. Perhaps not even a good one, but a border will be crossed. I’ll get there. Do I know this? No. Do I believe it? Yes, I do.
There was a time I didn’t believe I could write a good story. Fortunately, I was wrong about that. Maybe it’ll turn out I’m wrong about becoming a guitar player, that whatever it takes, I just don’t have. But there’s this thing about being wrong—I’ve discovered that I’d rather be wrong about what I can do than right about what I can’t.
It just works out better.