Chord progressions and ego checks

Jake came home from work to find me surrounded by chord charts and what can only be described as the musical equivalent of a crime scene.

Chord progressions and ego checks

Two weeks ago I decided I was going to teach myself guitar because, and I quote myself here, “how hard could it be?” Turns out the answer is: significantly harder than expected.

I’ve been practicing for exactly thirty minutes a day, which seemed reasonable until I realized my fingers apparently have the coordination of a newborn giraffe. The guitar itself is beautiful – I found it at a thrift shop downtown and the guy said it just needed new strings. What he failed to mention was that it would also need a new player.

The face of someone who just attempted a D chord for the fifteenth time.

Jake has been incredibly supportive, which is to say he’s stopped making jokes about the sounds coming from the living room. Yesterday he even offered to show me a few chords since he apparently played in high school, information that would have been useful BEFORE I spent three days trying to figure out why my G chord sounded like a dying cat. Progress report: I can now play exactly 1.5 songs, if you count stopping halfway through “Wonderwall” as playing a song.