My left fingers suffer from acute depressionConsidering the amount of time i have on my hands, it is tempting sometimes, to just sleep it all away. Then you dont have any care in the world and you live your life aimelessly. Ok, it doesnt seem that tempting now that i mentioned it. But it's what i have been doing. So one fine day, i decided to buck up and prepare myself for a full makeover, a transformation of myself. Its a tedious and hard quest for a young little adult like me (hah), but it can be done.The first thing i did was to get myself something to learn and occupy myself. As some of you might know, however little, i play the guitar sometimes. Plus the piano and the organ. Sounds pretty impressive doesnt it? Think again. My guitar is mediocre, my piano is atrocious and my organ is stale. But ladies and gentleman, its time for me to buck up, so this is what i did. I got some music scores for myself, and i played them. Evanescence's My immortal was a very nice piano piece, especially giving one this feeling of depression, yet beauty at the same time. So i took it up to myself to play the song. And lo and behold, i could play it dammit. But it only goes for the first verse. Once it reaches the chorus, my fingers become a mess on the keyboard, a mixture of paleness against the juxtaposition of polar opposite colours. It looks just like a child fingerpainting activity, a fingerpainting activity that includes only 1 colour (your skin colour), and a mess of black and white keys that make sounds when its pressed or hit. (Maybe those can be soft panda toys that make sounds, you know, those kind of kids that they always squeal when they squeeze it? yes, those kind). Ok, so it's not like a fingerpainting exercise. I guess the only similarity between my disaster and fingerpainting is that both are messy as hell, especially if its only a 1 year old doing it. Anyways, its frustrating to be unable to play the chorus. Its just very complicated. So the piano project was put on hold, and up started the guitar project. I have a very good guitar. My dad passed it on to me. From his generation of playing Romanza to young little girls walking beneath his Hostel windows, from his generation of "hey guys, i know how to play the house of the rising sun (which is very nice actually, and pretty easy)", from his generation of afro hair (my dad actually had a bit of afro, like mine now whenever i step out of bed. I get a shock sometimes, but if it was you, keep an ambulance nearby will ya?). But the guitar has became a defeated champion, the strings worn out and torn at different places, a yamaha moterbike sticker somewhere there. (ironically it says world champion) And the worse thing, the whole guitar seems to be falling apart. And damn it smells sometimes. But after some minor adjustments, it could be used, and the song it produces are kinda nice. But with crappy strings, kinda nice is already straining it already. But it does its purpose. So play i did. And damn, was it nice. For 3 days and 3 nights, i played the guitar whenever i had the chance. Once, i even played it at 2am, and my dad woke up and almost took the guitar and hit me on the head. (actually, that was one of the jokes in the Foxtrot comic strip. Or something like that. I am a capricon, so yes, i tend to exaggerate everything. Okay?) Now you know why my left fingers suffer from acute depression. Amazing grace, here i come. Again and again and again. till another time. Ciao! Justin ranted at 3:20:00 pm on the |