Guitar Hero

Okay, so a few months back, I was TURNED ON to Rock Band. I was having so much fun "playing" the bass guitar and belting out Blondie's Call Me that I completely forgot it was just a game. I was no longer in my friend's media room with my kids eating a year's worth of M&Ms in the next room... no... I was on stage... at The Whiskey! YEAH! After a few sets, I was forced to relenquish the guitar and the mic and take my Sugar Babies home to sleep. It was, after all, nearly midnight.

One of the things I've always loved is the sound of a guitar. At a campfire, usually. I used to make moon eyes at the guys playing. Somehow, knowing those few chords seemed to elevate their handsome factor by leaps and bounds. I mean, how else do you suppose Tom Petty gets 'em? My new favorite guitar heroes are Jason Mraz and Jack Johnson. Those guys are already pretty cute. Strap on the guitar and oh-my-my.

My husband, The Pilot had always wanted to learn, so this year he bought not one, but two guitars. An acoustic one and an electric one with a whammy bar that the Banana Girl loves to rock! (I wonder how much of his hours of practice had to do with the way I stare at Jack Johnson on VH1?) So the other night, I was at church watching a chick play. Since I've been kind of picking along as The Pilot learns, I could actually follow what this girl was playing. I was like, wow! When she was done I pulled her aside and started asking her about the music, so she gave me what she had. I knew how the song was supposed to go and just needed to play the three chords that went along with it. I went home and miracle of all miracles, I could play a song! Not all rockstar, but I could play just the same.

I always wanted to learn an instrument, but I had tricked myself into believing that it was too late or that it would be too hard to learn something like that at my age as opposed to learning as a child. Then I thought, what the hell? What's the worst that could happen? I could get a couple of blisters and realize it wasn't for me. When I put my plucking and the song together, the combo confirmed that I could learn. So here I am... plucking away at this thing... I was thinking about shooting some video of it... but it's Monday and I just don't have it in me to practice chords AND shoot video. But hey, I get to check off another thing on My Life's Wish List.

#37: Learn to play an instrument.

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Here's a shot of The Pilot at play:



UPDATED 08/07/08: Apparently, we've all been infected by Guitar-itis... this just came today for Banana Girl. She has decided to call her band "Daisy Rock" after her new pink guitar. How cute is that?! I'm askin'!

Goodbye, Mr. Last Lecture

I'm late to this news only because I've been cleaning and catching up on life and otherwise living under a rock after a weekend away. I had no idea that Mr. Randy Pausch had passed away. (Chicago Tribune Story) While it saddens me that this world has become just a little less beautiful because of our loss, I am thankful for his energy in telling the world the amazing message of living life to the fullest no matter what. We all have an expiration date... what random collection of time and space that is, we don't exactly know. It's an artificial moment in time compared to the time we are living right now and the space we are occupying right here. Some of us struggle with physical ailments. Others of us struggle with emotional scars. But through it all, we are here. We are alive. We are now.

What are you going to do with this one and only life?

God Bless you Mr. Pausch for the last lecture that grew and spread in the ways that only a message of truly inspired love could have. You showed us how a man facing the reality of death took his one and only life...

and lived it.

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Heather

Some of you know who Heather is. She is Dooce (rhymes with moose). Most of the time, she has us laughing about the bawdy words that just came out of her mouth and into the blogosphere to jolt us out of our suburban coma.

Today Dooce is in tears.

How strange to go to a site that I find so witty and funny to read about the sad news about her step-father and her questions of faith. It seems so prevelent in my life right now. I go to Dooce to escape, but today I understood that not even Dooce is immune.

And how selfish of me!

How many times have I gone there to get away from my reality. To have Heather tell me all about her demon dog and see the pictures of the venerable chotchkies. "I wish I was Dooce" is written on my forehead... if you look close enough. I know she has a husband and a beutiful little girl who doesn't like to wear pants. I had no idea whe was mourning her miscarried baby due this week. I have been following all of her press interviews with raw, green envy for the last couple of weeks. The same two weeks that she and her family have befallen the curse of cancer.

Dooce is real. She's a girl named Heather who is still trying to figure it all out just like the rest of us. She just happens to do what she does really well and seems to have an outstanding level of belief in telling it like it is. She is my Livin' For Real hero. You may not always like her take on things... and she really could probably care less. Do yourself a favor and make her part of your day. Let her infect you until you want to wear a bracelet with: WWDD

"What Would Dooce Do?"

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