My Axe To Grind...

Today I was pulled out my guitar to learn a song that my wife would like me to accompany her on at an upcoming cabaret. I haven't played the guitar in months, maybe even over a year. This is the longest I have gone since high school with not playing music. The odd thing is, I am not particularly driven to do it anymore. Even massaging the nice mahogany top of my Martin and pulling some notes from its dreadnought shaped body did not bring back the rush of enthusiasm I had thought it might. I don't suppose I will be over music forever. Right now I simply would rather read or write. Or run. Or watch football. Or do the laundry. I just don't want to bother with the guitar.

An article I read recently made me think this variance of fancy was not just part of the adorable and eccentric collection of whimsy that is myself (as I would normally think--don't we all?). The article concerned a stereotypical 'Chinese mother' who had raised her daughters without the benefit of TV, video games, sleepovers, play dates, parties or even friends, or so it read. Her thinking was that any child can achieve success and excellence at anything they choose, so long as they are forced to dedicate massive amounts of time to it. Her daughters, in addition to making straight A's in all their grade school classes, played the piano and violin, one for each. I assume they were quite good at them, although from the black and white snapshot in the newspaper, one couldn't tell that they weren't being subtly threatened off camera, perhaps smiling through near tears. The mother gave advice to parents whose children are generally underachievers (or at least, fall below what she would consider the acceptable mark for childhood accomplishment). She said that nothing is fun until you are really good at it. This was her justification for putting her children through the gauntlet of their endless studies.

The truth is, her children probably did learn to really enjoy their instruments and the phenomenal disparity between themselves and all other children not raised my stereotypical Chinese mothers in their neighborhood. The point I took, though, was that sometimes I can let my own lack of practice, and hence excellence, turn me off of certain pursuits. The guitar is a prime example. I have never been terribly comfortable with my performance style, it being a bit muddy and stiff. However, I really don't put in much effort to improve it. Thus, I play less and less frequently until the initial awe of have a moderate skill under my belt fades to the contentment of a few pleasant memories. Acting is another pursuit of mine that has fallen, perhaps even more decisively, by the wayside. In fact, with the exception of writing (hence this endeavor), most of the activities I once defined myself by are no longer a part of my life. Perhaps I will find the spark to go after them with renewed vigor by and by. Perhaps the cycle of interests will continue endlessly to spin, leaving me chasing satisfaction for the rest of my days. I do cling to the Master of None identity--no reason it shouldn't be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Or, just maybe, I will be visited for a time by a stern Asian taskmaster/benefactor who will help elevate my skills to the robotic preteen levels they always should have been at. And on that day I will say xie xie, and I will sleep soundly.