Buying the Fantasy

"You can't always get what you want." -- The Rolling Stones

 

In an age of fast food, instant messages, five-minute ab workouts and power naps, it seems clear that everything is possible but yet nearly nothing is worth waiting for. I am as critical of this shift as the next liberal urbanist. 

But look through my closets, bookshelves and corners and you’ve got all the evidence you want to call me a hypocrite – conversational French tapes, a kickboxing video from 1998, a book entitled “How to Write a Blockbuster Novel,” and, of course, the electric guitar.

There’s a layer of dust on it right now, but the guitar still looks as new and shiny as the day I bought it nearly one year ago. It is a blue and white Fender, the cheapest model they make, a starter guitar for the aspiring rock and roller. I think it came in black and white too. 

It surprises people who come to my house to see the electric guitar, its small amplifier sitting nearby. “What are you doing with an axe?” one of my friends asked when he saw it. I didn’t know what he meant until he gestured at the guitar.

It wasn’t as much of an impulse buy as you might think. I had been wanting to learn how to play for months, it seemed, yearning to create rock ‘n roll right in my own house. A friend and I briefly talked about taking lessons together, but the idea fizzled out without much exploration.

One Saturday afternoon, bored and a little lonely, I decided the time was right, and drove off to Guitar Center. At least I’ll see how much they cost, I thought. Once inside, holding a guitar in my hands, I could see it all so clearly, me on stage in a smoky club, hot lights beaming down, the roar of the crowd, my band behind me. I was no longer a writer for a government agency – suddenly I was Joan Jett, Liz Phair, Chrissie Hynde. About an hour later, I walked out with the guitar, an amp and book and CD entitled “Learn How to Play Guitar.” The guy who sold it to me said I would easily learn on my own.  

That night, I sat on my couch, frustrated by my lack of ability to tune the damn thing. I flashed back on the guitar lessons of my youth, discontinued after just a few weeks. I remembered – actually, more like re-experienced – my impatience at not quickly mastering the instrument. Suddenly, there were a million more things I would rather be doing than sitting on the couch trying to pluck Jingle Bells. I probably played with my new purchase a total of 20 minutes that night. I think I have played with new shoes longer, trying them on again and again, seeing how they look with different outfits.

For the next two weeks, I dutifully sat down with the guitar each evening and worked my way through the first three lessons. Progress was slow.

My boyfriend Mike was very encouraging, excited by my interest in learning how to play. He had been playing for something like 20 years, and was quite good. He bought me a guitar stand for my birthday, in support of my newfound interest. I didn’t want to tell him my interest was already well in decline. 

At last, an excuse came to miss one night of practice. I had come home too late, and headed right for bed. I barely even felt guilty. The next day, I picked up the guitar again, but in the days that followed, it was like the floodgates had opened. Suddenly, it was easier to find excuses not to practice, and before I knew it, weeks had gone by without my touching it. 

Mike would pick it up occasionally, playing Who songs or just some old riffs he made up while he waited for me to get ready. “This is so out of tune,” he would say sometimes. “Do you ever play this?” “Not really,” I would admit.

One night, I was talking to some friends over a bottle of wine. I was feeling good, expansive, talking about my life and what I wanted. “I wish I knew how to play the guitar,” I said. And then I started to laugh, thinking of that guitar, that book, gathering dust in the corner of the den. I guess I just don’t want to learn. 

Reviews

[Christina Marie]

You picked the perfect title for this piece ~ I think everyone of us has "bought the fantasy" at some point in our lives. You're writing voice is very solid, and a lot of people will relate to this fun little story. That's something all good writers hope to accomplish ~ a tale everyone can relate to. Well done!

[Rosa Sophia]

I find it amusing that the guy who sold you that thing told you that you could easily learn on your own. I play the bass and I will admit, I'm a lot like you on this one, though I do play more often than the first twenty minutes. I learned how to play from some great musicians -- my high school principal, Pete, his friend -- a professional named Vick and my friend Steve. There's so many things about form, how to hold the guitar and how to move when you're playing it that you can't possibly learn how without help unless you're someone who is naturally gifted. Anyway. Please excuse the rant. ;-)

This is a great piece. I can totally relate to it. I'm a Jack of all Trades when it comes to interests and I can never settle on one thing. I love my bass, though. And like you, I would never sell her -- Charlotte.

You should try to publish this piece. It's great! A lot of people could relate to it.

Thanks for posting,

Rosy

[Katie B]

I think everyone can relate with this piece. We have all said we wanted to learn something or do something and take a baby step to achieve it than to find out we were that interested in it all or did not have enough passion to dive right in.

Your piece had nice organization and clear thought. I was easily able to follow where you were going with it. Plus as I said before a lot of people can relate to the thought of wanting to always have done something but just don't have the drive to do so or continue with it. Nice job on this piece

[Ravi Bedi]

You don't learn to play the guitar by acquiring one. You don't become a writer by reading 'How to be a successful writer'. You don't become a good cricketeer by buying the best bat, gloves, pads or whatever.

You become one only if you have great passion, even if you play on a borrowed guitar(like I did many, many years ago), or play with a borowed second-hand bat. Haven't you come across great many caddies, who started golf with improvised sticks, who are today great golfers having their own private jets. They had one thing common...passion and dedication, which my friend you did not have. Present your guitar who has that passion, but not enough money to buy.

[Rick Just]

Lynn, I had a similar experience with an electronic keyboard a few years back. I knew I'd never be able to play a guitar, but a keyboard? Well, I could TYPE. Same skill set, right? Not so much.

Nice job.

[Kelly D.]

Awww, this reminds me I need to be practicing. I can realte. Maybe not completely, but defintely on some levels. I have a BEAUTIFUL 1977 mint condition alvarez acoustic guitar, and my playing does not do it justice. I hardly practice. I need to. Thanks for reminding me.

This was a fun little antecdote to read. You have a solid voice. Great job.

[Laura Cushing]

We have three guitars in our house - and no one knows how to play any of them. I tried and failed, and one of my daughters tried and failed... and now my son is trying and will likely fail, too. We're just not cut out to be a musical family.

This is a very easy read that puts the reader right into the picture, and I found myself nodding my head and saying "Oh yes, I've been there." Very engaging and entertaining.

The only suggestion I have is you may want to paragraph it.

[Dan Giacobbe]

Musical talent does not run in my family, and anyone who plays an insturment only was able to do so after years of practice. I like this little anecdote, because it reminds me so much of the American dream. Everyone wants to be a rock star, or a movie star, or god forbid a writer, but no one wants to be a student. In an age of microwaves and instant downloads, some things you can't rush. What a little subversive piece you've written.

Just two things: is this actually based on you, or did you make it up for the class; after all, it was 'fiction'. The other is that I'm not sure, but I don't really think this goes under essays. Maybe non-fiction. It doesn't really matter all that much, so never mind that.