Oh what a mess I created!
I’ve been working on being more present in the world and less closed off. I love music and playing the guitar. Some of my fondest memories from college were playing rock bands. I played keyboards and sang in a prog-rock cover band and summers played in a classic rock cover band.
Since then, I have never played in public. Only in basements with friends. I’ve switched instruments too, and taught myself guitar over the last fifteen years or so. I would love to be able to play and sing in public, but the prospect terrifies me.
AND SO, a friend got me hooked up to do a poetry workshop later next week in an elementary school. When he asked me, my first thought was no way. Elementary kids are out of my comfort zone. With my own son being autistic, I don’t have much practice relating to that age of kids (though I did do a summer as a camp counsellor for five to seven year olds, but that was twenty years ago). But my friend asked me at our poetry group meeting, and said meeting takes place at Szot’s Bar, and I was on my second beverage, so I said sure!
I’ve been racking my brain for a couple of weeks trying to figure out what to do. Everything I imagine saying or doing comes out aimed at college students; they’ve been my audience for the last seventeen years. Suddenly, I had a vision: I imagined plopping down and playing the guitar for them, and that would get some attention. And then the connections sprang: I could do poetry and the blues as the workshop! AND THEN, I got the bright idea to not only play, but sing.
These things are way outside my comfort zone. I have never played guitar for an audience, just with friends in the basement. I have not sung for an audience since college, and then only as little backup lines. But I want to get over it. The idea of performing excites me. We’ll see.
I went back and forth a couple of times (you can do this/you’re awful and this is a bad idea). What made me decide for sure yesterday was my six-year-old son. He kept looking at me funny when I was singing, and then suddenly improvised his own blues song, “Baby, baby, baby, cry, cry, cry, la, la, la . . . blues.” Then he got overwhelmed and insisted I stop. When I didn’t listen, he stole my iPod and made this picture for me:
He even took the picture. Despite all this resistance, it brought out his creative side, so I’m going forward. GAHHHH!