Today I picked up my guitar for a little bit.
I have a guitar. It is pink. I don’t have an amp or anything so I just pretend it is an acoustic guitar even though it is electric. I play sad indie songs as quietly as possible.
In seriousness, though, playing music has been one of the best things for my sanity. Not just during this pandemic.
I started singing at a young age. (There’s a pretty adorable video of my siblings and me singing “Away in the Manger” when I was like… three?) I picked up enough from piano lessons to plunk away at it. I loved learning the oboe and continue to drag it around with me to this day. In college I did a cappella and took voice lessons.
I’ve always been more interested in making music with other people than discussing it or its various genres at length (which seems to be something white men in particular are very into?). Creating silly little songs on my guitar these days helps me to process what I’m feeling: all the nostalgia of leaving Oakland, the grief of losing my uncle, the stress of existing.
Although I adore words and writing, I think there is a space within me that requires music to be understood.
I’m so glad that I have the opportunity to explore and create musically even if no one else ever hears it.
Anyway, I think that’s all for today. Still just grateful to be alive.
All the love,