Ending on a High Note

I love music.

I love the way music expresses ourselves better than words can.  I love how the swell of a song can send shivers down my spine and evoke the most poignant of thoughts.  I love all sorts of music.  Jazz.  Indie rock.  (Some) metal.  I'll give anything a listen.  I'm certainly no aficionado of any sort, but I am an appreciator.

My sister was pretty well versed in piano by the time that I was born, and my father was a competent guitarist.  Both of them loved to sing, so I can only assume that I was born with music all around me. There are pictures of me climbing up on the piano bench before I could even walk properly.  It was inevitable that I'd be smashing keys (much to C's chagrin) by age 6.  By 9, I was learning to pluck violin strings.  Several years later, I strummed my first C-chord on the guitar.

And I picked up the basics quickly enough.  I could spit out a little tune here and there.  My only problem was that, past a certain point, I was pretty s**t about keeping up with these things.

Practice is my mortal enemy, for some reason or another.  When I was a kid, I avoided it like the plague.  Supposed to sit and play for half an hour?  Oh - I'll take 5 minutes to get my violin ready.  27 minutes on the clock?  Round up to 30!   So, of course, when college came, I had trouble really wanting to take the time to fit it into my schedule.

It probably also didn't help that I was shy.  I shrank when even my family listened to me practicing - it really quite deterred me from playing for a few years, though I sort of got over it.  Though - again, when I moved to school - the stage fright came back in a big way.  It was pants-stainingly terrifying for me to play while my roommates were around, so I eventually gave up.

But now that I'm older, live on my own, and don't have a life dictated by never-ending reports and homework sets, I'm hoping to reteach myself some things.  No, I don't expect I'll ever take it anywhere, but sometimes you just want to break out an axe and not have to think too hard.

Well.  In the spirit of that, I recently promised several people that I'd upload a recording of something I sort of got it into my head that I wanted to learn.  (Long story short, I was blackmailed, and now you get to reap the spoils).



And with that last little bit of creative wealth, I hereby declare that B.E.D.I.S. has come to a close.

A gigantor THANK YOU to everyone who stuck it out with me.  Whether you came across my little corner of the interwebs after I literally plastered my blog all over Facebook and Twitter, or whether you've been reading since its inception, it means quite a lot to me.  This has been a wonderful and terrible month.  As you might surmise, it will very definitely quiet down after this.  29/30 days of blogging has been a bit overwhelming at times, but I think worth it.  I've learned a bit about what it is for me to be a blogger - namely, you need to dig deep, but when you do, sometimes you strike the septic line, and sometimes you strike gold.

Until the next.