Catchin' up with life, part 1

Hi y'all,

So, it seems this whole "at least one post a week"- thing's really working out for me... NOT! Despite the fact that I've had countless of hours on my hands since February (which is when I created this blog), for some reason or another I haven't posted a single thing.

Guess I should start with taking my hat off in remembrance of Gary Moore, who passed away earlier this year.

As those of you who know me (or read this blog...) know, I was dead set on starting at Tech Music School in March. I had so many hopes and dreams hanging on that course, and though I realize it might be hard for someone who hasn't been out of work for two years to understand the stigma of it, I truly viewed this course - and the move to the UK - as the one thing that could set me back on track. To kill my nervousness, I spent the time before departure with cleaning my room, boxing up all the things I didn't want anyone to touch (hell, I would've boxed up my bed, if it had been possible), and doing everything but practicing the guitar. It was really very typical of me - And I've always been this way. I do something for a few weeks, and I really go in for it, but then, once I've actually started to notice some improvement, I get bored and justify my not continuing the routine with having so much else to do. To my defense, there really was a lot of preparations to be made - like finding a place to live.

Because I've been out of work since graduating High School, and haven't been eligible to claim benefits (for reasons I'm not about to bring up here), I've been living off of my credit card and the occasional, parental hand-out for a pathetically long time. I've had no savings to speak off, and so when it came down to finding a place to live, I really found myself stuck between a rock and a hard place. While there was a sensible part of me that realized the stupidity of trying to rent something without viewing it (hell knows what I'd have to live with, and its not like you can demand a month-to month contract), the poor part of me was well aware that I simply didn't have the finances needed to stay in a motel for a week or two while looking for housing. I wouldn't be able to afford the deposit and "two months rent in advance" most renters/rental agents required either, and when there was a month left until the "move", and the only agent I'd been in contact with was unable to find anything cheaper than studios for £1000 a month excluding bills, I was beginning to feel desperate. I wanted to do the course so badly, but I couldn't head off without having a place to stay, and if there was something I refused (and still do) to lower myself to, it was asking my parents for money.

Then one day when I was checking my mail, I found an e-mail from two Finnish girls who was already doing courses at Tech, and who had an extra bedroom in their house which they wanted to rent out. Since the room looked just fine in the pictures and the rent was very reasonable - £350 a month with bills (Hey, it's London we're talking about - apparently, people pay £500 a month for a closet space and find that completely agreeable) - I made the (I realize now) dumb decision to move in with them. No required deposit, roommates that spoke swedish and seemed nice enough - It really did feel like all my problems were suddenly solved.

The next problem I had to adress was the fact that I had to bring my own guitar, and since my Fender Squier was broken - and I had this really moronic idea about not being able to bring such a cheap ass guitar with me to a music school - I decided to butcher my credit card and buy a new guitar. At the time, it made sense to me, and I remember thinking that if I had to buy a new guitar anyway, I might as well buy the guitar off my dreams: A Gibson Les Paul Studio in Alpine White with Silver/chrome hardware. They go for about 10.000 SEK (approximately $1200) at discount at my local music shop, and since I had seen the guitar advertised on their webpage for months, I waited until the very last moment to call the shop (Obviously, this had something to do with me not being able to explain the appearance of a new guitar to my parents...). It wasn't exactly the nicest surprise to hear that "my" guitar was out of stock everywhere (meaning all over Europe), and that I had to write myself up on a waiting list if I wanted any chance of getting one. According to the salesman, they had stopped making the white guitars in the 1990's, and only recently began manufacturing them again, so there was an extremely high demand. He advised me that I should prepare to wait for at least six months, maybe more. Joy.

So the only guitar I really wanted wasn't available, but since I knew I was going to buy one as soon as they became available, it felt like such a waste of money to have to spend a couple of hundred dollars on a guitar I didn't want anyway. All the shops I contacted though, both in Sweden and abroad, gave me the same answer: There was a several months waiting list, and there was no way I'd be able to aquire a new one before that time.

As it turns out though, "never say never" is quite a fitting expression, because a day later I stumbled across an ad on Ebay about the guitar in question, which was being sold by a guitar store in the Stated for $1100 including Shipping. Of course, I didn't have the money, and it was Ebay: Anytime, someone could put in an offer and snatch the guitar - My guitar! - up. My desperation knew no limits, and I raided every account and credit card I had, and when I in the end still came up $70 short, my grandma (whom I more than anything on this earth, and not just because she gives me money!) came to the rescue and loaned me the rest. Now, I have never bought anything on Ebay before, so I bugged the hell out of the seller with the most idiotic questions, before I finally put in an offer and managed to pay for the guitar (There was some more anxiety involving Paypal not accepting my payment, but yeah, it worked out in the end).

Since it seemed very unnecessary to ship the guitar to Sweden and pay to bring it on the plane to London, I decided to have it sent to an acquaintance of mine who already lived in London. Of course this tripped me up later, but that's a story for another time!

Under the weather

"I have two problems with the Christian faith: Christians, and faith".
- Anonymous friend, 2008

... And that pretty much sums up how I feel about having to practice on a regular basis, and not just be able to sit down with the guitar and write a hit song.

The past two days have been emotionally turbulent, and it kicked off with me waking up in a pissier than pissed mode on Wednesday, hating everything and everyone. Add an empty fridge, powerless sockets, and a stalker poodle, and you might realize I was not a fun person to be around that day. Since practicing is of such importance to me (not really) and I'm gonna have to practice day and night to feel like I'm enough prepared for Guitar-X (God dammit, I used to get soo good at things in just a week as a kid), I had no choice but to hunt down a working socket - which I so happened to find in my gran's bedroom - and drag all my gear down to her apartment. An hour later I was so sick of myself, my worthless playing and my evil fretting hand (It's cramping up just to spite me, that fucker) I all but threw the guitar out the window. Trying to reason with myself is also like fighting an already lost battle. While there's one part of me that's convinced there's no point to keep practicing when I can't focus on anything but being mad, there's a stubborn voice inside my head that counters with an incessant nagging about how Robert Smith never would have put the guitar down just because he was having a bad day, or how Freddie Mercury would have gone on stage to sing even if he had just had his tonsils removed. Finally, I end up becoming so anxious I just shut down for the rest of the day, wasting all those precious hours doing absolutely nothing.

Luckily, my thursday started out slightly better with the arrival of my Welcome pack from TMS. Though it was missing the Guitar-X catalogue (which I kind of assumed would be included, since it's a welcome pack and all), it gave me some joy to leaf through the pre-course information and fill in all the contracts. But as I sent off the last contract, I was hit with nothing less than hysteria. It all suddenly became so frighteningly real, and all I could think about was how I'd never managed to finish anything in the past. I worried, and worry, about absolutely everything - Not being good enough, getting kicked out, not making friends, not finding a place to live, failing my exams, getting hit by a bus (Do you also read the "look right" on the street and automatically look left?)... The list is endless. And since me and my "parents" aren't currently (or ever) talking, there's really nobody I can discuss things with.

Ever since I graduated from High School and became "stuck" at home, unable to get a job, I have been on the verge of breaking down every single day. I feel worthless, useless, like I'll never be able to accomplish anything, and most of the time, I want nothing more than to get a chance to move off and start my own life. And now when that chance - the right chance - is lurking just around the corner, I feel like a little girl who wants her mommy. I'm terrified that I'll let myself and everybody else (nobody really approves of this course - they think it's stupid and a total waste of money, but still) down.

I CAN'T FAIL. Not again. It has to work out.

It just has to.

Why girls shouldn't play guitar

The Copystrats (Ville to the left, & Sarah's Burswood to the right)

Although I'm aware that a Fender Squier isn't the most valuable instrument, my boy Ville has a great personal value to me. After I had finished practicing yesterday, I so decided to give "Ville" a quick clean, and since I wasn't sure I'd be able to get the strings back in place were I to remove them, I attempted to clean around them, which worked just fine...

Until I took a look at the guitar an hour later and realized that a piece of the nut was missing.

I admit it, I totally freaked out. I blame this on the fact that I have no experience with having my guitars repaired (aside from that one time when they told me at the store that repairing any guitar worth less than 500 bucks was a waste of time), and that practice is of such importance to me right now. If I can't practice, I can't go to Tech Music School: If I can't go to Tech Music School, I'll be forced to continue living at home and put my dreams on hold: If I have to put my dreams on hold any longer, I'll have no choice but to enroll at the local university to become a... I dunno, social worker or something.

And I swear, I feel like I'd rather die than have that happen to me.

Luckily, the situation worked out after a couple of hours, thanks to my best friend Sarah agreeing to lend me her guitar until I could buy myself a new one or have Ville's nut (add an "s" and it'll be hilarious!) replaced. I went over to her place today and picked the guitar up, which was in good shape, some dirt and a missing high E string aside. I spent the rest of the night polishing it up, and then I decided I'd try to remove the high E-string from Ville and put it on Sarah's guitar instead. This worked out great as well, until I tried to straighten out the part of the string that had been wrapped around the tuning peg and broke it off. This resulted in the string becoming way to short, so now I have to head into town tomorrow and pick up not just one, but two new strings.

Sometimes I kind of hate myself.