Women and guitars.
This break from school has afforded me an abundance of free thinking time. I've decided that this is not necessarily good nor is it necessarily bad. It's just driving me into some perverse realm of feeling insane. I believe this is just for the time being, at least I hope so anyway. I now know that I will be graduating, without a doubt, in the spring. All I can say is, good, thank god for that. By the end of this month, I should know more about what I might be doing after I graduate. All of these things have hit me like a brick wall. I shouldn't be surprised about any of this, but now I'm surprised that I'm surprised, know what I mean?
In any case, the men in my life are not making matters any simpler. I won't give them credit of being direct cause to my temporary feelings of insanity, however they can take pride in being the ones to amplify them. To a degree anyway.
Yesterday I hung out with Tom. I had abandoned the idea of ever carrying on with him again until he decided to finally call me back. It's strange. What used to be a big deal a little over 8 months ago has deflated to a not-so-very big deal. I am feeling less and less (not in every way ;P), so I think this is good. The weird thing was that while I was listening to all of his ex-girlfriend drama, I was not in the slightest jealous. Also good. In fact, I was really starting to feel bad for the guy. I think I am able to do this because my affections have been growing for somebody else.
Tom and I went guitar shopping. I basically drove his ass around, played counselor, and scoped out cute musicians at the stores we were at. Why? Because I'm nice. So Tom does a trade in at one place gets some money, we go to another store and he buys this acoustic he's been scoping out. Before we got to the store he was nervous, I mean really nervous, that someone may have already picked it up. However, the guitar was still there waiting for him.
Then a strange revelation of sorts. After hearing all of his drama I begin to understand why he was so anxious to get rid of one guitar and replace it. He admited even that guitars for him were similar to women. My reaction was to say "Well that's because you're an asshole and view women as objects." Then I realized the uncanny situation I was in. A guitar to this guy, and to many musicians, is not simply an object. Those who own guitars become attached to them, there are all sorts of sentiments clinging to this instrument. All are different, they each have a varying sound for those who have that acute hearing for it. But apparently sometimes these instruments have to be replaced for a better one. Perhaps a new and more exciting one. Or maybe one that sounds different, plays different. Or for that "dream" guitar they've always wanted, lusted after in fact. However, it seems that in every collection there is a favorite. One that will never be given up or traded in, the Martin.
I was appalled when I thought about this in the context of men, or Tom, in his relationships with women. I think this ex-girlfriend of his is the Martin. And where I stand in this bizarre parallel I'm still trying to figure out. I could be the little parlour guitar or the Larrivee on his wall, but I just might as well be the beater guitar that gets used all the time for dicking around on. Playing around with sounds. You know.
All of this thought was amusing. Amusing in a good way. For the longest time I was thinking about this guy in this deep complex sort of way. This simplifies things. Makes him a little more cut and dry. Suddenly I understand.
Do you SEE why I feel like I do? I mean really, who thinks about this shit? I just might be ready for the semester to start.
In any case, the men in my life are not making matters any simpler. I won't give them credit of being direct cause to my temporary feelings of insanity, however they can take pride in being the ones to amplify them. To a degree anyway.
Yesterday I hung out with Tom. I had abandoned the idea of ever carrying on with him again until he decided to finally call me back. It's strange. What used to be a big deal a little over 8 months ago has deflated to a not-so-very big deal. I am feeling less and less (not in every way ;P), so I think this is good. The weird thing was that while I was listening to all of his ex-girlfriend drama, I was not in the slightest jealous. Also good. In fact, I was really starting to feel bad for the guy. I think I am able to do this because my affections have been growing for somebody else.
Tom and I went guitar shopping. I basically drove his ass around, played counselor, and scoped out cute musicians at the stores we were at. Why? Because I'm nice. So Tom does a trade in at one place gets some money, we go to another store and he buys this acoustic he's been scoping out. Before we got to the store he was nervous, I mean really nervous, that someone may have already picked it up. However, the guitar was still there waiting for him.
Then a strange revelation of sorts. After hearing all of his drama I begin to understand why he was so anxious to get rid of one guitar and replace it. He admited even that guitars for him were similar to women. My reaction was to say "Well that's because you're an asshole and view women as objects." Then I realized the uncanny situation I was in. A guitar to this guy, and to many musicians, is not simply an object. Those who own guitars become attached to them, there are all sorts of sentiments clinging to this instrument. All are different, they each have a varying sound for those who have that acute hearing for it. But apparently sometimes these instruments have to be replaced for a better one. Perhaps a new and more exciting one. Or maybe one that sounds different, plays different. Or for that "dream" guitar they've always wanted, lusted after in fact. However, it seems that in every collection there is a favorite. One that will never be given up or traded in, the Martin.
I was appalled when I thought about this in the context of men, or Tom, in his relationships with women. I think this ex-girlfriend of his is the Martin. And where I stand in this bizarre parallel I'm still trying to figure out. I could be the little parlour guitar or the Larrivee on his wall, but I just might as well be the beater guitar that gets used all the time for dicking around on. Playing around with sounds. You know.
All of this thought was amusing. Amusing in a good way. For the longest time I was thinking about this guy in this deep complex sort of way. This simplifies things. Makes him a little more cut and dry. Suddenly I understand.
Do you SEE why I feel like I do? I mean really, who thinks about this shit? I just might be ready for the semester to start.
posted by karlie at 9:08 AM
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