Caveman With a Hobby

       It's funny how differently we approach the unknown. Back in the good old days, when people only used sticks and stones, imagine each cave person would react to an, let's say, asteroid. Naturally, most of them would flee, some would get curious, some might even remain nonchalant and there are the ones who would meet our extra-terrestrial guest aggressively.

     It is strange to think that I started playing the guitar merely eight years ago, yet I can’t remember myself not doing it, it became such a considerable part of my being. I cannot say that I am particularly gifted, but I would dare to claim that I am good enough to know that I am utter rubbish at it. Nevertheless, throughout these years I’ve been approached by people who wanted to learn to play it too. While I am on the subject, why is everyone convinced that knowing how to rhythmically pluck strings on a wooden box can help them get with the ladies? And why wasn’t that the case for me? Most of the times, I tend to decline teaching students, unless I wouldn’t be bothered with motivating them. I don’t like to force art on people. You see, I have this weird belief that the motivation for art should come from within. That is why I reject teaching my friends most of all people, it came to my notice that failing to commit to something in front of your friend is extra humiliating. Oh, and they fail, they fail most of the times. More than half of the people, who start learning an instrument, give up within the first fortnight, more than half of the rest – give up in the next fortnight. Thus, I did not want to impose any more pressure on my friend-students. However, there was one exception, the kind of exception that only proves the theory. My friend Justin Case, “just in case” he reads it, I will not reveal his real name, was extraordinarily persistent. Seeing his determination to learn, I reckoned self-motivation would not be a problem for him.

     We started with the basic drills slowly moving up the difficulty ladder. With Justin, the “ladder” did not in any way seem to be an escalator, every step seemed harder than the previous one, which has nothing to be ashamed about at the initial stages. It is fascinating to see how effortless the art seems when it performed by a true artist. Even more fascinating is the amount of effort it takes to become effortless – that is something Justin began to realize. There is a great plethora of things I would recommend you to know about Justin Case, he is a lovely chap altogether. One of these things is - he doesn't really like to not know things, as a matter of fact, he hates not to know things. Anyway, the first fortnight has passed, he pushed through it, he pushed like a mother pushes her baby out of her life-gifting uterus, although the analogy with child-birth is thinly stretched it was as painful to behold, he seemed to have endured the same level of agony too. Justin just could not go any further, his annoyance about this stagnation became more and more vivid. What was the cause of this calamity you wonder? He claimed it was these “stupid” strings and “stupid” fingers and “stupid” pain and “stupid” etc. I assumed it was something to do with the fact that it was just his first month and everyone has their own pace. Of course, both explanations seemed equally plausible at the time. The real question is – what can be done? He tried many a thing, various exercises he collected from me, YouTube or his imagination. Still, creating or performing music – the very thing that soothes so many of us, brought only frustration to our already mutual friend Justin Case. The sheer hate that he developed towards the instrument seemed to fuel his will to conquer it, so I didn’t really mind. Whatever keeps you going, right? Yet it gave me a certain uneasiness to sense the pure rage bubbling behind his eyes when we got to exercise together.

     The second fortnight has passed, Justin is now among the chosen few who managed to persist a whole month. I was happy to see him still standing, or was I? At the time, I remember hearing a lot of huffing, grumbling and bad language, and I don’t mean grammar or pronunciation. In several minutes, playing the guitar could make him furious, violent even. That aggressive caveman gene certainly did a number on him. Just thinking about playing the guitar could make him irritated, yet he kept on going. I even proposed to make a short psychologically-therapeutic pause in our musical sessions, yet he refused and kept on going. The harder it got, the angrier he was, the angrier he got, the harder it was. Oh, what a beautiful short circle of a beautifully short temper.  

 "This too shall pass" and it did pass, the circle appeared to have an end. Justin gradually started to lose interest in learning new pieces, I sadly began to notice that I got to teach him less and less frequently. It finally got to him. I tried to give him a new motivation or ignite his previously used fuel, but nothing seemed to work, he gave up. Maybe I should have insisted on him coming back to classes, maybe it was just a rough phase which he should have persevered through. In the end, he finished his path as a guitarist, he is thinking about a rapping career at the moment and it will be a fun success story in which he will say that he failed in music hence he decided to switch to rap.

But the story did have a happy end. He was completely fine with dealing with his failure. To be perfectly honest, I was a tiny bit worried that it might leave a smear of awkwardness on our friendship, but there is another thing I recommend you to know about Justin Case - he cares nought about other people's view of him, as I said: he is a lovely chap altogether. Sometimes, I catch his mournful yet auspicious glimpses on his guitar - laying untouched in the corner...