Challenge ACCEPTED!

     Today, just after 10am, my boyfriend Jake was oddly munching on a chicken fettuccine frozen dinner. He claimed he needed to eat lunch before he left for work at 11. He had also just eaten breakfast, because, well, he always eats breakfast. And he made a peanut butter and jelly for his afternoon break. He eats. A lot. So, hopefully, one of these post will eventually be an amazing, homemade meal by me! But this post is diving into my creativity and skill of parody. So, here it goes. 

   September of 2009, I found an acoustic guitar, out of tune, in all it's glory, hidden in the nook of my parent's attic. They had bought it for my sisters and I years before in hopes we'd pick up a hobby. Obviously, it didn't quite work. But at that time in my life, I had just returned from my great adventure in Europe and had hit a dead end of sorts. Kind of a quarter life crisis where I had accidentally picked up a habit of spending my money at bars on gin and sins and PBR's instead of something to challenge my mind. I was working in the produce department of a Dillon's (or as the locals called it, "The Dirty D") and was waking up way to early for someone at the young and wild age of 23. I usually worked 6 days a week from 6 am to 3 or 4 pm. It was awful. While I loved working with produce (I'm the daughter of a grocery man), I didn't really like the hours. And when you get home at 2 or 3 am, a little intoxicated, it's hard to get out of bed at 5 am and actually do any kind of work. 

     So, there I was, in a rut, in need of something to jump out and really grab hold of my attention. And there it was, dusty, broken strings, incredibly out of tune, in need of someone to pick it up and show it some love. So, I packed up the guitar, who later earned the name Big Bessie, purchased a generic $20 cd-rom that "teaches you everything you need to know about guitar!" and began my journey into jamming. 

     I really have to be pushed to continue something. Someone has to keep kicking me in the shins and say, "Hey, you're good at this. Keep doing it!" so I don't get bored and quit. So, I found a guitar teacher. His name was Matt and he was a late-twenties, lived-through-the-grunge-era (I didn't mean to make that sound as if no one lived through it, just not Kurt Cobain...bad joke) kind of guy I needed to teach me, not just about how to play guitar, but how to really appreciate such an amazing instrument. If I ever play the guitar as well as this guy, I've made it. 

   He taught me classic rock, pop, 90's grunge, indie, and even a little bit of flamenco. I didn't just learn riffs and chords, I learned a hell of a lot about music; songs by The Beatles I'd never heard before, I listened to an entire Nirvana cd (I was kind of young and drawn into Nsync during those days, a dark time in my life), and pretty much every song by Tom Petty. It was an experience that really picked me up in such a boring time in my life. I continued lessons from 2009 up through October of 2011, when Matt had to retire at an early age because he and his wife welcomed an adorable baby into the world. So, you can imagine he became a bit too busy. 

   Alas, I too had to call it quits on jam sessions because of my recent move. But why did I quit? Why did I stop playing "Layla" as loudly as I could just to watch the people outside look around for that crazy noise that "I'm sure their kids are going to love" ("Back to the Future" reference)? Why did I keep all 4 guitars, Big Bessie (6 string acoustic), Artie (6 string electric Jake bought me), unnamed 6 string electric I bought in 2010, and Alf (the 12 string acoustic from the 70's) bagged up and under my bed?

  I have only one answer and I don't like to admit it, but I'm fairly lazy. If I'm not challenged to do something, I'm very content just sitting and watching weird shows about the Loch Ness monster on the Travel Channel (no, that has absolutely nothing to do with what's on my TV right now...maybe it does, though). 

  Back to this morning. On his way out the door, Jake looked at me, still pajama'd up and relaxing on the couch and made a very unsubtle attempt to motivate me. He pointed at Artie and said, "You can play your guitar today." 

"Sure," I replied, still enthralled with HGTV.

"You should write me a song!" He finally grabbed my attention.

"You want me to write a song?" 

"Yes! A rock ballad! You can serenade me when I get home at 7. You have 8 hours! You better get started."

He grabbed his keys, said his 'I love you's' and walked out the door. I'm sure he doesn't actually think I'm going to write him a song, but due to the fact that I'm still unemployed and already went to the gym, my list of things to do today is complete. It would appear as though I've got nothing left to do but write a rock ballad. 

    I know that the remaining 6 hours I have is not enough time, but I've already got the tune down (I'm borrowing Ben Kweller's "Run" as inspiration) now I just need to write some lyrics. Yeah, they'll be hilarious and probably not be super romantic, we can't all write about how "I'm the one who wants to be with you", can we Mr. Big? But I'll give it a shot for the day. Plus, Artie has been very lonely. He just needs me to pick him up, show him some love, and spend my day doing something more than napping and learning about Nessie. So, my attempt at jamming for hours begins, and perhaps it's the swift kick in the ass I need to jump back into a hobby I love and a good start to overcoming the unemployed laziness blues. Artie, I'm truly the one who wants to be with you. And deep inside I know you feel it, too (feeeeel it tooo!) 

Thanks, Mr. Big.