A Few Good Words

For a majority of the sixty six years of my life I have wanted to be a musician. I have made attempts to learn various instruments, and learned and forgotten how to read music (at a basic level.) Early in life I formed my own definition and images of what it meant to be a musician or songwriter.

A true musician could read music as easily as I read a children’s book. A true musician could play music perfectly and consistently, in front of an audience. When a true musician mastered a song or difficult passage of music, they could continue to play that music correctly and skillfully. A true musician has the skills. I didn’t know enough to know that was not always the case. I wanted to be a guitar player who ”has the chops.”

Before, if someone asked if I am a musician, I would say “I play around with guitars and drums.” Or something equally noncommittal. But now I will say “Yes, I am a musician.” I have none of the skills that I just listed, but I love my instruments and I use them regularly. I can use them to make sounds that are just sometimes pleasing and consistent. I don’t feel the need to hold myself back by refusing to own a name I can claim if I choose. I don’t have to be a great musician, just good enough for myself.

So now I answer “Am I a musician? Yes, a piss poor musician.” No shame or embarrassment, because I am good enough for now and I can still get better. I can live with that.