I think this is a bit about love, opportunity, infatuation and the high feelings of meeting someone new that one genuinely connects with. My feelings for guitar man are long gone, but my writing remains. 🙂
(Written originally last November 14, 2008)
One and fives. Special things seem to happen in the increments of one month and five days– an arithmetic progression of the heart.
It was August 10 when girl pal one got officially attached to her long-term beau. One month and five days later, September 15, girl pal two decided to abandon one rule of dating to take a chance of getting a happy ending with her bestfriend, who is now her boyfriend. Because of them, I was actually joking about October 20… Who’s the next lucky girl pal?
But when the actual day came, I forgot about that whole thing. Until a particular multiply post (“Monday the 20th”) reminded me that something happened that time. No girl pal got hitched. But it was the day I met the guitar man…
I call him that because I didn’t want to call him dark blue (the color of his shirt when we met the first night), Domac’s (his default meal), or by his real name (shempre, nasa blog ko nga e diba. Duh). I also made a promise to him that I’ll post something about guitars. But actually, it was the guy behind the guitar who got my attention more.
I honestly don’t know how to go about interspersing my promise and my feelings in a single post, but I’ll just go by way of asking on question: What happens when an unexpecting and jaded person meets someone who somehow effortlessly manages to make sweet, sweet music out of her broken strings? An answer in one word: MAGIC.
That first meeting blossomed to texting, constant calls and meeting occasionally to make conversation that makes adjacent people within earshot green with envy and eavesdropping (haha). It’s just like when you hear a really nice song and you try to strum it on your favorite guitar. No matter how hard the chords are, you strum until you get the melody right. And even when rivulets of sweat fall off your brows after, you feel accomplished. It is worth the effort, worth the time. And once you connect the chords to produce even just one sound, you know that you will not stop until you get to the end of the song. And you want to repeat the experience. That, ladies and gentlemen, is how I feel whenever I am with him.
I always had a preoccupation with spontaneity. Well-meaning friends have set me up with their guy friends, but they don’t know that I like my surprises as genuine surprises – just handed to me at a time that I least expect with no bridges nor introductions whatsoever. Just BAM! And then it’s up to the person to dazzle me further once he had me at hello.
A strange habit I had while growing up was that I liked listening to guitar-played music with eyes closed, especially when the strings are plucked rhythmically. I enjoy the texture of the notes being played, and when I isolate the sound and see nothing else and rely on my hearing for the details, it means so much more. You know what’s surprising? The guitar man seems to feel the texture of my life’s strings in that exact same way. I really believe that there are no bad guitars to a really good guitarist. In the same way, there are no bad women to a passionate man who knows exactly how to handle them. Whether from gut or experience or instinct. Or whatever.
When composing songs with one’s guitar, one just connects with the song and the rest of the world fade into background at that sacred moment of composing. Just like a writer in her element when she wields her words from the heart (ehem). When my life’s path crossed with his, for awhile, I was entranced by the connection we had for each other. It just had me, some of my world fell to a standstill for awhile (but I’m trying to drag myself again to do other things, okay.). I have yet to find out whether this is a Vivaldi piece (a classic favorite of mine) or just another short love song that ends too soon, just like all the other love songs I had in the past. What I do know is this: the memories I am creating with him now seem to create some new song to my ears that is both appealing and worth giving a shot.
Sometimes, when you played a song really well on the guitar, you do a double take. You stop with a surreal feeling, an out-of-body experience– as if you cannot believe that the lovely music being produced just came out of your fingers. And for this whole month, the experience of meeting the guitar man felt that way to me. That it felt too good to be true is an understatement. But last I woke up and pinched myself amd saw my arm turn crimson, I knew this for a fact: reality is really better than my dreams now. I just have to get used to it because I honestly need to get busy soon.
Just like a mangled guitar (there have been a few who used me just to gain playing experience), I needed to tune certain strings. Snap out of the magical moment because I am not being productive these days (because I am still amazed, that’s why. and he doesn’t seem to understand it as much, but i do, right to the bottom of my er, heart). And I do recognize that while plaing guitar music is pleasurable, I still also need to make room for everything else in my life: eating, walking, finishing college and *gasps* promoting world peace. Haha. Moreover, I don’t want to desensitize me and the guitar man and jinx this whole thing as it blossoms before my eyes. I want our “piece” (for lack of a better term) to be something in moderation – given just the right thought and attention. (Note to self: snap out of the disbelief and just start getting used to it. And take a chill pill so he won’t feel so pressured.)
The guitar man likes to check out the music stores for really nice-looking guitars. But at the end of the day, he goes back to his room and makes lovely music with the guitar that has been with him through thick and thin, its familiar strings a welcome relief after a hard day’s work. I can imagine his fingers sliding through the familiar texture of his tuned strings and he just regurgigitates chords in pretty much the same manner I produce words on my blog or my journal.
He started out liking me for the things that he saw in me at the outset. But if you ask me now, I’d honestly want to be as familiar and as well-loved as the guitar in his bedroom, not just another cute and shiny guitar he sees in the stores (though it certainly does not hurt to look fit, good and shiny as the rest of the bunch!). Not something that is just admired, but something that can withstand the test of time.
Anyway, you might think that I am counting another one month and five days for another special event to happen to me or my friends.
Actually, I stopped counting. I don’t need to count anymore because since the guitar man made himself known to me, everyday is already special.
To sweet November and beyond.
Guitar man, you really are something.