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October 23, 2009 Leave a comment Go to comments


I’m currently at a wild, but not necessarily exotic place in my life.  I keep reminding myself that I’m young, though I can’t help but see the glaring realities of my situation: I’m unemployed, dispassionate about the plan I had formulated for the last year, and not quite sure where to go from here.  I suppose I’m comforted by the fact that many others are in a similar dilemma.  But still, imagining this untangible doesn’t make waking up every morning any easier.

I’ve always been a person who lives heavily in his own head.  I share constantly, because to do otherwise would cause either my heart or my head to spontaneously combust.  I’m the kind of guy who NEEDS a solid relaxant that I can always return to.

In this case, and in so many other similar instances, I turn to my Martin guitar.  Cheesy though it is, I have a real emotional connection to my instrument.  First of all, to me, Martins are not just any guitar.  Like Ford, Coke, or John Deer; Martin is an American classic.  They are as integral to the American musical tradition as any other single factor, and so I react with equal amounts of pride and awe while playing my own.  Moreover, my guitar – though I suppose it could be any guitar, really – allows me to fully escape the mental pitfalls of life.  As I play, I’m at once completely physically present, though I couldn’t be further away mentally.  It is almost impossible to talk with me while I’m playing.  I’m really gone in a lot of ways.  And while I wish I could parlay my passion into a career, I’m content to just use my guitar as an agent of escape.

There’s a lot that could go wrong in my life at this point.  The stakes are higher than they’ve ever been, and I’m surrounded by people I love, whom I desperately don’t want to let down.  I think about this every morning that I wake up.  It’s heavy, very heavy.  However, I will admit it’s all palatable, well, in a lot of ways, but most readily because my Martin guitar is among the first things I see every morning.  So while I’m probably thinking dreadful thoughts, at least there is a solid anchor nearby to keep me from floating off into a morass of self-doubt and insecurity.

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