A Singaporean In Australia

I stopped playing the guitar for 15 years. There was one lying around in the store, a loan from an ex-supervisor when he learnt that I used to enjoy playing it. I have been guilty for not returning the guitar, since I have not even bother to pick it up and play it seriously even once. Deep down, I knew I was fearful of facing the despair of losing all my playing abilities.

It is not that I was a really good player in the first place. In fact, years of meddling around with a guitar was fueled by only my passion. I was not talented enough to be good at it. It was through playing the guitar that I learnt some early lessons in life. Life is not fair and will never be. Extreme hard work does not always triumph over talents. The tortoise only win in fairy tales. Ironically recently I found myself reading a story about the tortoise and the hare to Albany. I wonder when I can tell her about the harsh realities of life. Some things, the earlier we know, the better.

Nonetheless I enjoyed playing the guitar. At least I could grind myself to playing some of my favourite songs in "Fingerstyle" without making mistakes. Due to the fact I was merely using my muscle memories, I would never be good enough to compose or arrange my own tabs. Despite that, at one point, I managed to play "Cavatina" at one go, even in the darkness of my own room. I always thought that playing the guitar is similar to swimming or cycling - once you have attained a certain level, you'll never forget it.

The reason why I stopped playing the guitar was a rather bizarre one. Chocolate, the feisty Jack Russel Terrier that we adopted that later turned out to be the favourite of the 4 dogs we had, hated the guitar. Every time I attempted to play it, he would emerge from the furthest corner of the world and dash  towards the sound box of my guitar and lash out at the strings. His nonsensical behavior made it impossible for me to play. In the end, I decided that the easiest solution was to hang the guitars up for good.

The relationship with the guitar was somewhat re-established after I had this conversation with my ex-supervisor during my trade assistant stint in the metal fabrication factory. When Steve lent me the guitar that "nobody plays anymore", I was delighted. It would be a good opportunity for me to pick up one of very few things I enjoy in life again. Furthermore, I was lonely in Perth during my early days and the nights were so, so quiet. The sound of the guitar would have rung beautifully through the serenity of this place. 

However fate had the last say. Due to handling of heavy power tools for long hours day in, day out, I eventually had to endure with insurmountable pain in all my finger joints. At one stage, I had to sleep with my fingers under my head so that I would not accidentally bend any fingers in my sleep because doing so would be painful enough to jolt me awake from sleep. Every morning, I had to beg pitifully for Jen to help me massage my fingers so that I could start moving them. On some days, she would be frustrated with these extra chores and did not attempt to hide it. I felt terrible and wondered if I had permanently damaged my fingers. There was only two situations when I felt no pain. The first was when I carried my newborn and the second was the moment I switched on my power tools at work. It was the kind of situation where you either grip them tight enough or risk cutting your face in during an unexpected recoil. 2 years on after I left the job, there wasn't any pain when I move my fingers in the mornings. However there will be traces of it when I have to grip something really tight. My joints also feel extremely tight and bulky. 

I did pick up the guitar once when I was still living in Gosnells, when Stephen kept persuading me to play it during a dinner invitation. The long lay off from playing was one thing but as far as guitar playing was concerned, my fingers were disabled. I did not touch the guitar again since. Until today.

It still felt terrible. It could be worse than the first time I picked up a guitar and tried playing it. Imagine the agony knowing that I could play yet I couldn't. I was lucky to have a good few hours being alone at home while the girls were out. I patiently drilled through my basics like a tortoise. There were pain coming from everywhere. The joints and even the skin at the fingertips, where it was supposed to be "well seasoned" a long, long time ago. I sat in front of my computer and watched a "Fingerstyle" tutorial of one of the songs that reminded me of my Secondary School days. The name of the song was "Greensleeves."

Back in those days, self taught guitar materials were incredibly hard to find, especially the "Fingerstyle" genre. These days, the resources at our disposal is criminal, due to the access to the Internet. There is never a better time to learn the guitar, maimed fingers or not. I chose not to relearn all of the fantastic songs I mastered in the past because the dismay of forgetting or coming to terms with my disability to play them was too much. "Greensleeves" was a perfect choice to restart all over again. It was a familar song, yet one I had never learnt or played in "Fingerstyle" before. Most importantly, it was a simple one to learn.

Despite it's simplicity, I found myself struggling through the songs. I felt like an elephant balancing on a circus ball. By the time I started to get a hang of things, my fingertips hurt. I ignored and played through it, just like I always did, acknowledging the familiarity of the pain. By then, the girls were back. Albany greeted the unfamiliar sight of the instrument with delight, exclaiming, "Guitar!" Immediately, she ran over and attempted frenzied strumming with her little hand. I showed her the temporary deep marks at my fingertips and told her it would be painful to learn how to play it. She insisted that she wanted to learn it. We'll see.

To entertain little Albany, I decided to play something that she knew too well, "Twinkle twinkle little stars." Though it was one of the most straightforward songs you can learn, I would have never succeed in arranging it myself. I could only learn and memorise it by heart, remember? To my surprise, somehow I managed to complete a "Fingerstyle" (albeit over-simplistic) arrangement of the simple song in a few minutes. I played it for Albany and asked her if she recognised the song. She beamed and called out the title of the song.

I think I am going to take the guitar to bed tonight, just like how I used to do it.