Practice, say what?!

Apparently to learn a language or instrument when an adult, your chances of developing dementia is lessened dramatically.

You may ask what part of the brain is used in this scenario, so I’ll tell you. It’s the part that hurts. The part that has a direct connection to the outside of your face, that screws up in pain when using it. This is one of the first things my piano teacher told me in our first lesson, last week. So you can imagine my enthusiasm to get to it, so in the end my mind outlives my body.

Yes, I have begun taking piano lessons. After learning through primary school and somehow graduating from a music degree where I somehow passed ‘piano class’ three years ago, I am now at the point where I am ready to learn, because I want to. I have successfully not retained anything that I learnt when it was a task I had to do, but that’s ok. I have now become at one with the challenge of learning a new instrument and have the most important ingredient of self-motivation on my side. There’s one more essential ingredient when wanting something bad enough to do something about it, and that is green envy. I keep meeting these freakishly talented musicians who call themselves, say, a guitarist, but actually play five other instruments and five other variations of those instruments as well. I’m not going to lie, it makes me jealous. I can’t go to another jam session and just sit there, hoping I’ll get the chance to play one of my own songs and everyone will just play along with me. I need to be able to add some sprinkle to everything else.

So, wish me luck. I’m thinking I’m going to need it, because the thought of conventional practice is still swaying between making me feel sick, and making me feel sexy. And I need to get to the sexy feeling, period.

Beth