Once upon a time in a small town in rural Virginia, a tween girl rented a movie from the video store called Josie and the Pussycats. The glam, the sass, the soundtrack and the whole package enticed her. While this was far from her first venture into a passion for music, it sealed the deal. She signed up for chorus class in middle school and —
Ahem. Middle school was awful. High school wasn’t a huge improvement. College took ten years. The end.
Okay, I kid. Still, Josie is one of my favorite movies to this day and the music is bangin’. I wanted Josie’s hair, voice, and life. I stayed in the school choir throughout middle school, abandoned it in high school, and returned in my community college days. I was fortunate to have an electric keyboard and a guitar, but I had no formal instrument training until college. My brain responds better to keyed instruments like the piano and falters with stringed ones, and as quarantine persisted, I thought about I could use the time at home to practice something again. I looked at electric pianos and keyboards since moving an upright or grand piano in and out of a tiny apartment would be a disaster; however, the electric counterparts were not as wallet-friendly as I preferred. During a session of general internet perusal, I came across suggestions pointing to ukuleles. Their compact size would make them portable and generally inexpensive, although you can certainly drop plenty of money if you wish. They have four strings instead of a guitar’s six (yes, I know a bass guitar has four; don’t @ me), and the material is friendlier for breaking in fingertips that haven’t touched the steel-wrapped strings of an acoustic guitar in over ten years. Because I was bored, had extra cash on hand, and impulsive, my ADHD brain decided that I had to have this little guy.
I waited eagerly for the package to arrive. I tracked it on UPS like a madwoman. When it finally arrived, I was overjoyed. My uke! It was here! I was going to have a new way to entertain myself AND I could irritate the amateur musician living in the apartment above me. This was a win-win.
Well, unfortunately, ADHD flounders outside of rigorous external schedules. I bought my ukulele, watched about two whole YouTube lessons, and then put it in my closet for safekeeping. With it out of sight, it slipped my mind. Hopefully, now that I am shaming myself on the internet, I will be arsed to create a practice schedule and stick to it.
Next week will be a recap of my first concert in the era of COVID. Stick around and stay safe, friends!