Hi, Swirls of Truth readers. My name’s BBK and I’m an alcoholic. (Not really. But kind of.) Anyway, I hail all the way from The Big Blog of All the Shit I Know, a brilliant and sexy blog that will give you mind orgasms for days. (Not really. But kind of.) Without further bullshitting, here’s my gift to LividFrost and you, her intellectually gorgeous readers. Cheers.
Playing an instrument is an indication that you are a cultivated, intelligent, marvelous specimen of a human being. Enough said. Because of this, it is reasonable to believe that merely picking up an instrument automatically makes someone a cultivated, intelligent, marvelous specimen of a human being. Post hoc ergo what a bunch of crap.
Infallible logic in mind, I picked up ukulele a few months ago: Oh, what a great travel instrument, I thought. Shouldn’t be much harder than guitar – easier, actually. However, being a person who has the tendency to run away at the slightest suggestion of inadequacy and failure, I hit a plateau and it has been two months since I last even took the damn thing out of its case. You know the feeling. For those of you who don’t, you’re in denial, so let me take you through the rest of The Five Stages of Grief.
Oh no no, this is totes fun. I can play the uke. Listen, listen, it’s “I’m Yours” – isn’t that awesome? What? Do I know any other songs?… Does a faster version of “I’m Yours” count?
F–king ukulele, you’re ruining my life. Stay in tune, goddammit. I can’t f–king believe I spent a hundred dollars on you, you stupid piece of sh-t. How the freakin frack fruckin farshiminnahanahahna hard is it to learn an E chord? Why the hell is my pinky so motherf–king short? Stupid barre chords.
O great Flying Spaghetti Monster, I promise promise promise to be a proper Pastafarian if you just give me the strength to not smash my beautiful, inspiring ukulele against this concrete right now. If you present me with this one favor, I will swear off watching “Duck Dynasty” forever.
What’s the point? Nope. Just nope. I will never – NEVER – be able to play the ukulele. Who was I kidding? I suck at uke. I suck at instruments. I suck at life. Pass the bottle.
I, BBK, suck at playing the ukulele, and I am okay with the possibility that I may never so much as pick it up again and that there are more things to life than trying to do something you were never really truly fullheartedly interested in anyway.
Bonus: Rinse, Lather, Repeat
Oh no no, this is totes fun. I can play the uke…
And there you have The
Five Six Stages of Grief. Go forth and be smarter, my friends.
BBK is a fellow semi-insane Asian and the manic-depressed student half of a supposed partnership over at The Big Blog of All the Shit I Know, where she writes about culture, Scientology, and ideas that will save the world or something cute like that.