My God, What Have I Done?

I made a very, very bad decision. I made the decision that I would take my hand-me-down guitar, and my Billie Joe vocal chords, and I would march onto a stage, in front of people. To play to them. I made the decision not to play any song, but the hit 2005 single, Dance, Dance. I love the song. It was one of the first songs I ever learned on the bass.

But alas. Fall Out Boy is a veritable mixed bag of fans. Either someone hates them to the core, or they worship the sky into which those boys peer. I could care less if someone doesn't like the music I listen to, but I'm in no mood to be hated just for a song I played my first time out. The kids at this performing school are all kids who I respect and want to impress. Now I'm starting to think I should have saved up my money for a Dean Flying V, that way they'd all assume I was six times cooler than the music playing on it.

A quick story. I once had a music teacher who was a steady believer in the idea that a showy guitar was only to distract from the musicianship of the owner. Since I followed his words like a gospel, I agreed. And it's really true about seventy-five percent of the time. Sometimes, there'll be that one guitarist who happens to own a signature guitar, and can actually work magic on it.

Anyway, now I'm faced with this sickening fate that is the fear of failing onstage in a horrid manner. My parents and grandparents are going to be there, along with my great-grandma and my great aunts and great uncle. And? I invited three of my friends. I am an idiot, an idiot who is going to play an obscene song for an audience primarily composed of people I share a DNA strand with, or who have seen me naked. I'm only about halfway to confident, so I can assure you all that tonight will be spent practicing until my fingers are bloody, and then practicing the bridge a few more times. Wish me luck. Pray to your deities.