New Year, inspiration

Last night I picked up my guitar for the first time in several months. It had been cased and pushed under the bed about a month ago as part of my ongoing efforts to reduce clutter. But I was inspired by a) it being the first of the year and b) the musicians, writers, and artists all around us earlier yesterday evening.

We were invited to a New Year's Day open house in Manhattan, hosted by my husband's aunt and uncle. This is an artistic family. The aunt writes fiction, the two female daughters, P.'s cousins, are singers, and successful ones. One sings opera and the other is more pop-focused. She's even had a song played on a popular TV show. P's uncle is a mathematician, but is writing a novel.

Beyond the relatives, the party was full of other artistic people. I barely know P's family, so I was feeling rather awkward for the first half hour we were there. After some initial introductions, I thought P and I would be spending the party talking to ourselves.

I noticed his cousins, however, introducing themselves to everyone new that arrived. They obviously did not know everyone their mother had invited, but were helping her out in welcoming people. So next time I got up to check out the food table, I took their lead and introduced myself to the person standing there. I asked how he knew the hosts, what he did for a living, etc. He was in the middle of writing a novel and had already written several plays, of which some had been performed. So we had an interesting conversation about writing.

I continued in this vein throughout the party, striking up conversations with whomever was nearby. P began to do the same and we ended up meeting some very cool people and having nice chats about art, music, and politics. Most of the crowd was liberal, so that certainly helped.

I mentioned to one man that I played guitar but hadn't played in a while. I didn't mention my ongoing feeling that I'm a fake, that I'm not a "real" musician — even though I've performed, sung and played in front of audiences a number of times. But I feel this way about my writing and art, too, so what can I say?

I said to him, "Maybe I'll take out my guitar when I get home tonight." I think once such statements leave your mouth you should follow through on them. So I did. I tuned it and then picked for about fifteen minutes before bedtime. I hadn't forgotten everything. It's a start, and feel ready to learn a new song now. I'll report on that later...