(no subject)
Marv is tall, chunky, pasty and dressed entirely in black shapeless clothing. Black shoes, black pants, floppy black t-shirt. His hair is so blonde it's almost white, so thin as to be just a short step away from bald. He has terrible breath and he can barely see without his thickly-rimmed black square-framed glasses, which make for a most unfortunate combination. The bad eyesight makes him sit uncomfortably close to me, causing his mouth to be just inches from my nose. Every time he speaks I want to jump off the metal folding chair and cling to the ceiling, where fresh air is sure to be in more ample supply.
But then he smiles a really genuine smile, smacks his fleshy palms together and (finally) sits back in his seat. "Well, Emily, I sure am glad to be working with you. I think we're gonna have a lot of fun."
Marv is my guitar teacher. And I love him.
He looks and acts nothing like how I imagine a 40-something-year-old guitar instructor should look and act. I had pictured an aging hippie-type, maybe with a bad combover, a nubby cardigan with big wooden buttons, and little Lennon-esque spectacles. Nope. I was more than a little surprised when I walked into the music school Wednesday, clumsily toting my guitar case, trying to keep it from whacking the tiny MusikGarten tots scampering around. Standing there in the hall was Marv, grinning wide, waving at me, and not an ounce of what I had expected. He ushered me into the sweatbox-style instruction room (so cramped it brought to mind visions of airplane lavatories) and proceeded to tell me about his teaching style while quizzing me on tuning and chords. Having played (badly) since high school, I knew most of the chords and Marv seemed pleasantly surprised. And when he picked up his guitar and tossed out a stylized little blues progression, I was pleasantly surprised as well. Appearances (and breath) be damned - I'm excited to learn from this guy.
Speaking of pleasant surprises. this week was full of them. I finally met with my new general practitioner, who I'll call Dr. Awesome because she is, in fact, awesome. She is an absolute dream physician, kind and thorough and REAL, which is a pleasant surprise to me after going through my six-month Medical Nightmare, which featured characters like Dr. Bling Bling who wore huge diamonds everywhere and charged me an arm and a leg for a misdiagnosis that actually made my condition worse, and Dr. Cold Heart, who booted me out of her office because it was lunch hour and made me wait for my ride in the blistering July heat at a time when I was so sick I could barely stand. I am almost as excited about Dr. Awesome as I am about Marv, except visiting Marv is mostly painless and all subsequent visits to Dr. Awesome will probably involve poking of some kind.
More pleasant surprises this week included unexpected mailbox correspondence from some of my closest male buds (rarely the letter-writers), catching not one but two movies at the Maple Art Cinema ("goodnight and goodluck" and "pride and prejudice"), and getting a "perhaps" instead of a "no" from my dad on the subject of me getting a pet. Not a full "yes" yet, but at least a step in the right direction.
All in all, a pretty good week. No more doctor visits until the 18th. Oh, and I got a library card to the Rochester Hills Public Library, which is beautiful and quiet and allows me to focus on the freelance work.
My next session with Marv is Wednesday, at which time we'll be reviewing pick control. And guess where he keeps his picks?
In a breathmints tin.
But then he smiles a really genuine smile, smacks his fleshy palms together and (finally) sits back in his seat. "Well, Emily, I sure am glad to be working with you. I think we're gonna have a lot of fun."
Marv is my guitar teacher. And I love him.
He looks and acts nothing like how I imagine a 40-something-year-old guitar instructor should look and act. I had pictured an aging hippie-type, maybe with a bad combover, a nubby cardigan with big wooden buttons, and little Lennon-esque spectacles. Nope. I was more than a little surprised when I walked into the music school Wednesday, clumsily toting my guitar case, trying to keep it from whacking the tiny MusikGarten tots scampering around. Standing there in the hall was Marv, grinning wide, waving at me, and not an ounce of what I had expected. He ushered me into the sweatbox-style instruction room (so cramped it brought to mind visions of airplane lavatories) and proceeded to tell me about his teaching style while quizzing me on tuning and chords. Having played (badly) since high school, I knew most of the chords and Marv seemed pleasantly surprised. And when he picked up his guitar and tossed out a stylized little blues progression, I was pleasantly surprised as well. Appearances (and breath) be damned - I'm excited to learn from this guy.
Speaking of pleasant surprises. this week was full of them. I finally met with my new general practitioner, who I'll call Dr. Awesome because she is, in fact, awesome. She is an absolute dream physician, kind and thorough and REAL, which is a pleasant surprise to me after going through my six-month Medical Nightmare, which featured characters like Dr. Bling Bling who wore huge diamonds everywhere and charged me an arm and a leg for a misdiagnosis that actually made my condition worse, and Dr. Cold Heart, who booted me out of her office because it was lunch hour and made me wait for my ride in the blistering July heat at a time when I was so sick I could barely stand. I am almost as excited about Dr. Awesome as I am about Marv, except visiting Marv is mostly painless and all subsequent visits to Dr. Awesome will probably involve poking of some kind.
More pleasant surprises this week included unexpected mailbox correspondence from some of my closest male buds (rarely the letter-writers), catching not one but two movies at the Maple Art Cinema ("goodnight and goodluck" and "pride and prejudice"), and getting a "perhaps" instead of a "no" from my dad on the subject of me getting a pet. Not a full "yes" yet, but at least a step in the right direction.
All in all, a pretty good week. No more doctor visits until the 18th. Oh, and I got a library card to the Rochester Hills Public Library, which is beautiful and quiet and allows me to focus on the freelance work.
My next session with Marv is Wednesday, at which time we'll be reviewing pick control. And guess where he keeps his picks?
In a breathmints tin.