of guitars and memories

I am presently rediscovering my long-forgotten passion (if I could call it passion in the first place) – playing the guitar. Due to Francis’ insistence that I re-learn how to play it and not just be forever stuck on chords A, C, D, G, E and Em, at the same time persuading me that it’ll be very useful for the band, I gave in. So last weekend, we headed to Sta. Mesa to score some cheap guitar as my first step to being the female Joe Satriani.

It’s funny to look back at how I first came to establish romance with all those frets and strings: it was in high school, where, it seems, knowing how to strum simple tunes was the “in” thing. Then came college and I met wonderful guitar players (count Francis in) in UP Music Circle. And so the passion died and I just concentrated on playing with vocal chords. But now the prospect of being able to play an instrument aside from singing on stage seems a lot appealing. Hence, I am on the road to being a guitar master. Hardeeharhar.

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There are certain songs that remind us of certain moments, be they good or bad. In my case, it’s not just one or two songs, but a whole album – The Corrs’ Home. (I’ve always been a fan of the Irish group, though I must admit I only have two of their albums. Nevertheless, I’m still a fan.) And as I am currently listening to it now, the group’s spectacular Irish tunes never fail to bring me back to beloved Baguio.

A few months ago, as the bus trekked the long and winding road to that enchanting place, I immersed myself to Home to keep myself from being bored of the six-hour trip. Thanks to Francis for giving me that album as a Valentine gift. So now, since I’ve been longing to go back, I just comfort myself with memories evoked by Andrea’s vocals and tin whistle, Sharon’s violin, Caroline’s bodhran, and Jim’s guitar and keyboards.

On the other hand, my mom tells me she’s reminded of Nanay, who once said it’s like listening to Muslim music. I found it silly then. But now that she’s no longer with us, I find it endearing.

That’s probably one of the many good things about music: it makes us remember good things even if they’re just memories….