Max: Because I Wanted To

Too often over the past 13 years since I got my first bass, I put more effort into finding reasons not to practice than I ever put into actually practicing. As a result, I got very good at not practicing and remained quite mediocre at the bass. I have practiced at least once a day, often twice a day, since coming back from bass camp. This morning I was quite tired from a poor night's sleep and much in need of making some food to take for lunch, so I passed on my morning practice. It was not a grievous sin. The few mornings I've not practiced, I always made up for it at night.

Then, tonight, the bastards at Discovery Times decided to show 2 episodes of "500 Nations," a very cool series on Native Americans. I watched because that would still leave enough time for a decent practice session after. Then after came. I got up and just about fell over. Lack of sleep was hitting me hard and I really just wanted to go to bed. So, I made myself a deal, I would take today off and get some sleep and then no more slacking. So, I gave the dog her dinner. As I was putting the measuring cup away and starting to aim myself towards bed, I was struck by a strong desire to come up here, strap on my bass and practice for a while. It wasn't a sense of obligation, it wasn't a fear that if I didn't I would always suck as a bass player. It was that I simply wanted to, I knew that I would enjoy it for its own sake.

So, I came up, strapped on my bass and practiced. And I enjoyed it.

I thought I loved bass before Bass Camp. But since then, I have found a love for my bass, a sense of (dare I say it) play in my playing. And every day, that love grows stronger. There is something else that has (changed? amplified?) since Bass Camp.