Arpeggio: (n) the notes of a chord played in succession, either ascending or descending.

I didn’t want to be a girl.

I was nine years old–all boy–and was nervous that somehow or another, certain activities, if pursued feverishly, might cause me to switch genders.

I had taken piano lessons for three years without giving it a second thought. But at age nine, other young men of my acquaintance noticed that I was tinkling the keys and explained to me in horrid, vivid detail, how I was in danger of transforming into a chick.

I don’t know how they were privy to this valuable information, but they were quite confident it was true. Such good friends they were that they decided to try to shake me out of my piano-playing hysteria by mocking me, making fun of me after my lesson and even drawing pictures of girls on my Thompson music book.

So somewhere caught between Chopin and Liszt, I stopped playing.

It was less than five years later when I realized that playing the piano could be a tremendous aid in attracting women instead of becoming one. Unfortunately, because I stopped playing piano at the juncture when certain exercises were being perfected, I never learned how to play an efficient descending arpeggio.

I know this may mean very little to you and is certainly not a great way to try to gain your empathy, but I discovered I had the ability to play an arpeggio going up, with its many beautiful notes, but to reverse the process, telling my fingers to go the other direction as quickly as possible–well, it left me digitally challenged.

I subsisted for many years hiding my weakness from the general public by avoiding the need for such a maneuver. Then one day, a song I had written had a passage which suddenly demanded a descending arpeggio. (I realize this tale must be leaving you breathless, so I won’t tarry over the details.)

I sat on my stool, a fully grown man, practicing what I surely would have learned much more easily at the age of nine. At the end of the session, I played my first successful descending arpeggio.

I did not cry. That would have been too girly. (The misconception continues.)

But every time I get the chance to play this particular exercise, a big smile bursts forth inside my being because I realize I conquered a fear which was not of my own conceiving … but still swallowed by my ego.

Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix