Guitar has been in my life for quite a long time, not that I every really ended up trying to play it much until recently. The first time I ever laid my hands on a guitar was around the age of seven. It was my cousins stunning pink guitar, that kind of pink that’s so bright it almost makes you sick when you look at it but I didn’t seem to care as I strummed what probably sounded like the worst thing ever composed. After that day with my cousin and her pink guitar I started to experience the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon (For those of you who don’t know, that’s when you see or learn something new, and then it seems to be popping up and appearing everywhere after) with guitars. They started showing up everywhere, and people started to walk around with them all the time, it was really kind of interesting.
The second time I actually got to lay my hands on a guitar was in sixth grade, my middle schools guitar class, and again, I did pretty much the same thing, play some terrible collection of the odd notes and occasional proper stum. I had to take guitar class for a quarter of the year, every year, for three years and it was by far my least favourite class because our teacher only taught us what he wanted us to know. When I left that school my fasination with guitar had almost been all but lost. I felt I’d give it one last chance before I decided to drop guitar from my life (And I’m glad I took the last chance). I signed up for guitar as one of my elective classes, and once I got in to it, I figured I should get my own guitar so I oculd practice and play outside of school. I started saving up the next day, not that I ever did manage to by my own guitar.
Over Christmas break I noticed this massive box wrapped in gift wrap hidden in my house. I figured it was just some Christmas gift, and my mother claimed it was a gift for my dad so I threw it out of my mind. Come Christmas morning, I was a little confused when my dad told me I should open the (unlabled, and extrememly awkward to hold) box. It only took me one second after pulling off the first bit of wrapping paper to know that the gift wasn’t really for my dad. After I knew what it was, I was like that kid you see on tv shows, running down the stairs with so much excitement about what he might be getting for his gifts.
Hourse later I was sitting in my bedroom, fooling around on my guitar and trying to find a name for it (Because, you know, every guitar should have a name if you ask me). As I was struggling to learn I’m Yours by Jason Mraz, I decided I’d name my guitar Caroline, for no particular reason aside from the fact that I thought it fit. And that was the birth of Caroline (Aka The Sirens Deafening. A nickname my friend gave it simply to mess with me) my guitar.