Tag: life

Thought and Opinion

Hoarding

Does anyone remember watching that TV show on A&E called “Hoarders”? The one that documents the struggles of people who can’t part with their belongings?

Each episode showcases family members going over to their relative’s homes and having to literally climb over mountains of old newspapers and video tapes just to get into the bathroom. For the life of me, I could never understand why people would let things get so out of control that they would just accumulate piles of crap and never get rid of it.

Today, I think I started to realize why.

I’ve been meaning to paint and re-finish an old three-drawer night stand but never got around to it. A night stand that has been with me for the longest time and over the years, through various events and moving to new homes, has become a repository for numerous papers and other things. Things that I had for the most part, completely forgotten about.

This past week, my brother offered to paint the night stand for me and I took him up on his offer. He would sand down the surfaces of the furniture and apply a fresh coat of semi gloss white. Prior to beginning the project, he made sure to empty out all of the drawers and place their contents on the bedroom floor. I must say that after completing his task, the night stand looks brand new.

The now completed project was also a welcome opportunity for me to throw out the useless “stuff” that had taken up residence in the drawers of my nightstand. I brought a garbage bag up to the bedroom with every intention of collecting non-essential items and tossing them.

The first thing I picked up was my iPad, something I always like to have at bedside just in case the mood strikes to read an article or check my email. Into the drawer it went. Next up was the Bible. Another mandatory requirement for any dresser (because you never know when you’re going to need it). So far, so good.

The third thing I picked up was a manilla folder that had “Biology 103” written on it. I opened it up and discovered that inside was my typed up college term paper from 1996. A college term paper that I had gotten an “A” on by the way. What the heck was that still doing there 16 years later? I proceeded to open the garbage bag and place the folder inside when a strange feeling came over me, and a little voice inside my head suddenly said:

“This was the only time you EVER got an “A” on a biology assignment. You should save it.” … Ok, I put it to the side.

Next up, a collection of birthday cards that for some ridiculous reason I had saved from my 30th birthday. That’s right, birthday cards from 1999. As I re-read them, I started to remember all of the people who had sent me birthday salutations; some of whom I am no longer in contact with. I began to get sentimental.

At that moment, the little voice chimes in again and says: “But, you only turn 30 once in your life… certainly you want to save these, right?” … I have to admit, it took quite a bit of effort, but the cards eventually went into the garbage bag.

Next, an old Day Timer from 1993. Now, you’ve got to be kidding me. A scheduling planner from NINETEEN-NINETY-THREE?? What the heck?? Certainly, this has to go. But before I threw it out, I just had to take one last look. Sure enough, I saw all of the scheduled events I had filled out from almost 20 years ago.

Little voice: “Do you really want to throw away and forget everything you did in 1993?” … UGH, this is really starting to get difficult.

Other things I discovered:

A bunch of owners manuals for electronic devices that I no longer even own.

A Penn State calendar from 1987 (My first year in college).

A notebook filled with song lyrics and poems I had written from 1985.

I suddenly began to have empathy for those people on Hoarders who just kept everything. It’s hard throwing away memories.

I was finally able to commit myself to tossing anything that was from 2010 or later and, staying true to my word managed to throw most of it away. I tied up the garbage bag tightly, and put it out in the garage. By committing to a date range, deciding on what to throw away was easy.

The hard part now is going to be ignoring the little voice and not going out to retrieve it all before the garbage man comes on Monday.

Wish me luck.

Childhood Memories, Life

What’s In A Name?

Wood. It’s been my last name for as long as I can remember. It’s not as common as say a “Smith” or a “Jones”, but I’m sure it’s up somewhere near the top in terms of commonality. The truth is, I’ve really started to grow fond of it. With four letters, it’s an easy name for people to remember. And it also allows for me to be called “Woody”, a really cool nickname.

But I have to admit, growing up and having “Wood” as a last name angered me; especially during my  school years. And I think my problem with it actually started way back in second grade.

In class, the teacher made a list of a dozen or so menial tasks for students to do over the course of the school year. Each student would be assigned a task to do every day for several weeks before moving on to the next task in the list. Some of the tasks were rather boring: like watering plants, washing windows and organizing paperwork. Others though were extremely cool: like actually going outside to clap out erasers (we’re talking 1977 here folks). 

The nice thing (or so I thought) was that the coolest of the tasks (eraser clapping) was placed at the very top of the list, and I couldn’t wait for my turn. That is until the teacher decided how she was going to dole out the tasks to the students: alphabetically by last name. That meant that “A’s” clapped erasers first, then “B’s”… and so on.

insert heavy sigh here…..

Having already mastered my ABC’s a few grades ago, it didn’t take long to realize that having a “W” in my last name put me at an extreme disadvantage and meant that I would be one of the last kids to get the cool task. So, while some knucklehead whose last name just happened to start with an “A” clapped erasers, I would have to wash windows.

Yep, I was taught early on in life that being a “Wood” put me behind the 8 ball. Oh sure, I eventually got my chance to do the eraser clapping, but instead of remembering how cool it was to go outside and clap erasers for ten minutes, the thing I remember most is having to WAIT almost the entire school year to do it.

The curse of the “W” would continue throughout my school years. Everything from gym class activities to where you sat in Science and English classes became organized and/or assigned by the first letter of a last name. And can you imagine my sorrow when I’d go to class for the first time and notice there was a cute girl whose last name started a dozen or so letters before mine?

Chance of me sitting next to her? ZERO! It’s no wonder why I became an introvert.

I eventually would overcome my loathing of the “Wood” name though, and am now fully content with it. It’s also given me a great deal of respect for those poor souls whose last names start with a “Y” or “Z”.

Now, if I can only get people to stop asking me if I’m related to James Woods the actor.

Thought and Opinion

A Political Observation

Just a quick little rant from an observation I made.

Yesterday, I noticed that someone had posted a political picture of Barack Obama and Mitt Romney on their Facebook wall. The picture featured both candidates along with “quotes” they had made (and was obviously pro Romney). The person who posted the picture left no doubt as to who she was going to vote for.

Now, we all know how these pictures work: on one side, the “bad” guy (in this case Obama) is pictured in an ominous blue color, posing with an angry look on his face with quotes taken out of context. On the other, a bright, cheery photo of the “good” guy (Romney) speaking passionately with a bunch of supporters along with quotes he made on how to make America great again. Typical ads that both sides use and ones that everyone has seen a million times during every campaign season.

What was disturbing though, were the comments that followed….

One person, obviously a “friend” of the person who posted the picture, wrote a comment saying how disappointed she was in her “friend” because she was going to vote for Romney. That comment was replied to by the person who posted the picture asking why she was disappointed? The conversation went back and forth and eventually, more and more “friends” started chiming in. Before long, everyone was going back and forth with the same tired old narrative:

1. How could you vote for someone (Romney) who hates women?

2. Why would you vote for someone (Obama) who takes money and gives it to people who don’t want to work?

It’s kind of sad to think that friendships, some of them possibly life-long ones, could be lost or strained over something as simple as a photograph posted on a social networking site.

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion and can vote for whoever they want. We should respect that. After all, isn’t that what men (AND women) of this country have fought and died for?

The real problem when you think about it is not who you vote for. Because it doesn’t really matter who wins this election. In the end, we’re ALL screwed anyway. And in four more years, we’ll do it all again. There, I said it.

As far as friendships go, this incident only reinforces something my grandfather told me a long time ago: Politics (and religion) needs to stay out of three things: my wallet, my bedroom and public discourse.

A Conversation With, Books, Interview

Inspirational People: Luann Robinson Hull

Luann Robinson Hull’s book “Happily Ever After… Right Now” breaks down the barriers of relationship challenges. By combining spiritual practices and real word exercises, it’s a must-read for anyone stuck in patterns and habits that prevent them from achieving true happiness. It’s more than a self-help book. It’ a model for happiness, and a formula for living in the now!

I had the pleasure of discussing “Happily Ever After…Right Now” with Luann. The inspiration you get from speaking with her is as powerful as her written word. She is an incredibly positive woman who is really making a difference in the lives of people.

goJimmygo (gJg): Tell me a little about your background and what led you to research happiness and write the book.

Luann Robinson Hull (LRH): I had been working in the psychiatric field for several years and saw a lot of pathology and illness and found that it was very difficult to negotiate the positivity. For me, the question became: “How can we work to get people to happiness rather than just getting them to neutral?”

I had also seen a lot of depressed women who were disappointed in their relationships, and I was no exception. I had gone through a very difficult divorce in the 1980s. I thought I had married Prince Charming, but it didn’t work out quite the way I had hoped.

I eventually went from the hospital setting to my own private practice. My goal was to provide health care givers and insurers with a different model and way of doing things. What I found was that it was challenging to create that kind of education.

One night I had a dream and in it, I was just free of everything that was need based. I was in a state of spaciousness and complete freedom. It’s hard to describe but I believe its similar to the state when yogis reach nirvana or in a place of reverence in the moment.

I got the hint that maybe this whole nightmare that we create with expectations and challenges can be juxtaposed if we just think of things a little bit differently. That dream launched my desire. I decided to get up out of my chair and do research on my own and have been doing that for the last ten years. Researching happiness; a very popular, but evasive topic.

gJg: What did you find in your research?

LRH: I discovered that the problem is, we’re still living in a ‘need based’ paradigm where we look outside of ourselves for answers. We want the relationships to bring us the happiness we can’t find in our own hearts.

gJg: What was the writing process like for you?

Luann Robinson Hull

LRH: It took nearly ten years to finish and there were a number of challenges along the way. The one thing I would say about my journey is that if you have an inkling and a passion for something, just hold onto that – even a bit. You will be supported, you just have to set your own fears aside.

gJg: One of the things I loved most about your book is the positive message and the need to maintain course. Even the quotes and poetry you use are positive. Everything about this book is inspirational.

LRH: The more I research, the more I find how powerful our conditioning is. We have global, genetic and other conditioning types (that influence our behavior) but the main thing is to stay aware of what is going on– of what you are thinking. Doing so will be instrumental in how things unfold for you, because you will be catching yourself in recognizing the kind of thinking that serves your growth and highest potential.

gJg: You also include real world exercises to help reinforce your points.

LRH: Our western world minds want to be busy. The exercises included in the book not only give the mind something positive to do, but they also help with the training of the mind in a positive direction.

gJg: If there is one message you’d like readers to take from reading your book, what would it be?

LRH: The one thing I want readers to take is this: To whatever extent you are capable, in any moment of now, bring yourself back to your own passion. Ask yourself, “What is it that you came into this world to offer?”. Each of us is unique and has something extraordinary to share. Our journey here is to make those discoveries. Focus on what that is for you. And when you do, all the people, places, circumstances, and events that can support you, including relationships, will show up.

 For more information on Luann Robinson Hull, be sure to check out the following links:

What a Gem (Luann’s Blog)  *  Facebook   *  Twitter  *  YouTube

Article first published as Inspirational People: Luann Robinson Hull on Technorati

Life, Thought and Opinion

A Royal Dilemma

The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge had a bad week and are now in damage control. Photos of a topless Kate Middleton have been appearing in various magazines and newspapers all over the world.

The royal couple’s lawyers are scheduled to appear in court in Paris to cut off any further publication of the photos and are even planning to sue those responsible for damages.

Although this is clearly an invasion of privacy, it still makes me wonder why it happened in the first place.

Does anyone else remember how aggressive the paparazzi was/is with the royal family? How Princess Diana and Sarah Ferguson’s unflattering photos appeared a billion times in magazines and newspapers over the years with claims ranging from drug abuse to infidelity?

It doesn’t take a genius to realize that the relationship between the royals and the press is similar to that of a wounded gazelle and a pack of starving hyenas. These mongrels will do anything, ANYTHING to get a photograph of a king, a prince, or a duchess engaged in “common” activities. You know, horrible things, like swimming. The promise of fame and fortune for just one compromising pic is more than enough incentive for them to find the future King and Queen in their moment of “weakness”.

Unfortunately though, sometimes during the quest to obtain the golden ring, bad things happen. As evidenced by the crash that killed Princess Diana fifteen years ago. For me, it’s especially troubling because this whole three-ring circus event surrounding the photos only reminds me of that fateful day. How high speed car chases and lives lost do not matter: only that one elusive photograph does.

This is not to say that I believe the press is totally at fault here. On the contrary, the Duke and Duchess should both have known better. How could they not have known that the paparazzi would be spying on them while they vacationed? Especially for Prince William, who no doubt knows how malicious the press can be by witnessing first hand what they did to his mother for years.

And you mean to say that as Kate reached around to remove her top and expose her breasts, she never once had the slightest thought that she may be being photographed?

Which leads one to wonder if the Duke and Duchess already knew that they may be photographed and decided to throw chum into shark infested waters anyway. I mean let’s be honest: It’s nice to have a royal family to talk about, but it sure gets old when all there is to discuss for the most part are royal births, marriages and deaths.

Sometimes, something as simple as showing a boob can generate enough press to keep things fresh and relevant in between those life events.

Life, Thought and Opinion

A Day I’ll Never Forget

“Dude, did you see on CNN? – A plane just flew into the World Trade Center…..Weird”

That’s the first thing I’ll always remember when I think back to September 11, 2001.  I was sitting at my computer in a Microsoft Windows 2000 course when I noticed the email from my buddy that come across my screen.

“That’s strange”, I thought as I entered “www.cnn.com” into the web browser and pressed enter. I had to see what he was talking about. But nothing happened. It was as if the Internet was down. I received a timed-out message. Could it be that everyone was checking out the news story at the exact same time as me?

The instructor was oblivious to the events that were occurring and kept on with his instruction. Meanwhile, cell phones started to ring in the classroom. Another plane hit the other tower. A plane just crashed into the Pentagon. Something was wrong.

We began hearing rumors of a plane being shot down in Pennsylvania. Another airliner headed to Chicago and the Sears Tower. Yet another one claimed there were planes headed to Los Angeles too. What the hell was going on?

We tried to listen to the teacher talk about this new Windows operating system but eventually it was pointless. It was obvious our hearts were 90 minutes away in downtown Manhattan as hell was breaking loose.

Then… the Towers started to fall.

I remember my daughter was not even a month old at the time, and the priest from church was planning to pay a visit to our home that Friday to welcome her into the world. Obviously, that would never happen.

It’s sometimes hard to believe that it’s been eleven years. And I still have an empty feeling inside when I think about all the lives were needlessly lost.

I suppose it’s the same way my grandparents felt on December 7, 1941 and November 22, 1963. You think the world is ending but in reality, maybe it’s something bigger reminding us all just how short and precious life really is.

Never forget.

Cars, Childhood Memories

I Was Born A Rambler Man

And when it’s time for leavin’, I hope you’ll understand … That I was born a ramblin’ man… (Allman Brothers)

I suppose it might have been a bit more apropos had I been riding in the backseat of a Greyhound bus when I saw it. But the truth is, I was sitting in the front seat of my 2012 Toyota Corolla on my way home from work.

I was driving over a hill near my home; one that I had ridden over countless times before and there it was, sitting majestically in the late afternoon sun: A rusted out 1964 AMC Rambler.

Now, you’d be hard pressed to find me discussing anything other than a Mustang when it comes to classic cars. I grew up with the pony car. My father, brother, cousins and uncles all owned them, and every Wood from the South Side of Easton to the outskirts of Palmer Township drove them up and down the strip from the late 70’s right to this very day.

But for some reason, seeing the beat up old Rambler sitting on the side of the road brought back the ultimate memory for me. For you see, not only is a Rambler the very first car I ever remember my family owning, it’s also one of my earliest childhood memories.

It was a beat up machine, much like the one that now sat idle on the hillside near my home. I couldn’t even tell you what kind of transmission it had or any of the optional equipment. All I knew was, it was green and a daily driver for my grandfather in the early 1970’s. From the very first day I had memories of my own, I remember him pulling it up along side the house, beeping the horn and asking me to go for a ride with him to the hardware store across town.

As a five-year old boy, the chance to ride shot-gun with your grandfather is an opportunity not to be missed. It was equivalent to the feeling of getting a new toy for Christmas. Time spent together was priceless, and I immediately dropped whatever it was I was doing at the time and hopped in.

I recall the front seat of the car was well-worn and had holes in it. To help keep the springs from coming up and poking us, my grandmother covered the seating area with one of her many summer dresses. I wasn’t the least bit worried that the pattern of the dress didn’t match the rest of the interior. All I cared about was the drive with my grandfather.

That car meant a lot to everyone. So much so that when my grandfather suffered a stroke and could no longer keep it, it was given to my Aunt and Uncle who lived next door. They had three children of their own and over the next several years the Rambler became the car each of them learned how to drive with. As I got older, I began to think of it as an heirloom; a car that would be passed down among all the children and would eventually wind up in my possession.

As it came closer to becoming my turn to take ownership of the green Rambler, the unthinkable happened. My cousin (who was the current owner of the Rambler) broke tradition and instead of passing it down, decided to sell the car instead. The last I ever saw of the little green Rambler was the day the new owner drove away in it. Although I would eventually learn how to drive in my cousin’s 1986 Dodge Colt; a car that was much easier to learn in than one 22 years its senior, it still wasn’t the Rambler.

Much like how the tooth fairy, Easter bunny and Santa Claus all became distant memories for me over time as I got older, so too did the little green Rambler. That was until today. If only for an instant, I was five again and it was wonderful.

As I drove off into the twilight and looked back at the Rambler, now fading into the distance, a smile came across my face. I thought how funny it was that an inanimate object could make me think of some of the best times of my life.

And what I wouldn’t give right now to take another ride with my grandfather in the Rambler.

Thought and Opinion

The Dream of Mark Abrahamian (1966-2012)
Mark Abrahamian (1966-2012)

I’ve never met him, but somehow I know him.

Mark Abrahamian, the guitarist for the band Starship, passed away over the weekend, following a concert in Nebraska.  He was doing the thing he loved to do most: playing music for people.

I never had the pleasure of hearing Mark shred on his Les Paul, but found many similarities about myself while reading his biography on his website:

Born February 23, 1966, Mark Abrahamian was taught to play guitar at the age of 10 after being prompted by his mother to “pick something to do this summer”. Mark chose the guitar and was encouraged by her to practice for 15 minutes each day. However, inspired by Kiss guitarist Ace Frehley, Mark was soon practicing on his own within a few months.

The turning point in Mark’s life came in the Seventh Grade when he heard Edward Van Halen’s song entitled Eruption from the album Van Halen..

“I went home and didn’t leave my room until the Ninth Grade.”

For the next few years Mark practiced for hours on end taking the guitar very seriously. He even modified his Dads record player by filing down the gear that drove the turn table so it would play at half speed, so he could take the riffs off the record. It wasn’t long before he was playing for his friends at parties as well as local bands.

When he was seventeen, Mark applied and went to GIT (The Musicians Institute). Being the youngest in his class, “I lived , breathed, ate and slept music.” It was during this period that he discovered such players as John Mclaughlin, Al De Meola, Allan Holdsworth, Jeff Beck, Stevie Ray Vaughan. Discovering different types of music was a big part of his development as a guitar player. Jazz, Funk, Blues and classical all intrigued and inspired him.

Like Mark, I too became inspired to pick up a guitar when I saw Ace Frehley is his KISS make-up. And Van Halen’s “Eruption” became the Holy Grail for me to someday learn how to play. Although I never went to GIT, there was a period of time where I too “lived, breathed, ate and slept music”.

The thing that inspires me the most about Mark’s story is that he made his dream come true. Mark shared the stage with many of the great artists and bands who’s music defined a generation: Starship, Survivor, Loverboy, Toto, AC/DC, Night Ranger and many others. He will surely be missed.

95% of guitarists are lucky to be gigging regularly (most never leave the garage). Fewer still get the opportunity to be the opening act for one of their favorite bands. And then there are those rare exceptions when players get to actually perform with their heroes and become part of the dream. That was Mark Abrahamian.

Mark made it to the “big leagues” as I like to call them. Imagine, growing up listening to your favorite bands and one day being in that band yourself. How cool it must be to walk on stage and see that band’s name on the drum head and know you are a part of it; part of the music you always loved. Mark was constantly reminded every day that he “made it”.

If I can take anything away from Mark’s untimely passing it’s this: Whether you’re performing in the garage or on the big stage always remember to live, love and laugh.

Dreams do come true.

RIP Mark.

1980's, Dear Diary, Life

Dear Diary: September 1987

Here’s another journal entry from twenty-five years ago. If you’ve been following along in my previous Diary entries, you already know about my dreams to make it big as a rock star.

For me, college was only a stepping stone towards reaching that goal. As far as I was concerned, as soon as the president of Atlantic Records showed up at my door with a contract for me to sign, I was gone.

Today’s entry deals with one of the best days of 1987 for me: the day I received my very first student loan check. I know what you’re thinking: “How can one of the best days of your life be about taking on a financial obligation?”

The truth is, words can not fully express how happy I was when I received the little white envelope at the Bursar’s office at Penn State. For you see, at the time it was money that I had very little concern or intention of ever having to pay back.

I found this entry particularly nostalgic when I re-read it again (and also a bit prophetic). First, it was written on the very first day of school in Easton; the first day I was no longer a student in the public school system. It reinforced the notion that I was indeed on my on again.

I also found it to be a sign of things to come. In the last paragraph, I mention the need of having someone “help” me when I become a rock star because I’ll waste all of the money I’ll be getting. In reality, I needed that “help” immediately. I wasted quite a bit of the money I received in student loans on such things as concert tickets and guitars. Loans that eventually took me nearly twenty years to pay off. A lesson well-learned.

***

Dear Diary: Well, here I am: Psychology 002 again. I’m really not in the mood for this today. I want my bed. Today, I’m going to once again find out if the refund check came back. (Notice that I didn’t say anything positive like, “I hope it’s here” because whenever I do, it isn’t). So I don’t get to get all worked up for nothing, I’m approaching it with an open mind. If it’s here it’s here, otherwise I just want a sure-fire date of when it will be.

I just thought of something: today is the first day of school in Easton, and the first year I don’t go there anymore. That’s weird to say. Weirder still, I can stay home on a Thursday and Mr. Jones (the principal) won’t call.  And I won’t get lost in Mr. Milisits’ music theory class anymore! I don’t even need a little yellow excuse. Radical Man!!

( a short while later)….

The check is HERE!! It’s out in the car and I think it’s only one of many: $1444! My knees were shaking. All that money at one time is really scary.

I swear, when I make it big as a rocker they’d better keep any cash in the thousands away from me. Sure, I want it, but I’d waste it. All I need is reliable equipment, food, a roof over my head, a car and maybe a couple of hundred to party or for clothes!

1980's, Music, Thought and Opinion

My Metal Method Story

It was sometime in the summer of 1985. I was a young, skinny, pimply faced teenager who had just started taking guitar lessons at the local music store. My Mom had rented me a Gibson Explorer with the only stipulation being, I take weekly lessons. Now a junior metal-head and armed with a black guitar, there was no stopping me.

I’ll admit, those first few months of learning how to play were rough. I had to endure my siblings berating me for playing “the same thing over and over” and to this day still have nightmares about muddling my way through a Mel Bay lesson book and painfully maneuvering my left hand in a futile attempt to form a “G” chord properly.

Fortunately though, my teacher always saved the best part of every lesson for last. Towards the end of each session, he would take a recording of any song I brought in from home and we (or should I say, “HE”) would figure out the chords to it for me. He was one of those little weasels who could figure out any song and lead on the guitar just by listening to it on the stereo. So songs by Bon Jovi, The Scorpions, AC/DC and Quiet Riot were all quickly added to my repertoire. My arsenal of music was slowly beginning to grow, and I was on my way to becoming the metal head I wanted to be.

But still, it felt like something was missing.

One day, I was at my local music store performing my ritual of staring at the expensive Gibson Les Paul guitars hanging on the wall when I happened to pick up my very first  guitar magazine. As a new player (and well before the advent of the Internet), those magazines were like the Bible. As I perused through the pages of gospel, I suddenly stopped when the face pictured in this post caught my eye. It was a picture of Doug Marks and an advertisement for his Metal Method guitar lessons.

These were lessons that were geared towards teaching how to play “METAL”, which was right up my alley. So, over the next few years I supplemented my weekly guitar lessons by purchasing all eight of the initial lessons and immersing myself in playing chords and leads geared towards the style of music I wanted to play. It was wonderful.

The thing I loved the most about Metal Method was the fact that there was always something you could use to make you better. And it wasn’t something that you had to rush to figure out; you could take your time with it. I’ll never forget the first time I learned how to play the two-handed tapping method that Eddie Van Halen made famous. If you listen to Eddie do it, you say to yourself: “This is impossible”. But the fact is, as long as you have the desire to play it, you can do it.

I’ve come a long way since the day I first picked up that tattered magazine. Today, I actually own one of the Les Pauls I spent years gawking at on the rack. And Metal Method is still going strong; continuing to make countless guitarists better players.

Even I, someone who now plays “G” chords with ease, recently checked out some of the updated lessons and still benefited from them. But I suppose that’s the real power and joy you get out of being a musician, no matter how long you’ve been playing.

You truly never stop learning.

You can read my Guitar World interview with Doug Marks from Metal Method Here.