You know what there’s a lot of in college? There’s a lot of loud music and yelping from all sides, sure. There’s a lot of shrieking and giggling. And there’s a lot of hair in the bathroom sinks. But you know what there’s even more of? Douchebags playing the guitar in really public areas.
This bothers me a lot. Because you know that the guy with the beanie (even if it isn’t cold) and the thick square glasses (that probably cost more than his actual prescription required -if he even has bad eyesight, that is) and the skinny jeans and the plain loafers (that look cheap but cost like two hundred bucks at Urban Outfitters) isn’t playing for the love of the music. How do I know this?
Well, for starters, he’s a bit too put together. I mean, unless he (and when I say “he”, I’m referring to all of the guys that do this collectively) wakes up looking like that, which I’m almost certain he doesn’t (although all his morning routine rituals try to make it look that way), then you can just tell that he’s putting on a show, and his appearance is a big part of it.
Second, his location. Don’t tell me that you’re outside in a very public area because you want to be inspired by the fresh air. We both know that’s bull. If you just wanted natural inspiration and fresh air, you’d have gone somewhere outside but more private. Like in the patches of trees all over campus. Or on the lawns, further away from the cement path. But no. You’re right smack in the middle of the most popular area on campus, sitting poised on the red brick walls that hold the little sections of bushes and flowers and trees. Or you’re sitting right outside a residence hall, near to one of the entrances. Don’t try and deny it; you’re there for the attention.
Finally, the crowd portion. There’s this one specific guy that sits outside my residence hall a lot and plays guitar with his tiny little dog looking on. (Don’t even get me started on the ploy that is having a little dog with you) When there’s no one walking by, he’s just strumming the same three chords over and over, sometimes in differing speeds and intensities. But whenever I approach, or anyone else for that matter, he starts his singing up. He’s conspicuously quiet up until he’d got an audience, and once he’s got that, well, he’s unstoppable. All these people pick it up when other people walk by, and that’s the final proof that they are certainly not there purely for the music.
No, they’re there because they want to pick up impressionable college girls who will fall for the faked intellectual/ wounded artist look. They aren’t musicians. The guitar, ladies, I’m sorry to break it to you, is a prop.
BUT.
Tonight, as I was walking back from getting iced tea with Ellen at 10pm, there was a guy sitting in the dark outside my residence hall playing guitar. It’s too late for the normal mobs of people to be walking around, and if you weren’t looking, you probably wouldn’t have even noticed him. His strumming was quiet and didn’t pick up when I walked past. He wasn’t playing for anyone but himself.
So, anonymous guitar player. I just wanted to write this to tell you that I appreciate you. I appreciate that you’re not trying to gimmick girls into liking you because you play the guitar with a stupid little smirk on your well groomed face. I appreciate that you just want to play your guitar away from the claustrophobia of the dorms. I appreciate that you don’t make me want to vomit upon seeing you.
Thanks for that.
