There are no holes in an electric bass or a snooker table

Decided a while ago that I need a(nother) hobby to distract me from writing, so I weighed the merits of a variety of choices - drifting, batik, rolling white dudes for their wallets - and settled on just picking up the bass. Sure, I could have chosen the piano/keyboard (and just used the keyboard I already own), but what fun would that be. So I lobbied for a bass for my birthday and lo, one appeared.

So far, I've actually demonstrated the tiniest bit of discipline: I'm endeavoring to practice for an hour or more a day; not letting myself meander too far afield; not letting myself over-focus, either. Granted, I can be disciplined for long stretches of time and then completely lose it for years. Just ask my tennis partners and people who used to see me lifting at 6am. Still, if I can make small amounts of headway each day and each week, I might actually stick with it.

Anyway, I picked up a book tonight that should be pretty helpful, but now I'm a little scared...

Let's look at it a different way. If you were to decide you wanted to learn to play snooker, for example, you wouldn't expect to get a 147 break on day one, would you? No, you'd build up to that - you'd work on your potting, study the angles, work on your game and basically take the whole thing in smaller steps.

OH GOD! I'VE HAD A STROKE! I CAN'T UNDERSTAND ENGLISH ANYMORE!!!

Oh! Nevermind. I understand English just fine...it's the English I don't understand, what with their boots not for feet, bonnets not for heads, and pasties not for boobs. Man, they talk funny.