I passed the live house on my way home tonight and saw a new band setting up. Their guitarist looked about my age and was so nervous she kept dropping her picks. I stood across the street for twenty minutes just watching through the window, my feet frozen to the pavement. Part of me wanted to go in and tell her it gets easier, that the trembling hands eventually learn to play through the fear. The other part of me calculated seventeen different ways such an interaction could go catastrophically wrong. I went home and practiced until my fingers hurt. Maybe next time I'll actually open the door.