September 28, 2017:
Later in my dad's neighborhood there was a literal garage band led by an adult, practicing in the garage. I asked if I could watch, but they were stroppy: Mr. Grownup stressin' 'cos neither he nor his posse of teenagers could suss the chord progression to "Secret Agent Man".
Chaps, it's Em - Am - Em. But I couldn't tell them that, 'cos the adult in the room was stroppy, and 'cos my own parental unit had me convinced I was tone deaf. It was her way of discouraging my interest. So that although I was right I was unconfident in my judgment.
There are so many life lessons here. Mostly concerning the fuckeduppedness of adults and the superior judgment of the children around them. Subversive POV, I recognize. But supremely accurate. Or wickedly accurate, if you'd rather. Take your pick.