The Tyranny of 10,000 hours

Ten thousand hours. Apparently that is the amount of time it takes to master something. Think about it. If you do something 20 hours per week , it will take you ten years to rack up that mastery status. If you work at something diligently for 5 hours a week, you have to consider that you may be virtually obsolete by the time you have truly licked it. It wrecks me to consider all the time passed in my younger years not working toward anything. (To be fair, I do have a fairly cumbersome sticker collection to show for it, and a rather extensive in-brain catalogue of partially complete song lyrics.)
Ten thousand hours. After a particularly frustrating rehearsal yesterday, I had some thoughts. Part of me was tempted to take my trusty Taylor and whack out each and every frustration against some sort of brick wall, or on a concrete stage, or drop the perfectly crafted GC7 into a deep, dark well. I could float it out on some southern unfrozen ocean-type area and watch it slowly fade away in the distance. (Heck, I could sell it and buy who knows how many more stickers.)
Ten thousand hours. Instead, I took a deep breath (or thirty), threw away my tissues, and played. Well, some might not call it that yet. But it certainly kept Andy awake until past 2:00 in the morning.
I am the ultimate late bloomer.. so much passion, so little talent, so little time. But anyhow, knock two and a half more hours off my total.. 10 thousand watch out cause I'm coming for you.