When I was younger I had a lot of really bad things happen in my life. I got in with the wrong crowd and allowed them to convince me that I was a terrible guitar player. I was already hurting from my mom's death - I blamed myself for her dying - so I probably was just wasting my time with the Gibson. As as a result, I quit playing my guitar.

Recently, I started playing in a bell choir and LOVE it. The bells seem to just reflect love and kindness. As a result I have started playing my guitar again. Why in the world did I ever allow anyone to convince me that I was wasting my time with my music? This world is so full of pain and even if I was the world's worse player it gave me some sense of joy. Why not play? Why not enjoy that bit of happiness the guitar gave me?