I feel better now.  This new thing is better than the other two I had before.  Without it, my life wouldn’t be as interesting and exciting.  It is a lot of fun and I am better at it, but most of all, it makes me happy.  It has brought joy upon me it a way that nothing else ever has before, but it all started in Primary School.

When I was in third grade, my school offered me a chance to play in the orchestra.  I decided to give it a try.  I picked the biggest, loudest instrument there, the upright base.  The bass stood about five-and-a-half feet and was huge compared to four-foot tall me.  I had to sit on a stool that was almost as tall as me to play it.  I played the stand up base for about a year and in a few orchestra concerts, then I got bored.  The new interest was nothing but gone.  It was no longer fun to play, so I quit.

For a few months, I didn't play an instrument, until I convinced my parents to buy me a bass guitar for Christmas.  At first I loved it; it was so much fun to play.  I had a bass guitar teacher named Justin.  He said I was an accelerated student who was very advanced for only playing for a year.  He also said to keep my interest, I needed to play in a band, but there was a problem.  No one that I knew in fifth grade played drums, guitar or even another bass guitar.  Unfortunately, Justin moved and I had to go to a teacher downtown.I lost interest the next year when I switched teachers. The new teacher just wasn't the same, he made me read music instead of a tablature, which I understood.  After a few more months, I quit. It was becoming just like upright base, uninteresting and boring.
Years and years passed without me playing an instrument.  Then, when I was cleaning out the attic one day, I found my great grandfather's guitar.  I looked up a few chords and tried to play them.  It sounded terrible; I was most likely the worst sound I have ever heard on guitar.  Yet, at the same time, it was the greatest sound I had ever heard.  I asked my parents for lessons, and they were reluctant to let me take them.  After a few weeks of debating, my parents took me to my first lesson.  I remember it like it was yesterday.  My new teacher, Jim, was really nice and really good at guitar.  I could name a song, and he could have it down in five to ten minutes.  He was the greatest teacher I have ever had, sorry Mrs. Green, you’re up there, too. 

On the first day, all we did was learn a few chords and a week later, I still didn’t have them down.  This was the first of many times I would get frustrated over guitar.  I loved to play so much that I used to hate it sometimes.  Until I asked Jim how long he had been playing.  He said 19 years and asked why I had asked.  I said it was because I was frustrated over guitar.  He told me he was in the same position when he was fourteen and that it would be a while till I got any good.

After playing acoustic guitar for about a year, I wanted to try playing some electric.  For Christmas, I received a Fender Mexican Stratocaster. The first song I learned on it was Purple Haze by Jimi Hendrix.  After that, everything just exploded.  I wanted to learn everything there ever was about guitar.  Solos, rhythms, leads, and riffs, I played and played until I got calluses on my fingers that were harder than rocks.  I play all kinds of artists, Led Zeppelin, Eric Clapton, Cream, and more Jimi Hendrix.  I played it all, until the next Christmas.

I was down in the rental department one day and I saw it.  It was red and American and only a month old.  I saw the price tag and almost fainted; it was insane.  I came back next week and went down stairs.  The price was lowered by almost five hundred dollars and it was two months until Christmas.  I begged my parents to buy it; I must have told them hundreds, maybe even thousands of times that they would never find a better deal.  Two weeks later, it was gone from the rental department.  I was almost in tears, no joke.  It was the nicest guitar I had ever seen, gone.  Two weeks later, it was Christmas day.  I came downstairs with excitement and sadness at the same time.  All small boxes.  I was extremely grateful, but still a little angry at the same time.

After opening all my gifts, I went into the kitchen to make breakfast and heard the closet door open and close.  I went back out to the living room and saw a huge box sitting in the middle of the room.  I knew exactly what it was the moment I saw it.

I almost screamed and exploded with happiness.  I ran to the box and tore the wrapping paper off as fast as possible.  There was a brown box under it and my dad already had scissors out for me to cut it.  I cut the tape and opened the box.  It was surrounded by styrofoam and plastic liner.  I ripped them both off and there it was.  A crimson red  American Standard Telecaster emerged from the box.  I hugged my parents and must have thanked them hundreds of times.

Ever since I have had that guitar, my life has changed.  It may sound cliche but it is true.  I have made new friends, learned an impressive new skill, boosted my self-confidence.  I even got to play at the Hard Rock cafe downtown, which is by far the coolest experience I have ever had.