i know right hoais odihasioksjdc sdcposdjciovds cvsodjcvipodscv sdocvndsk csodncvk dscv nodsi cvdsovcsndoc dskc jdsn c dsoc s djsj sd ks t the age of ten, my parents decided that I should learn how to play an instrument. In addition, they also chose which instrument I should learn, the guitar. I had no interest in learning the guitar, because all I wanted to spend my leisure time on was improvising my soccer skills. However, my parents believed soccer was a waste of my precious time, time which I should be using to focus on school and expanding my brain by taking on a difficult task, such as learning to play music. This was contrary to what I believed, but I had to do it or else my parents would be displeased. Therefore, the following week, I began taking guitar lessons.
Since day one of lessons, I disliked the guitar with a passion. My teacher was old, grumpy, and did not like young children. We did not get off to a promising start, especially after I told him I hated the guitar, which made my instructor even angrier. Guitar lessons were something for which I had no enthusiasm. I wanted to play soccer as much as I could. However, what is a ten year-old supposed to do when his parents promise to punish him for not applying himself to something other than sports. I was a regular child who just wanted to enjoy life. I did not believe in learning something that did not interest me.
For the sake of conformity, I had to accomplish this task so that I could put a smile on my parents’ faces, even though I despised that guitar with all my heart. I went week after week to the instructor, and week after week, I would come back distressed and tired of the lessons and of the incredible amount of practice hours required.
After wasting a year of my life learning how to play the guitar, I still had not accomplished anything special. My parents began to realize that I was not born to play this instrument and that I was not having fun trying to learn either. They...