November 30, 2014
No guitar for three months. The day the prison placed me in cell isolation, they took my guitar along with the rest of my personal belongings, packing it away in storage until my release. Ever since I first got my guitar earlier this year I would practice every single day for at least an hour. I love practicing the guitar; it’s one of several therapeutic releases that I’ve picked up in prison, replacing bad habits with good habits. Not having my guitar really stinks; I feel like the longer I’m away from practicing it, the closer I’ll be to having to start all over again. Playing the guitar isn’t something that came naturally for me, I had to work and work at it to get my fingers to respond to the right places on the strings, slowly but surely I would make improvements, getting better with time. My friend, Kurt would keep telling me to be patient, reminding me that I was learning at a normal speed, so I kept practicing, getting better and better with time, loving the guitar even more each day. I can’t wait to get my guitar back, I just hope I can remember most of what I already learned, not having to start all over again.