Life. It can give you wings, but careful — the higher you fly, the harder the crash. Hope you packed a parachute.

I knew I had control issues from an early age. My mother, God bless her, would take me & my younger brother to Burger King or get candy if we had a good day. And a “good day” didn’t constitute much — and I loved my Burger King and my candy. I also was stretching my imagination muscles early as well. I would flex them regularly; usually in the form of drawing and playground fantasy play structure — most always with the other kids. Indeed, I was a sensitive child too. And that sensitivity bred victim status in the eyes of schoolyard bullies. But I managed to find fellow creatives all the same — at one point a band of fellow comic-script writers like in the Sunday newspaper funnies, putting-0n plays and acting with my cousins, writing poetry. And I grew-up. And I still liked to Have It My Way and erode the enamel on my teeth with processed sugar. But they took the form of other things as well — the forms of drugs & alcohol. The effects of bullying and bad habits I experienced as a boy would haunt me through-out my twenties. Now, in 2016, I’m exactly where nobody ever wants to be — on the wrong side of thirty, wondering what happened and where the time went. Wasted. In more ways than one. But the one redeeming trait mentioned earlier — my talent to create and inspire others to help me as well — has also survived. I hope. So I stand in line at my old junior college stomping grounds, waiting to get my transcripts and begin the process of re-enrollment. I STILL CAN BE SOMETHING. I walk the halls and campus grounds; the very same pavement my Circas did back in 2003 — a simpler time when my biggest concern was which emcee was better Jay-Z or Nas? I’m flooded with emotions tho, because of course. I tried, tried, and tried again here to succeed, with minimal result s. Alas, my story won’t finish here. It won’t even return — I’m transferring to Laney closer to home in Oakland. But everyone needs a reminder of their past now and then. I’m reminded of mine a little too much sometimes. It feels like just yesterday that I was driving my VW Corrado V66 while blasting Reasonable Doubt doing 90 on Highway 4. Hitting 5th gear with ‘Politics As Usual’ in the background and a backpack full of cash and my drug stash with all the potential in the world — nothing like it. Most of my friends from that era of my life are gone doing other things now. The entire DVC campus has changed. The massive quad where I used to eat my Cooking Class meal of the day and quickly check-out passing beauties is no more — replaced with a huge new building known as the Students Services Center. Everything’s different. Everything’s the same.

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