Yes, he was a fictional character, but it is very appropriate for discussing why I’m an optimist. I know that there are atrocities committed every day. I’ve had many bad things happen to me as well.  However, I choose to see the positive.  I choose to believe that the best will happen, and I choose to focus on the positive aspects of life because it makes me happier.

I think part of my optimism is genetic.  My father always tells me that for the first six months of my life I was constantly smiling, as if even then I’d rather be happy than be miserable about a dirty diaper or hunger.

There are certain things you can’t simply choose to be happy about.  When my mom died, I couldn’t muster up optimism.  I simply kept going, partially because my dad kept going.  I felt like if he could, so could I.  To this day, I miss her greatly, but I also appreciate the time I had with her, and will always remember her for the amazing person that she was.

After working my way through college, I graduated to find an economy that wasn’t hiring, so I ended up homeless for a day.  I ended up delivering pizzas longer than I thought.

When I graduated college a second time, in 2008, I moved to Chicago just as one of the worst economic collapses in our nation’s history was transpiring.  Everything that could go wrong on a personal level did, culminating in getting robbed at gunpoint in January of 2009.  2009 turned out to be the best year of my life because I knew my situation wasn’t working out, so I visited Tokyo for 10 days, and then went on tour, living out of my car for a couple of months.  In that time, I lost 40 pounds because I was the happiest I had ever been.

I came back to Oxford, homeless, with all of my credit cards maxed out, and $5 to my name.  Thanks to some good friends, I had a couch to sleep on for a few weeks, and got my old job back.

Now, on a simple level, I choose to focus on the positive and believe in the best because I’d rather be happy than be right.  Bad events only inherently have certain negative values.  When someone doesn’t tip me on a delivery, inherently I’m only losing out on whatever that person should’ve tipped me, or on whatever tip I would have received from someone else.  I can choose to respond in any number of ways.  1.  I could react in an extreme manner and go on an expletive filled tirade, and probably get fired.  2.  I could get upset, but not show it to the customer.  I could then either get over it in my car, or let it keep me upset for a while.  If I choose to stay upset, it can negatively affect the rest of my night, or even just upset me for a few minutes.  3.  I could genuinely be happy even if I don’t get tipped.  At least 90% of the time I choose option 3.  Why?  Because I’d rather be happy.

On a larger level, as far as music goes, I can look at the numbers and let them dictate how I feel.  For example, I have generated a total of $6.99 in sales through the first 25 days of January, and probably a total of $30 in the last 6 months.  In the month of January, I have spent about $200 in marketing expenses. Nothing about the financials tells me that there’s any hope of me making a living from my music.

I can react to this one of several ways.  1.  I can give up, acknowledging that the task of making a living from my music is impossible.  This could lead me to give up on many other things, and change many of my life philosophies.  It could lead to me being driven by money and therefore taking a job I know won’t make me happy, but will make me lots of money.  2.  I can be thankful for the $6.99 in sales, and accept that the money I’ve spent on marketing is necessary for me to build something strong.  I need to get the word out about my music, which involves constant effort, a deep commitment, and financial expenditures.  I can choose to believe that with enough effort, time, and money, I can build something strong enough to make a living from.  I know it’s a long road, but doing it the right way makes it completely worth it.  That’s why I choose option 2.  I can also look at other numbers to show that while my sales aren’t high, my following is increasing.  I can see how many people have viewed my videos (my top viewed video as of the time of this writing is the official music video for “wonder,” which is at 1994 views).  I know the number of fans following me on Facebook has increased.  They’re also talking more.

When I play at my regular open mikes, someone almost always recognizes me now.  That is something special.  I’m very excited about the Stadium open mic in particular because it’s in my hometown, and it’s led me to success before.  After 3 months of playing at Stadium’s open mic in 2004, I booked my first Oxford show in January of 2005, and over 100 people came to see me.  That is still my most well attended show.  I believe that kind of thing can happen again because it’s happened before.

In general, life presents us all with circumstances and information.  The only thing we can truly control is how we react to them.  I choose to focus on the positive, and react as positively as I can because I’d rather be happy and make those around me happy.  I understand that my reactions can affect others.  If I choose to dwell on the negative, I can bring friends, family and fans down.  I choose to focus on the positive, and continue doing what makes me happy. I know it will positively affect those around me as well.  I hope I have positively affected you in some way.

I never seriously considered transferring to another school because I knew I’d be changing majors as programming computers bored me and I wasn’t sure how well my Miami Plan credits would transfer.  I didn’t yet know what I was changing my major to.  I had time to figure that out.

In the fall of 1997, I acquired my first delivery job.  I delivered videos for Late Nite Video.  What a dream job that was, aside from the pay.  I watched movies while working, and occasionally drove movies to people’s doors.  Minimum wage had just increased to $5.15 per hour the week I got the job.  On average, with tips I probably made $6.50.  It was enough to get by on while still living at my grandmother’s house, but certainly not enough to pay off  Miami or get my own place, so I got a second job, delivering pizzas for SDS (which stands for Student Delivery Service, if you’re curious).  Between the two jobs, I started working about 55 hours per week on average.  At one point that fall, I picked up two other jobs.  I did data entry for Paragon for about a week, and worked as a computer programmer for McCullough Hyde Hospital for a day.  Ultimately, I couldn’t handle picking up the project that their departing designer was in charge of, so I didn’t stay on, but I did bump the emergency shut off switch in the IT room, shutting off power to half the second floor of the hospital for about 20 minutes.  Their back up generators kept vital stuff going, so there were no really bad ramifications.  They also installed a plastic casing around the switch, so in some ways my accident was helpful.

In addition, I was running Underground Music Monthly, an online magazine and website dedicated to helping independent musicians.  Technically, I had 5 jobs at that point, for 1 day, if you count running my own website and magazine as a job.

Around October 1997, I took my 2 paying job income and got my first apartment.  The friend whom I was driving to class split the place with me.  The day after he moved in, he lost his job and my perennial roommate problems began.  I ended up paying the rent, all the bills, and helped pay for his food.  About a month later, I got a second roommate, and he lost his job the day after he moved in.  I started working about 60 hours per week (and hit 70 once) and having 2 roommates was more costly than having 1.  I kicked the second roommate out after about a month since he wasn’t on the lease and let the first roommate out of the lease shortly thereafter.

I would find out years later that one of my roommates was dealing drugs out of my apartment.  I was working so much that I had no clue what was going on.  I also found out years later that a woman and her 13 year old daughter were doing whippits in the living room while I was the only person on the lease.  I was at work at the time.  I’m also pretty certain there were high school kids skipping class to get high in my apartment without my knowledge.  I’m sure there are plenty of things I’m still unaware of to this day.  Regardless of these egregious acts of broken trust, I’m still a trusting person.  I’d rather get burned from time to time than shut out the world.

While all of this was going on, I was falling deeper and harder for Alyssa (again, not her real name, protecting her privacy).  I rang up a $270 cell phone bill one month talking to her.  She is the only girl I’ve ever loved.  I took her to a concert for her birthday that year.  We drove two hours to see Tonic play in Columbus, and then spent the night in Columbus, but I didn’t make any moves on her as she still had a boyfriend.  The next day, before leaving Columbus, I bought a $50 wool sweater.  Aside from suits and shoes, it is still the most expensive article of  clothing I’ve ever bought.  I cherished that sweater for years.  I don’t know where the sweater is now, but even writing this reminds me of how the sweater looked, felt, and smelled, as well as the inside of the head shop where I bought it.  That trip to Columbus is my most vivid memory from that time period.  It’s why I still listen to “If You Could Only See” by Tonic when it comes on the radio.  A mutual friend came along for the trip, and Sister Hazel will always remind me of that trip as she sang it with Alyssa.

In February of 1998, I talked my way out of the lease at my first apartment, and decided I was going to move to Orlando with a friend of mine.  Even at the time I think I realized that I was running away from my problems.  I couldn’t pay for my apartment, and I couldn’t handle my feelings for Alyssa.  The day before I moved, I called my friend to make sure it was still alright for me to move in before I loaded up my 1985 Mercury Grand Marquis and made the 16 hour drove.  He said it was still fine.

When I arrived, it certainly wasn’t fine.  He was still living at home, which I knew, but his brother and sister both moved back in, which I didn’t know, and for some reason I can’t remember there was a toilet in the living room so there wasn’t even floor space to sleep on.  I stayed there for about 2 days before driving back.  Thankfully, a friend helped me drive.

I moved back in with my grandma for a while, until she had a stroke and medicare/medicaid took her house to help pay for the nursing home she moved into.  She recovered from the stroke, and moved in with my aunt and uncle, and even went white water rafting at the age of 86!  For me, though, I was forced to get my own place again, setting me further back from returning to Miami.

I performed live for the first time in August of 1998.  The show as at a CD store in Colerain (Cincinnati) called CD World.  Even though the performance was in the afternoon at a CD store, I was very nervous.  My mouth was very dry and my contacts were giving me a headache, but that moment was a major moment in my musical career, and in my life.  Before then, I had only really wanted to be a studio musician, but afterward I found that performing live was just as amazing as creating!  Being able to write and record songs has been essential to my life, and performing has given me many of my best moments.

In October of 1998, I started my job at Papa John’s, with the primary goal being to pay off my debt to Miami, and re-enroll.  I worked as much as I could, and focused all of my financial resources on paying off Miami. I needed to go back to school.  I also came up with a solution to my financial aid situation.  I could still only received federal loans, not because I was a minor, but because my credit suffered badly while I learned how to live on my own.  So, I had to figure out how to officially be a junior and become eligible for more aid.  I took one class at Cincinnati State.  It was a 3 credit hour course, but since they were on quarters, it would only count as 1.5 credit hours at Miami.  Perfect.  Cincinnati State was very inexpensive, so the course only cost me about $100, which I paid for in cash.  Since I knew I was switching to business, I took a 100 level business course, the easiest class I’ve ever taken.

One of the hardest days of my life was Miami’s graduation day, 1999.  It was also Mother’s Day.  It was the day I would’ve graduated college at 20 years of age had I not made bad decisions and dropped out.  It was a gorgeous, sunny day, and every single person I delivered to was happy.  Most of my deliveries were to people who were graduating college that day, and their parents.  Every time I had one of those deliveries, it felt like I was being stabbed in the heart.  I felt like that should’ve been me, proudly showing off my accomplishments to my mom and dad.  Giving my mom hugs, and smiling profusely, talking about how great things were.  The economy was also wonderful then, and I would’ve had a computer science degree and probably would’ve already lined up a job making $60,000+ to start right out of college.  Instead, I was delivering pizzas to people who had what I wanted.  It was very painful.  Graduation Day 2000 and 2001 were also difficult because I still felt like I was behind, but not nearly as difficult as this day. I have learned since, of course, that life never works out for anyone the way they expect.  It’s a fact that hurts early in life, but as you mature you realize that’s part of what makes life beautiful.  If I could predict everything that was ever going to happen, then what’s the point?

In the summer of 1999, I produced “Delve Deeper” in my apartment using a Soundblaster Live card and a cheap microphone.  The recording quality was very bad, and I taught myself production so my skills were poor as well.  One day, a friend of mine named Rob came over to record.  In the middle of the recording session, he complained about the production quality.  I told him it worked for what I was doing.  He replied “It may work for what you do, but it won’t work for music.”  I felt like I had been punched in the face, but awakened at the same time.  He was right.  I really was solely an MC at that point.  There’s nothing wrong with specializing musically.  I have tremendous respect for artists who hone their craft and work their tails off to become the best musician possible, whether they’re singers, MCs, guitarists, or play other instruments.  For me though, I wanted to be more, so I taught myself to play instruments.

I played the keyboard first as it was the most natural progression from what I was already doing, which was using the keyboard as a drum machine.  Next I taught myself the bass.  Then I bought an electric drum set.  It cost me $999 plus tax, and I worked 7 straight weeks of overtime to save up for it.  11 years later, I’m still using the same drum set, a Yamaha DTXPress.  I chose an electronic set because it was easier for production purposes, had a lot more types of sounds, and because I was living in an apartment so a real drum set would’ve been too loud.  Shortly after buying the drums, I purchased a 24-bit digital sound card, an M-Audio Delta 1010, and it came packed with Vegas 1.0 as the recording software.  I still using the same software and hardware today, though I’ve upgraded the computer a few times.  The final instrument I picked up was the guitar.  This is because the guitar my dad gave me was a beautiful guitar.  It was an Elvis replica, electric hollow body.  Even the case was beautiful, with plush interior.  There were several times when I opened the case and said “that guitar is too pretty for me to play” and shut the case again.  I eventually started playing it, though.  Of my primary instruments, it was the least natural for me to pick up and had the steepest learning curve.  I’ve only become comfortable with it in the last 4 years or so.  This led me to record “Transitions” in 1999 as well.  I’ve discontinued both albums as they were poorly produced learning experiments.

After paying off Miami, I went back to school part-time in January of 2000.  That’s also about the time I started to get over Alyssa.  She had finally broken up with her boyfriend again, but couldn’t trust anyone at that point, so all my waiting meant that I still couldn’t be with her.  I wasn’t interested in anyone else for quite some time.

My 21st birthday was in January of 2000 as well.  I went to Applebee’s and had a mudslide.  The server didn’t ask for my ID, and I said “Aren’t you even going to card me?”  He said “nope.”  Bummer.  That was only the second time I’d ever had alcohol in my life.  The first was when I was 8 years old, and a friend got me to try his dad’s dark beer.  I thought it was disgusting then, and still feel the same now.  I’ve only drank maybe 15 times in my life, so I’ve never acquired the taste for beer.  The last time I drank was January 19th, 2010, and I don’t know that I’ll ever drink again.  It really just isn’t for me.

Around that time, I also stopped writing new issues of Underground Music Monthly.  I’m still proud of what I accomplished with that magazine.  I employed two freelancers, one who did the artwork for most of the issues, as well as wrote reviews, and the other who wrote reviews.  I wrote about the most current topics relevant to independent musicians at the time.  I did an article on CDBaby just a few months after they were formed.  They’re now the #1 independent music distributor, doing millions of dollars in sales.  I reviewed “Hands” by Bumblefoot, and interviewed him for the magazine.  He’s now the guitarist for Guns N Roses.  Lupus, from the Bloodhound Gang, found my site one day and emailed me to tell me how great my site was.  We exchanged a few emails; Lupus is a very funny man.  He put a link up to Underground Music Monthly from the Bloodhound Gang’s site as he was their webmaster at the time.  I know I made a difference for some independent musicians along the way as well, which is what I’m most proud of.  I’m no longer running the site or the online magazine, but it was a tremendous experience!

In the summer of 2000, I couldn’t afford to go to school, so I recorded “Out of the Shadows.”  A coworker drew the cover artwork.  It’s also been discontinued as it too was really just a learning experiment.  In the fall, I took 7 credit hours and worked full-time.  I worked 58 hours the week before finals.  I finally made it back to Miami full time in January of 2001!  That’s where I’ll pick up the next time.

Of course, I live in my current life with my current situations, and I cannot change the past.  Nor do I wish to.  I would be an altogether different person had my experiences been different.  Going to a better school, or going to a similar school for free, in no way guarantees a better life.  More money does not equal more happiness.  Different is not always better.

My first year at Miami was free as I took the courses through a post-secondary enrollment options program offered by the state of Ohio when I was technically a senior in high school. I earned 16 credit hours my first semester and 10 second.   Combined with the 6 credit hours I earned from Valencia Community College my sophomore year in high school, I had a total of 32 credit hours and was officially a sophomore in college before graduating high school in 1996.

My freshman/senior year, I made the high school basketball team, but chose not to play, primarily because of my ankles, but also because it felt weird being in the high school solely to play basketball while attending college full time.

In the 3 1/2 weeks between finishing my freshman classes at Miami (which ended the first week of May) and attending my high school graduation, I wrote the album, “Intro To My Mind.”  I wrote 14 songs and kept 13, including “Weightliftin’ Jam” and “Playin’ a Little Basketball,” two fan favorites to this day.  (I recorded the album at Applebarn Recording Studios in Liberty, KY in June of 1996.  The recording process took 3.5 hours.)

At the time I wrote the songs, both were a huge part of my life.  Since I started receiving around $300 per month in social security benefits because my mom died when I was a minor, I no longer worked at McDonald’s.  I was living with my grandmother, who was kind enough to let us live at her house and helped look after us, along with my dad.  He’s one of the biggest reasons I kept going.  I knew if he could keep going, so could I.  The fact that I no longer had to work, combined with classes being out for the summer, meant I had tons of free time and very little money.  So, I lifted weights, played a little basketball, and ran daily.  I remember getting a physical when I was 17 before being admitted to Miami, and the doctor told me I had a resting heart rate of 48, the same as Michael Jordan’s!  Yes, I remembered MJ’s resting heart rate because an announcer made reference to it when discussing what kind of peak physical condition Jordan was in.

My sophomore year started off bumpy, setting a tone that should’ve made me find a way to transfer schools, but I genuinely didn’t have the emotional energy after everything that happened leading up to this point.  First, Miami sent me a letter stating, “We cannot prove you are a U.S. citizen,” even though I had already earned a full year of credits at their institution.  Whoever processed my paperwork entered the 8 in my social security number as a 3.  I had to go to the Registrar’s office 3 times, with my father because I was under 18, to get that straightened out.

I also learned that my SAT scores meant nothing to Miami when considering scholarships, and that had I a received a 32 on the ACT instead of a 31, I would’ve received a scholarship.  I only took each test once for financial reasons.  Worse than that, the government considered every penny of the social security benefits I received after my mom died as family contribution towards college, making me ineligible for thousands of dollars in grants.  I do not know if legislation has changed that, but it should.  No child should be told that because they lost a parent before turning 18 that they are not technically poor enough to receive assistance.

All told, my loans were just short of my tuition, and I couldn’t get personal loans as a minor, so I had to work my sophomore year.  Through a work-study program, I got a job shelving books at King Library for minimum wage ($4.25 per hour).  It was boring, but infinitely better than working at McDonald’s, so I was very grateful to have it.

I remember walking to class one day, and I was behind two girls.  One of them said to the other, “My mom just got a new car and wants to give me her old one, but the car I have now is only 2 years old, and my mom’s old car is only a year old, so I don’t know if I want to take my mom’s old car or keep the one I have now.”  That conversation made me consider transferring schools.  First, I was stupefied that this was a problem worthy of discussion, and secondly I felt very out of place.

My entire freshman and sophomore years I felt considerably out of place.  Skipping a grade made no difference to me socially during middle school and high school, aside from being in the same grade as my best friend, but being a 16 year old college student made me feel incredibly isolated.

I had zero confidence when it came to talking to Miami girls.  What was I going to say, “Wanna come over to my grandma’s house?  I’m 16 and really nerdy.  Maybe we could play some chess or do some math, or watch Beavis and Butthead?”  I was poor, depressed, had bad acne, bad teeth and was 2 years younger than the youngest girls at Miami.  This was especially awkward given societal laws.

I did what I did in high school.  I focused on school, hung out with high school friends, and lived with my grandmother.  In some ways, this definitely inhibited my growth.  The real benefit of college isn’t the overpriced courses, it’s the experience.  Going away to college and learning to live on your own is an invaluable experience, and not one I had in the same way as most college students.  In other ways, however, I did grow.  I also think it helped strengthen my beliefs that family is immensely important, and true friends are life’s greatest gifts.  I was also lucky enough to get my first press coverage.  You’ll see in the attached article that I was a computer science major (Miami called it SAN, or Systems Analysis, at the time).

My sophomore year was more challenging than my freshman year, not just for financial reasons, and my social awkwardness, but because that was the year my best friend went off to college.  He wasn’t that far, as he went to the University of Cincinnati, but I didn’t have a car, or even a driver’s license, because I couldn’t afford either.  This meant I only saw my best friend about once a month, when he’d come home.

This lead me to find a new circle of friends, some I still consider friends today, and others who helped lead me to make some very bad decisions…

In the summer of 1997, I fell in love, and that fall hurt pretty badly. It started off inconsequentially.  I would often go to Wendy’s for lunch, usually getting their buffet.  Yes, Wendy’s used to have a buffet.  The buffet had a ton of stuff, including pizza.  Wendy’s was in uptown Oxford at the time (1 W High St., where Chipotle is now).  While eating lunch there, the same girl would usually refill my Cherry Cokes.  To protect her, I’ll call her Alyssa.  We said very little, except “Another Cherry Coke?”  ”Yes, please.  Thank you!”  Until one day I saw her sitting on the bench outside.  She looked down, so I said “are you all right?”  That question turned into a 9 hour conversation.  I had finally gotten my driver’s license and a car (I was 18 1/2), so most of the conversation took place while driving.  I loved to drive and gas was under $1 per gallon then, so I explored quite a bit.  After many hours of aimless driving, I was very lost.  I said “we must be getting close to Hamilton by now,” and immediately saw a sign that read “Welcome To Cincinnati!”  We both laughed, but I soon realized where we were and got home about an hour later.

It was dark when I first asked if she was ok.  The sun was definitely shining brightly when we finally got home.  She had to be back to work 2 hours later, so she took a nap on the davenport at my grandma’s house.

The next day, her ex-boyfriend found me at work.  (I was employed at Shell Gas Station at this time, selling gas and making donuts.  I still don’t like donuts to this day because I used to make them there.)  He told me I should ask her out, that I’d be good for her.  Until then, I hadn’t thought of her that way, or at least didn’t realize it.

I soon did.

A few days later, he came to me and said “You know I could take her back from you any time I wanted to.  But I never would.”  I hadn’t even asked her out, but I knew I was going to the next time I saw her.  By the time I saw her again they had gotten back together.

They had broken up at least 10 times, so I was just waiting for it to happen again. Very, very foolish.  They stayed together for a year and a half.  At the same time, her and I talked for hours every day.  I never made a move, though.  I respected their relationship and knew I’d only be hurting everyone involved if I did something.

However, the situation definitely clouded my judgment.  In the fall of 1997, I started skipping my classes at Miami to drive one of my new found friends to his classes at Southern Ohio College.  Very, very, very stupid!  My heart was in the right place, but I obviously wasn’t considering my own situation when trying to help a friend with his.  I stopped going to class during the second week of the semester.  I slowly withdrew from the university by dropping individual classes.  By the time I dropped my last class, it was several weeks later, and the professor for the final class I was dropping told me that I had to go to the registrar to officially withdraw from the university.  By this time, I was responsible for half the semester’s tuition.  Had I officially withdrawn when I stopped attending classes, I would’ve only owed Miami about $200 instead of $2,000.  This made the obstacle of getting back to school after dropping out even bigger.

I’ll discuss my road back to college in the next installment of this blog.

Ah, high school athletics.  It’s so inaccurately portrayed in movies, TV shows, and pretty much all forms of entertainment.  You could write a book on that subject I think.  For me, I’m simply focusing on what it meant for me, and in some ways, still means to me.

I was always tall for my age, and hit a big growth spurt when I was 10.  I shot up from 5’ to 5’8” in 3 months, and in another 12 months grew another 6 inches, so I was 6’2” when I was 12, and 6’4” by the time I was 13.  I first dunked a basketball when I was 12.  I wasn’t the best ball handler, though, as to be expected by an uncoordinated 6’2”, 160 pound 12 year old.

Before tryouts started, I met a kid named BJ while playing basketball on Discovery Middle School’s court.  I think I was meeting my little sister after school because I can’t think of any other reason I’d have been at the middle school court instead of the high school court.  It was the same BJ who taught me to rap.  We often walked to the University of Central Florida to play basketball with the college kids because we were a little arrogant about our abilities, but also because we wanted to get better so we played against better opponents.

Tryouts were in October, and being from Ohio I was used to 60 degree days.  It was 88 and really humid in Orlando during tryouts, which were outside.  I honestly don’t remember much about playing basketball my freshman year.   It’s mostly just random memories.  In practice one day, I shot a set shot instead of a jumper and the coach yelled at me for it and then took the opportunity to teach to everyone that set shots were not acceptable at the high school level.  I also blocked a shot during practice, and my teammates got excited.  The coach called a foul, even though the block itself was clean.   I fouled him with my body after blocking the shot.  He once told me that I was 8’14”.  He also said he was concerned that my legs weren’t sturdy enough to handle landing after I jumped pretty high on a tipoff.

I also remember going to an opposing school, and when we got off the bus some kids yelled “look at them girls with the daisy dukes on,” because we wore the old fashioned shorts that no male should wear.  I mean, wear what you want, I won’t discriminate.  I used to wear jeans shorts, until I was about 25 years old.  That story will come sometime too.  But not now.

Even though we weren’t great at UHS, I remember feeling like I was actually part of a team there.  I definitely became decent friends with a couple of teammates, and there was one kid in particular I became closer to than the rest, but unfortunately many of my Orlando memories are pretty vague so I don’t remember his name.  I think it was Jamie.  The vagueness of my memories has nothing to do with drugs, as I’ve never smoked pot nor done any other drugs.  Other than a dark beer I tried when I was 8 years old, I didn’t drink for the first time until I was 22.  Also, more on that later.

One day, I asked Jamie, “Do you want a pop?”  He said “No.” After pausing, he said “Wait, what is that?”  I said “A Coke.”  He said, “Oh, yeah, I’d love one.”  Ever since then, I’ve always said soda instead of pop.  You can go anywhere in the country and say soda and they’ll understand you.   I don’t care if you say pop.  I understand.

My sophomore year in high school, I didn’t play basketball.  When the JV coached asked me why I told him I was thinking about playing tennis.  “Tennis?!?” he responded.  I didn’t play tennis either.  I can’t tell you why I didn’t play sophomore year.  It would all be hearsay, but it’s probably because I was focusing more on school, as I was taking a pretty challenging schedule, including a college algebra and trig course taught by a Valencia Community College teacher.  My parents told me she was concerned about teaching me because everyone else in the class was either 17 or 18 year old seniors.  After the first day, she loved me.

My junior year in high school, we moved back to Ohio after my mom was diagnosed with cancer.  She was almost finished with her classes, and just had to take her exams and finish her thesis, and she would have had her PhD in Accounting.  She was, and still is, the greatest role model I’ve ever had.  She always supported me in everything in did, whether in school, basketball, music, or any other aspect of my life.

I played for Talawanda High School my junior year.  The whole year is very much a blur between my mom passing away, me taking the hardest schedule at the school, working at McDonald’s, and playing for the team.  There were times that the only money coming in was from my McJob, at $4.25 an hour, which was minimum wage in 1994.  I worked 8 hours a week because I was only 15.  They felt like 40 hours.  My experiences working there helped motivate me to make sure I finished my education, so I’d never have to work fast food again.

I also had the hardest class I’ve ever taken.  Mrs. Elzey’s AP American Literature class was much more difficult than any college class I ever took, and I actually had more work in her class in one semester than I did my first two years of college combined in all of my classes.  We had 40 books to read in 36 weeks, the shortest of which was over 300 pages.  Every third week rotated, generally.  One week we’d have an exam, which caused me to be late to basketball practice once as her exams were longer than the class period sometimes.  The next, we’d have an 8 page handwritten essay to do in class about the book we read, and the third, we’d have a 6 page typed paper to turn in.  I didn’t sleep the Sunday nights before those papers were due.

Our team that year was bad.  We had some good talent, but 8 players were suspended for drinking alcohol at a party after an exhibition game against a team that came down from Canada.  I wasn’t at the party, so I wasn’t suspended.  I dressed every game, varsity and JV that year.  I practiced for both teams.  Unfortunately, I didn’t get my varsity letter, even though all 8 of the suspended players did.  The coach could have given me bonus points for all of my extra effort, but he didn’t.  My playing time in Orlando didn’t count.  I asked the athletic director why, and she said “other program’s athletic departments are inferior to Talawanda’s.”  If my year in general hadn’t drained everything out of me, I would have laughed in her face.   We were 4-17 that year, in addition to the aforementioned suspensions.

We made the playoffs that year because I think everyone did, and our first game was at Millett Hall at Miami University in Oxford, Ohio.  We were losing by about 25 points at half-time, and I hadn’t played a single moment in the first half.  I did get to shoot a couple of layups during warm-ups and at half-time, but didn’t get any game action.  At some point in the second half, I heard several kids behind me chanting “we want 44,” and then clapping and repeating.  I saw my coach look at them, look at me, and look back at the game.  He never put me on the court.

My senior year at Talawanda was also my freshman year at Miami.   I was technically a high school student, but I took 26 hours at Miami that year (16 first semester, 10 second) through a post-secondary enrollment options program offered through the state.  Ohio paid my tuition and paid for my books, and I was able to sell my books back at the end of the semester so I was essentially getting paid to go to school.  The rest of college wasn’t so easy financially.

I worked harder than anyone in the offseason between my junior and senior year, and actually became pretty good.  I had a 37” vertical at that point, and with that vertical could hit about 11’3”, so I was playing well above the rim.  I actually dunked on two people at the same time in a pick-up game.  There really is no way to describe that feeling.  It’s one of my most emotionally vivid positive moments ever.

I wasn’t good enough to go pro, or even start at a major university, but had I continued working that hard during my entire senior year, I probably would’ve had scholarship offers to smaller schools with strong academic programs.  Unfortunately, I broke my ankle playing a pick-up game.  Nothing glorious.  No 360 degree Tomahawk Jam with an awkward landing.  I was simply back pedaling on defense, and tripped over a teammate’s foot.

When my ankle was 80 percent or so healed, I started playing again.  Actually, I was briefly playing while my ankle was still in a boot.  I couldn’t jump, but I didn’t care.  I just loved playing the game.  When I was about 80 percent, I played in the open gym with my teammates.  My hard work in the offseason became apparent.  I was very well conditioned.  I was doing things my teammates had never seen me do before.  I was a much better rebounder, defender and shooter.  I had a much greater grasp on team concepts.  I had hit several straight shots in the game that day, and made a pretty turn-around jumper that no one under 7’ tall could’ve blocked when I landed on my defender’s foot.  I sprained my other ankle pretty badly.

For the next several months, my ankles kept compensating for each other, and I had lost about 8” off of my vertical.  I could still dunk, but barely and not consistently.  One of my coaches matched me up with a freshman during ball handling drills because he said we were “matching up by talent.”  I still wasn’t a great ball handler, and my ankle injuries probably made it a valid statement at the time, but I believe that a large part of coaching is building up your team’s confidence, as confidence is probably the most important factor in any sport.  It’s very difficult to win when you don’t believe in yourself, and that applies to much more than sports.  Another coach said “I know and I think you know you’re limited,” after making an example of me in practice.  Hence the line “used to call me limited” in the song “Weightliftin’ Jam.”   Again, I don’t think that was the right approach.  It’s odd, even in the years since, where my philosophies have changed, and I have grown tremendously as a person, and even though my skin is thicker than almost anyone’s, those moments (including not getting my letter, and not playing in the playoff game) have stuck with me my entire life.  Those moments, along with the fact that I wasn’t taking a single class at the high school and my ankle injuries, are also why I didn’t play my senior year and ultimately never lettered.

I hope that somewhere a basketball coach reads this and understands that coaching is about much more than winning.  It’s about teaching.  It’s about making their players better people, not just better athletes.  It’s about understanding each child’s life circumstances, which I don’t believe any of my coaches ever did.

I do have some positive memories of playing a little high school basketball, mostly revolving around having fun with friends, but unfortunately the negative ones definitely stand out.  Basketball was my first dream, though it was much shorter and not nearly as powerful as my current one.  I also think that I was never supposed to live that dream.  I believe I was never supposed to play in the NBA, or even at a major university.  I believe I was put here to do what I’m doing now.   Making music and inspiring other people.  I have been through quite a bit, and am thankful every day for my life.  The next chapter in my life is college.  Part 1 of that chapter is where I’ll pick up next time.

In the autumn of the nineteen hundred and ninety second year of the common era, fate bestowed upon me a confluence of events which would eternally shape my future.  First, I met Cleveland “Baby Jordan” Fuller, the man who played basketball with me almost daily, and the man who told me to rap. In October of 1992, B.J. and I were walking to UCF to play basketball with the college kids because we thought we were too good to play at the high school. On the way, B.J. told me to “kick a rap.” I replied “I can’t rap man.” He reiterated,  “man, just kick a rap,” so I did.  I memorized that 30 second freestyle and it became my first song “Inventor.” 

B.J. and I then freestyle battled almost every day. We used to play a card game called Tunk, which was a hybrid of Gin and Rummy using only 5 cards, with the objective being to “go out” with either two runs of 3 or one run of 5. While playing the game, we would talk trash in rhyme about our hands. We used to freestyle on the way to and from school, as well as while waiting to play basketball, etc.

We briefly formed a group called the multi-culturals with a third member.  It was brief enough that I don’t remember his name.  He was Puerto Rican; hence the name of the group. It also abbreviated to M.C.’s, and one of our songs was called “we’re the M.C.’s.”

We eventually recorded a demo on my dad’s tape recorder. We sent a copy to 102 Jamz in Orlando,  but it never got played. We also gave a copy to a talent agent. I was 14 by that time, so it was 1993. She told me “rap is on its way out and you should do something that’s you.” Rap became more popular in the coming years, and I’ve always known that I’m doing something that’s me.

The other thing that shaped my life in 1992 is that I played high school basketball.  In some ways, that may seem trivial.  It truly wasn’t, and that’s where we’ll pick up next time.

I was born at 7 pm on January 19, 1979. My Sharona by The Knack was the number 1 song on the radio that week, and yes I liked the song before I found that out.  I was 9 lbs. 10.5 ounces and 22″ long when I was born, and during birth my head got stuck. The doctor had to use what were essentially tongs to pull me out. That should explain a few things.

My very first memory is the image of the backseat of a VW Bug as I was in that backseat from Ohio to California when I was 3. I’ve been told that we lived in the same apartment complex as the little girl from Poltergeist and that I used to play with her big brother

When I was 5, we moved back to Ohio, to my hometown of Oxford. I was very fortunate to meet my best friend at the age of 6. We’re still best friends today and having a best friend for that long has helped teach me about what’s truly important in life.

I was a big nerd growing up. I was on the high school chess team in middle school. I wore Bart Simpson boxers on top of my underwear to school once thinking they were regular shorts.

I was always one of the tallest kids in my class, and went from 5′ to 5’8″ in 3 months. I was 6’2″ and 160 pounds when I was 12. My physique resembled a piece of cardboard, and I had bad teeth, thick glasses and horrible acne. It didn’t matter though because I had the support of my family and best friend, so I was a happy kid.

I also got my confidence from my intelligence. I never really bragged about it, and I’m not bragging now.  My ability to learn is a gift, as is my creativity, and I’m blessed to be able to share it with you. I’m simply letting you know about it because it has certainly shaped my life.

I was the first student in the Talawanda School District to take pre-algebra in 6th grade, which lead to getting a perfect score on the Stanford standardized test, which lead to Talawanda offering me the opportunity to skip 7th and 8th grade.  I chose to only skip one grade because I didn’t want to be the youngest at the high school 3 years in a row. I didn’t even consider the effect of starting college at 16 (that’s later in the story).

I often claim “Inventor” as my first ever rap song, and I still see it that way, but in middle school chorus our teacher made us write a rap song. I wrote a parody of Ice Ice Baby called Rice Rice Krispies. It was awful. The only lines I still remember are “rice rice krispies too old too old” and “take a bath in some math.” It was embarrassingly bad.

When I was 13, we moved to Orlando so my mom could get her PhD in accounting from the University of Central Florida, and that’s where we’ll pick up next time.

Share My Music
Download 26 songs for free at MissionMan.net.  Tell your friends to do the same.  Post my Facebook page on your wall, or a friend’s wall.  Suggest my page to your friends. Invite your friends to one of my events.  Share one of my videos on Facebook or Twitter.  Talk to your friends about me offline.  Post my UStream broadcast on your page.

Come To a Show
Obviously, this is if you can. The more people come to my shows, the more shows I get to play.

Drop Me a Tip
I want to get my music out there as much as possible, and I’m happy to give it away, but I still want to make a living from it, so tip me a couple bucks via paypal by going to MissionMan.net and clicking on the tips button, or send it directly via paypal to missionman at missionman dot net.

Put Together a House Party
Yes, I’d love to play your house party. I’d need gas money and a place to stay if it’s a far drive, plus a little extra because I’ll have to miss work, making it harder to pay bills.

Put Me On a Show
If you’re in a band and want me to open for you, let me know. My connections in terms of booking shows are limited right now, but if I can return the favor in the future, I certainly will.

I’m sure there are other things I’m not thinking of as well. Thank you very much for being a fan, and for any help you give.

If I can get $20 in tips between now and November 30th, 2011, then I’ll keep giving away my music, and I’ll upload some new music for you to download for free.  It can be one person tipping me $20 or 20 people tipping me $1.  Anything is very much appreciated.    I’ll still make my music available via iTunes and CDBaby as well.

It could open up new possibilities as well, especially come tour time.  Once I go back on tour again, this could allow people to pay me gas money directly to come perform in their town, etc.

Ultimately, my goal is to make a living from my music of course, as it has been for over 19 years.  But, I’m starting with the small goal of $20 just to see how it goes.  With your help, I believe I can make a living from my music.  Thank you!

I have been insulted in many ways.  I’ve been heckled by an off duty bartender who worked at the venue I was performing in.  I’ve had a music reviewer say that “31 Hours Til What?” was the worst album ever made, even though he only listened to 20 minutes of the album.  As recently as last night, the comedian directly after me said “are you trying to ruin rap for me?  I can’t even listen to the artists I want to listen to because I can’t help thinking about you.”  In the case of the heckler, I just ignored him and kept performing.  In the case of the album review, I posted honestly that I know my music isn’t for everyone and would never expect everyone to like it.  Ultimately, the reviewer apologized for saying some of the things he said about me because of the way I took the review.  I think he still doesn’t like my music, but he has respect for me as an artist.  In the case of the comedian, I simply laughed at what he was saying, and even bantered with him a little bit, ultimately saying “I have the thickest skin on the planet.  You cannot hurt my feelings.”

I react in the ways I react because ultimately, I want to be happy.  I don’t want to dwell on negative reactions and insults.  I’d much rather let them slide right off my back, or even better, turn them into a positive.  Dwelling on the negative only increases their impact.

I extend that to many other things in my life as well.  I cannot control whether or not someone brings me in for a job interview.  I can only submit my resume.  I cannot control whether they hire me.  I can only control how I am in the interview.  Right now, I’m just happy to have a job at all.  I’m certainly not ashamed of delivering pizzas for a living.  I don’t think anyone judges me right now for it either.

Most recently, I’ve had a situation with the Cincinnati music venue MOTR.  After my tour in May, where I realized my Cincy fan base had essentially gone away or at least gotten to the point in their lives where going out to see live music was no longer a part of their lives, I knew I had to rebuild.  I chose the open mic route because it has worked for me in the past, and live performance still seems to be the best way to generate fans.  I found out about MOTR’s open mic, and I even contacted the club about performing there at that point.  What they told me was that they didn’t have anything for me at the time but “we will be watching your career.”   The implication to me was that if I grew a fan base and worked hard to do so, they’d give me a chance to perform a full show there.  I thought it was a perfect situation.  The venue was setup for music first.  The sound there is great.  The room is warm, inviting and very comfortable.  The open mic hosts have all been fantastic!  The poets, comedians, singers, and other artists who attend the Tuesday open mikes are talented, and many of them have something meaningful and personal to say.

I started performing there on a regular basis, and started gaining some new fans each week.  This past Tuesday, I received a wonderful response from the people there.  A handful of people came specifically to see me and waited 90 minutes just to see me perform for 9.  So, I contacted the club again, thinking I had done enough to get a shot at a full show.

Unfortunately, that isn’t the case.  The owner told me that he appreciated me coming to the Writers’ Night on Tuesdays, but doesn’t feel my music is ready to sustain an entire night.  I asked for clarification to make sure it was a statement on the music itself, and not how many people I could bring to the venue.  He was very clear that it was the music itself.

It now leaves me in the unfortunate situation where I have spent 4 months of performing, promoting, and driving, in order to build something and open a door, only to find out the door was actually a wall.  It is a situation where I cannot control how he feels.  He is the owner, and therefore can make his decisions anyway he wants.  Many owners have been much ruder, and actually laughed at the idea of me playing in their venue.  I don’t have any ill feelings towards him, and I don’t want to cause any kind of issues with the venue.  I simply need to explain why this Tuesday, October 18^th, 2011, will be my last performance at MOTR.

I want to say goodbye properly.  I want to have one last performance to thank all of the fans at open mic night for being wonderful!  I will turn a negative situation into a positive one!  I will leave MOTR on a high note, and I will open other doors instead of banging my head against a wall!

So, if you’re reading this before October 18^th, and you’re near MOTR, come out for my last performance there.  It won’t be my last in Cincy.  I’ll be doing the open mic at Mainstay most Wednesdays, and of course, I’m opening for iPhonic on November 11^th at the Mad Frog.

Thank you everyone for the love and support you’ve shown me over the years!

With love,
MissionMan

I have been through a lot of bad things in my life, and I’ve experienced some tremendously uplifting moments as well.  For me, it’s mostly about what I choose to focus on.  I know plenty of bad things happen all the time, and I don’t completely ignore them, but that’s not where I choose to spend my energy.  I prefer using my time and effort to make a difference in the lives of the people in mine.  For my best friends, that can mean listening when they really need someone, or doing something to cheer them up when they’ve had a bad day.  For those friends, I’ve done things as crazy as starting a 12 hour drive at 11 pm in order to visit a friend for a week to help him make a major decision.

For my friends who aren’t quite as close, I still help them when and where I can.  Sometimes, it’s simply responding to something they’ve posted online, or I’ll text them and let them know I care or that I have love for them.  To me, that’s just what friends do.

For my Facebook fans, I now want to extend that part of me to you.  I already do it in my music, and will continue to do so, but if you’ve taken the time to listen to my music and like my page, I want to take the time to give you a little more, too.  I know that if you’re in New York City, the fact that I’m performing at an open mic night on Monday in Newport, KY isn’t very relevant.  It’s nice for you to know that I’m still living my dream, but you’re not likely to drive 11 hours (or fly 2) in order to see me perform for 10 minutes, so I want to give you something more relevant.

Just some quick examples of what you can expect:

Example 1: When I was 18, I made some bad financial decisions and dropped out of college as a Junior.  It took me 2 years, but I worked my way back into college, and working full-time while going to school full-time made graduating that much more rewarding.

Ex. 2: Most of you know my mom passed away when I was 15.  I’m now 32, and I will never forget what she taught me.  She was in her 40s with 4 kids, and 3 teaching jobs while going to school full-time for her PhD and when she came home she was simply happy to see us.  Because of her, I have a strong drive and tremendous work ethic, but I understand that love is more important than anything, and the most valuable things in my life are my family, my friends, and my dreams.

Ex. 3: For most of the set, the room was silent.  Then, halfway through “Do What You Love,” 4 people came to the front of the stage, dancing, and really getting into, creating a moment that carried the night into greatness.

Thank you, and I hope I make your days brighter!
With Love,
Mission Man