I write this as many of us struggle to get through life especially as we leave high school and are cast into reality. While others make these endeavors seem normal and simple, there are those of us out there who have faced unforeseen hardships. Our worlds may have been pulled out from under us repeatedly leaving us to fend for ourselves with little help or guidance.
How on Earth can a nineteen year old kid possibly have the wherewithal to finish four years of schooling and afford tuition and lodging? Why does it come so easily to them? Let the following essay be a testament to my many years as an alchemist in the school of hard knocks: The transmutation of stupidity into wisdom.
I was inspired to write this after listening to James Rolfe's biography in which he details his struggles and drive to finish school. I once picked up a book called Setting the Table which was written by a successful restaurant owner. I couldn't get through the first chapter because the author details his incredibly pampered and privileged youth. Nah, man. Give me a tale of challenge and pain because those are the things most of us face.
Leaving Home
I should start this story by explaining that I left home at the age of thirteen. My childhood neighborhood culture quickly changed and I could not relate to the culture. While I preferred classical music and rock, the children were listening to gangster rap. It quickly became very uncomfortable to be the only white boy in a predominantly hispanic school. To this day, I have no issues with the hispanics but man, the kids of Chicago back in the late 90s/2000s listened to some ghetto-ass music.
Much to my father's dismay, it was arranged for me to live with my cousin in the suburbs. Having grown up in the city, I had always envisioned the suburbs to be a Californian utopia in which all the kids listened to rock music and skateboarded all day long.
Turns out it was. I quickly made friends and spent many of my days listening to metal, skateboarding, and just hanging out. I was blown away by the culture shock.
Teenage Identity
It is imperative to understand the adolescent need for a young man to form an identity. Often by the second year of high school, a common child can be seen defecting from the outfits and styles chosen by his parents in favor of his own. Suddenly the boy sporting the baseball team shirt is now wearing a Led Zeppelin shirt. It is a natural stage of development as we leave the hypothetical nursery of our mother's care and use the tools available to us to establish an identity on which to further build our values.
My own adolescent path was no different. Referring to our own interests and the tools available to us at the time, I can say I took a more traditional approach given the limited resources available. While the other kids seemed to have an unlimited tap into mommy and daddy's money supply, I scrapped by with coins I could find for school lunch. This equated to many of the children sustaining themselves off extravagant lunch items like pizza and curly fries whereas I would subsist on milk until I got home and could prepare my own meals.
This lack of money also meant I would fancy the older game consoles while my peers would indulge in the latest greatest - of which I have no regrets. While the rich kids were playing their online shooter games on the Xbox, my friends and I were rocking Goldeneye and Perfect Dark on the Nintendo 64 with four controllers. To this day, I would take the old games over any modern shooter looter any day.
Lastly, while most teens were given an automobile from their parents or take the school bus, I had developed an identity around walking everywhere. Staying lean was never an issue because there was little choice but to walk. Food was also scarce so weight gain was hardly ever an issue.
These circumstances lead me to spend my free time writing music. On older computer systems, I developed an affinity for MIDI. I found it amazing that I could create an entire symphonic musical score without the need to purchase an orchestra. In my free time, music would keep me productive. I would soon create original soundtracks for several amateur computer games. I may have turned into a derelict misguided punk, but at least there was something useful I could do for this world.
College Bound
By my senior year, I had found much joy and meaning as admin of an online game-making community. I'd become known for my theatrical scores and MIDI soundtracks. Even though I was broke, it didn't stop me from producing music.
As this was my final year of high school, the common mantra for a millenial was to attend college. With game-creation being my hobby and music composition being my passion, the decision to study music came easily. It was a niche interest but it was mine.
I was the punk that walked everywhere. Perfect, I lived near the commuter railway. I could take the train into the city and attend the local art university. By my last semester, I was already spiritually checked out. While some had plans to attend prestigious universities where they'd go away for school and party in dorms, many knew they'd be headed to the local community college. Then there was me, the kid who was going to take the train to art school. It had become a part of my identity.
I should note: Artists seem to be the most pretentious bunch. My ego may have been heavily inflated as I was all-in on this endeavor. This imminent adventure had me excited like nothing else.
I applied for art school and was accepted. Asking for two letters of recommendation from my favorite teachers and seeing their excitement and enthusiasm for my academic future made me all the more inspired to move forward. Class of 6/6/6 fuck yea.
Pulled Out from Under Me
As I had spent every summer in high school skateboarding, listening to music, and hanging out with friends, this was the first time I actually had responsibilities to tend to. I went through the process of filing financial aid. I made the trek downtown for the orientation. I later registered for courses. Everything was solidifying.
Financial aid had come through. Of the $18K needed to attend the school year, $16K was covered. "Amazing!" I thought. So now I would simply need a student loan for the remaining two-thousand.
This is the part of the story where reality knocks a kid like me on his ass. Turns out lenders don't give money to kids without a credit score or job. This was a bummer. Fortuantely, I had a working class father who'd spent his life working. Surely, he'd be willing to co-sign for me.
With only a week left before the start of the 2007 semester, my father absolutely refused to co-sign for the loan of $2000. He reasoned: He had co-signed for an older cousin of ours back in the 90s on a car loan. Apparently my idiot cousin stopped making payments on the car and it caused my father a lot of trouble.
Looking back, my father could have lent me the money from his own reserves but he had the strange behavior of pretending to be broke and secretive with such things. Anyway, without any further guidance or suggestions, and with the college semester starting, I would be shit out of luck.
Work Work
Guess I could just be like everyone else and attend the community college of which I could afford myself with wages earned from a job. Well damn, I had planned to go as long as I could without a car given that my university of choice was right at the other end of the train line. It would be one thing to simply attend the community college but without a car, there was no way I'd be able to get there.
With the semester having begun without me, I then spent all my waking hours looking for employment. I'd then use the money to purchase a car. Genuinely excited as the prospect of earning money and working hard, I was like Spongebob at the Krusty Krab. I found full-time employment at the newly-built sandwich shop.
Wow! I can work full-time, save up the funds for a car, then take off Tuesdays and Thursdays so I can attend school full-time. This is exactly where I need to be in life!
A Brand New Car!
I had finally managed to save $2000. An interesting number considering that was the amount that would have procured my semester at the art university. Anyway, this was going to be my down payment for a brand new car! Figured I could go to the dealership and purchase an entry-level car marketed towards young people
Nope! Turns out lenders don't care if you've got a job and a down-payment if you have no credit. At least the lenders I had the misfortune of working with. I don't think any of the sales people took me seriously as I've always looked very young. I asked my father if he'd be willing to co-sign but he kindly told me to go fuck myself. Although he worded it much more kindly than that.
My cousin whom I lived with was a car salesman. We worked it out that he would sell me one of the dealership's trade-in cars at cost. This was a pretty sweet deal. Sure, the car was ugly as heck, but I was just happy to have a ride to get to college! I traded all the money I had saved for the car. Now I can arrange to go to school!
Community College
Having employment and a working car, I was able to afford my first course at the community college by the Spring semester of 2007. My work had no problem letting me work Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
I remember coming home from work one day. I still walked to work as the sandwich shop wasn't too far and was still wanting to hold onto my identity as an active person. My cousin had his friend over and they were drinking tequila. His friend proudly gave me two shots of a tequila with a stag on the bottle and proclaimed: "Enjoy! You're a working man, now!"
I felt so honored by this. It meant a lot to be recognized as a contributing member of society. In fact, this would be the only time I'd ever receive positive reinforcement from anyone.
Pulled Out from Under Me Again
Having already signed up for the next semester of school; This time, having enlisted as a full-time student, I thought I was doing everything I needed to be doing. Until one day, my cousin started a fight with me.
I still don't understand the context, but this was a grown man who did his best to make me feel like I was wasting my time and that my endeavors were worthless. It's worth noting this would not be the first time he'd work to belittle me and it certainly wouldn't be the last. I still don't know what his motivations were to mentally abuse others but this time was particularly bad.
I left the house and walked for miles. I felt like it was time to leave. I didn't return home until late at night. The next day, I didn't go to work. It all felt pointless. This dude took a knife and took all the wind out of my sales. I didn't know what I was going to do but I never ended up returning to that sandwich shop. In retrospect, I'd argue I shouldn't have been a little bitch and went back to work. More importantly, I'd argue you should reinforce good behavior from others and not make any effort to psychologically destroy any of the good things they've built for themselves.
Just Floating By
The next year or so would be uninspiring. I would finish another semester of community college and find employment in a grocery store. Both the college and the grocery store started to become symbols of my failures. Youth is like this: With so little perspective and experience on this Earth, these stupid little things can matter all that much more to a young person.
Each passing day further withered away any sense of autonomy I had. I was no longer in charge of my own destiny but rather letting life push me where I needed to go. I began to accept that most decisions would be based on disparity rather than any burning desires I may have once had. With this, the mind begins to shut down and the fire inside dwindles.
Then I found alcohol. Boy, did that really re-light my passions! It made the grind of day-to-day life all the more bearable because, while the days may have sucked, the nights were fun as heck!
After a year of partying, I worked closely with a friend to try again at life. Awful part-time jobs weren't getting me anywhere and I could barely afford food so how could I ever afford to go back to school? My friend and I applied at a temp agency and within a month, we were both given full-time jobs that paid several dollars above minimum wage.
Adult Hell
Hell is being stuck in a place performing a task you don't enjoy for a project you don't care about. I'm not against work if it feels like it genuinely brings value and serves as a worthy challenge. My friend and I were stuck operating machines inside the most sterile building in the heart of an industrial park in the late hours of the night. I thought the income would bring me closer to my goals but all the job did was crush our spirits.
I thought to myself: "Is this what being an adult is like?" Is grinding nine hours per day what the future holds? Of course, I now know this couldn't be further from the truth. It was just a terrible job. But youth is this way. We both began to slowly get fat and suffer sleep problems. My friend ended up prescribed anti-psychotic medication which leads to several very amusing stories which I will exclude.
On my 21st birthday, already fairly intoxicated, making up for the boredom and unfulfillment suffered at work, I received a call that my father had died. I was given two weeks off of work. Despite my grief, in this short time off, I had time to reflect and think about what I wanted from life. I did not return back to that awful job.
Within weeks, my cousin who had already been in the habit of starting fights with me and making it known how useless I was threatened to fist-fight me. One morning I overheard him belitting his own son for making an honest mistake. I stepped in to defend the child and that must have made him snap. Never did he threaten to physically attack me.
That was that. Over night, I packed all my belongings, and went back to the city.
Living Under a Table
There was no room for me at my mother's house. However, I had setup a nice set of old couch cushions under a large dining room table. I was obscured nicely by the dangling table cloth. The house was so cluttered, you would hardly notice my new den. To be fair, I did not build this sleeping arrangement. I actually stole it from my brother who had built it for himself.
So there I was: College-bound young adult. Not even in the same county as his community college. Far away all his friends. No support group. No coach or father-figures. I had a girlfriend but we were two psychologically bruised individuals and our relationship was long passed it's expiration. I should have ended that relationship cleanly but didn't know any better. Youth is like that.
I had never felt so alone in my life. Then my car broke down. The cost to repair the car was an amount I would never be able to afford. Not in any reasonable amount of time. The owner of the property where my car had been stored requested it be removed immediately. "Man, you're really going through hard times. Get your fucking car the fuck away from my property." Alright, it was said nicer than that but that's how it felt at the time.
I did manage to find a job I really liked in a coffee shop at the mall. However, most of my income would go to food, my own living expenses, and taking the train to school. A common workday would be at least 13 hours with the crazy commute I'd have strung together.
Coffee, Cigarettes, and Alcohol
Spinning my wheels would be the best way to describe the next several years of my life as I commuted to work from my lonely house in the city to the suburban coffee shop. As I spent many hours commuting, I began to enjoy coffee shops. A Dunken Donuts or Starbucks near a train station or bus stop became a little piece of paradise. Coffee paired especially well with tobacco cigarettes. When I found out you could legally drink on the train, that began one of my new favorite hobbies: Drinking.
Imagine having a three-mile walk home through a beautiful Chicago park at night. The once lonely depressing walks soon became a very relaxed time thanks to cheap beer from the grocery store that stood right near the train station and park.
Cope
I should like to think a lot of stories end here. People fall into a routine of which they cannot escape and they are pushed around by life. I had fallen into this exact situation. As time went on, my situation did not improve. However, my affinity for drinking certainly did.
I then took a job in a restaurant as a server. I loved this job. In the United States, serving can be a very lucrative job because the wages are based on tips. This job was right on the train station so the commute was very easy. As any of my drive to ever live a successful life had left me, I decided I would make the most of my new position. I learned to find joy in hard work. I began to meet all kinds of people who would frequent the restaurant. I strived to be one of the best servers.
At this point in the timeline, I am now a 26 year old college drop-out. As often comes with aging, any original sense of identity I may have had was now long gone. Any ego or traits I may have thought defined me no longer mattered. I'd accepted that I would simply be a developing person with no idea where the future would go - and that life could very well take me anywhere. I had grown apathetic but still hopeful. I had let go of any expectations.
I believe these are the exact type of people you see standing outside their respective jobs smoking cigarettes day after day. As the work can be unrewarding, the nicotine offers a great substitute for the dopamine and endorphins associated with meaningful work.
My troubles with the law and the crippling fines I would pay are excluded from this story. Chalk them up as more misguided poor people bullshit that happened further delaying any moves toward success.
Love
I originally wanted to write that my struggle stopped here. In the years that would follow, I found a girlfriend from a great supportive family. I had never seen anything like that. Turns out normal families don't go out of their way to break each other down and actually support each other.
Inspired by my loving girlfriend, I was finally motivated to go back to college. She was much younger than me but it felt like we were both in the same part of our lives: She was working multiple jobs to pay her way through school. Wow, what work ethic! Amazing what you can accomplish when you have the support of a wholesome loving family.
My best friend dropped me off at work. Before going into the restaurant to start my shift, we both stood outside overlooking the train station while smoking cigarettes. My friend, who had struggles similar to mine, began to tell me: "You know, I have a friend who works in IT. He does bullshit with computers. Anyway, he was making $35K per year and then he got his Microsoft Certification. So his job gave him a promotion and now he makes $45K per year."
My friend and I had spent many nights drinking and playing with old computer parts. Computers were one of those things that came natural to us having grown up with no money to do anything else. Playing with old electronics and parts was just something broke teenagers do.
He suggested Cisco certs. We both found building networks to play Quake and Doom on old computers fun so that was the route we chose. Within a few months, we both saved every last bit of income so that we could go back to the community college. I would take the train out to the suburbs and he would pick me up and drive us to the class. The school had a coffee shop so we could both have coffee and hang out a little bit before walking into class. After class, he would drop me off at the train station for the last train back in to the city.
We both found it particularly interesting that the professor was only part-time and worked a full-time career type gig during the day. Looked like their salaries were listed on the school website to which we were both impressed.
Hard Work
This was not easy - but it was fulfilling. I had to work my part-time job as a restaurant server while getting my butt to school at night. But my girlfriend filled me with hope - always reminding me that I was making the right choice. At this point, all of my hobbies went away. My new life would be about being the best server I could possibly be - and learning computer networking. Unfortunately, I still had one very bad habit that took many years to shake: Alcohol.
I should note that I enjoyed my work. I would not have been able to finish school had I been miserable in that industrial park job. If you're miserable at work, find something else. Please.
All In
My girlfriend and I eventually got a tiny studio apartment near the community college. Having finished the Cisco courses, I spent every waking hour applying for entry-level IT jobs. The only way I could describe my behavior would be obsessive. I spent what little discretionary money I had on old routers and switches. (And coffee and beer). I even took a computer repair technician role part-time not far from the school. Wow, here I am working two part-time jobs and not being depressed about it.
One day, I finally got a call from a mysterious company. They wanted to train me as a network engineer and would then place me into a contracted role. I would later learn that this is a scam: The company hires you as a W2 employee, creates a fake resume, and places you into a senior position. The contract pays $120 hourly and the employee (me) makes $20. This is a common practice for H1Bs as well - where the gig pays an absurd amount hourly but the majority of it is pocketed by the staffing agency. I didn't care though. I was getting real professional experience! I got to work with live networking routers and switches! I was scarred shitless though by the older guys who probably made 5x what I was making. Sometimes you'd encounter another kid who was equally as nervous knowing his resume was fake and he too had been planted by a staffing company. It always bothered me that I had to act on desperation. But a poor man needs to do what he needs to do.
Back to School
Many years have gone by. I am now in my 30s. I married that girlfriend of mine who helped me to get my life back together. I no longer drink. Many of the old habits are gone. I am now returning to school. The irony is I already have the house, a reliable car, and a career. So it's like I put the cart before the horse. Whatever.
I hope my story resonates with anyone who reads this. Life is a bitch. Especially if we are misguided or have no guides. Also, I've grown to appreciate musicians. I no longer consider myself a musician but I know it's a difficult life. And even when you do finally make it as a musician, you end up selling your soul - but that's a topic for a different website.
Remember that there is always time. Because if you died tomorrow, it's not like you'd be sad that you died while you were still doing shit. You'd have spent your life working towards your goals and have woke up every day excited about some shit you were up to.
Not like what I'm doing is anything special. There's plenty of random people already in their careers who will say shit like: "Hey, I'm going back to school." My sister for example; Had a good-paying job. Saw she needed her Master's Degree to advance further. Spent her weekends studying and now she has her Master's and the higher-paying job. But man, people make this shit look so easy. Feeling cute, might get my Master's. Oh well. Then there's the rest of us. Maybe it gets easier. You know: Once you already have a decent-paying job and a place to live.
One final note: I have found that every time in my life where I have gone all-in on something, I came out ahead. That is to say, when I became completely and utterly obsessed with my goals to the point that others would deem me unreasonable - That is when I managed to break through toward some sort of measurable success. So if that's what it takes for a poor man to not be poor, aye why not?
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