Tattered epitaph to the old me.

Once upon a time,

I had a humongous portfolio, filled with whatever my mind could come up with. I never really put much thought into what I was going to do, I just let my hand go. I was determined to become a tattoo artist. No matter what it took. I started selling prints of my art on the streets in LA to get my first equipment. Here is one of of the pieces I was selling prints of:

This torn and mixed up mess, formed me

Shortly after I had saved enough selling prints, I had earned enough to get my first tattoo kit, with the help of my roommate, Tim, who never stopped believing I would do great things. I was so excited, determined and ready to get started, but refused to do anything on anyone, without testing the waters on myself. I had done cover up over cover up on my arms ( terrible space to start, right? haha. ) and now have many more to get covered up professionally.

Master of disaster

As my ambition to pursue my dream rose and rose, something horrendous happened. I had been minding my own business and was jumped at random. This left me with an inch and a half of skull lodged through my right frontal lobe, and the inability to ever see properly again through my right eye. This will be a full post another time, but is important to this story. I lost my will to dream, my friends, my family, but most importantly myself. The feeling of dread that my depth perception had been so skewed, that I'd never accomplish my dreams, destroyed me. I then became a squatter using this guitar below ( decay ) as my main source of food:

How bad do you want to survive?

I learned many things in my time squatting. How to be resourceful. How to use the guitar Tim had given me to make people laugh into giving me burgers or quarters. Most importantly, I learned how to live again. No matter what life throws at you, never give up on yourself. Keep your head held high, never let anyone tell you how much you are worth. Your dreams can come true. Mine did and so can yours!