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I had a dream that someone was trying to tell me an ‘Egg Supreme’. It was just an egg cooker, but it was big and yellow, and shaped like an egg. In the dream, he wanted $5,000 for it, and I heavily debated it, desperate to have an Egg Supreme. In the end, I told him I just couldn’t pay that much for the coveted item, and I instead bought some horse hair.

The pathless path

I told you the other day about my story in a spiritual sense, but it’s been more than just that. It’s been career and work, education and love. It’s all been tied together, how I live my life and why.

An important part of my story is that I grew up in an area where everyone went to college.

99% of my high school class graduated, and 96% of them went to college. I remember those numbers because everyone was very proud. We were in public school, and these were some of the best numbers in the country.

But I didn’t really want to go.

During the time when everyone was visiting schools and applying to 30+ universities, I was doing drugs and was pretty upset that my father was in the process of transitioning into a woman. And it’s still wild to think about.

That was when everyone around you had fairly normal (at least 2 parents) in what seemed like a strong family unit (I know no one’s perfect, but at least they’re around), and all the while, my father had just decided to leave us to remove ribs and get a sex change. This is not normal.

It’s actually crazy.

It’s no wonder I had any capacity to try to think about my future, and I didn’t. I was barely getting through school at that time. I can’t tell you one thing I learned, and I never remember completing any homework. I was 16 and miserable. Crew practice was the only thing keeping me alive, and that’s not an exaggeration.

That summer, or the summer after Junior year, I went to Virginia Commonwealth University’s Art Foundation Summer Program. It was for high school students who wanted to go into VCU Arts. It was basically a month or two on campus where you were in college-level art classes and built really key pieces for your portfolio. Some of my favorite works are still the works I made that summer.

I remember I was dating (more like nursing) this guy at the time (because he could get us lots of drugs), and he was in rehab while I was in summer art school. Every week, he sent me these long letters. I still remember getting them. I kept them for a while, but I burned them a few years ago. I don’t know that girl anymore, the one who was cradling an addict worse off than her. Who, before rehab, had let him sleep in the shed in the backyard because his parents kicked him out. Who went to prom like everyone else, but whose date was hitting an 8-ball in the parking lot. If I could fix him, just a little, maybe I’d be okay too.

So when it came time to apply to schools next year, I applied to one school and one school only: Virginia Commonwealth University. I was going to go for fine art, and that was about it.