The Soundtrack To My Life by Tercy U. Toussaint

UPRODIGYDESIGN PUBLISHERS

This book is dedicated to the â&#x20AC;&#x153;Holy Trinityâ&#x20AC;? aka my mother, my grandmother and my aunt. Aptly named as talking to one of them is like talking to all three of them. You three are the reason my heart beats. I love you.

FOREWORD Few of my peers consistently exhibit the untapped talent that Garfield does. I’ve enjoyed watching him grow as a blogger and now writer over the past year, and it’s an absolute treat to see this project being shared with the world. It’s a pleasure to write this foreword not only because Garfield is a dear friend, but because of what this book represents for him as a writer and thinker. It takes clarity of thought to peel back the layers of one’s own mind, and it takes courage to share them with the world. Garfield’s passion for writing and music are evident here, where poignant lyrics punctuate points without being distracting from the passages. This isn’t a work of fiction that was put together for our entertainment, it’s an insightful and honest self-evaluation by someone making a commitment to growth and progress. As an ambitious black male trying to leave a legacy and live a life that matters, I can relate to a lot of the topics covered in the stories here even though I haven’t lived them. Another observation: the deft articulation of complex emotions is not something we have come to expect from black men in modern culture, and Garfield has -- intentionally or unintentionally -- shipped a project that flies in the face of stereotypes and expectations. I think we’ll all look back at the timing of this project and appreciate it even more in the months and years to come. Its release comes at a time when Garfield is working through the most important and period of growth and professional reinvention that he’s likely ever faced. And if it sounds like I’m proud, it’s because I am. If you enjoy this book half as much as I did, I hope you’ll share it.

Willie Jackson williejackson.com

The Soundtrack To My Life

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

PROLOGUE “When the lights go off/and it’s my turn to settle down, my main concern/ promise that you will, sing, about me/promise that you will, sing, about me.” – Kendrick Lamar This version of the book you’re currently reading is a very different iteration from my original plan. I’ve been blogging for a number of years and with each passing month I’m seeing my profile rise, ultimately bringing me a lot of new readers and opportunities. On my blog I talk about a number of different things that range from my personal observations, relationships, witty musings, as well as topics situated on life and the best way to maneuver through it. I wrote about many things, but for a long period of time, I kept myself out of it. Sure, occasionally, I would use a personal story as a catalyst for the idea. It’s always easier to relate to people through stories. What I hadn’t really done however, was talk about me. The things that made me tick. The experiences that made me who I am. By and large, I’ve been something of a shadowy figure behind a keyboard, typing away all these thoughts and helping to change the perspectives of many of the people who read. But nobody really knew who I was. This book is an effort to change that. I wanted to write something so people could get an idea of who I am and how my life experiences have shaped the person behind the blog, “When Keeping It Real Goes Right.” So I decided to write about me. My life. My struggles. My dreams. My failures. And whatever else I could fit into the next 9 chapters of reading. That’s exactly what I did. In doing that, I also wanted to do something a bit different. It wasn’t enough to just write my story; I wanted to do something unique I thought people would be receptive to. I am a lover of music. More specifically, hip hop. So in this book, you’ll see titles of the chapters and then you’ll see an artist’s name and song title next to it. What I’ve done is use lyrics from the artist’s music to specifically illustrate a point I was making while I was writing. The Soundtrack To My Life

These lyrics are all in italics in an effort to help them stand out. I drew inspiration from the music I’ve listened to, to help create and bring out the feelings I wanted to tap into while I was writing. The songs aren’t exactly a 1 to 1 correlation in terms of subject matter, but the lyrics themselves and the things they’re expressing emphasize how I felt. Something I’d like for you to keep in mind while reading this memoir is, I haven’t figured everything out. Some of the stories located in this book are living and breathing even as I currently write this intro. As such, some of the stories are unfinished and some of its problems are unsolved. This isn’t intentional; it’s more a side effect of life. In any event, I’ve talked enough. Thanks for downloading, sharing, reading, critiquing, and supporting this book. So without further ado I present to you... The Soundtrack to My Life.

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter 1: The Prequel to the First Time I Ever Fell In Love............................................................08 Chapter 2: Girl Problems............................................................................................................................11 Chapter 3: Friends, How Many of Us Have Them?...............................................................................15 Chapter 4: Issues with My Pops...............................................................................................................19 Chapter 5: Love Donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t Live Here Anymore...........................................................................................23 Chapter 6: Trapped Within My Own Thoughts......................................................................................27 Chapter 7: Everybody Needs Help...........................................................................................................31 Chapter 8: The Set-Up...............................................................................................................................34 Chapter 9: The Set-Back...........................................................................................................................37 Chapter 10: Quitters Never Win, Right?................................................................................................40 Chapter 11: The Saga Continues...............................................................................................................44 Special Thanks To......................................................................................................................................48

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

The Soundtrack To My Life

Chapter 1: The Prequel to the First Time I Fell In Love Lupe Fiasco – Sunshine “Fresh to def, she is/From her steps to her set, she is/So death might not let me live/ Ya dig? Fresh, yes, she is” The first time I ever saw my “first” ex, I was actually at a Biology study session. I peeped her from across the room and was immediately captivated by her. I’d been on campus for a good minute and seen some of the baddest (women?) FSU had to offer, but as far as I was concerned? She was perfection. 5’7 and a half. Deep brown skin. Double D titties, a flat stomach, a booty so round it’d make a grown man cry. With BEAUTIFUL skin, teeth and long hair too. She looked and dressed like a model. She even had cute little chocolate brown freckles. Bad. As. Hell. I never saw her before. I didn’t know who she was. I was just captivated by the way she looked...and I wanted her. Even back then, I didn’t like approaching women, but I was immediately attracted to her and had to have her. “Never met her before/but I think I like her like a metaphor/It’s hard to get...” Something about her was different. Just the way she moved. The way she spoke. The way she smiled. I’d never been so intoxicated just WATCHING someone before. But there she was. I didn’t speak to her then. I couldn’t. Didn’t know what to say. I figured she had a boyfriend so I put it out of my mind. At least I tried to... Until I saw her again. I found out later she had class in a building that was across from mine and I got out of class roughly 10-15 minutes before she did. So I did what any self-respecting young freshman would do: I waited for her outside of the building so I could catch another glimpse of her in hopes that I’d get a chance to speak to her. And I did... After waiting outside of that building every day for about two weeks. One day I’d had enough and thought to myself... “This is the day that I’m going to talk to her.” “Had a feelin’ that it would be a day like this/The orchestra in my mind don’t play like this/Naw but I’m prepared for it, got a little rare for it/Brushed off my Airs, even cut my hair for it.” The Soundtrack To My Life

I might be romanticizing this a bit, but I’m pretty sure the trees were greener, the sun was brighter, the squirrels were squirrelier, and everything had been set for my approach. As a freshman, it’s needless to say I wasn’t looking for a relationship. I was at a large university that boasted a collection of some of the baddest women I’d ever seen all stuck in one place. Relationship? For what? “‘Cause normally I don’t care for it/Don’t even be lookin’ for like, like that...” But there I was...stalking this girl as if she was the last woman I ever wanted to spend my life with. I waited outside of the building, per usual with my homeboys when I saw her come through the glass doors and make her way toward me down the steps. I waited for her to walk past me. So I called out to her.... “Then there it go, yeah, right over there/So I prepared to pour it, little scared/My stare lowered, mamma said have no fear/Plus I’m already outta my chair/Gathered up my airs on my square from here for it/It’s nothing, right? So here go it...” I suppose all tragic stories started off well enough. When I met my “first” ex, I was a teenager who thought love conquered all and that it was really all that simple. You meet a woman. You like a woman. You love a woman. Then you marry that woman and live happily ever after. Ha! Not so much. But for the earliest stages of that relationship? She was truly my sunshine. ********************************************************************************** Relationship is just 30 minutes long It’s kinda heavy, maybe a little strong...

******************************************************************************** Like all good stories, mine starts with the promise of love and happiness. I spent a lot of time describing my first ex’s physical features because at that age, that was how I judged women and their worthiness to be involved with them romantically. I fell for my first ex almost instantly without really knowing who she was. I’d pay dearly for it in the following years of my life. In more ways than I could have possibly imagined. I was 18 when I met her and 24 before I finally purged her from my life. I’d long regarded her as a dark cloud because for as long as she was around, I never felt like I could feel strongly about another woman. Not the way I did for her. Sometimes this was cool. And other times for the people who became emotionally invested in me? Catastrophic. 10

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

Chapter 2:Girl Problems Big Sean – Sellin’ Dreams Somewhere, in a random hotel room... Her: So...you’re fucking her too? “Welcome to hell’s paradise/I always heard life was a pair of dice/Seven eleven, or a pair of eyes/As I’m looking at her smearing eyes” Me: I don’t really see how any of that is relevant right now. (Chief among things I really don’t like when it comes to women, is being asked questions like this. She knew this. And pressed that button anyway because she was upset. I really felt my blood boiling so much on the inside, I think I started sweating bullets just because I was so pissed. But since I never liked being upset, I tried to keep it cool.) Her: It’s really a simple question. Are you...or are you not, fucking her? Me: *silence* Her: I knew you were. You don’t even have the balls to tell me the damn truth. **Felt like I got hit in the throat with a baseball bat swung by Mark Maguire at the height of his steroid usage. If pressing buttons was a contest, baby girl would be the Rajon Rondo of button pushing. She really knew how to dig under my skin and cause my irritation levels to shoot through the fucking roof.

“She yelling take them glasses off/your eyes are the only things thats not lying/Not caring to the point that I stopped lying.” Me: Technically, I don’t really have to say anything...it’s not like the shit is any of your business anyway. Her: You’re fucking me and you’re fucking her...and who knows who else you’re fucking. How is any of this NOT my business? Me: Because last time I checked, you’re not my girlfriend and therefore, I don’t owe you shit. **In hindsight, I should’ve stopped this conversation long before it got to this point. Part of me couldn’t though. I wasn’t sure if it was because I couldn’t really stop her or if I knew I deserved it. Either way, I was beginning to lose my cool and it was starting to become a lot more evident the longer this conversation went on.**

Her: Yeah...I’m not...I should call her and tell her what kind of nigga you really are. Me: I mean you could...but you’re probably not going to get a response from her. My girlfriend, unlike some other people, knows exactly who I am. Speaking of relationships, why are you acting like you care now? I told you the deal when I met you.

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

“You said you wasn’t on no steal your man shit/If I broke it off now we won’t be on some friend shit” Her: Yeah. You did, but I didn’t really understand what type of motherfucker I was dealing with. Me: That makes two of us. Whenever I’m pissed, sarcasm is my weapon of choice. She smelled blood. She basically hail mary’d her next comment from 80 yards out with zero time left on the clock. Her: *smirks* You think this is how shit works? That you can just do what you want and play with people’s emotions like there aren’t any consequences and repercussions? Just because you’re a selfish prick who doesn’t care about anybody other than himself doesn’t mean you won’t have to deal with the shit you’ve done. Me: I’m very aware. I’ll deal with it when it gets here. I’d be remiss however, if I didn’t bring up the fact that the only reason we’re having this conversation is because your feelings changed. Her: *hesitates* What? Me: You think I don’t realize how you went from calling me only to fuck, to wanting to hang out all the time? Now you want to go on vacations and spend more time together? You want to cook dinners and be laid up like we a couple or some shit. I look stupid to you? **This was the first time I’d raised my voice at her during the entire conversation. I don’t make it a point to yell at women, but there was so much going on I became overwhelmed. I felt trapped in that hotel room with her. I felt like the walls were closing in on me and claustrophobia was setting in. I couldn’t breathe.

My vision was blurring out of anger. Not only because we were even having this conversation, but by the fact I had once again put myself in a situation to hurt someone as much as she was showing me in this moment.** “What was no strings attached got tangled when/Fun stopped being fun, and feelings tried to finagle in/We had that independent love, you tried to bring a label in/Girlfriend? nah, I already got one/You need a good guy, and I’m already not one” Her: *looks away* “Shits way different from us first chilling/Sometimes last words can have the worst ending/Wish we could fast forward time and reverse endings” Me: I know what you trying to do. It’s too late for all that. And I’m not trying to go there with you anyway. Whatever we do is cool, but I’m not trying to be any more than that. You knew that from the beginning and you still wanted to play ball. Don’t try and twist me up because you got in your feelings. That’s a personal problem. And I’m not the person with the problem. Her: *silence* Me: Oh what? You don’t have anything to say now? All that yelling you were doing 10 minutes ago and now you silent as a fucking church mouse pissing on cotton.

The Soundtrack To My Life

Her: You don’t have to talk to me that way. Me: Fuck it. I’m leaving. Her: Wait... “And so on and so on, and the shit just always goes on/Nothing about us feeling right/But she’ll be back before the end of the night/” ********************************************************************************** Another time, another time, it’s the same old shit It might be too late for me to learn from my mistakes I know that it hurts, I know that it hurts you But you should have used your head first This might be the biggest mistake, it’s too late Because two can’t be in first place... ******************************************************************************* Scenes like the one above became a repeated occurrence in my life. Not always playing out in that exact manner, but always the same story. Looking back, most of it was because I was still hurting over my ex (you’ll find out more of that story in Chapter 5). It only makes sense when you’re walking around with a hole in your heart, that you’d lose the capacity to care about the feelings and emotions of other people. I treated that young woman coldly, but she was just as responsible for her hurt as I was. Something I noticed in life is that my failed relationships with women could earnestly be traced back to my earlier years and failed friendships. Relationships are weird with women because they have the unique ability to hold up a mirror and expose your flaws as a person. I later realized I hadn’t had very many friendships that hadn’t ended up in a one-sided, “let me do whatever it is I can to show you I’m a friend” scenario. Consequently, that same scene played out in my relationships. I’m not saying I’m any different than anyone else, but I had a rather rocky foundation when it came to friendships...

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

Chapter 3: Friends, How Many of Us Have Them? MF Doom – Deep Fried Frenz “Friends is a term some people use loosely...” But I don’t. As a self-proclaimed misanthrope, I’m really not a person in the business of making new friends. In my younger years I cared a lot more about cultivating friendships with new people for the sake of having more friends. As an adult? I seriously couldn’t care less. As it turns out, the friendships I’ve built over the years mean so much more to me now that I’m an adult. I’ve learned I sometimes have to be wary of the people I refer to as friends. “(Friends) As you call ‘em they call you when they need somethin’/Trees for the blunt, two G’s for the front... In the beginning I had some pretty one-sided friendships. The people I thought were friends were really just leeches who wanted to benefit primarily from our friendship without giving anything in return. “Be too nice and people take you for a dummy...” I always knew who my real friends where whenever I got into a jam or needed some real help. People I’d done favors for wouldn’t pick up the phone and always had an excuse for why they couldn’t help me out in my time of need. Even worse, there were certain people I knew I couldn’t ask a favor of because I felt they’d hold it against me. I wasn’t willing to “pay the price.” Joe Budden once said, “you do something for someone and they expect something in return, there’s no such thing as a favor.” Eventually I just started cutting off excess baggage and letting people go their own way. “I check the dictionary for the meanin’ of ‘Friends’/It said, person, one who likes to socialize with/Sympathize and help her and that’s about the size of it/Most of the time these attributes is one-sided/To bolster the crime they opt to shoot you through your eyelid/And they can’t hide it, goin’ wild like a white bitch/Sometimes you need to cut niggaz off like a light switch...” At first it was startling. I wasn’t used to cutting people off. I guess in some ways I had attachment issues. It used to pain me

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

to think people I once shared drinks and laughs with I would no longer be able to call or hang out with. I felt like it was wrong for me to treat them in such a manner despite the fact they had not proven themselves to be worthy of such loyalty. The most egregious story that comes to mind happened when I was 12 and got arrested for the first time thanks to my “friends”. To make an extremely long story short, I played lookout while my friends broke into a house and we’d gotten away cleanly. Or so I thought. Later on that night while ‘watching’ a police officer knocked on my door. Apparently, my friends had been caught doing some other devious deed and copped to the robbery that had taken place earlier in the evening. Instead of following the “no snitching” rule we claimed to abide by, the two “friends” who had gotten caught ratted out everybody else. Not for a reduced sentence or anything like you see on TV. They told on everybody else simply because they didn’t want to go down by themselves. “Some come in the form of co-dependence/A lotta times only end up bein’ codefendants/Ten bucks say they’ll tell for a lower sentence/And leave you up under the jail beggin’ for a penance/It don’t make no sense, what happened to the loyalty?/ Honor amongst crooks, trust amongst royalty? Looking back, it’s very easy to see how those past relationships contributed to my lack of enthusiasm about making friends with new people. And people who have come and gone who might have had a problem with the way I handled their situations, I bear no ill will toward them. There’s no point. “So nowadays he ain’t so friendly/Actually they wouldn’t even made a worthy enemy/Read the signs, no feeding the baboon/Seein’ as how they got your back bleeding from the stab wounds....” People come into your life for a season or a reason. I’ve learned valuable lessons from all the people I once called friends who I no longer speak to. Their purpose had been served. ********************************************************************************** Friends, how many of us have them? Friends, ones we can depend on? Friends, how many of us have them? Friends, before we go any further... ******************************************************************************

The Soundtrack To My Life

So if you’ve paid attention, I’ve had some pretty terrible friends and a few terrible adult relationships. I’m not sure if you have to master one before the other, but life has pretty much shown me I wasn’t really good at judging people in either case. Joe Budden explained this perfectly once when he said “tried to help niggas, some niggas I couldn’t/that’s my mom’s in me, I love niggas I shouldn’t.” While soul searching for the reasons for my lack of judgment, with respect to interpersonal relationships, I should mention one relationship which has haunted me for the greater part of my life. The absent one with my father. My parents were together for a time period yet had broken up because of my father’s infidelities. When I was a very young child, my mother and I moved from Jamaica to New York. My father didn’t take that trip with us. I could be overanalyzing, but I happen to think a great deal of my relationship problems could’ve been solved had he been around in some capacity. I, generally, don’t blame him for anything but I sorely missed that influence while growing up. I’ve seen firsthand the guidance a man can provide a young man. It was something I yearned for as a kid. Unfortunately, I never got an opportunity to build with my father on that level. I find solace in the fact we got a chance to finally speak on things that had bothered me as child, though a bit later in my adult life...

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

Chapter 4:Issues With My Pops Jay – Z – Daddy, Where Have You Been? “Hey... hey dad, yeah it’s your boy/remember me? I wanna talk to you...” I still remember the very first time I met my father. I don’t quite remember the year, I just remember me running into his arms and literally jumping into them. I was 12. Up until then, I never knew who my father was. I’d never met him. Rarely heard my mother even speak of him, or anybody in my family for that matter, make any reference to him. However, it never stopped me from making up stories about him. My mother and grandmother did a great job of making feel as if I never missed out on him being around. Now that I’m older, I feel there were a few critical life lessons he could’ve taught me about a variety of situations. As a young boy growing up, I could have used some male guidance. “We never kicked it at all/We never pitched or kicked at a ball/dog, you never taught me shit/how to fight, ride a bike, fix a flat/none of that sorts of shit...” My father not being there left a gaping hole in my life. A hole I often replaced with older men I felt a connection with. Most of the men I’m closest with and consider to be brothers, I often sought their advice for situations I was dealing with in my personal life. These men weren’t much older than me. In hindsight, it probably didn’t make much sense to ask them as it’s a very real possibility they were as clueless as I was. Undaunted, I wasn’t about to let that interfere with the learning process. As a young boy growing up, I often fantasized what kind of person my father was. What happened with my mother for them to split up and for him to not have any involvement in my life? I knew it didn’t have anything to do with me, since I was barely more than an infant when my mother moved from Jamaica to the Bronx in the mid-80s. Yet and still, I’d often fantasize about what kind of person he was. What he looked like. What he did for a living. I made up a character in my mind. I then strove to be the best imitation of that character thinking he’d be proud of me if I ever got the chance to meet him. “I wanted to walk just like him/wanted to talk just like him/often momma said I look too much/and I thought just like him/wanted to drink Miller nips/and smoke Newports just like you...” When I was getting ready to graduate from college, my mother told me she was getting ready to go to Jamaica with my grandmother. I was upset. 20

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

I was on the brink of graduation, had dreams of going to law school and full plans to make something of myself. My father had failed to be around for any of the major milestones in my life. My college graduation was no different. He wouldn’t be able to attend graduation, but I thought it’d be nice for him to see me as a grown man. I was 21 years old and still seeking the approval of a man I hadn’t seen in almost 10 years. I wanted him to know I turned out OK and that I was a son he could be proud of. I didn’t get the chance to see him, but I wrote him a very long letter explaining how his absence had affected my life. I told him even though he wasn’t there I still loved him because he was my father and the door for him to gain entrance into my life would never be closed off. I also made some inquiries to see how much he knew about me since I didn’t know much about him. I wanted answers to all the questions I wished I could’ve asked over the years, but couldn’t because I didn’t have the access to ask him. “Do you even remember December’s my birthday?/do you even remember the tender boy/you turned into a cold young man...” So many questions. I wasn’t even sure they’d get answered. Or how they’d get answered. But one day my phone rang and my mother was on the line. She made all the usual nosey inquiries a mother makes of her oldest son and that’s when she said it... “Hey, your father is on the phone and he wants to talk to you.” She told me she’d put the phone down and give us a chance to talk. I froze. My mother told me she’d given him the letter, so I figured he wanted to talk about that. He answered the phone and we had a 3-hour conversation about everything written in that letter. He told me he thought about me every single day since the time my mother left Jamaica. Twenty–one fatherless years got erased in one tearful conversation with the man I’d always loved and never knew. My pops...is proud of me. And that was all I ever really needed to know. ********************************************************************************** It’s about time we have a father to son sit down let me tell you ‘bout your fatherless son how[he] grew to be [a] man ********************************************************************************** I know the title of this chapter is, “Issue With My Pops” but I’d like for it to be noted that I don’t have an active issue with him now. Looking at my own relationships with women, I understand exactly how two people can go from loving each other to not even acknowledging the other person exists. Rather than dwell on that, all I can do is look forward to the future and hope we get a chance to build the connection I didn’t have growing up.

The Soundtrack To My Life

The next chapter concludes the one I started off this book with, with respect to my ex. Granted, given what I said at the end of Chapter 2, you should have a slight clue as to how that all played out. For some reason, during the time period in the next chapter, I really sought the guidance of my father. Since he wasn’t there, I just asked the “older” men in my life whom I thought would be able to provide some insight. I can’t say that was necessarily a helpful endeavor, but I really had nobody else to ask. In any event, what took place between my ex and I over the course of our relationship would’ve made me millions on any number of television stations that love reality TV programming. Except, this was my actual life.

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

Chapter 5: Love Don’t Live Here Anymore Kanye West – Blame Game Let’s play the blame game, I love you more/Let’s play the blame game for sure/Let’s call out names, names, I hate you more/Let’s call out names, names, for sure... In the first chapter, I wrote the prequel to the first time I fell in love with a young lady during my FSU days. Truthfully, I could write an entire book on what went on with us. And how wrong it was. When I met my ex in the summer of ’04, I really thought I’d found the one. I never wanted to be without her. We talked on the phone for hours at a time. I spent days at her house without returning to my own. Even though I’d just met her, I fell quickly for her and thought at the tender age of 18 I was ready to be out of the game for good. Yeah. I wanted to marry her. We broke up in that same summer. And at the time, it was for the best. But I didn’t care about time. All I cared about was her, so for the rest of my collegiate career and the following 6 years afterward, I made it a point to ignore everything wrong with us in the name of love. You weren’t perfect but you made life worth it/ Stick around, some real feelings might surface Our relationship was “unhealthy” at best and “dysfunctional as fuck” at its absolute worst. All we really did in those 6 years was argue, fight, and fuck. Normally, when looking back at relationships, I try to see the good in whatever experience I had. I’m almost three years removed from her and the only thing I can think of is, “at least that happened when I was 18 and not 24.” What used to puzzle me was that even at that age, I knew there was something wrong with us but I couldn’t leave her alone. We would get into an argument and I would get fed up with her and leave. I’d go home. Or out. I was in undergrad at a very large university with beautiful women, so I’d medicate by sleeping with other women in an effort to get over her. It never worked. I took a piss and dismiss it, like fuck it/And I went and found somebody else/ Fuck arguing or harvesting the feelings/Yo, I’d rather be by my fucking self/’TIl about two am and I call back and I hang up... We were really just two dumb ass kids who didn’t know well enough to leave each other alone. If there’s a fine line between love and stupidity, we found new ways to push that line every time we answered the other person’s phone call.

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

I remember one time we had gotten into one of many arguments. I told myself I was done with her and ready to move on. I called her up, told her to return my house key and wished her a happy life. I was away at school. If I remember correctly, she was at my house doing laundry at the time. A bit later that night she shows up, face full of tears, with my key in hand. I invited her in so she wouldn’t make a scene outside of my apartment. I didn’t speak to her the entire time she was there, but she’d asked me to use the computer. I obliged. The computer was sitting next to my bookshelf. While she was using the computer, I noticed something about the bookshelf that looked different. As it turns out, the second shelf was empty. That shelf had been home to about 22 PS2 games... and they were all gone. I accused her of taking them and she became irate. She stands up and starts cursing at me and I’m looking at her like, “yo whatever, but I’m going to need you to return the games back.” As she was trying to leave, she motioned to the door and I closed it. She turns around with her fists balled up and says, “what nigga, you about to fucking hit me?” I don’t think I’d ever been more sad about what we became than at that very moment. I ended up calling the police to report she’d stolen my property. She eventually showed up and returned them. “Things used to be, now they not/Anything but us is who we are...” Not my most shining moment as a man as it actually brings me shame to this day that I called them, but I really had no idea what else I was supposed to do. Sadly, that was during the 2nd year of our volatile relationship. And trust me when I tell you, there’s six years worth of stories like this. Like the time we got into an argument in the car and we argued so loud, even with the windows rolled up, the people outside of the car could hear us. Or the time she tried to pick me up with another dude she was sleeping with, in the car. Sleeping with this guy, by the way, while she spent the previous weekend with me. Or the time she gave me her house key while she was going out, then took the key back because she went on a date with a guy and was going to bring him home...and didn’t want me to have the key because she didn’t want the guy to think “there was something going on between us.” And I start to blame myself, somebody help... During the course of all this craziness, I primarily blamed myself. “If I was more of a man, these types of things wouldn’t happen” is what I would say. “If my pops was here, he’d be able to help me; I don’t know what to do.” None of my close friends liked her because they saw her for what she was doing to me. But I didn’t care, because I loved her and I thought it was my fault she was acting that way. “And I was satisfied being in love with a lie/ Now who to blame? You to blame? Me to blame? For the pain? /It be pouring every time when it rained...” The Soundtrack To My Life

It got to the point where I became numb to everything having to do with her. I felt so strongly for her and didn’t’ want to give up on her, that I just dealt with whatever craziness we had on that particular day. All of that was in a (losing) effort to show her I cared enough about her so she didn’t have to act that way. Eventually I dropped her in the 4th year and started dating someone else...but she was a black cloud over my life. I cheated on my 2nd ex repeatedly with her. No matter who I was with, I couldn’t shake her. We eventually fell out of touch, only to reconnect when my 2nd ex and I broke up. I can’t love you this much, no I can’t love you this much/I can’t love you this much, I can’t love you this much... The reconnection in the 5th and 6th year though? Happened very differently than the first four. I was older. Wiser. More mature. I hadn’t spoken to my first ex in a year or so by the time we decided to try again, so I was able to analyze and breakdown what I believed to be issue our “first” time out, so it wouldn’t be an issue the 2nd (hundred thousandth) time around. I was wrong. I can’t even get into the details of why it didn’t work out because there are still so many unanswered questions. They’ll probably never get answered. And out of respect for the other parties involved, I have to play this one close to the chest. I still carry scars from those six years. Time definitely didn’t heal all wounds. I’m completely over her and that situation, but it changed me for better and in some cases as I would learn much later in life, for worse. ********************************************************************************* Let’s play the blame game, I love you, more Let’s play the blame game for sure. Let’s call out names, names, I hate you, more. Let’s call out names, names, for sure. ********************************************************************************* Age and wisdom have taught me my ex is not entirely to blame for everything that happened between us. It’s definitely more convenient, but it isn’t entirely accurate. I was just as much an active participant as she was. I was also free to leave at any time and I chose not to. Young love... In any event, given that I “broke up” with her almost three years ago, revisiting that subject always makes my mind tired. I always travel back in time to stop myself from doing things, stop myself from saying things, of trying to fix the situation somehow. I’ve since learned to let that go. Mentally. If I ever see that woman again, I really can’t be responsible for what type of emotional response I’d have. And I’m not even sure what my response would be. For as much as I love my mind and the way it works, sometimes it imprisons me. It doesn’t allow me to move on. Won’t allow me to think of anything else. My mind sometimes does whatever the hell it wants to do without really needing my permission. I used to get overwhelmed with thoughts and feel...well...trapped. 26

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

JOE BUDDEN

Chapter 6: Trapped With My Own Thoughts Joe Budden – Whatever It Takes A Way “Alright I’m dealing with some shit homie, it’s in the back of my head/and it’s some shit homie, but I just rap it instead” Writing, for me, is catharsis. Funny as this may seem, I don’t talk much. At least. . .not to people. I tend to work things out in my head and when you’re used to agonizing over every single detail in your mind 1000 times; having to rehash and explain it to someone isn’t really something I find all that appealing. Sometimes I think I take this “man” thing too seriously. I don’t really express my feelings in a manner that is easily digestible for other people... And that’s assuming I even express my feelings to other people at all. A lot of the times, people take my silence the wrong way. As if it’s a personal affront to them. It sometimes leads to issues that don’t entirely make all that much sense to me. I discovered this problem in my adulthood. When I was younger, I shared my feelings freely with people I thought were friends...that didn’t always work out too well. “Then there’s some other niggas, I judged their character wrong/But they some other niggas, now let’s get back to the song.” I have a LONG history of dealing with people I thought were my friends only for us to fall out over something I considered incredibly stupid. So sometimes, venting to others doesn’t really strike me as the best way to get over something. I’ve been sitting and living with my own thoughts for a good portion of my adult life. Sometimes they creep up on me...mostly at night. During the quiet moments when nothing else is going on, my thoughts grow legs and Usain Bolt around my brain. More often than not, my mood is affected. Usually for the worse. “I guess depression just stepped in, an’ took-over shit like it’s known ta’ do... I used to smoke to escape these problems...but that doesn’t always work. The problem with having too many thoughts is that it exacerbates all my little problems...and multiplies the number of problems I originally began with. As a man, I’m trained to put on a unified front at all times. Especially growing up in a Jamaican household where my parents were sensitive, but they weren’t into crybaby shit. When bad things

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

happened, you dealt with them and you got over them as quickly as possible. No need for dwelling on what you can’t control and no point in being sad about it either. In some cases when I was younger, I resented my mother and grandmother for not allowing me to go through the full range of emotions. “Fuck the World, fuck my moms and my girl!/Well, maybe not mom, jus’ lemme’ remain calm/This too won’t last, this too shall pass/At least that’s what I say y’all, that’s what I pray for” That resentment sometimes manifested itself in my relationships with my friends. I know it’s counterproductive to be upset at people for not knowing how you feel...especially when you have never taken the time to actually explain to them how you feel. I would often question if people were even really my friends. My general demeanor never really changes, but I always thought if people knew me well enough then they should be able to sense when something is wrong. “See I’m depressed lately, but nobody understands/That I’m depressed lately, I’m sorta feelin’ repressed lately./But y’all been hearin’ an’ seein’ me less lately/ Like, has anyone noticed the regress lately?/Look deep nigga, don’t I seem stressed lately?/Seemed disturbed, lotta’ regrets lately?” I learn all of my lessons the hard way... So it shouldn’t surprise anyone it took a long time in the beginning of my adulthood to understand people aren’t mind readers and I shouldn’t expect them to be. Everybody needs to be by themselves to work out their own thoughts and problems. It’s part of being an adult. “...when all I need is some company./When I start feelin’ like everybody’s done wit’ me/I’m try’na see what everybody want wit’ me.” It’s a trying process. The ability to stop stewing in your own thoughts for a moment to let some “fresh air” into your mind. I haven’t perfected it... But I’m working on it. ********************************************************************************** They say, “he wines too much, he’s too bitter” They call it, “complaining,” I call it, “explaining’” **********************************************************************************

The Soundtrack To My Life

I’ve always been envious of women because they’re allowed to show a full range of emotions. As a man, whether it’s societal pressures or by design, I tend to keep most of these things to myself. I tend to feel like whenever I’m talking to my close friends about the various things which may be bothering me at any given time. I think society as a whole, and black people specifically, aren’t too respectful of the field of mental health and how it impacts our daily living. Therapy is one of those things I’ve seen been looked upon negatively. I struggle to realize why. I’m paying someone money who specializes in solving “mental health” issues...to solve my mental health issues. As a Psychology major in undergrad, I’ve always thought therapy is an important tool to help with my growth as a person, because my alternative methods of coping aren’t always exactly doctor recommended...

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

Chapter 7: Everybody Needs Help Nas – Drunk By Myself “Uhh, uhh, Where am I going? Where am I?” I always said when I was old enough and had enough money to go; I wanted to seek therapy to talk about whatever issues I may not have dealt with. Talking to friends is one thing, but if social networking is any indication, most people prefer to talk to complete strangers about what is going on in their life. I look at therapy as a healthy way to deal with the emotional ups and downs of life, while trying to maintain balance. I always encourage people to talk to someone, friends or in therapy, about their problems. Additionally, we think that by suffering silently and not talking about our issues we’re doing everybody else a favor, and perhaps we might have made decisions that lead to our current state that we don’t wish to share with anyone. “The reason I want to be alone/I’m tired of all the things I did wrong” Society has a negative perspective of people who go to therapy. This is especially prevalent within the black community. This is distressing, as I’m willing to bet a majority of the black community could benefit from a good session with a trained counselor to work thru some of the things that have happened in their lives. At the law school, we have a full time psychological counselor on site. Given the amount of stress I endured as a first year law student, it’s a wonder I never saw her. Then again, I had a bottle of Paul Masson to numb the pain and a “Best of Sade” album to sing away the blues. This was particularly self-destructive since I had a roommate who was going through a similar experience and mentors(?) who’d gone through the process before that I could talk to. I chose not to. “Not knowing what to believe that’s why I’m on the low lately/choosing a henny bottle over a friend...” “Self-medicating” methods of coping with life stresses may seem like a good idea at the time, but what is really happening is the providing of a temporary solution to what may actually be a more permanent problem. Additionally, “self-medicating” almost always tends to lead to a lapse of judgment. Not to mention that the judgment lapse leads to reckless behaviors one might not otherwise engage in. “Take another swig, the more I drink the more I think bad thoughts” At the roughest and darkest periods of my 1st year in law school, I found myself having some very interesting internal conversations. 32

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

If this was my dream, how could I be so weak as to not overcome this stress? Wasn’t I simply being tested? Hadn’t I been afforded every opportunity to succeed at this point? I wanted for nothing, so what exactly was the problem? Why couldn’t I just buckle down and do what I needed to do? “As odd as it is, the more I gain the harder it is to maintain...” I felt like I had come so far and had made so many strides at that point in my life. How was it that I was being beaten down and couldn’t find the strength to get over this? To take it a one step further, I questioned the good things that I had already been given. And yet, I steadfastly refused to talk to anybody about what was going on. “Think about the good, find myself laughing/turn the cell off no way to be reached” In hindsight, those internal conversations did nothing for me. And while Paul Masson and Sade helped, what I really needed was to seek outside help for the problems I was facing. Eventually I was able to pull it together and survive without doing anything truly damaging to myself. “To keep my mind off that weak shit/there’s love through it all, things to live for...” But how many times does this method of survival work? If all it takes is some positive thinking and a drink to make it all go away, how does one even get to that point in the first place? Using “other” methods to deal with problems to get by might not always be the best idea. In some cases, it could be the difference between life...and death. ******************************************************************************** Only if I could take care of everybody, intoxicated Windows up blastin A.C. going wherever instinct takes me I hate it when I’m like this, the bottle’s my accomplice ********************************************************************************** Even though it wasn’t healthy, alcohol and smoking had definitely taken the edge off of life. It was really the only time my thoughts and feelings didn’t overwhelm me to the point of severe irritation. I guess it’d have been easier to just deal with all of that as it came up instead of trying to pretend it wasn’t happening, but life was moving much too quickly for me to be overly concerned about that. I was hundreds of miles away from home, under intense pressure, and I was really just trying to make it through the day in one piece. Those are all excuses, I know, but excuses don’t always have to mean something negative. Law school not turning out the way I wanted and envisioned was really just another long list of ways I thought myself fooled by the educational system. I’d basically spent the greater part of my life believing in academia and it’s magical ways of transforming poor, misbegotten negroes, into middle class “I can afford to pay all my bills AND go on vacation” negroes. I’d written once, “college was a sham and a ploy to dupe people out of their money.” I suppose that’s only half true. By the way college is set up; it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it... The Soundtrack To My Life

Chapter 8: The Set-Up J. Cole – Dollar and a Dream Pt. II “I got a dolla and a dream real niggas on my team/ Everything ain’t what it seems” People will tell you that going to college is the right choice to make if you wish to be successful. Your parents will push it on you. Administrators will preach it to you. You’ll feel pressured by your friends since you’ll feel like “everyone else is doing it.” What nobody ever seems to talk about however is the cost associated with attending college. Sallie Mae, or as I affectionately call her “Aunt Sallie,” has been fooling the masses for years. She pays for your college tuition. She makes sure you have enough to receive a refund check. She keeps you in the freshest kicks, the latest watch, and the “delecist” of fabrics. (Rick Ross grunt) “When I was broke, you sent me dough and that was big for me/See you was there every year when I needed you/And you were so quick to give I had to be with you” Shit is literally all good ‘til six months after you graduate from college. Then Sallie decides it’s time to hit you up for that money she loaned you during your times of trying to get by. Allow me to illustrate what my face looked like when I got my first letter back that showed my principal balance, loan payment plan, interest rates, and expected payoff date. Reading the plan, I was somehow wedged between the “rock” of confusion and the “hard place” of anger. Most assuredly, these people weren’t and couldn’t be serious “Do they really think I’m going to pay this back? How the hell am I going to pay this back?” I had more questions than a Jadakiss and Anthony Hamilton collaboration. And that was just my undergrad loans. I haven’t even bothered looking since I’ve entered law school taking on an additional 100K. Combined with our current economy, there’s the disappearance of the jobs in the legal field. ““Sallie, I know I aint been answering your calls, but shit, let me explain/It’s because times been hard, been runnin around tryna find a job” Every day articles pop up about the lack of job growth, the changing of the laws for student loans, the disappearing of scholarships, the increase in tuition, the decrease in attendance and, at some point, it begins to feel like everything associated with higher education is a scam. If college were a person, it’d be Ed Wuncler III from The Boondocks. For those of you whom are unfamiliar with the show, Ed Wuncler III, is the great grandson of Ed Wuncler, who owns everything in the city The Freeman family lives in. During the episode “Let’s Nap Oprah” in Season 1, Ed decides he’s going to rob his grandfather’s bank. The Soundtrack To My Life

He runs in, mask off, and sticks the place up. Everybody sees his face and his gun. Nobody does anything. Eventually someone speaks up and asks, “Do you want us to give you the money?” And he smacks himself and answers “oh yea...” That’s what college is doing to kids. Robbing you and your family in broad daylight. Everybody can see what’s happening, but nobody is doing anything about it. Let’s take the FAFSA for example. FAFSA will take all of the information you send in, assess an EFC (expected family contribution) number to you, and send it back to the school of choice. Once you get that number, you may very well fall short for whatever reason, and that’s when your parent has to step in and take a loan on your behalf. Introducing Parent PLUS. “Remember when I used to call you on your phone line/I knew it was official when my momma cosigned” Congratulations kid, now your whole family is in debt because someone sold you a dream that going to college was going to secure for your future. People are going to college for the sole purpose of getting a job after they graduate. Sad to say, but depending on what you want to do, you’re most likely going to end up finding that path fruitless and disappointing. If you have a clear idea on what you want to do, DO IT! If you can’t afford to do it, go to college and use that refund as an investment. If you’ve got a good enough idea to gain some traction by the time you graduate then you’ve successfully fooled the system. “I hit the real world, baby girl I’m sad to say it/But I was using you, you gave a nigga major stacks/And I know in my heart one day that Im gon’ pay you back” And that’s the game. The whole system is set up to turn the masses into cogs to fit into a machine. And as you can see, fitting into the machine hasn’t done many people any good. I’d encourage anybody who has an idea to work that angle and see how it benefits you the most. There’s no clear-cut path to success anymore. Everything they told us about college was pretty much a lie, and what better time to move forward on your idea than right now? ********************************************************************************** Shit be happening for a reason, everything is everything... ******************************************************************************** Right around the time I was graduating from college is when I really started kicking the writing into overdrive. I really didn’t know what I was going to do, finding myself absolutely dumbfounded at the position I was placed in. I was back at my mother’s house, working two jobs and feeling like I had went to college for nothing. If college was supposed to free me from my childhood ills, it was really taking it’s time in doing so. This wasn’t what I’d signed up for. Little did I know more disappointment (which would eventually lead to my plan for freedom) was on its way.

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

Chapter 9: The Setback Skyzoo – For What It’s Worth “There’s too much money in cocaine for me to playing the broke game/or at the 9 t0 5 with the no names/but here I be, 9 to fifthin it with all of them no names/trying to figure out who I’m gon blame... I graduated from undergrad with a 3.2 GPA, no law school acceptance, and a job working as a waiter at a nearby hotel to save myself from being thrown out of my apartment. It’d be an understatement to say what I was going through was a far cry from what I originally had planned for my life. I pretty much went from “G who’s going to law school and graduating at 24 to make six figure salaries” to “G who’s moving back into his mother’s house” citing the two letters I received which said, “thank you for sending your application, but we regret to inform you, your application for admission was denied.” “...from where I be, and where I be is nothing that I ever dreamed” It’s probably one of the most simultaneously humbling and infuriating experiences I’ve ever gone through. If you have to “regret to inform me,” why the hell wouldn’t you just let me into your school? Obviously you can’t regret it that much. I immediately looked to find a way to place blame on why this didn’t work out. How could something I worked so hard for not be within my grasp? Hadn’t I done everything right? I should’ve taken that damn LSAT class. This wasn’t part of the plan. “...none of this was scripted, maybe it was, and I was too blind to get this/and maybe because I was too blind to get this/I threw it to the street/but look at me, I’m making up excuses as we speak” I think that thought process is common when you try for something and you fail. The initial reaction is to look outside. Find something else to blame. ‘Cuz it can’t be you. What made this situation worse was I looked to others and overrated their success. Almost to the point where I either overlooked the struggles a person had gone through, or began to falsely believe everyone else was living the good life. I wanted what they had. I wanted to reap the benefits of their hard work because I felt like the work I was putting in wasn’t good enough. I started to feel like everybody else was getting lucky and I was just barely getting over. “...and I can’t lie, they say all it take is time to better it/ but my clock is looking foreverish/ like why can’t I, be blessed with a more blessed set of wings” When I decided I was going to take two years off, I got hit with plenty of questions about whether I was REALLY going back. I knew I was going back, but even after I made the decisions, I was still pissed off. 38

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

Through that situation, I began to think that maybe being a lawyer was no longer for me. After all, I had a degree and a good set of personal skills, I was sure I could’ve been successful as a psychologist. Or a therapist. Or something else other than a lawyer. “So why even entertain the chase? /why even pretend I was built to stay in this race?/ The truth is my Swedish dream/is so far from my hands that I don’t even reach/I’m so far from a plan that right now, anything’ll do/ I find that to be the mentality of plenty of my peers. They tend to look at the obstacles of life as signs to PREVENT them from achieving their goals as opposed to a way of pushing them forward. Navigating the path of life, one will always be forced to make choices that ultimately determine his/her character. It’s the difference between someone who really wants something, and someone who’s being forced to walk down a path against their own will. There is always a temptation to the take the easy road. The less challenging road. The one with the smooth curves instead of the road with high peaks and low, lows. There are those however, who will take the hard road because they understand the payoff. They understand “sacrifice” is more than a word. Though doubts will creep into their mind, they refuse to let themselves be paralyzed by said doubts. “Fuck all of the worrying and all of the second guessin/I don’t got time to deal with a second question/ In the end, those are the people that win. Those are the people who make a difference. The people who are able to face the challenges of life, to take the adversity they’ve experienced and build. For all the determination it takes, sometimes you just have to put your head down, “[duck] low and pray that it pays at the finish line… ******************************************************************************** Life is what you make it be and everything in life is shaped to be I vow to turn it ‘round and then bow gracefully ********************************************************************************** Looking at the timeline of my life, this is the period where I was gearing up to go to law school and give it the old “college” try again. I figured graduating from FSU and moving back into my mother’s house wasn’t the worst thing in the world. It was just a temporary setback. God wanted me to go home because He knew life was going to get real when I left for law school. He wanted me to make sure I had a great foundation because I was about to take on one of the greatest challenges I would face thus far. Law school acceptance letters came, plans to move to another state had been made, and I was gearing up to live out the dream I set so many years ago. Or so I thought. As it turns out, going to law school was definitely not going to solve my problems...it was about to make them a whole lot worse. The Soundtrack To My Life

Chapter 10: Quitters Never Win...Right? Kendrick Lamar – R.O.T.C. “Sometimes I wanna say fuck rapping, I need money now/like should I start trapping? If what I write down/don’t connect this very moment, then I’m on it, no question” While I was in law school, I frequently entertained the idea of quitting school and going home. And when I say frequently, I mean every single day I sat up in bed and I didn’t know whether I was going to make it to school or if I was just going to turn around and go home. I didn’t know what I was going to do if I quit. I just started to the get the impression that the way I was feeling couldn’t be normal. I’d spent so many years preparing for the chance to go to school that I managed to convince myself it was the right decision. When I got to school, it wasn’t anything I expected it to be. The days were long. The workload was seemingly insurmountable. It just never fucking stopped. “This is me frustrated, battling my own evils...” I’d go to school and be sick. It started to feel like the walls were closing in on me. Nothing really changed from day to day with school. It was always the same routine. Class. Work. Read. Study. Eat. Sleep. Rinse, wash, and repeat. It drove me insane. The worst thing about it was I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to do if I left school. And that’s probably what kept me there so long. I really didn’t know how I would respond to people who would only know 1) I was in law school and then 2) I wasn’t there anymore. Worrying about the wrong thangs. “My nigga, what you doing on these corners with me?/”I thought you had a show?” Well my nigga I guess, I didn’t...” Everybody knew me as Garfield, “the future lawyer.” What was I going to tell people when I went back home? What was I going to say to my friends? My family? Hell, what was I going to say to myself? I obsessed over going to law school so much I made it a part of my identity. Dropping out of school, for me, was basically losing myself. I had never known myself outside of that image so finding an alternative just didn’t seem realistic. “I disperse to the world of unruly, where I put the mic down/and pick up a sack and a toolie”

The Soundtrack To My Life

One of the things that made law school so difficult to deal with, in addition to the workload, was the fact I felt like my life was stuck. I’ve written about this before, but social media really made me feel as if everybody was out it in “real life” doing all these wonderful things. “Especially when your homies pushing V8 engines/Twenty-two on twentysixes, Range Rovers rolling up/Three-fifty for an ounce of fire, I hope I got enough/This industry calling my bluff, I need a new solution” People were getting married. Getting jobs. Moving and creating all sorts of new opportunities for themselves...and here I was, stuck in school. Struggling to get up in the morning, unsure if I even wanted to be bothered with what I was doing and feeling generally unhappy about the situation I found myself in. I didn’t want to be a lawyer anymore. Or a law student. Or a Durham resident. Nothing. I didn’t care about the law. Or law school. Or hell, anything. Next Jonny Cochran? Nah. Next Thurgood Marshall? For what? Next great civil rights leader? I’m good. “Curve-serving, know I might be in your store boosting/two-elevens with MAC11s like fuck Hip Hop/Don’t wanna be Pun, don’t wanna be B.I.G., don’t wanna be ‘Pac...” I tweeted on an almost constant basis about how much I began to resent law school. It got worse when I really started coming to the conclusion that I loved writing. It really can’t be understated how important writing my blog helped me through the worst periods of law school. With that said, I hadn’t actually created a viable way to sustain myself with it (since that’s what law school was supposed to do) so dropping out for THAT particular purpose wasn’t exactly realistic either. “...if you knew me/you’ll know I always had a passion for riddle when writing/ But lately I’ve been thinking bout taking chances to brighten/my future financially, so please don’t be mad at me/I gotta do what I gotta do, no shit...” In the end, what pushed me through to finish law school was the notion that I’d regret not finishing what I started. Even if law school had not turned out the way I hoped, it was entirely possible that being lawyer could still be everything I thought it was. Now that I just graduated and am currently waiting for bar results... I guess I’m about to find out. “So I tell my nigga front me, let me put it on the strip/Then give it back when I think about the consequence...” ********************************************************************************** I-take-I-take-take my chances-chances-chances Before they pass, they pass, they pass Pass me by, oh darling You’ve got to look at the other side **********************************************************************************

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

In hindsight, everything I’ve done up until this point is seen as a chance. I took a chance on college. Took a chance on law school. And now I’m taking a chance on writing. In a really weird way, I’m actually at the “beginning” of my life. I’ve been insulated from “real life” by school. Now that I’m finished with school, for the first time, I finally get to make decisions based on what I want to do and how I want to do it. I’m not much of an optimist so while writing does indeed bring me a joy I have not readily found elsewhere, I’m still working on just what I’m supposed to do be doing with this gift. Writing a book though, just seemed like the next logical step in my progression as a writer. Law school was supposed to be my “safety net.” If writing didn’t work out, I could always go back to the law. Well, that plan has changed and now I’m searching for a way to be me...for all the world to see.

The Soundtrack To My Life

Chapter 11: The Saga Continues... Mos Def – Umi Says “Don’t be afraid, to let it shine/My umi said shine your light on the world/Shine your light for the world to see...” When I first started writing blogs almost 4-5 years ago, I had no idea it would become something I would be so passionate about. I spent a lot of time in my personal life having very open conversations about things it seems people never wanted to discuss. When Facebook added the “Note” feature, I posted notes on various topics. There was no real rhyme or reason for anything I said. I just wanted to say it. I stopped writing while I was in law school. I figured I wouldn’t have time to write because the 1L experience would be so emotionally and physically taxing. A friend of mine found my blog, told me she loved it, and threatened to fight me if I didn’t start writing again! At some point between 2009 and 2012, I decided writing had taken precedence over everything I thought I wanted to do with my life. Law school had become a chore and as noted in the last chapter, I was silently suffering because I had no real alternative. “I feel like a man/Going insane/Losing my brain/Trying to maintain...” I saw law school as constricting and too demanding of my time and efforts. I craved the freedom I felt writing allowed me to have. The creativity it gave me by allowing me to connect with others and add volume to silent stories. Writing allowed me to engage people on a very direct level. Writing somehow became my life and every time I sat down to create something new, I felt as if this was what God had intended me to do all along. “Put my heart and soul into this song/I hope you feel me/From where I am, to wherever you are/I mean that sincerely...” I got my bar results back on November 2nd. I failed the test. I was very relieved to find that out. Why? Because I felt as if I was given further confirmation my efforts and talent could have potentially been wasted doing work which didn’t affect others. Everybody I told insisted I take the test again as it would be deemed pointless to have gone through so much only to “give up” at the last minute. Truthfully, passing the bar would’ve most likely entailed me giving up writing and having to carry on in that path of legal work. And I’d have been very fucking unhappy if that’d been the case. “Tomorrow may never come/For you or me/Life is not promised/Tomorrow

The Soundtrack To My Life

may never show up/For you and me/This life is not promised....” The older I get, the more concerned I am with my quality of life. I was raised to go to school, find a trade, become a productive member of society, and reap those benefits... at the end of my life!? I decided that plan wasn’t for me. I wanted to enjoy life. All of life. Not just at the end when I was too old to be able to fully appreciate it. I wanted to enjoy it NOW. I may be wrong about this, but I don’t think being a lawyer was going to give me the life I was looking for. And in some ways, I’m not even sure if being a writer will. I just know being a writer is the thing that brings me a ridiculous amount of joy and pride, and it’d have been foolish to not to take a risk at being truly happy. So here I am. I took on the task of writing this book because I wanted to push myself as a writer. I wanted to be known for more than just blogging on my site. I wanted to do something that could touch people. Something I could point to and say, “this is me. I created this. And as long as this is out there, if people want to read and find out about me and who I am, they can just read this book.” “I ain’t no perfect man/I’m trying to do, the best that I can/With what it is I have...” ...and right now I don’t have much. I’m currently living with cousin in Virginia. I’m out of work, with no job prospects, and everyday I’m presented with new stresses which test the very limits of my patience. It took a really long time to come to grips with this reality. And there’s a very good argument to be made I’m still coming to grips with it. I feel as if there’s a subtle irony in me writing memoir about my life, at 26. It isn’t as if I’m dying of terminal cancer and felt my story just had to be told before my demise. I’m not famous. I don’t even think I’ve done anything that could be considered truly great to even warrant something entirely focused on me in the manner I’ve just done. But I did it anyway. Throughout my life, I’ve learned I don’t get credit for things I don’t say. Nobody cares what I’m thinking about if they can’t see it. I can’t hope to relate to people on a wide scale if nobody knows who I am and what I’m about. This isn’t the whole story. Or even the half. For a person who’s intensely private about his life, I’ve pretty much blew the lid off some of the most personal moments of my life. No matter how this book is received or what can of worms I opened. No matter what the perception change is of people who knew me or how I’ve colored the perception of the people I’ll meet in the future. No matter the slight possibility of how things I’ve written in this book will affect me... I set out to write a book about my life and I’ve succeeded. And truthfully, “...that’s all that matters to me.”

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

I pray that you find your way, and all things old become new I pray that you find your way for my sake, cause I’m lost too Yes I understand, What you’re goin’ through Yes I understand, Cause I’m goin’ through it too Hope you understand, what I’m goin’ through Hope you understand, when I call out for you To vent. – Big KRIT

The Soundtrack To My Life

Special Thanks To...

Willie, because in reality, there’d be no blog OR book if it wasn’t for you. I wrote a book though... how crazy is that? *Hov voice* Sommar, for editing all of my blogs free of charge. For giving me ideas when the well ran dry. For just being you. Your importance to my life simply cannot be measured. Thank you. The beta group, because this book sucked when I sent it to you and you had the decency to lie to me and tell me it was good. You are directly responsible for the quality of the final product. I definitely appreciate it. All the readers and subscribers to my blog, “When ‘Keeping It Real’ Goes Right.” This book is for all of you who supported, encouraged, commented, read, and subscribed to my site. Writing a book doesn’t mean anything if I don’t have anybody to share it with. Thanks for sticking with me. You guys are the reason I write. To the IC. You guys are directly responsible for my vast music knowledge. Additionally, you do a great job of consistently humbling me via the internet. If this book gets slammed by everybody who reads it, I know you guys will be there to kick me while I’m down before you lift me up again. Ugens, for all of your hard work in helping me create this book. I can’t even imagine how plain this would look as a regular PDF file. Way to help out a fellow alum, bro. A Comeaux, you showed up in a dark period of writing with free editing help...you’re definitely responsible for this book being released in 2012...thanks! And to everybody who reads, donates, shares, downloads, and experiences this book. The message means nothing if it never makes it to the people. You are the people and word of mouth from people who respect me and what I’ve done means more than any NY Times Bestseller list ever could... (but I mean if I make it there, that’d be pretty awesome too!) I’m out. Peace!

Garfield Hylton | www.RealGoesRight.com

For all interviews, book reviews, questions, comments, concerns, please contact me at RealGoesRight@Gmail.Com or via Twitter at @RealGoesRight. To stay updated with my writing and see what else I’m working on, visit my site “When ‘Keeping It Real Goes’ Right” at www.RealGoesRight.Com

The Soundtrack To My Life