I'm going to be honest here-- my "formative" years are what many people would call uncouth. As a child growing up constantly toeing the poverty line almost daily it's not really surprising that people would say this. I grew up in two motels near the heart of Disneyland, California. My hobbies included laughing at tourists, reading books about other more interesting places, taking pictures on my moms cell phone, watching T.V. with my sisters and brother, and moving my belongings every 21 days. We had lived in this place and had known most of these people since I was nine years old and just finishing my fourth grade year. We got kicked out of this motel three weeks before my senior year of high school. At the time I was balancing summer school,
