Growing Up

I guess I shall begin at the beginning. I was born in Rome, GA in 1973. I would live there until 1991 when I would move to Atlanta to go to college. Anyway. I was the first child born to my parents. My father owned his own business. For the first half of my life, my father worked very long hours in order to establish his business. So I didn't see much of him. But I am told that I was a very hyper-active child and used to get on his nerves. My earliest memories of my father consist of me trying to wrestle with him. He would always come home from work exhausted. He would eat dinner in his recliner and then fall asleep. I would try to get him to get up and play, but he wouldn't. Apparently, I would nag him until he would finally get up and play. However, by the time he would get up, he would be mad and usually end up playing to rough with me. Regardless, I would get hurt and my mother would get on to my dad.

That was how it was. I don't remember a lot about my mother. She was a stay at home mom for a long time. She didn't go to work until sometime after I started school.

Anyway, when I was 5, my brother was born. I don't really think I liked him from the start. I was de-throned. Up until this point, I had been the center of the universe. Well, no longer. Needless to say, it was my life's mission to make his life miserable. And man was I good at it (Not that I'm proud of the things I have done, it's just that I am ashamed of how sinister and devious I can be when/if I want to be).

Maybe I'll write about some of the stuff I've done to him, but that's not important now. The point is that I was very mean to him.

When I was 10, my sister was born. I actually was looking forward to this. I really wanted a sister. I remember when my parents told us that they were expecting again. I prayed and prayed for the baby to be a girl. Well, we did just about everything together. I'm sure that made my brother feel even worse, but I didn't really care (then).

In the grand scheme of things, my life wasn't that difficult. My dad made pretty good money. I was able to buy nice things; actually just about anything I wanted. We had a nice house and went to a good school. I never really got into any trouble. I only drank a few times (just couldn't stomach the taste of beer). I didn't smoke and never took any drugs.

However, I didn't get along with my dad. But that's not to unusual. We fought a lot. On a few occasions, our fights escalated to the point where it almost came to blows. I was grounded on many occasions for lying. I had a very unique capacity for lying. It was almost like a game: how long could I get away with it. Anyway, I spent a lot of time in my room. I think that is when I started playing the guitar. I would play for hours at a time (4-6) hours a day 7 days a week. I grew up on Gun's n Roses, Metallica, Alice N Chains, and Pearl Jam. Of course, my dad hated my music and my long hair (that wasn't even long). I will have to admit that it was a mullet though.

The biggest event of my life; the one that divided my childhood occurred when I was 13. But I can't get into that now. It's 2:30 am, and I have 2 kids who will want to play tomorrow on my off day. More later.