1988 brought to close my high school career; a career that didn't pay much and left me strangely dissatisfied. Little did I know that this was an introduction to an adult life of not being paid and constant feelings slight dissatisfaction.

Carroll College is a small, liberal arts school tucked away in the quiet town of Waukesha, Wisconsin. This is the institution where I would fuck off and get trashed a whole lot attend school for 2 semesters.

I signed up as a theater arts major, no doubt still riding high from my captivating high school performances at Western Springs Theater as "elf 2" and "dead guy", and quickly discovered the meaning of the words FUCKING HARD. So many technical classes were there: Lighting design, sound design, set design, and then there were the other various hours of French, English, bla bla bla. I managed to tame my wild schedule by getting myself cast in any and every show that was up. At one point, I was in the mainstage production of "Little Shop of Horrors" (as the dentist) and in 3 one acts. Dummy.

I began to crash, hard. Managing time was not a forte of mine. Hell, it wasn't even a three-te, but I was learning one thing: School was not for me.