At some point, I realized I wasn’t going to go back to school. My whole life my dad had told me ‘you go to college and get a job making forty grand and that’s how you become successful’. I always assumed that’s how it would go for me. But since it didn’t I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I started working as a cook at various restaurants because they were the only jobs I could get without a degree. I quickly fell in love with it and decided I was going to become the best chef in the world. I got my first chef gig when I was twenty-four. I loved the fast-paced aspect of it. I loved the debauchery that ensued every night after last call. I loved the people I worked with–fellow college dropouts, musicians, aspiring chefs, and hot, loose waitresses. I took pride in my work and the fact that I was really good at it. I was a badass kitchen ninja.
After spending eight years in Athens, Georgia, two DUIs and several weeks in jail I knew I had to get out of there. I bought a plane ticket to Portland, Oregon. When I got there I had $200 and a couple of suitcases. I stayed in a hostel for a few nights but didn’t want to spend all my cash right off the bat. So I rented a storage unit and spent a couple of nights sleeping on the sidewalk. I got a job at a nice restaurant in the first week and started staying at a homeless shelter. I stayed at the homeless shelter from October to December 2008 when I could afford a deposit and first month’s rent on a studio apartment in downtown Portland. I was so excited about my new situation in life. I felt like I was in a place where I could advance my career as a chef. I fell in love with the Pacific Northwest and Portland immediately. I painted the walls in my apartment and planned on staying there for a while. But after being in my apartment for just under a year I received a “no reason eviction”.