Who Am I?

My name is Jimmy Macadoo and I'm a 22-year-old debt-accumulating dreamer.

I call myself a debt-accumulating dreamer because that is exactly what I am. You see I ended up putting myself in miles of student loan debt, just to end up ignoring my studies and devoting most of my time to writing a book of rhymes. I'm so far into making this book I wonder if I should continue my studies or if I should completely commit myself full time to writing?

You see I'm just a young man who for years has had no clue what I wanted to do with my life. When I was growing up and going to school I was mostly the class clown that passed his classes with good but not great grades. I was always creative and ambitious but I didn't know specifically how I could utilize those skills in my life.

When I graduated high school I attended the local community college and then after 3 years I then transferred to Sacramento State University and that's when everything changed. After I transferred I had to decide what major/career path I should pursue. In reality, I had no idea what I wanted to do. My first major that I pursued was Journalism because I always liked writing, but after a few classes, I knew that wasn't something that I wanted to pursue. After Journalism I switched to Criminal Justice, then Business, then Philosophy, and eventually stuck with Psychology. I was just bouncing around from major to major with no end in sight. This leapfrog of majors dragged on for a couple of years until I eventually was in a boatload of student loan debt.

I was getting older and I still had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. All this pressure to decide about what direction I should go was stressing me out. I was in debt to my neck and still really had no clue who I really was and what I was supposed to do.

I was feeling bottled up and I needed a release. Sometimes the release would be an actual bottle or a blunt or a friend or all three. But these releases were really distractions. I knew that avoiding the problem wasn't the answer to my problem.

One day I decided to write and it felt liberating. Writing became a sanctuary for my mind. I didn't worry about judgment. I didn't have to worry about standards. I could just let go of all of my thoughts and agitations. It was like I was venting to a piece of paper. I had never

I decided that I would write again the next day and the next and the next and so on and so forth.

As long as writing continued to feel like a good release I felt like it wouldn't hurt if I continued to do it.

I loved the feeling of writing. Writing felt like an extension of myself.

A literal representation of my mind at work. I love writing because its unique to the person that is writing it.

After I started to write that's all I would do. I would write in class, and at work, at home, a drive-thru it didn't matter. I found a love. I loved to write. Writing became my new favorite hobby. I basically wrote anywhere that I could. I became completely obsessed with writing. I loved the ability to express myself freely. Every word and sentence was a release of anxiety from the deepest depths of my mind. I could finally say what I always needed to say. I no longer had to keep all of my thoughts to myself. It felt great to write without worrying of judgment. But mostly I write because I enjoy the release. The release of the pressures of being a brother, a son, an uncle, and most importantly, a human being.