The Inner Circle

I have the most absolute bestest of the best friends. I only have like five of them. Well maybe I'm exaggerating, but at the most I have like ten. I associate with others but I only consider them to be acquaintances. When I think of a friend, I think of someone who can overlook your faults. To a certain level, of course, but minimal faults can be overlooked because they truly see what you have inside. I have plenty of faults. Too many actually. So many that I keep asking myself how I ever came across such great people. And more importantly why they choose to stay in my life. Friends are there for you when you're down. Friends are there to support you in your darkest hour. Your friends should never bring up the things that hurt you the most and more importantly, like Vegas, whatever is said or done within the circle should remain in the circle. But my friends, my true friends, the inner circle, they are so terrific in every way. And everyone of them bring something new and different to the table. I know that's why I hang around them. Added on to the fact that I love them dearly I also learn a lot from them everyday. They teach me so much about life and how to deal with it. And I definitely need that right now because life as I know it is so rough. I need positive energy around me at all times or else I'll go crazy. That is why I decided to take a lot of people out of my life. I can only take some people in very very small doses if even that. I don't have any time for someone who is going to make me feel low. I do that enough for myself. The friends that I have now know pretty much everything about me. They also know that I like to talk about myself. Not in a conceited or it's all about me way. It's just that some of the time I have to tell them about stuff so that I can hear it and they can hear it. Then I can interpret what some things mean or the value of others. They will also let me know their thoughts and feelings. And it's always just us. Most of the time. Sometimes there are little tagalongs. But whenever we're together it feels like a hundred people are in the room. We do a lot. We laugh a lot. We have soul to soul time. We have even cried together. I have even cried in front of them and I usually don't let anyone ever see me cry. But that's how great my friends are. I just feel so comfortable with them. They are my friends for life. I hope they know that. There might be other acquaintances and such but they are the only ones I will truly consider to be my friends. To be my family.

Thoughts Before Giving Up

Was all that I have done ever enough?
I lie awake and try to make sense
To make sense of a life that was destined for strife
Or was it?
I had every opportunity in the world
I could be anything I want to be but first I must find me
Was I ever grateful?
Of course I appreciated everything done for me
But maybe my gratitude was hidden by pride and attitude
Do I even matter?
I don't even know
My vision used to be so bright but now lacking so much light
Should I go on?


Should I...

Succinctly Single

He's Single

Succinctly single to be exact

Tired of running around only to be let down

Showing love to those who only care about one thing

Giving his all and having his heart-broken everytime

He's fed up

Getting ran over is not what he envisioned for his life

He can't believe this is the life that he "chose"

Everyday is a constant struggle in his skin

Before he can be comfortable with another he has to find the voice within

Why do so many like to play games?

They lie, cheat, steal and never even care

They lead a life meant to hurt him after swindling him into believing

Believing that someone finally is there just for him

They build him up only to tear him down in the blink of an eye

Leaving destruction in their path they move on to the next... and the next... and the next

Never looking back and never giving a second thought of how he is

That's why, now, he's succinctly single

Keeping to himself what others used to get so easily

But not anymore

Because he's, in a few words, briefly and concisely single

Sorry fellas, but this one got away

Paris Hilton uses Celebrity status to her advantage

Photo Source: Associated Press


I knew it was going to happen. It was just a matter of time. Something told me that they weren't going to keep Paris Hilton in jail for the whole time period allotted. Celebrities just don't go through the same things as us normal people do. I mean, look at R. Kelly. Where in the world is his "peeing on 14 year-old girls" case going? I haven't heard anything else about it in a hot minute. And he's just going around "flirt"ing and having the "same girl" with people on his new album. I'm like hello you pee on little girls. Can justice prevail here?

But in true celebrity fashion Paris Hilton played a bogus "nervous breakdown" card. Someone on the Today Show put it best that a nervous breakdown is "a 50's thing" and I agree with him. You don't just have a nervous breakdown all of a sudden. There are other things that usually lead up to a nervous breakdown and 3 days in jail is not going to do it. There are people who have been in jail for years. If they say they're having a nervous breakdown can they be released early? And having studied a case about a bear company producing a bear wearing a straight jacket with the slogan "I'm crazy for you" and them getting hounded by groups that deal with the rights of the mentally ill, it's simply an unacceptable use of a psychiatric diagnosis.

Then the funny thing about the whole thing is that she has "been reassigned" to stay in her lavish Hollywood Hills home and has been fitted with an ankle bracelet. But how about she asked for cupcakes to be sent to her home and a stylist and a makeup artist to come over to ensure that she looks good. Uuuuummmm... what? Are you serious? I love you to death Paris and would switch places with you in a heartbeat pre-jail sentencing, but think about the message being sent to all your young fans. "If I can become real famous and do crazy things they aren't going to do anything about it."

I bet you someone got paid off real well. I still don't understand though how the Sheriff department made the decision for the reassignment when the judge himself said she would not be put under house arrest or work community service. Naomi got to do community service but all she did was hit someone with a phone. I'm pretty sure that might hurt and all that but not as much as it would hurt getting hit by a car driven by a drunken driver which Paris has clearly shown she does all the time. It's irresponsible and I'm upset that more than likely just because she's a celebrity that she got off so easy. I want to be a celebrity one day but number one I'm not going to lose my head and go crazy like most of these celebrities do. They're under a lot of pressure, I know, dealing with the media and all that crazy mess. But celebrities that choose to live in LA, where the paparazzi hang out the most, need to get over it. Move to Kentucky and build a big mansion or something. Don't get all down and out because your business is all out there neither. The life of a celebrity is a chosen one and if you can't handle it then get out and make room for those people who want to become a celebrity, not only to fulfill a dream and obtain certain rights and responsibilities, but to also help out in their community and other worldly affairs, gaining a platform that gives you the ability to reach a vast number of people. Instead of going out partying and drinking so much Paris how about you involve more of your time with charities and other outlets like that and maybe you won't get in trouble as much.

Second Chapter

June 10, 1984

Travis RayShawn Watkins was brought into this world at 6:38 P.M. Pretty healthy little baby except for a little jaundice, which is a yellowish stainage of the skin that eventually went away, and stunted growth for awhile. I didn't find out that I hadn't grown any for a brief period until I was much older and a doctor told me during a checkup while looking over my charts.

The location was Chester County Hospital, a hospital in what I would consider a small town in good ole' South Carolina. According to one of my grandmothers Phylicia Rashad's mom lives there. From my baby books and photo albums, brightly colored and neatly ornamented, everyone humanly possible was at the big event. Got a lot of presents and beaucoup amounts of money that I haven't seen. And apparently I was really into Michael Jackson during the '80s. Don't exactly know how my parents would know their infant's favorite artist was Michael Jackson or that I was a supporter of Ronald Reagan.

Enough about all of that and enough about South Carolina for a bit since I wasn't there for very long. Shortly after my birth I was whisked off to start life, my life, in another whole new world. This seems to be the perfect opportunity to introduce my parents and highlight their life decisions that would inevitably lead to decisions I was forced to make in my own life.

September 24, 1964

On this day my father, Daryl Cedric Watkins, was brought into the world. Well according to my grandmother he might have been born in 1963. We're not really sure. He stuck by 1964 so we stuck right by it as well. My father was what I would call a "Hood Boy" just because of certain stories I have heard along the way and the hood is where most of my dad's side of the family did and still reside. He is one of 6 children, 4 brothers and 1 sister, and my grandmother never married their dad. I know him though. Also know he has other kids, from what I have heard, and they're very similar in age to my dad, my aunt, and my uncles. If my grandmother would have married my grandfather though my last name would be Feely. Not really feeling that. "Travis Feely." Nope. Not one bit. Although I can't be sure that if that part of history was changed that I would be here. But anyway, thanks grandma for keeping and giving your children your maiden name.

It's interesting because I never really thought too hard about that situation until now, but for some reason it just helped me understand my dad a whole lot more. He grew up in the urban area, like I said before, of Rock Hill, SC. From stories people have told me, Daryl was a very rambunctious, wild, and overly careless child. He would run around with his brothers and get into anything they could find that would usually end up with them getting their ass spanked. Forget spanking. Because even though Willie Ann Watkins adores her grandchildren and has never spanked us or allowed for us to be spanked in front of her I hear she tore some back-sides up back in the day. Even kids that weren't her own. That was back in those days when if an elder saw you messing up they had automatic permission to wear you out. But it seems she had to be tough. My dad and his brothers were out of control according to family friends. They would get into fights, steal, vandalize, sneak out, and whatever else they could do to prove they were the biggest and the baddest. No one wanted to mess with the Watkins Boys.

My dad was not all bad though. He was involved in the church, a family tradition that still was around when I was younger where your butt was going to be in church no matter what and you were going to be on the choir, on the usher board... Our family has done it all. He was also a Boy Scout and later became an Eagle Scout and also an athlete. He loved playing football. It used to be one of my dad's out of the blue conversations.

"I remember when I used to play..." Oh no. Here we go. You couldn't help but just sit there and listen until he was done. Except one time when I had to go. He started talking about being tackled and hearing a cracking sound. Then he looked down at his leg and his bone was sticking out. I was over it. Had to go. The Rock Hill High Bearcats. Geez. That's like the staple of life in Rock Hill. Every time we go home I always hear some kind of story about the Bearcats or the Northwestern Trojans. Then it didn't help that pretty much every guy on my dad's side of the family that was born after 1960 has played for the Bearcats. The Watkins name is like a legendary tag for those of us who go to Rock Hill High. You're like automatically expected to play. Good thing I didn't attend because they would have been highly disappointed.

Even though my dad was considered to be Mister Bad Ass, that didn't stop him from gaining the attention of the sweet country girl.

July 20, 1965

This is the day my mom, Melinda Jacqueline Sterling, was born and I do believe we were born in the same hospital. I think she was even delivered by my doctor's father. I think. I could have made that up but I'm pretty sure that's what I heard. I hear a lot of things. Some things I have to drastically interpret because my family tries to trip the youngins up. My mom was born to Churchill and Laura Sterling and is the fourth in line of 5. She has two brothers and two sisters. Her two oldest siblings, my aunt Mary Elaine and my uncle Christopher, have the last name Craig, which is my grandmother's maiden name, are lighter skinned, and have finer hair that my mother and her other two siblings. That situation has never been fully explained. My sister, cousin Laura, and myself have been on the investigation for awhile now though. Especially when our cousin Chrishena started calling this short, light-skinned guy from our grandmother's church granddaddy. Very strange.

My mother was raised in Edgemoor, SC, which is the country side of Rock Hill. And believe me it is the coooooouuunnntry. There are trees and fields for miles and miles. So many animals around like deer, turkey, rabbits, snakes, cows, chickens, pigs, goats, and even two peacocks that came out of nowhere a few years ago. My grandparents raised their children in a small 3 bedroom, 1 bath home that they purchased for $100 and had transported and placed on their land. Looking at old pictures I noticed they did a ton of renovations and additions over the years. It's interesting to see how it used to be and how it is now, as they still live in the same house.

My grandparents were and still are a strict religious family. There was not much my mother and her siblings could without fear of being punished. They had to be on their p's and q's at all times. And my grandmother was and still is very much old fashioned. Stockings must be worn with all dresses and include a slip in there too because you're not going out of the house without a slip on. Hair must be neat and trim. You're not going out of the house as a "bama chile." Everyone must be in attendance before dinner could be served. That has changed a little bit nowadays because I like to eat and more than likely if I'm in Rock Hill it's a holiday and there is a big tasty meal waiting. My dad, grandfather, and uncles like to disappear right before dinner is about to be served and I began the "screw them" movement where when the food is done whoever is in the house says grace and fixes their plate.

My mother, along with everyone else, helped take care of the house, fed the animals, tended to the gardens, washed and hung clothes on the line, and prepared dinners. Everyone was pushed in whatever they did. Coming from a family that worked for everything they had and, more than likely, just to make ends meet it was put upon the Sterling clan to go for what they wanted and strive to be the best. It was also told to them to not feel like they were too good to do something. My grandmother will tell the story real quick of how she used to clean white folk's houses and watch their children.

My grandparents wanted their children to attend York County Schools but their house was just over the county line in Chester. Their backyard is literally in two different counties. So they came up with a plan. They decided to buy a simple mobile home, placed it in the backyard on the other side of the county line, and used that address to sign their children up in York. That mobile home would become a popular spot to go play cards and drink. My grandmother didn't really allow that kind of mess to take place in her house. She didn't put up with that, especially drinking. My grandfather still to this day hides his Seagram's Dry Gin out in the yard and occasionally sneaks off for a couple of little swigs.

With my grandparents getting their children into York County Schools my mother eventually ended up at Rock Hill High. She was the all-around student you could say. She was considered to be one of the pretty ones but also was a tomboy. She was cordial to most people, got good grades, participated in student government, band, cheerleading, track, volleyball, basketball, and ROTC. One might consider my mom to have been a goody two shoes. Wrong. I've heard plenty stories about her too. Like the times she would sneak away with her siblings and their cousins to go to "Cry Baby Bridge." It's this bridge, that I have even snuck away too myself, that is supposed to be haunted by the ghost of this baby whose mother threw them over the edge and drowned in the waters below. It's really creepy because sometimes you can really hear the faint cry of a baby. How about the times my mom would get her butt whooped for eating green plums and sweet grass when she wasn't supposed to. My grandmother told me she used to tell my mom to not eat the plums until they were ripe because she would get sick and not to eat the sweet grass because she didn't know what could be on it. My mom did it anyway. I ended up being the same way. Tore those plum trees up and the sweet grass too. Or how about the time my mom got in a fight on the school bus. That was a real funny story to hear. But not as funny as the story about my mom and her friend riding on a school bus my dad drove after school. See, my mom and her friend were not supposed to be riding on the bus, but they did it all the time anyway. Well one day my dad received a message over the radio to bring the bus into the depot immediately. There was no time to drop off the two stowaways. So my dad had to let them off the bus in the middle of the hood, which is way uptown and real far from the country. Keep in mind this was before cell phones were even thought about. It's just funny picturing my mom's semi-bougie and country self in the hood with nowhere to go or anyone to call because she knew if she would have called home it was over.

I've never heard many stories about my parents’ courtship. Haven't even seen any wedding photos. I just know they were high school sweethearts and my Grandma Laura did not like my dad very much. At first, whenever my dad would make it down into the wilderness to visit he had to stand on the opposite side of the dirt road and talk to my mom from there. She was there when he got arrested one time. He was there when she first became afraid of flying when a plane carrying their ROTC troop fell a few hundred feet. They both were there at my Grandma Watkins's house on February 25, 1984. That was the day they would become Mr. and Mrs. Daryl Watkins. Less than four months later I made my debut and their lives were changed forever.

First Chapter of my Memoirs

They say it's best to start at the beginning. I beg to differ. Like many others I tend to look at the end of a story before I make the commitment to read it. My story is most suited to start off at the culmination of what my life created. It, my life, created, manifested, developed, unleashed what I like to think is a very well rounded and substantially interesting world. A destiny beyond any other. A portrait of what it means to be a starving artist. A monster who longed for what could inevitably be impossible but still felt an arm length away.

This seemingly happy college Senior who possessed every delusion of grandeur still had a grip on reality but failed to bring reality into any aspect of his life. His drive and determination led him to be a loner with many friends, a schizophrenic who led a secret but realistic life, and...

It's all too much to illustrate without making myself look like a looney tune. Although you may often notice that he sometimes likes to refer to himself in third person. I try not to, believe me he does, but I feel my other side better understands me. More than he ever would alone. I used to think life, my life, was right on track. Everything was in place to make every and all people who ever doubted me, put me down, hurt me, lied to me, cheated on me, defeated me, punished me, resented me regret the day they engraved their name on my cornerstone of revenge and payback. I simply knew that what I wanted more than anything in life was to make a name for myself. No longer to remain an open target for ridicule and disappointment. I wanted, no, needed to be seen as a positive source in the World.

Right now our society is filled with reflections of lies and corruption. There's a pointless war going on and many people fail to see the destruction our current government is doing on us as US citizens and other innocent people who unfortunately are in a country that doesn't care about them. Weather patterns are becoming more and more bizarre everyday but that doesn't make more people stop and think about the turmoil they're bringing onto our planet. I now know what Mr. Gore is complaining about and trying to help others understand. Al and Tipper for weather and mental health awareness. I love it. More people should become involved in local and worldly affairs but they choose not to. Most are absorbed in self awareness, only caring for themselves and the gain they can bring upon themselves. Rims, bling, Tims, and sting. It's sad when meaningless things that can't go with you after you leave this place start to envelope your life. It happened to me at one point. Before I realized those things were not the meaning of life.

Travis needs a cause to gun for. He has so many opinions about many different things: gay rights, the homeless, why black people are continuing to bring each other down, how come reality tv shows about the rich and fabulous are so popular when the majority of the population are just average people, and whether there really is a cure for HIV/AIDS and cancer but the government sees dollar signs when it comes to medication and treatment of these deadly illnesses. I can go on all day about the things thought about on a daily basis. I even have interviews in my restroom. Sitting on my commode I pretend I'm on Oprah or other talk shows and I pour my heart out. It's a great release but who in the end heard any of my inner most thoughts but me, excuse me, God and me. He's always a good source to go to, however, I'm still not making much of an impact on the world.

This is going to be a drastic change in topic but I eat pretty much the same thing all the time. I like to try and be adventurous in life but never when it comes to what I consume. Well I can't say never because there have been a couple of instances I gave into what I thought was a fear. Chicken is my staple, followed by pretty much any kind of vegetable and then little odds and ends such as pasta, french fries, Chinese, Mexican, but only tacos, spanish rice, chips, and salsa, and lots of candy. Definitely anything, well, almost anything my grandmothers would make. I'm telling you this because although I don't eat a vast variety of foods I do eat a lot of what I like. I haven't been eating much lately though. Another element my life has dealt me, not having the ability to partake in food as I would like. When I do have the ability to purchase food for myself I have to make it stretch nowadays. I will feed off of a pasta dish for about five days before my paranoia sets in and I start to believe the dish has gone bad. I then throw it away along with a little piece of myself. He goes hungry sometimes to preserve food for a little longer. Just until he knows of his next opportunity to get groceries. When that day comes he usually will try to prepare a little feast for his friends just so they will never suspect he sometimes goes without food. At the most there is one meal a day with snacks and such to hold me over. It's never enough especially with an appetite like mine. My stomach has begun being a nuisance lately. I can never get through a day without some kind of gurgling action going on. Makes it hard to sit through a class comfortably, afraid for someone to hear my hunger. There's not much I can do about it now. Not much he can do at all.

"You're going to be such a big star."

"Travis, you are a superstar."

"You are fabulous."

"I can see you doing that. Definitely." I hear it all the time from many different people. Some I have never even had the priviledge of meeting in person now in these days of Myspace, Facebook, and other online media. They have only heard stories of me or seen pictures that have been taken. It's always the same thing.

"You're going to go far in life."

"I have told people that of all the people I know I feel you are going to make it big." It is all great to hear. Take it in, think about it, dream about it. It's who it comes from that really matters though. Friends, real and Myspaced, acquaintances, professors, advisers, they can say it all day, everyday. Sometimes it takes a source even closer to you for you to truly believe it. A father, a mother, your sister, a brother. Maybe an uncle or an aunt. Grandparents too. Someone who was there and has known you since the moment you made your debut in this world. From those sources it touches you the most. Haven't heard anything like that from them in awhile. They give me some encouraging words every now and then but then they are quickly followed by how disappointing I have begun. They are kind of slowly turning their backs on me which in turn is causing me to turn my back on them. They lost all hope and fail to realize what I am truly trying to accomplish. It will eventually lead you to lose sight of all your own hopes and dreams and leave you feeling like you have no one close to you believing in your ability. Then you start to think it's partly, and possibly, mainly your fault.

So who does he turn to? His friends who are going through their own set of circumstances? His set of acquaintances who are only ever around when it is convenient for them and to help feel better about themselves? Or his imaginary life that he leads only in his mind and private company complete with a new family, career, financial stability, and all the notariety he could ever dream of?

I'm broke, alone for the most part, depressed, unfocused, set in my ways while hating the predictable, but most importantly I'm scared for my life. I can't let myself down though. Just won't allow for it to happen.

Because in letting himself down would be letting down the World.