Accountable, Accounting Bull.



The basic accounting equation:

Assets = Credits + Stock Holder’s Equity.


My basic accounting equation:

A passing grade in Accounting = enough credits + Me holding a degree for my education.


A passing grade in accounting is the only thing between me and my bachelors degree from Howard University.


Long story short:

  1. I studied Telecommunications Management… which requires students to minor in business… thus: I didn’t sign up for this.
  2. I failed accounting. Multiple times.
  3. I didn’t graduate, instead I returned to Oakland 1 class short of a degree.
  4. I’m currently taking the class online… Thus: I will get my degree.




Short Story Long:


I could charge my accounting shortcomings to the fact that the class requires students to purchase a 180-dollar book and a separate 40-dollar online access code in order to do their homework. Or I could charge it to the fact that I got jumped and robbed for 30 dollars, my phone, my favorite leather coat, and a backpack which held an accounting book that I had borrowed. (And that happened while I was coming from accounting tutoring!) … The real reason I’ve failed accounting multiple times: I have no interest in accounting.

But, the story is deeper than that…

It was Mr. Smith’s 8th grade Algebra class- that was the first place I had ever had a negative experience in the world of mathematics.

Due to my compulsive socializing, I failed Mr. Smith’s class. In turn- Mr. Smith felt so inclined to tell me that I wouldn’t make it. In life.


My next step in life: A college prep high school, where it became glaringly obvious that I wasn’t prepped for high school.


My reading and arithmetic were sub par; my writing was awesome, but my handwriting was awful. All of these attributes hold true to this day.


This day- Early December- sitting here with an accounting book on my hip- copiously taking notes with my illegible handwriting… one class away from graduating, and thus proving Mr. Smith wrong…  how’d I get here?




During my junior year in college, I signed up for the class. By homecoming, and I withdrew on account of the workload being greater than I could bare at that time, especially homecoming weekend. The spring semester proved to be a bit slower than the fall, so I took the class once again: same result. I withdrew right after spring break, citing my workload to still be too heavy. I took the class one last time at Howard University- fall of 2010… and that’s when it got real bad. I couldn’t afford the book, so I fell behind in the class. I finally found a book to borrow, and after coming from a late night tutoring session… I got robbed. For my back-pack. Which held inside the accounting textbook, which I had borrowed from a classmate.


That took the cake … but the icing :



Last year. It was coming down to the end of the semester- I could still have passed, all I had to do was ace the final two tests. I was in the information laboratory- studying as if the answers to life could be found between the pages of this accounting book. (This one was loaned to me for free by the accounting department from their stock pile surplus of books…. I digress. )

My studies slowed. I hit a wall. And then I began to socialize… I ended up chopping it up with a young man who once resided in a dormitory where I was the Resident Assistant; one of my lil brothers. After establishing that we were both in this accounting class, I opened up:


… I told the young man I was studying accounting and struggling. He told me that he understood accounting and could assist me… and then he told me that both of his parents are CPA’s for fortune 500 companies. …



My mother worked as a janitor to put me through school.

I left Howard University after fall of 2010… headed back to my hometown… with my head down.

Fall 2010 was the worst semester ever: I lost a longtime girlfriend, I lost my chance at graduating on time, I even lost some real estate on my hairline.


I couldn’t take another loss.


I came back to Oakland and worked odd jobs: moving boxes, freelance journalism, anything to keep me active and off my moms couch.

I ended up teaching, and succeeding at it. Funny enough, I ended up teaching at a high school where Mr. Smith works- you should have seen the look on his face when I pulled him aside. I had to remind him of something he told me, something that I would never forget: that I wouldn’t make it. In life.

At this point- I’ve painted myself into this role as an educator/media maker , and a career path is slowly opening… I’m considering grad school: Masters in Media arts? Ph.D in education?

Either way, I need to get my undergraduate degree first….


When it boils down to it- I’m no future CPA, hell- I still count the dots on the dominoes before I play my hand. I’m better at letters than numbers. After all, there are only 26 letters- numbers are infinite. And out of the numerous words in my vocabulary, the one word that stands out: accountability.

The ability to be accountable to something… in this case… the something is accounting.



Celebrating Moms & Pops Each Giving Me 23 Chromosomes For the 23rd Time.

On my twenty-first birthday, I rolled out of bed and everything added up: July 6th, 2008 my birthdate, 7+ 6 +08 added up to 21. I realized that every birthday of mines, since the turn of the millennium adds up to the age I was turning… I thought that was pretty cool.

My Dream Cake

This year, as July 6th 2010 falls upon us, I did a little reading about the mathematics behind the age 23. I found some pretty deep things about the number 23; that movie with Jim Carey, and Michael Jordan’s number were just the tip of the iceberg… as I celebrate my mother and father coming together, and donating 23 chromosomes for the 23rd time in my life, CLICK HERE TO READ THIS ARTICLE, and find out some very interesting facts about the number 23.

And after reading that article, check out my man Jordan’s highlight reel, and allow Air-Greatness show you why number 23 means so much to a young African-American man born in 1987…

Now let me get this Jordan year kicked off with a grand slam… a picture that symbolizes good times:

a mad Llama I encountered at a petting Zoo at Oakland’s Jack London Square this weekend…Just because its the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time…

the mad Llama.