Where you come from

I often think about being born in San Francisco. I lived in Northern California for the first two years of my life and my dad got a job offer in Los Angeles. As far as I remember, we lived in the Valley ever since, whether it was in North Hollywood or my short stint in Sun Valley. But as I walk the streets of Berkeley, I often think that my story began up here. The U.S. has become very regionalist. Everyone seems to be reppin' their territory, which was a side effect of the East vs. West rivalry of the Tupac-Biggie days. I try not to, but I can't help but criticize these fake Kanye-looking freshmen kids who wear all-print bandanas on their necks, fitted caps cocked to the side, loud T-shirts, kicks that cost upwards of $100, and predictably no money in the bank. And they're all from San Diego. When was San Diego the rallying point for fake hood playful gangster fashion sense? I would take you more seriously if you had the emo eye-patch haircut. But I digress. I've always believed that you owe something to the people and the places that helped shaped you become the person you are today. Even though I was only in the North for the 2 years I would probably remember the least out of my life, I feel like it was important I was there. Who knows? Maybe while I was up there, I got a little bit more oxygen in my brain than I would have gotten if I was born in the Valley. Maybe that's why I had a little bit more sense growing up. And maybe it was good that I left when I did. I could have been part of the hyphy movement. But either way, it's important to remember where you came from. Even though my heart is in the Valley, my presence here in Berkeley is a constant reminder that I owe a huge something to the North.