A Sparkle of Light

A Sparkle of Light

The Book

Written By Matt Scarpelli

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my parents. For everything they did for me. I wouldn’t have learned to read and write, let alone the way I do, without them.

I’d also like to thank:

Kayla, for always being there to talk to me.

My teachers and coaches growing up.

All the books and films that inspired me from an early age, onward.

The London, Ontario & Canadian healthcare system.

If you or anyone you know has mental health issues, don’t be ashamed to seek or allow help.

I hope you enjoy my book!

A Sparkle of Light

First Edition

Copyright © 2022 by Matthew S. Scarpelli

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, photography, video, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

This book is merely for entertainment purposes. It is a work of non-fiction. A biography on the authors life. The storyline, along with names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents may be altered or changed to protect the identity of certain people or to make the story flow. The characters opinions and views expressed in the book are those of the characters only and do not necessarily reflect or represent the views and opinions held by individuals on which those characters are based. Any facts or realities are used to support the story. No offense is meant unto anyone. This book is meant to inspire.

Cover Design by: kingof_designer

ISBN: 9798832955353

Contents:

Chapter 1 – The Beginning

Chapter 2 – Florida – Page 13

Chapter 3 – Cannabis & High School – Page 29

Chapter 4 – College – Page 45

Chapter 5 – LSD & Cuba - Page 62

Chapter 6 – Working Concrete & Writing – Page 75

Chapter 1

In a flash & a sparkle of light, my soul was ignited and entered my body. I was born again. Months later, I was made into a human and entered the world on September 27th 1990. A Libra. In a place they call The Forest City - London, Ontario, Canada. To the loving care of a mother and father. Anna Maria Scarpelli & Alberto Joseph Scarpelli. Weighing 9 pounds & 9 ounces, a healthy baby. The 2nd child to my family. An older sister born 2 years and 5 days apart on September 22nd 1989. Jessica Nicole Scarpelli. I was given the 23 letter name:

Matthew Stephen Scarpelli

Followed by a birth certificate, my human identity. A Canadian citizen. Grandparents from Italy & one from Ukraine. I was baptized into the Roman Catholic Faith. A third child, my younger brother Tanner Nicholas Scarpelli was born three years later on December 15th 1993. Completing the five person family. Making me the middle child. All of this, laying the foundation for my life & future. The education and religion bringing forth question after question in my mind. Leading me to the meaning of life & it’s purpose. Starting with the etymology of words, like my last name, Scarpelli, meaning shoemaker.

The search for God, church spoke of God but more of Jesus, praising him. But I focused directly on God. The yellow circle around Jesus, angels and saints I was told was a halo. I saw the golden circle as the sun! The wall between fabrication and truth. A human story, used to lead the enlightened towards the light and truth.

The sun, moon, planets and stars caught my eyes every day and night. My mind and heart in search of something more. Self-reflection of flaw-correction. I was blessed to be born into a good family at the time, that had a nice home and everything we needed to live and grow. A nice big home on a quarter acre plot of land, in a small 15 home subdivision. In a horseshoe shape, with a slight branch off for a few homes. Like the symbol for Saturn. At the end of each road was a farm field, we were on the outskirts of the city. At the end of the subdivision branch-off street with two houses, was an apple tree. I used to hangout under it, and one day a small fox ran through my legs as I explored the farmers field. One of my favourite movies as a kid was The Fox & The Hound. It was a synchronicity to see a fox in a cartoon, and then one appear in real life. I was amazed, it mesmerized me.

My first bedroom had a clown theme and it freaked me out, gave me trouble sleeping. When Tanner was born, he took my room and they changed the theme and I got another room with vaulted ceilings and two skylights. Which let in the sun and moons lights. Sometimes planets and stars aligned above. I chose a space mural with planets to cover the back wall behind my bed.

I had a dream, that was so vivid I thought it was real. A brown bear was in the backyard, playing in my sandbox.

One sunny summer day, I stood by the subdivision entrance. Brick and black steel gates that were decorative and did not extend onto the road. Tall sunflowers were scattered around as bumble bees pollinated one after the other. I had a Ninja Turtles watch and opened the shell to see the time, 1:00pm. As the screen reflected light from the sun. I looked up and saw a bird, a hawk, soaring high above.

At the age of 3 & 4 I went to a daycare, next to a variety store beside my future elementary school, St. Mark’s. I was one of two males out of 19 girls. Dani, would later reunite with me in high school at Saunders 13 years later. Another girl gave me a Chinese coin with a hole in it, from a trip she went on with her parents. When my mother picked me up in her minivan, the song by Phil Collins – In The Air Tonight was playing. “I’ve been waiting for this moment, all my life”

By this time, I had made my first friend, a black kid named Carter who lived behind my house and was a neighbor. He was black and I was white, but I had no idea what racism was at the time, we just became friends. We often played Hungry Hungry Hippo inside his home. I was so good I would get nearly all the pearls. I had a caring heart and let Carter get some to make the game more fair, as it seemed like a game of greed. Who could get the most pearls. We left the game and went outside on the hot summer day. Behind his dad’s old wooden white-faded painted garage, filled with dusty junk. There was a 30’ tall radio/TV antenna tower receiver. Just like the big one across the street that stood over 100’ tall. Across from the Golden Pheasant Motel, corn fields around it.

Carter began to climb the tower but I was too nervous after only a third of the way up. Carter bravely reached the top. After that, out front his house we saw a dead coyote struck by a vehicle, on the side of the road. We thought it was a dog at first. Flies buzzed around and the smell wasn’t pleasant. We poked it with a stick, but it was surely dead.

As a young child I made some mistakes, including burning ants with a magnifying glass. Using the suns light to create a beam of heat, like a laser to scorch the little insects. I also used a cardboard box to fill with caterpillars I caught, but by the next day they all crawled out. Also, we lived across the street from a cornfield, so we got lots of mice in our garage. They drove my dad nuts, he set half a dozen traps and would kill them afterwards. One time, he caught one and put it in a bucket, gave me a knife and said I can kill it. My stomach got sick, I took a few weak slow stabs at it but missed as it scurried around for freedom and life. I couldn’t bring myself to harm the critter so I convinced my dad to let it go in the field across the road. He said it would just come back, but I said I think it would be too scared to return.

At church I began to learn about a soul. The priest asked, “what is a soul?” My gut twisted and turned in there, I felt an urge to always leave the room, wanting to leave the building. I’d go to the hall and get a drink from the fountain or go the to the bathroom to burn time. When the organ music came on and the cheerful mood began, they would bring out baskets to collect money. So odd to me. Money, money, money, they wanted.

I had a habit of finding money as a kid, change on the street. I would notice its shimmering light reflection, sparkles of light. One time at Tim Horton’s, I saw a charity box and emptied my wallet into it donating all the change inside. A woman saw and thought it was so kind, she gave me a small 6-pack of Timbits. I had a hamster as a pet, named Chopper. It was the only real pet I ever owned next to a goldfish. He was an acrobat and would climb the top bars like monkey-bars. It was a sad day when he passed away. I gave him an Egyptian Pharaohs burial with green army men toy soldiers for protection and other offerings.

I made another friend, Kirk, who lived across the street from my home, in a large red brick home that had a raspberry bush. We would eat fresh raspberries right off the tree, it was amazing.

Kirk’s parent’s owned two restaurants and were never home. He had a nanny to care and cook for him and his younger brother Victor. As well, he had a talking parrot. We had the whole house to ourselves.

At my home, I had a 10’x10’ garden my mom had my dad dig out and soil. My mother and I picked corn, carrots, and cucumber seeds to plant. They turned out small, but healthy and rewarding that I grew them myself. Rise from the mud & shine from the sun! My mom did a lot of the work, telling me when to water the plants and pluck the weeds, she would be out there with me helping. It was special to grow and eat your own food.

Later, around the age of seven a new neighbor moved in, Nik, a Greek guy and his family. He moved into one of the nicest largest homes in the subdivision, it had five balconies. His parents owned a restaurant as well.

I was born skinny with a fast metabolism, I’d eat a lot but never gain a pound more than my growth required. My mother was an excellent cook, like a chef. So I was fed nutritiously and well growing up. We got out drinking water from a fresh water well on our property.

The tall radio tower beside the church, being a beacon of light. Flashing bright white sparkles of light. Day and night. A way to always find home. Trips to grocery stores, school, relatives, coming back at day or night, I’d always see it’s tall flashing light. Like a lighthouse.

I got enrolled in Beavers, a form of Boy Scouts. We planted trees and explored the nearby forest and ravine along the river. Inside a gym at the public school beside my catholic school, we made birdhouses. I was the first to complete mine, and went on to help others with theirs. My dad also enrolled me in a wood-working workshop, ran by his friend. I built a two-foot long wooden military airplane I painted olive green.

My dad had double-doors made of wood and clear glass panels in the center. Often smoking cigarettes inside and busy working, he’d have the doors closed so I’d pear through the glass panels to see what he was up to. One time, I hid his pack of cigarettes in an effort to get him to quite, and he got so mad at me he exploded in anger.

My dad was a good dad when I was young, he took care of me and provided for the family. I remember a time he drew an amazing red Power Ranger cartoon artistically on paper. He also got me a green boomerang which I threw in the back yard, but not enough space it got stuck up in the second floors eaves trough. A home builder and construction guy, he didn’t have a ladder long enough to reach it. It stayed stuck there for a year. My father was once in an Italian band, he was the drummer and had a drum set, but he never played it when I was a child. We had a central computer in the basement, and my parents got us Reader Rabbit the interactive learning video game. It was an incredibly great learning tool. Visualizing, showing, doing, solving. All-in-one. I saw the potential of computers and their value, at an early age.

There were neighbors three houses down to the left, that happened to be partners in the development company I would later go on to work for after graduating college. They had a few daughters and a son. One time, my sister wanted to watched The Little Mermaid, but when the father found out he got enraged and shut it off. He was against children going against their parents and he didn’t like the message that was delivered in the movie. For me, I loved film and television I learned a lot and thought that freedom and liberty were fundamental keys to a successful society and human’s life. Not being able to make your own decisions, and being limited to bias beliefs seemed farfetched to me as a kid.

One day, my mom sent me to deliver an envelope to a neighbor in a big mansion beside Carter’s. I went and they had a scary Doberman dog on chains that rushed at me as I walked around the house’s corner to the front door. A Scary black animal that growled and barked, it rushed and lunged at me but thankfully the chain wasn’t long enough for it to reach me as I fell back onto the ground. The dogs viscous teeth and fierce face growling at me. God and the Universe saved me from the mighty little beast. I looked up, and saw a hawk, circling above me. It began to feel like a protector, an angel with wings.

This same home, later became the spot of many great memories. They had a paved basketball and road hockey court on their property they let us kids use. We played wearing shoes or rollerblades. Kirk, Nik and I would be there for hours until the sun set and my mom would blow a whistle calling me home for dinner or the night.

I was given a telescope at Christmas, able to then view the moon up close, aiming for planets and stars. Pleiades caught my eye, that beautiful star cluster. The night sky was sometimes better than TV for me, mysteriously magnificent.

At Kirk’s & Nik’s mansions, we would play hide and seek and laser tag. Nik loved wrestling and the Rock, who later became a big movie star.

Some of my favourite movies as a kid were; Saving Private Ryan, The Sixth Sense, Gladiator, & Pay It Forward. They inspired me and changed my mind and world. Gladiator, a movie about a general who becomes a slave, loses his family to an evil tyrant, gets cheated, stabbed and still fights for his freedom and wins it, even though he perishes shortly after. An epic movie that still captivates me to this day.

At my beautiful cosy home, were bad neighbors beside and directly across. One was kicked out of all the high schools in London for violence. The younger sister, my age, I was told not to communicate or play with. Forbidden from hanging out or going over to their house.

One day, I found an injured baby bird on the rocks below the evergreen trees. It seemed abandoned and in need of help. I nursed it back to health and kept it in a cheerios box bird house. One day I came home from school and saw the box was smashed, in search of the baby bird, I found it dead up against my neighbors brick shed. It had been thrown like a rock against the wall. It sickened and saddened me, I felt the trauma for a while afterwards.

Those same neighbors later committed insurance fraud. They had a moving truck load up all their old furniture in their house and claimed it was stolen, trying to get brand new furniture. Bizarre! Cops came, knocked on my parents door but no one had photograph’s or proof of what occurred. They got away with it.

One Friday night my dad had my cousin Anthony look after my siblings and I. He gave us money to order pizza which we did. When I answered the door, I saw the neighbor across the road back into the delivery drivers car, I felt so bad. He didn’t barely earn enough to survive let alone go through that.

Mrs. Boom was my kindergarten teacher. She was the best! She would always read us a book, Chicka Chicka Boom Boom. I made friends with a kid named David, one Saturday he came over to play and pushed me into the brick wall for some odd reason, and I had to go to the hospital to get stitches on my forehead, creating a Harry Potter-like lightning bolt scar. My dad and his friend Ron were having a beer on the back patio beside it when it happened. Somehow, we still became best friends afterwards.

My parents had given me books to learn about animals, insects, ancient Rome, Greece, Egypt and Africa. In grade 1 we had a reading assignment, one classmate read a 200 page book, beyond anything anyone else could handle at the time. I could barely write my name neatly, my dad gave me a stack of lined paper and a pen and said “write your name over and over until you can do it neatly”. So page after page, I wrote my name over and over again.

My French teacher at school was actually Egyptian, so she spent a lot of time enlightening us about its ancient past and her travels there. She gave us all papyrus book marks with hieroglyphics that amazed and inspired me. At a school dance, we did a routine to the song Jay-Z – Dirt Off Your Shoulders. My brother pulled the fire alarm at the building.

My grandfather’s Italian nick-name we called him was Nonno. He often also said no to everything, so it synchronistically fit. He had seven birds he all named Chee-Chee so he wouldn’t forget or mix up their names. He was an old school Italian, he had chickens he got his own eggs from, a garden, and made his own bread, pasta and sausages. He was self-sufficient, unlike most people today.

Chapter 2

At around age seven, my school was taken into the gymnasium, our symbol and logo the Bee/Wasp, St. Mark Stingers was etched onto the wall. We watched a movie, Star Wars - A New Hope. We were all seated uncomfortably on the floor, but the movie was amazing and inspiring. They used a projector to project the video onto the big wall for us to see. I resonated with Anakin Skywalker. It lit a spark in my mind, this became my religion and truth, the power of the force of the universe. I still believed in God, but I knew there was a power in the universe now.

During march break, my family drove two days to Florida to visit Disneyland and Universal Studios. A new adventure and incredible journey. We stopped at many cities and places along the way. My sister and I looked for personalized cool cars and licence plates to pass the time. My dad was innovative and installed a tube TV inside for us to watch movies along the way. Something no vehicle came with at the time. We watched Honey I Shrunk The Kids. We stopped at shopping plazas along the way to get cheap great name brand clothes. At one public washroom, a creepy man saw my Adidas shirt, pointed and kept saying “Adidi”, “Adidi”, luckily my dad game in and took me away from the weirdo. My dad gave my siblings and I a talk about the dangers of America and not to trust any strangers and stick together. As nice as America was, there was darkness within.

Arriving in warm beautiful Florida, we stopped to pick and taste fresh oranges and make orange juice. It was awesome. At Disneyland we went to the Indiana Jones themed live action theater. My parents bought me a cool futuristic set of blue sunglasses that had red led lights. They also got me a stuffed animal whale, Shamoo.

At Universal, I got lucky and accepted on a game show that was filmed on TV. Similar to “Uh Oh”. I got my team a lot of points. I never got to see the show on TV or it’s episode. Disneyland and Universal Studios was amazing. Universal attracted me the most. The films, behind the scenes, and magic was more magnificent. I got to see Xena behind the scenes and how they made the movie and sound effects. It made me dream of being a part of such greatness, to be a filmmaker. I paid attention to every word, sound and lesson.

TV & film meant more than entertainment, it was a way to see what I never saw. Learn what I never knew. Just like the Magic School Bus, Care Bears, Looney Tunes, and Donald Duck – Math Magic Land.

The Jaws ride was epic, so realistic it was jaw-dropping. The length the designers went to to create such a cool experience was art and passion I saw nowhere else.

The Buzz Light Year bumper cars and cannon ball ride was also cool and fun. Life seemed incredible at the time. But it all cost my parents money, so much money. I knew I had to do something with my life that could allow me to afford to be financially free one day. I had to figure out how all these great people succeeded. Money, the fuel for living in a modern world. My parents graciously bought me a collector’s edition poster of Star Wars - Return of The Jedi.

The following year we made another trip to Florida, stopping at a motel. My dad wanted more cigarettes but couldn’t find the carton my mother packed for him. He angrily and anxiously emptied the back of the van and every suitcase in search until he luckily found them. He smoked a Canadian brand and couldn’t go without them, an addiction. In total we made three incredible trips to Florida in three years.

Coming home from Florida, my dad noticed a damaged window screen. A Bird had came in through an open window and crashed through the mesh screen, leaving a hole. It laid dead on my dad’s desk. It was winter and cold back home, I shoveled the three-car driveway for $2. I was told to save it, to make money. It seemed too little and impossible to work and save being paid so little. $5 or $10 would have been fair, and made saving possible. My dad had a large video camera kept in a briefcase, the size of the thing at the time. He rarely used it and never let me try it out. I wanted to be a filmmaker, and there was a camera sitting on a shelf I couldn’t touch or use. No way to learn the trade or industry and practise. My father taped over a VHS of my first birthday party, to record a hockey game.

I remember watching the cool cruise show, Breaker High. My sister told me the blonde guy, Ryan Gosling was from our city, London, Ontario. It made me think my dreams were possible, and I too could one day be a part of the film industry. Radio Free Roscoe and Degrassi were other shows I loved, next to Pokémon.

At School one winter, we built a giant long snow wall fort and had a massive snowball fight with the school beside, a public school. We were outnumbered but put up a valiant fight! I went to the other school, for my after school program so I was familiar with the building and saw it to be much cooler and larger with a giant playground. They had baby yellow geese for us to see and feed. Like the movie, Fly Away Home.

My mother worked at a bank, and one time I got to eat my lunch in the vault surrounded by money. I felt like Richie Rich. One of the bank tellers, my mother’s friend always kept candy and treats in her desk drawer. She would give me Kinder Surprise chocolates with little toys in capsules within.

At nine years old, out front city hall, my father gave me a check to hold worth $280,000 for a house he sold. I had it for 30 seconds, analyzing it while he looked for some paperwork. The most money I ever held in my hands. And it was one slip of paper.

At age 11, we traveled to Mexico in 2001. Peurto Vallarta, a spectacular place with a curved coast and hillsides. We pulled up to a magnificent hotel in paradise, cobblestone road led up to the front entrance. We stayed on the 9th floor, providing a beautiful view. My mother rudely accused one of the Mexican workers of stealing her video camera, but later found it on the top shelf of the closet in the hotel room. A sad accusation, I felt bad for the worker who did nothing wrong. The hotel pool was in the shape of Mickey Mouse’s head. The beach rocks extending out into the ocean were covered with fisherman and crabs. My favourite drink was the strawberry daiquiri. We watched a chicken fight, which I thought was cruel and vicious.

In Toronto, Ontario at the C.N. Tower there was a Pog tournament & I had mine with me so after visiting and going up the tower, the next day we came back and I entered the tournament. My first real game, and I came 2nd place somehow. One of the Pogs, when flipped reflected a spectrum of colorful sparkles of light in the sun beneath the clear blue sky. I found woman’s purse in the parking lot and was able to return it to her. Greed, theft, looking inside never crossed my mind. It wasn’t mine, didn’t belong to me, not of my energy, it had to be returned to the rightful owner.

Playing soccer, I joined the blue and white colored North London Bulldogs. Wearing jersey #8. Five players on the team went to my elementary school, St. Mark’s. Our theme song was “Who Let The Dogs Out”, we would play it aloud before games to motivate us. We travelled as far as Rochester, New York for a soccer tournament, but got pulverized by the better teams. The refs also rigged the games in the American’s favor.

My brother wanted to go to Mr. Chuckle’s, a kids indoor playground and arcade. My mom took my siblings and I, but when my sister forgot her socks and wore sandals, against the building rules, my mom became infuriated. She threatened to leave us on the side of the road, out of rage. She took us home and yelled angrily for two hours, even when it was only a two minute drive from the house we could have returned quickly with socks and shoes for my sister. Sometimes, my mom had uncontrollable temper tantrums.

Another time, going to school, my mom was driving her red van. A woman in a car began tailgating us for no reason and had plenty of time to pass. My mom began mouthing off and ahead came a stop sign, so when the lady went to pass, she couldn’t see it and ran through the stop sign and got t-boned by another car in a collision. My mom pulled over, got out, went over to the injured bleeding woman and simply yelled at her saying “you deserved that!” and walked back to the van and drove us to school. A baby racoon was caught in the fence at the back of the school, so I helped push it through and free it. Another time an injured seagull was on the ground unable to fly, people teased it but I intervened to protect it. Not much I could do for its injured wing though.

On a cold ice covered road, my dad was driving us to school in the morning and at a yellow light hit the brakes but spun out and did a 360 degree turn before facing back forward and simply proceeding towards school as if nothing happened.

My friend David and I went camping once, it was a fun experience and incredible to be out in the woods, free, surrounded by nature with no city noise or sounds of cars. We cooked eggs in the sun, his mother was not with us but she was a wonderful lady and previous Ms. Ilderton beauty pageant winner in her youth. We’d go to the country town Ilderton Fair and London’s larger Western Fair each year together, often with another friend named Chris. Dave loved Jim Carrey, we would watch all his movies. Dave was like a Jim Carrey comedian.

In grade 3, during recess on the playground a few of us started throwing stones at each other from the gravel. A teacher, Mr. Q. stopped us and made the four of us go in for detention. We were told to write out the definition of rock ten times. I pointed out that we threw stones and its definition was shorter, but he refused to change his position.

One year during months of running training, for the long distance race at the city competition, I didn’t realize it was my groups turn. I was up the hill at the school’s candy stand getting sugary treats. I came back with a bag of candy only to realize I missed the race. I was bummed-out but not fazed that bad. I was kind of happy I didn’t have to run, and was eating candy watching my group complete the race.

In 2000, at the turn of the millennia, I moved and switched elementary schools after the Christmas holidays. It was sad to say goodbye to my friends. We stayed temporarily in an apartment for three months until our new house was ready. We stayed on the 9th floor, my brother and I shared a room. We watched The Karate Kid & The 3 Ninja’s and would practise karate skills. I had recently joined karate , I fell in love with its discipline, action, ability, confidence building and movies with karate. My grandpa on my dad’s side, gave me a pocket knife as a tool, not a weapon. My grandpa on my mother’s side was the Ukrainian that rarely spoke. Apparently he was in Poland when the Nazi’s invaded, and he survived the entire war. I have always wanted to know more about his story. He had no photos or records of anything. He gave me a white mesh bag with two balls of steel in it once as a gift, I thought strange at first, but as I grew older I realized to survive in this cold hearted world, you need balls of steel. It was a symbolic gift.

Growing up, I learned to read by reading the newspaper. I loved to read, learn & find new words. Also, some stories captivated me. I trusted the newspaper to tell the truth. Until I saw a front page home under construction that fell down, and the photo showed Lot 13 and said it was an unlucky lot. But my dad built up the road, we visited and it was actually Lot 12, the photographer took the photo on an angle to manipulate the truth and push his story to have a better twist. I felt betrayed by the news. That’s when I began to question everything I read and analyse it more. I was not afraid of the number 13.

Playing hockey, I was on a turquoise colored team. We got along so well. I used to bank the puck off the boards and around the defender, sending my wingman on a breakaway often. We went undefeated the entire season but lots 4-0 in the finals, it was heartbreaking but a fact of reality.

Later I switched soccer teams to the Marconi Italian club. We were fed delicious home cooked pizza and pop after every home game. There was low-income housing beside the field and the kids would steal our soccer ball if it went over the fence. I was a goalie for a game once, and dove to stop the ball and it hit the tip of my middle finger, hyper-extending it. I had to go to the hospital and get a splint for it. Another time I was goalie, dove and broke my thumb but played the rest of the game with it broken. The glove acted as a helper in securing the injury in place so it wasn’t as noticeable or painful until I took the goalie glove off.

We lost the season to another team, but won the indoor Challenge Cup. I got the game winning goal, 3-2. We ended up winning 4-2. I wore jersey #12. My mother had volunteered at the indoor soccer dome in London near the airport. Each Sunday we would be the first to arrive at 6am, one hour before everyone else. I loved the moment I got to turn the lights on in the soccer dome. I unlocked the gate with the key and got to run around and play soccer in an empty field all to myself. It was very cool and fun.

When I moved and switched schools, we lived next to an apple orchard at the edge of a new residential subdivision still under construction. One the building went up in flames, a hundred feet away I could feel the heat from the flames through my open window. I worked for my dad by cleaning up garbage on site and tarring foundations with the black gooey tar. Often finding metal debris creating a sparkle of light in the sun. I also built a drink and food stand, to deliver to the the workers on break and lunch to sell refreshments. I wanted four wheels so it would be easy to push, my dad said no, two wheels and lift and push it. A young 11 year old, burning hot summer sun it was too hard to lift and push such far distances. Should have put on four wheels! It was surprising my father, an architect and designer fought me on my design and made me use a failed ineffective design. He always had to have his say and control.

Finding foam-board on site, I made a shield and put silver metal ductwork tape on it to make it look like metal. I made a handle and used my gold plastic sword to pretend to be a medieval knight, a prince, a king. It reflected the suns light.

In the winter time, Will and I went around shovelling snow off driveways and paths for money. Knocking on one door, a girl our age answered, her name turned out to be Morgan. Her parents were away and she was drinking with some friends. As we left, she yelled “I love you Matt!” which rarely anyone ever said, it was her drunkenness, but I accepted the flattery. Later in life I would meet Morgan again at Saunders Secondary School.

In grade 6, I was placed in Mrs. SQ’s class. I asked her if she was married to Mr. Q of St. Mark’s and she said yes. A strange synchronicity. As I got older, all these coincidences added up and had to be more than just a coincidence.

Yu-Gi-Oh the trading card came became popular like Pokémon, I remember seeing the eye symbol on the back of every card.

A family of five, my brother sat across from my dad, and my sister across from my mother. I surprisingly sat at the head of the table. My dad would get mad at me at times, and say “what are you, a prophet!?”

My mom was such a clean freak, she would make me clean and organize my room like a soldier, spotless. She even did the military finger dust check to see if I missed any spots. She vacuumed the house twice a day when she quit her banking job and began working from home for my father’s house building company. Dirt & dust was the devil to her. Yet she married my father, a construction guy, home of dirt and dust. She had a problem with anger, and would get mad over spilt milk.

Pokémon became a massive fad, I loved the show. My brother even got the rare Charizard card. I got Blastoise & Venasaur. I had an N64 I shared with my siblings and my own Game Boy portable video game system. Which was a kids greatest escape. Soccer-baseball was my favourite sport and game at recess or gym-time.

My new school was in a triangular position with two other schools on the same large lot. A public school, and London’s largest high school, Saunders. In grade 6 we went to watch a musical at the high school in their theatre. The sound play “Stomp”. I was amazed at the size of the school and theater, it made me even more want to be a part of the film industry.

Will, Marco & I bought hunting slingshots to shoot at pop cans in the forest. Somehow it turned into a slingshot fight, 2 vs 1, I was outnumbered and shot in the face. A rock went through my cheek and made a hole. Luckily missing my right eye. God and The Universe spared my sight and saved me. Protecting my eyes forever became a priority, especially on construction sites I always wore my safety glasses. I didn’t have perfect vision, I had to wear glasses in class to read the chalkboard. It would lead me to learn about the All Seeing Eye. The Eye of Ra and Horus. The eye of providence. A sparkle of light, being a sign of the eye and light.

Marco and I used to play the video game Grand Theft Auto Vice City, it was amazingly fun and interactive.

In grade 6 we had V.I.P. a police program to teach students about drugs and to stay away from them. We did a mock trial drama and I got a part in it as a witness walking his dog. Who witnesses a person spray painting graffiti on a building. I did it so well, with a redneck accent, “me and my mutt..”, classmates laughed and congratulated me on my performance. Another situation that made me think of Hollywood and being a part of the film industry. My first theatrical performance, and it went well!

I made my first book, that I titled The Big Book of Everything which held important school notes so that it could help me year to year.

Will, threw a glass up in the air at recess and it shattered on the ground, a teacher with a prosthetic leg came limping over and said “You’re busted buster!” and gave him detention.

I asked two girls out at different times, in elementary school and was denied by both. Even bought one chocolates and flowers. One of the girls said “are we pretending?” in confusion, I was not a ladies man at the time.

In the summer, some friends and I, mostly I, built a tree fort in the woods. It was awesome, it took all summer, then at the end the developer came and tore it down. I biked up one morning to visit it and literally take a photo of it for the memory, but workers had already begun cutting down and destroying the fort. It took two white pickup trucks and seven workers to tear it all apart. It was a billionaire developer, the foreman said the owner would make it up to me one day, he never did. I later even ended up working for the concrete company his company bought, many years later.

In grade 8 history class we had a project to recreate an article from a newspaper during the early colonization of Canada. I named my news company The Sunday Spirit. Spirit, Soul, Sol, Sun. Our grade 8 graduation trip to C.Q.E. Camp Queen Elizabeth up north, was one of the best experiences ever. A boat took us to the island, a forest and rocky oasis.

We climbed out of the wobbly boat and onto the docks. A beautiful stained wood deck railing of golden pine. Carrying my luggage up the stairs to the wooden lodge. We gathered in the main building before being divided into groups for our rooms lodging. I got the top bunk bed, of one three beds high. There was nine people in our cabin. One night, Justin a part native and indigenous kid, kicked the door open and it just fell off the hinges and hit the floor, we all laughed. Later that night, a racoon tried to get in since we could only lean the door up against the opening to slightly close the gap.

It was a surreal experience of freedom in the woods, on an island and surrounded by a lake.

We played forest flags where we had to find the other teams flags and bring them back to our base for points. If you tagged a person with your hand, they’d be sent back to the respawn.

I always dreamed of something like this, and finally I was in true cottage country. Away from the concrete jungle and rat race. Seeing the sun set from the balcony overlooking the water, mesmerized me and captured my soul.

I desired to breath the fresh air, swim in the waters, forage in the forest, explore the land and lakes.

I wanted this to be my life, or one like it. I wanted a cottage one day. I had to have one for myself and my family. Fill it with love and happiness.

The first time I saw human death was outside at a road intersection in grade 8. A friend of mine, Will and I were biking when we came across a car accident and bodies on the roadway covered in black tarps. An adult and child had died, no seatbelt. Later stuffed animals hung to a light post marked its ominous spot.

Chapter 3

I smoked my first cannabis joint in the summer after graduating grade 8, with my friend Dave and his older brother. We smoked it under a tree beside a wood fence at the corner of the street then went back to his house to camp outside for the night in the backyard.

At grade 9 orientation at S.T.A. high school, a short kid named Adrian was impressing people with his back flips. One of the grade 12 reps, said “wow this kids gonna get laid a lot”, but that didn’t really happen later on. He turned into a crack head, slashed his best friends face with a machete and went to jail years later.

Not everything you see, will turn out the way you think.

My nonna, grandma on my mother’s side passed away a few days before my first day of high school. A sad day when it should have been a happy one. I missed the very first day for the funeral, but that’s life. My mom’s brother got the house, the car and the money in the will somehow. He must have influenced it, my mother got nothing. C’est la vie.

My first class French. I had to find the only empty seat and be the new kid on the second day.

My dad and I went to a Toronto Maple Leaf’s hockey game vs. Detroit, in Detroit. My dad gave me $5 to buy a hot dog and pop, the guy thought I gave him $50 and gave me $45 in change back. It was surreal. My dad was always working, in his office or on the phone so any chance to bond with him was a rare occasion.

In grade 9 drama class, I thought it was just for fun. That I’d never be an actor, in theatre or involved in film. That my chances of writing a script or a book, and being in Hollywood was absurd and impossible for me. That my destiny was decided – construction. A family tradition, two generations before, I was going to be the third. That’s what I felt was my life and future, even though I had dreams. I loved the drama class, it was so much fun. It was a class, but it felt like play. Acting felt free and fun, you could be someone different. Holding a script felt important, magical, that we could create scenarios from thoughts in our minds from a pen and paper.

The drama turned into real drama when a friend Will simply whipped a rubber inflated ball at a Colombian guy named Henry. He threw it back but it hit me, and made threats wanting to fight Will & I. Outside the classroom turned into arguments and a pushing and shoving match, until deciding to fight after school was made. I had a blue cast on my left wrist because I broke my thumb playing soccer, so I was at a disadvantage. The whole thing was about ego, and had no purpose. I stupidly fell into the drama of it. Ego, it stands in the way of the heart. It separates us from our true self and puts obstacles in the way of our relationship with others. It blinds us from seeing clearly. It holds us back from being free and happy.

Dumb me agreed to the fight, in Will’s place. For my own ego, to gain respect, impress my friends and others. 14 years old at the time, resulting to fighting and violence was not the right answer. I made that mistake. We met and fought at the end of the day, in the bus loop with 20 other school busses full of kids able to watch the fight. I managed to win but it was broken up when teachers came so we scattered, and I ran onto my bus. The security guard came and took me away. I received a three-day suspension from school. My parents were very disappointed in me, and I got grounded at home. What got accomplished? Nothing! Only made matters worse!

What did I prove to others and myself? Why did I need to prove anything, and if so, why that? It’s not a video game, there’s no points to collect. My religion would frown upon my choice. What would Jesus do? Would be the question they’d ask. All of this I thought and asked myself in reflection of the situation.

I got a gym membership for my birthday, but the place was a 20 minute bike ride away. My cousin was the one who convinced me to get it and said he’d pick me up in his car on the way and we’d go twice a week. He never picked me up or took me once.

Lacy, a beautiful model sat beside me in science class. Later in life I’d see her on billboards and in magazines. Beside me on the other side was Court, a black kid who came from England. We became friend’s, did projects together and hung out for a while. I ran into Lacy at a medical clinic, we were with both our mothers. I was nervous and embarrassed to talk to her confidently. She was a beautiful, fun, loving girl with a bubbly personality. We used bunsen burners as flint sparks to create sparkles of light to ignite the gas in science class.

In 2004, my family and I went on a vacation to Cuba. My dad’s successful home building company allowed for us to take two vacations a year. During march break and in the fall. My friend Chris and his family joined our family on the vacation, we even ran into a guy named Dan I knew from my elementary school, on the beach. My brother Tanner got stung by a jellyfish.

They had the best chicken hut and burger hut on the beach, next to the water. Chris and I, at 15 drank Crystal beer they filled our fridge with. I bought a white shirt that said Presidente. President.

We had a delicious dinner at a live show and theatrical play. I loved it. It felt like that was life, and I was living the best life. Good people, good food, good music, and good entertainment in a wonderful place. They served us filet mignon steak wrapped in bacon. The moon looked different in Cuba, upside down or right side up, whatever way you want to describe it, compared to London, Ontario. Security in military gear with AK-47’s guarded the hotel and patrolled the beach to protect tourists from potential violence.

I went snorkeling in the turquoise clear water and found so many fascinating seal shells. Hermit crabs crawling at the bottom along the sand with corals around. A mini ecosystem of life, connected to one giant ocean of vast different aspects.

At night I always saw a bright star, before any other. Often being Venus. At breakfast, the translation for French toast was burnt bread, it made us all laugh. Travel provided such pleasure and experience.

In 2005 my family and I went to Jamaica. Home of Bob Marley & the laid back relaxed life. There was a small casino in the hotel, by the pool. Also a burger and ice cream booth. Going to the elevators to get up to our room, a group of college guys and girls got off, reeking of weed and so did the elevator.

Grabbing dinner in the common buffet area & drink stand, another kid was there named Calvin. I introduced myself and we became friends, he was from Toronto and his mother was a news reporter. We later met Jamie, also of Toronto and Trudye & Michelle of Neenah, Wisconsin. We all quickly connected and made a group. A wolf pack of teens, looking for fun and laughter. My heart seeking love, but knowing it unlikely, I was settling for friendship.

We went swimming & hung out under the walkway bridge, drinking tropical alcoholic drinks. Mine a strawberry daiquiri. Playing volleyball, and then swimming in the ocean until nightfall.

A blonde girl from South Africa, who claimed to be rich was drunk and randomly handed out money to people in the form of cash. I got $50 and a kiss on the cheek. The night continued, while we drank orange vodka screwdrivers under the black starlit sky. Sparkles of light. Through the darkness we see the light.

We were drunk and on reclining lounge chairs by the pool under the dim orange yellow lights later after we got kicked off the beach by security. Trudye and Michelle had captivating American accents. We would make them say funny sentences, which became catch phrases of ours.

“Apples. Apples. Epilepsy.”

“Eleven Ranches in Africa”

Michelle needed to go to the washroom and so did I but not Trudye or anyone else, so I went with her. We walked along the beach and a white gazebo until we came to the outdoor washroom building. Later we went out unto the gazebo and listened to the waves crash along the shore. Michelle, with her beautiful blond hair, blue eyes, and perfect tanned skin, melted my heart, but I was a shy guy and didn’t make a move. I felt she was out of my league.

The next morning we all met up for breakfast at the buffet and then looked for something to do. We found Dwight’s Arcade, full of TV’s and PS3’s for video games. A Couch and air conditioning, it seemed like a good place to hangout for a bit. Dwight was a young entrepreneur and friendly guy, he let us play at discounted rates. He had an eye for Trudye and her pretty pink dress. GTA San Andreas was the game we played while we stayed cool from the sun for a while.

The next day Trudye and Michelle had to depart back to America. We said our goodbyes and said, “don’t look back”, but the three of us simultaneously looked back. Two beautiful blond American’s leaving, we were now a group of only three guys. Depressing to meet great people and them leave your life so fast. We exchanged emails and contact to keep in touch, but that wouldn’t be the same. Trudye and I stayed friends and in contact for another 16+ years.

2006 the family vacation was destined for the Dominican Republic. Another trip this time, with Chris my friend from elementary school and soccer, came with his parents and his sister, Nicole.

At the karaoke bar we found Canadian & American friends our age and similar. Every night we partied there, many of the Canadians were from Toronto.

The Eagles – Hotel California

“On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair. Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air. Up ahead I saw a shimmering light.”

Neil Diamond – Sweet Caroline

“Sweet Caroline, the good times, have never seemed, so good!”

Were our favorite songs we constantly sung. I shared my first kiss at 16, with a blond haired, blue eyed girl named Solei, which meant The Sun. An Icelandic girl from Toronto.

Solei – Sun

A Sparkle of Light

A SOL

A Soul

A Sun

Asshole

Because sometimes, I have sadly been an asshole.

The next night my dad found me drunk in the washroom, pissing while leaning up against the side of a bathroom stall. He grabbed me by the ear and pulled me 1km past everyone to my hotel room.

I tried out for the school football team, and when I put my silver watch, bracelet and necklace/chain in my backpack one day when I didn’t have time to put it in my locker, someone went in my bag and stole all my stuff. The cameras outside the change room were broken, and the school staff said it had been that way for months. Their negligence failed to fix a problem, which resulted in a theft.

In the summer of 2006 I was drunk with a friend after a party and we went on MySpace and messaged a bunch of beautiful girls, not paying attention to their location. Some responded with humor and friendship, including one named Kayla, six hours away in Ottawa, Ontario. We quickly became best friends online talking every day. She was two years younger, but the more we talked the more we got closer and became friends. We had so much in common and our conversations could go for hours but feel like minutes. We wanted to visit each other and planned a summer trip to Camp Arrowhead for a week. An only child, her parents agreed to pay the $1500 expense, mine refused even though I promised to work and pay them back. It broke my heart, I was so excited to go. It looked like a camp out of a movie, so fun and exciting. My parents were totally against our communication when they found out, when I told them about Camp Arrowhead. They wanted me to break off the conversations and stop talking to her. I couldn’t do it, and neither could she. We connected so well, everything felt so perfect. She taught me about 11:11 and its synchronicity and spiritual meaning. It happened all the time for us. Twin Flames.

In grade 10 business class, we had Business For A Day where students created a business in a group of 4-5 and sold their product in the main school forum. My group was Mike, Mike, Marco, Matt & Kenny so we called it 4M Chic-Ken. We made chicken-bacon ranch sandwiches and sold them. I got the idea to add Little Caesars $5 Hot & Ready pizza’s so we could sell each slice for $2 and make a profit. Andres, told me he’d pick up the pizza before lunch when he got his banana’s for his smoothie stand. He was late, didn’t leave till lunch and sales started so we had no pizza to sell immediately and lost out on a lot of business, yet we still made the most profit out of all the groups.

One day my dad caught me talking to Kayla after he banned me from it, and smashed my computer and cell phone in rage and revenge. To make it near impossible to communicate with her, so I wrote a poem or letter and sent one every single day for a month to her through the old fashioned mail box. I would message her from friends computers or cell phones the odd time.

By this time, my parents, mainly my father made me switch high schools in the middle of grade 11 to take an architectural drafting course not offered at my school, St. Thomas Aquinas. I was nervous but it turned out to be one of the best experiences of my life, I loved not having to wear a uniform anymore. Saunders, the school I switched to was the largest in London so there were so many people to make friends with. Some went to my elementary school and from sports that recognized me when I arrived, being so tall. The tour of the school was a fun day, when a friend took me around and showed me the place and its amenities. Meeting so many new friends and girls, made it tough on my online long distance relationship with Kayla.

At first I hung out with a group of 1980/1990 looking crew of misfits who would come into the A&P grocery store I worked at. At Steve’s empty apartment he lived at, we would have mini parties or gatherings. We listened to “DHT – Listen To Your Heart (techno remix)” while the lights were off and a strobe light emitted sparkles of light. We also hot-boxed the bathroom using an 18 liter water jug as a water-bong, in the bathtub to get super-high. I needed fresh-air and as I reached for the door knob, it was too high and far as I laid on the floor. I jokingly said “I feel like I’m in a horror film, I’m reaching for the exit but I can’t escape!” Then I got up and just opened the door. Out on the balcony, Anis came up from behind me, the large man in a fur coat pulled out a large knife and pretended to be about to throw me off the balcony as he said “any last words!?” I replied “you’ll never find the gold!” He laughed and we went back inside.

I tried breaking it off with her, but our connection was too strong. The will of the universe was powerful and wanted us to meet. It took over a year before we eventually set up a secret meeting where her parents would bring her down to London for a weekend and we could be together, a dream come true. Kayla was my sparkle of light in dark tough times. By that time, I had made the mistake of making out with a few girls, a young teen boy I was horny and in need of the affection and love of another woman. Without Kayla by my side, at drunken parties I would look for love. Yet what I got wasn’t love, it was a short-lived fling. Kayla was the one I loved and I hadn’t met her until August of 2007 when she came down for the weekend.

She wore a brown dress, looking beautiful. I brought her flowers and we sat in the lobby nervous, but happy to finally meet. We shared our first kiss later, at a movie theater during Superbad. There was a rainstorm and lightening outside and the power went out during the movie, that’s when we made our move and kissed. Sparks flew and I knew I was in love with her. I wanted to spend every moment with her, but I knew our fates were far apart. Separated by six hours. She lived in Ottawa & I lived in London. We were still in high school, and I had a year and a half to complete before graduating. We faced an uphill battle that eventually led to devastation. My dad wouldn’t let me work for him as long as I talked to Kayla, so my only income was from a grocery store at A&P making minimum wage. I could barely afford anything for myself, let alone flowers for Kayla or gifts at Christmas or a bus ticket to be with her. It was depressing and caused me to fall into the realization that maybe we had to break it off. One weekend she came down before Christmas, I made the foolish mistake of breaking up with her before, and not after Christmas and the New Year. I was a young kid with no mentor, and parents who made my life hell for loving her, so I thought the only way to get my parents love again, was to break up with Kayla, the one I loved. It twisted my stomach and broke my heart when I told her that day December 14, 2007. I wanted to marry her, but I broke up with her because we were young and I felt we were being restricted with the long-distance relationship and I wanted her to be free and not suffer the effects of my families hate towards the relationship. I never had another girlfriend or anyone like Kayla in my life again. The emptiness led me to drink heavy and try drugs for the first time, cocaine. To numb and take away the pain. It was a slippery slope that went downhill with my emotions and state of mind.

Going to a vending machine to buy Sour Skittles, someone hollered my nickname “Scarpz”. I turned around and it was Andrew’s sister Steph. She said “I need you to do me a favor and burn down my ex-boyfriend’s house.” I laughed and said “that’s not something I do, I’m a good guy.”

At the Red Feather high school football game opener held at the University of Western Ontario, I went to watch Saunders play. Sitting behind the tall bleachers, at the bottom I smoked a joint with a friend. All of a sudden two kids came racing by and hopped the fence, jumping into the fields property. A cop chased with a flashlight, but dropped his cell phone and light, hopping the fence. I went and picked it up than sat back down, we finished our joint then the cop came back. I gave him his stuff and he was relieved.

I started playing paintball, to distract my mind and entertain my time. It was expensive, so I had to work hard to save all winter to buy my gear, so I’d have stuff for the spring. I got a Contour HD mini camera for Christmas that I mounted on my helmet, and filmed my paintball videos. Quickly reaching an online following and 5,000 subscribers. However broke, no internet at my apartment I moved into at my dad’s since I had no money, I built my website at the local library. One day during an update, the internet disconnected and the website crashed and was inaccessible. I paid someone to try to fix it it, but they caused some errors and I didn’t have the money to keep paying for repairs. I clicked on my Google Ads a few times to earn money, and was immediately banned. I lost out on a large potential ad revenue and income stream. My heart again broke further as I tried so hard, worked so many hours on my videos, and now they were not being made viral or making a penny.

Paintball was so much fun, but the cost was increasing and the time and money spent on building my website and making my videos, to receive no financial return made continuing to play difficult. A sour taste was left in my mouth from the embarrassing loss of my Google Partnership. A friend of mine’s older brother was into some bad stuff and involved with bad people, and he was shot and killed just before Christmas.

Chapter 4

My families march break vacation in 2009 was to Cancun, Mexico. They had a booth that was selling Akon concert tickets, so I bought myself one after meeting a group of American soldiers at the bar who were also gonna go. I was reading the book by Nikki Sixx – The Heroin Diaries while drinking. Later that night a bus came as scheduled to take us to the concert, but when we got there, we found out the $100 tickets we bought were all fake. The manager told us for a $100 bribe each, he’d let us in. We didn’t have that much on us, so we went to a bar beside. A woman came with a bottle and was randomly pouring shots in people’s mouths, then another woman and guy would come up and demand excessive amounts of money for the single shot, up to $20. I was one of the drunks who got fooled, they wanted $60 from me and took my hat off my head until I’d pay. Then an intimidating Mexican man pulled out a switchblade knife and popped a party balloon showing his power and firmness in me paying up. The U.S. soldiers I came with saw, and rushed to my aid and paid the guy the $20 extra I didn’t have. He let me go and we all immediately went back to the hotel.

One night, we drank Goldschlager alcohol, which had golden flakes in it, creating sparkles of light. Downtown at a bar, I ran into a woman a few years older that I knew. She was walking around with chocolates, and asked if I wanted one. I said I’m okay, but she insisted and said there’s a surprise underneath, it turned out to be an ecstasy pill.

My friend George qualified for the Canada vs. American MMA championships in Las Vegas. So Luigi and I went with him. We stayed at the MGM Grand while George and his team were at The Orleans Hotel where the fight was happening. George’s friend got in a fight a bowling alley and arrested so he couldn’t compete. He also had all his stuff in his hotel room which he asked George to get. So we called room service, pretended to need towels then we tried opening the door across and told the maid we knew the guy (it was one of us) so she unlocked the door for us and we grabbed all George’s friends stuff and brought it to our room for safe keeping. At the fights, a woman broke her arm. George won his fight which was a televised event. The next day we went to the gun range and had a blast shooting a bunch of different guns. We went to get tattoos but at the last minute I backed out, so only George and Luigi got their last names tattooed on the side of their hand.

In September of 2009 I entered college, Constructing Engineering Management. It was for building high-rise apartments and commercial buildings, much more advanced then the residential construction I grew up in and knew. Two other friends from high school, Marco and Andres joined me in the program. We dropped out after the first semester, Marco moved to Alberta to frame houses, while Andres and I enrolled in the Construction Engineering Technician and Supervisor program, for residential single detached home building. The program had 95% males, the few others females. It was a two year program. There was a house near Fanshawe College that flew a pirate flag, a guy there was covered in tattoos and made custom chopper bicycles. He was also an incredible artist and had an amazing poster on his wall he drew, I bought it off him and then had him make me a custom poster. They still hang on my wall today, motivating and inspiring me.

I was made homeless in 2010 in the summer right before the second year of college was to begin. I got caught smoking weed, and the other time I got in an argument with my parents because they were being abusive, so they kicked me out on the street. I had a vehicle, so I slept in it at the park, down by the river. Later friends let me park outside their house or sleep on their couch. It was tough, I tried finding a job but with no money for food I was starving and working on a hungry stomach was difficult. I wore the same clothes often, and had a bag of clothes in my SUV I kept. I used the moon, planets and stars as inspirational sparkles of light.

I would drive to the highest point in London atop Snake Hill, park my car and watch the sun set, as I envisioned my life, my dreams and my future.

I had intended to invest $500 in BitCoin that was under $1 per share at the time. In 2022, it would be worth nearly $30 million. I lost out on a lot of golden opportunities.

My dreams of filmmaking fell apart when I couldn’t support it. Later my computer crashed and only made matters worse. I had a camera, but no computer. My dad, out of mercy to help me in school got me a laptop so I could work on school projects. It was a kind gesture for a harsh sentence of homelessness. I cherished the laptop and protected it, as it was valuable and held my potential future by being a technological tool to use. I couldn’t maintain my film company, so I joined another, Wreckless Crew Productions with Brandon Frank.

In Toronto, we did a film I took part in the ending half of the production. I was never paid gas for travel, or paid for the work on the film. I also did a music video in Allenbury Gardens, where I met Snow the Reggae singer who sang the song “Informer”. He arrived in a bullet proof vehicle & gave me a beer in a red cup. The company failed shortly after I left.

I was promised to be made a partner and get profit sharing, but Frank the other owner always had excuses why we were below monthly revenues and later after so many videos and not being paid, I quite. A year and a half of work, full or promises of big film contracts and investments, that never came to fruition. Fraudulent lies, a scheme to keep people working for free. Brandon Frank was a corrupt-evil-selfish-man. He owed me money, never paid me, I had to move into the office to work 24/7 and live. Then he demanded I pay rent. Ridiculous, he owed me, he should have paid me and provided provisions. His thinking was backwards. I even had to be a free chauffeur driving him and the people around to events.

I built a custom camera dolly and rail system, but Brandon Frank stole it. It was my design, my money invested, and my work. But again, he stole it and didn’t pay a penny. It continued to be the story of my life. I was working above and beyond but being screwed over and not paid or paid below the promise. Like a mouse on a wheel, I couldn’t get ahead. I had plans to get my own apartment, but without being paid I had no income to fund it. I was stuck couch surfing and sleeping in my vehicle as I worked two other construction jobs and went to college.

I tried creating a new company a year later, Global Exclusive Productions. Meant to only do high quality specific productions. But with no momentum and now against people who had years to grow, I stood little chance of jumping back into the industry so after five months of headaches, clients not paying or being late on payments and employees being spoiled brats who lived at home with their parents but wanted $30/hour cash on their first jobs made running the company impossible to produce a profit. I wanted it to be a real legal company, I registered the business and opened a bank account but never got enough money to put any in. It was all debt, paying off debt. I closed the account a year later, failing again.

One day in Quantity Management and Architectural class, the teacher who was always trying to fail students or berate them, constantly picked on my indigenous friend Rob. When Rob spoke up about issues, the teacher kicked him out of the class and threatened to expel him, a total explosion and over-reaction. Rather than solve the problem, he tried to get rid of the whistleblower. When he took Rob up to the building department head office, to try to get him in trouble, I couldn’t sit and wait back. I stood up and rallied the class, and we followed behind and went up to the building department head office too. They were shocked with the overwhelming amount of students and after we said we’d go to the newspaper, they arranged a quick meeting with ten of us and we came to an agreement, no one would be expelled and no one would fail the class because of the teachers horrible teaching and nearly impossible tests.

With the support of my classmates I passed the program against all odds and received my diploma certificate. I got a job working for one of the largest apartment developers in London immediately. They couldn’t find anyone competent in the civil engineering or engineering management program, so they hired me from the construction engineering & technician program. At an awfully low rate of $15 per hour, I had to take a $1 pay cut from renovating and framing jobs to just work there. It made no sense, after all that struggle and perseverance to graduate I expected a big pay check and signing bonus. They offered peanuts. $15 an hour with no benefits, and long hours 8am-5pm, 9 hour days compared to the regular 8 hour office day, which they refused to pay overtime for the extra hour. They also only gave me a half hour lunch but deducted an hour pay. They were straight up taking advantage of vulnerable me who wanted the job and opportunity so I took it anyways. I became the assistant to the manager of developments on a $10 million dollar project and others. I was overworked and under paid. A co-worker had a band, and was performing in Sarnia for the Canada Day Festival. She offered to pay me to drive to Sarnia and film her event. Of course, I did it, but she never paid a penny. I was constantly paying for everyone else, and being overworked and under paid to do jobs for people. It was beginning to drive me bonkers.

I moved into my friend Devon’s apartment paying him to sleep on the couch. He had two Rottweiler dogs, Killer & Chopper. They both loved me, Chopper would pee herself in joy every-time I came home. It made Devon super mad. He was a drug-addict addicted to cocaine, and his influence effected me. Constantly being around people who did and had drugs, was a bad influence on me. It caused me to fall into alcoholism and drug addiction at times.

My father bought an apartment building in 2012, and let me move in for $700 month rent and to clean, and be the building manager. He said “this will be yours one day”. But years later he sold it, and it was to my friend Ali who I was promised the commission if I found the client. I was screwed out of $17,000+ in commission. Forced to move into one of my dad’s rental homes and pay an increase of $2000 per month in rent.

On the very first day I moved into the apartment, I heard a loud banging coming from the door within hours of settling in. “Bang”, “Bang”, “Bang”, I looked through the peephole, and opened the door but there was no one there. “Bang”, “Bang”, “Bang” continued, I figured it out that it was the back second door, the apartment each had in their kitchen accessing the back fire exit stairwell. I opened the door and it was some short greasy dirty drug-addict looking fellow. He didn’t say anything polite, greet me, he just said “When are you going to clean this building stairwell there’s mud going up and down it!” Yet he worked construction, it was his mud, it was obnoxious, rude and bizarre to make such a request to me at 9pm the first night I moved in. Years later, that same man moved out, came back and stole my bike out of the shed since he was the only one that knew it was in there. I couldn’t prove it, but he moved out and less than a week later the shed got broken into and my bike stolen.

One day, coming home from the grocery store I had five bags in my hands. A woman approached the door, I said “my hands are full but I got one available finger I think I can open the door with” and I did. She smiled back.

At a concert in London, to see Young Jeezy in 2012, there was a shooting. It happened right behind my two friends and I. The shooter then ran away through the stage side door, and out the back to the other side of the street. He was never caught.

In 2013 I was working renovations, and called Devon before I was headed to a concert in Toronto. He didn’t answer, it was a Friday. I went with a few friends to VELD an epic electronic concert, which later I helped carry a guy in a wheel chair to the front of the stage when he stood at the back and wanted to get up front. Steve Aoki stopped the concert and caked him, it became a viral trend and ended up on TMZ. Later others at concerts continued the trend of carrying people in wheel chairs to the front of the stage, I started a global trend. It was cool, but I was sad my friend was gone.

When I got back from the concert, I received a text message after work when my co-workers and I stopped for dinner at a pub. “Devon’s dead” the text read. Not the smoothest way to tell me, it made my head spin. I tossed the money I owed for food on the table and rushed out the building. On the drive to my apartment, the St. Christopher catholic beaded protector I had wrapped around my review mirror, reflected sparkles of the suns light. I went home and drank and smoked weed all night long to analyse the situation within my mind and cope with it.

Later at work I got injured, jumping out of the back of a pickup truck with a plastic barrel of concrete and twisted my ankle and pinched my sciatic nerve. I had no paid time off, and had to work through the injury. It caused “drop-foot” in which my left foot had trouble raising up, and was very dangerous on the jobsite as it caused a tripping hazard. Yet I was on the stage of sheeting the roof of a home, so I had to be up on the roof with my injury, working through it. My boss was someone who didn’t follow the rules, and I was desperate for a pay cheque so I got paid cash and had no way to get workers compensation, paid time off or go to the government. I was struggling to survive and just pay my bills. So I kept working through the injury. At the hospital they ran some tests, but told me it might never heal properly. I refused to believe it, and did my best to self exercise and did my own physiotherapy to heal the injury. Eating super healthy and doing as much exercise and foot rolls, and movements as I could. I would try to lift heavy objects with my left foot to regain its strength in hopes it would rise again and the drop-foot would be removed. After six months it healed 95%, so I walked into a shoe store and wanted to buy a new pair of shoes for my feet since I could walk properly again and hadn’t bought a good pair of shoes in years, yet my last name, Scarpelli – means shoemaker. So I had to have good shoes. In the middle of the shelf were an incredible pair that shimmered in the light. Lebron James Nike Elite Hero 13’s. I got the ones with turquoise bottoms, red and orange colours with metallic like heals that sparkled light when I walked. The shoelace had a centerpiece, and it was a lion’s head made of a shiny material that too would reflect the light.

One evening getting food downtown, I ran into my friends older cousin Dave, who used to be a woman’s man. He asked me for a ride home, then invited me inside, turned out he was addicted to meth and wrapped a band around his arm to cut the circulation as he injected the drug and said “sometimes it’s a bloody mess”. I left shortly after witnessing his drug use.

Another time I was walking home after the bars, and a car pulled over and asked where there’s an after party. I told them my place, jokingly and they laughed and let me in their car. They turned out to be two strippers who just ended work. I called my friend Andres who I was with earlier, to come over and join. They wanted cocaine to party but I wanted to stay away from the drug so we didn’t do any, the strippers were bummed out. It definitely effected my chance of getting laid, but I was trying to better my life not get lost in it. I let them stay the night, and in the morning we went to a breakfast place for waffles. We stayed friends and in contact for a little while then the conversations faded away.

During a renovation of a home, I pulled back the baseboard in a young girls room and found a red $50 bill. I knew it was likely hers, so I kindly gave it to the mother and she was overjoyed. She said her daughter lost it months ago, it was from her birthday money. I told her the slim bill must have slipped behind the baseboard. I was always a boy and man of integrity.

I won Renovator of the Years in 2013 with the company and crew I was with. The following year, my dad’s home building company was doing very bad and his supervisor was messing up always and got caught having an affair with a homeowner so my dad fired him. He offered me the job, but said I’d have to quite the renovation job and start immediately. No break or time in-between. Mapleton Homes was down to 7 houses from their regular 25 sales a year. I had to spend my days fixing issues from houses already built with people living in them, and manage a new subdivision building a few houses while training new workers with no experience. My dad laid a big burden on my young 24 year old shoulders.

When my dad sold the apartment and I had to move out, into the house and pay $2000 per month in rent, I couldn’t afford it so I put ads online to find tenants since all my friends lived at home, were married or had their own place. I packed my stuff into a fifteen-foot box truck rented from U-Hual and made the move from my apartment to the house. One of the tenants treated it like a hotel, leaving garbage everywhere and never emptying his garbage. Food flies swarmed the house. I had to give him a big talk to get him to clean up his act. It was awkward and awful living with random people in a home. Later, another tenant moved out and shortly later, Rob was charged with murder for killing his roommate/fellow tenant. I was so sick of living in a life of hell, I wanted prosperity, good friends, good times, and good memories. The best part of living in the house, was having a barbecue.

I had worked under my dad’s previous supervisor as a kid growing up, he was not a very bright man. It didn’t surprise me eventually he was fired. I had to be the project manager, supervisor, foreman, trainer, health & safety rep and client rep all-in-one for $26/hour. I felt it should have been at least $30/hour. I worked very hard to perfect things and make every client happy.

While working for my father, I had a spontaneous pneumothorax at work, in which my right lung collapsed on a jobsite. My dad told me to go to the hospital on my own time, there was too much work to do. Five-to-six hours later, I collapsed in front of the house framer in the sandy dirt. No one called me an ambulance, I drove himself to the hospital while nearly dying. Asking for a cup of water when I entered the emergency room, I collapsed and had emergency surgery. My father came in later berating me, blaming me for smoking weed as the cause. An unproven accusation, from a man who smoked cigarettes all his life.

One year later, that same framer was sadly killed on his motorcycle in a collision. Through the darkness, I saw the light. Gratitude for life, as I’ve always been and felt. Even during hell. My conscience was clean & clear, so I followed my heart, writing in my journals to release the thoughts on my mind.

One day I ordered a package from Amazon, it arrived and the guy called me saying he couldn’t get into the building and my buzzer wasn’t working. I went down to meet him, and all he said was untrue. The lobby was packed with people coming in and out, he could have got inside. He had my package outside on the ground as he stood by it, dressed like an egotistically rich stylish man and not a delivery driver. He just looked at me, and looked down at the package and said “it’s here”. No integrity, no care, no thought to pick it up and pass it off professionally. Some people at their job do the bare minimum and have horrible attitudes. It was a 6-unit building with not many tenants, but they were a nuisance and high maintenance problems.

I built 54 houses for my father, successfully on time and within budget, yet he reneged on his promises of vested interest in the company and big bonuses of $1,500-$3,000 per house for doing a great job. I wanted to “cash-out” of the company and move to British Columbia, the west coast of Canada. He got enraged, kept everything and kicked me out of the house after firing me from the job. I had to move into a small one bedroom apartment, paying $1076/month in rent plus utilities. Yet my father never paid into unemployment insurance for me, so I was screwed over and abandoned by him and the government. I had to use my credit card to pay bills and survive.

In the garage, as I packed some of my last boxes I fell to the ground in suicidal thoughts and depression. A sparkle of light emitted from a tiny spec of debris on the grey concrete floor. Creating a glimmer of hope, a sign from the universe. I chose to do LSD that I had a few tabs given to me by a friend, years ago. The first dose created an intense euphoric high that created incredible hallucinations that kept in with reality. I got cold, and the warmth of the sun called me closer. Seeing it setting in the west, it was calling me to the west coast.

Then, mysteriously the light post across the street from my house, would brokenly flicker at night and day, sparkles of light.

I would also notice as I drove, light posts would turn on or off or flicker, creating sparkles of light. Even when all light posts were off, as I approached, one would turn on. A mysterious phenomenon.

Chapter 5

Another night I did a dose of LSD and went to the train tracks at night, under the clear starry moonlit sky. Laying on the grass on the hill along the tracks, I looked up and above me were stars and planets, making one giant star. Vega at the the top, Altair to the left, Arcturus to the right, Saturn to the bottom left, and Jupiter to the bottom right. I went home and sketched the pattern in my journal. All these stories, were written in my journals.

I had this vision, that I needed to get clearer vision literally, fix my eyesight. As I wore contacts and glasses, so using my credit card I got laser eye surgery and it made a miraculous difference. For once in my life, I could wake up and immediately see clearly. High definition vision! The moon, stars and planets were more visible with my new eyes. My new vision gave my eyes a new sparkle of light.

I then booked three vacations, to British Columbia to visit a friend from high school, Havana, Cuba and one to Arenal, Costa Rica to see the volcano.

In British Columbia I flew out of London, to Toronto than transferred to Calgary, Alberta, than to Kelowna, BC. Pat picked me up from the airport right outside the entrance. He had land and a trailer in the mountains, he built a temporary shelter home while he was building his actual house. We watched Rambo – First Blood. He drove through the mountains and a sign read the city name, Hope. The next day when we were driving to Vancouver, we drove through a near exact similar scene, foggy mountains and a sign that read Hope, BC. It was a synchronicity, especially with the struggles Sylvestor Stallone went through before he became famous. He wrote his own script for Rocky. It resonated with me, as I tried to write my book in hopes it would become a movie. Years later, working in concrete, one of my co-workers was from Hope, BC. Another Synchronicity.

Because of the bad financial situation, I had to cancel the Costa Rica trip and pay cancellation fees. I went only to Cuba. As soon as I touched down on the ground, I felt the warm sun and Cuban air. I stayed at the Hotel Nacional, a prestigious one on the main Havana strip. All alone, I wandered the beautiful place the first night.

The first night I walked alone in the partially lit dark streets. Stray dogs and cats roamed around under the bright moon. A single bar, with lights and music had a group of men and a young 18-19 year old woman serving them and talking with them. They hollered at me as I walked by, inviting me to join them for drinks. At ease, I did so and shared smiles and laughter with my new found friends. I used an app on my phone, to translate languages from Spanish to English so we could converse. After a few drinks, the woman offered to join me back at my hotel. The amigos cheered me on. We walked there passing graffiti on the wall that said Ti Amo. Staying at the prestigious Hotel Nacional, unaware she was a prostitute until she demanded $100 in money, and then later stole an extra $40 from my wallet. The dark skinned woman and I had consensual sex and then I walked her back home. I knew Cuban’s were suffering, and needed money and let her get away with it.

The hotel was going to charge me more money for having an extra guest over the night, but seeing my chivalry in walking her home, they cancelled the extra fee. Good, since I was broke and barely had enough money as it was. I felt so relaxed and at ease, happy to be away from home and the troubles that were there and on my mind. It’s as if I left it all behind.

Beautiful Cuba made the worries dissipate for the time being. Seeing a black man fishing, I approached to watch. The guy was catching dinner, which he was successful at. Quickly we began to talk and become friends. I gave him a red I Am Canadian t-shirt from my backpack as a gift to the fisherman. He was overjoyed and put it on immediately. Suggesting they get Mojitos from a local bar, the two of us made our way there under the glorious burning bright sun. Feeling in good company, I took many photographs of the wonderful Havana along the way. The Mojito’s hit the spot, in a quiet air conditioned bar with a few quests, they treated us with great kind hospitality. At the bar, we ran into two of the man’s other friends. One was named Maykel and offered to give me a box of real Cuban cigars for cheap. They were back at his place.

The man took me to his friends home, a gentleman named Maykel. I gave him a pair of black sunglasses in a kind gesture, as I had no money on me for the cigars. Maykal smiled back with his golden teeth creating sparkles of light. Wearing all white for African Cuban religious reasons. The box was large and cost $100, Maykel told me to take it and pay him tomorrow, & they’ll come to the hotel. Feeling like they were good guys and no harm would come, I accepted the cigars.

They came the next day to the hotel as agreed, to collect the $100 which I paid without a problem. Then the three of us went for burgers at a restaurant within the hotel. Talking about communism and democracy. Being depressed, broke, but still able to travel to Cuba, made my problems seem petty & democracy seem great. Definitely in need of modernization that’s for sure. A huge overhaul of the system and update for the citizens and to manage migration better.

Countries need to grow & be sustainable, not overpopulated and in turmoil or dysfunctional. We need order in the world.

Maykel drove a blue chromed out motorcycle and offered to become the my chauffeur. All I had to do was pay for gas. A fair deal! Zipping around town was a mesmerizing and fun experience. At night, they took me deep into the local population and poorer areas. Wood huts, but great loving friendly people. A Military truck drove by and patrolled the area, but did not impede on the my tourists journey. With a dozen soldiers in the back, they seemed more amazed a Canadian was that deep alone at night with the locals. They fed me the best chicken and bean dinner and even provided a cold beer as disco lights lit up the wooden hut. Creating colorful sparkles of light. We all danced and enjoyed the evening to the fullest. With very little to no commodities.

In life, it helps to be in a good place, but it’s the people your with that influence and count the most. Stick around good people!

Stars and planets filled the sky that had a crescent moon reflecting the suns light. Taken to a parking lot with taxi’s, the locals I was with demanded a cab take me directly home to the Hotel Nacional. Staying at the prestigious hotel, helped my security situation. We were stopped at a military checkpoint, and let through. I got home safe and sound to the beautiful hotel with palm trees. To the smile of the doorman & Cuban’s inside who seemed amazed at how happy and alone I was. Even though inside, I truly was sad and depressed. My face revealed a big smile of joy and freedom. Knowing it would be short-lived. The vacation would soon come to an end, and I would have to return home to face the facts and realities of my dire situation.

A Sparkle of Light was what I wanted to write. But at the time, it was manifesting itself through reality for me to see and record it’s phenomenon.

I opened the blinds and let a burst of bright light into the lonely hotel room, “rise and shine” I said aloud to myself the next morning. A sun with a cornucopia symbol was engraved at the top of the hotel in its stone. A symbol of abundance.

A dozen black Mercedes showed up the next morning. A president from Africa and his delegation had arrived for a meeting at the prestigious hotel. I was in the presence of greatness, while at my lowest. At a great hotel, to get a glorious fresh start and rebound back at life. I wanted to see the meeting held in the banquet hall, but refrained from intruding.

A weed smoker, I had difficulty adjusting to a sudden stop in inhaling. Not having any or being allowed to in Cuba, I substituted for tobacco and smoked the cigars. They did a half good job in easing my anxiety. People’s preferences & usage of substances depends on their unique body, mind & being.

Outside, a retro classic blue car awaited with a driver. The amigo hollered at me to approach so I did. He offered me a tour of the city in style. I accepted, with the wind blowing through my hair from the open convertible top. Sun reflecting off my sunglasses, getting a tan felt as good as could be. Driven around like royalty.

We stopped at a monument center of Che Guevara and then later at a restaurant that had pictures of famous people who had eaten there, including recently Arnold Schwarzenegger. It felt so good to be treated so well, in such a warm beautiful inviting place. The food was very fancy, a bit too much for my simple taste buds.

At an ATM machine, I was able to withdraw $280. But my credit card strip broke, than my debit card strip broke. Both my forms of financial payment had been destroyed. I was on to my last dollars. For caution, I put $20 in my right foots sock.

At night, the hotel manager took me to a disco not far from the hotel where we met two woman drinking. They invited me to join as they were locals and saw I was a tourist not from around the area. They were beautiful young woman, 18-20 years old. The hotel manager’s friend arrived and turned out to be a perfect English translator which made conversations very simple. We drank Mojito’s and danced until I was sweaty and needed to clean up in the washroom. The hotel manager suggested we drive around and pick up two girls waiting, I wanted to stay with the current two but for some reason let the decision be made to move on. A man who loves woman, it felt wrong and unfair to leave them, but life is life and situations unfold the way they do sometimes. Not far away, driving we found the two awaiting woman who jumped in the car, one on my lap. Suddenly, police flashing lights behind lit up the dark street. We had been pulled over. Anxiety filled my body, in a foreign country, what had I done wrong, what was going to happen next. The manager got out, spoke with the cops and without a bribe, we were let go on our way peacefully. Taken to a 3-story colonial building attached to others, a large steel door let me in and up a long flight of stairs to the main floor. A woman in a pink dress greeted me, it was a brothel I discovered. Two 18-19 year old woman offered their service for $100 each, I agreed. Being alone, depressed and in search of life and love I wanted to feel affection, to feel anything! Even if it meant buying temporary synthetic love.

The woman in the pink dress locked the door behind, thinking it was a trap and feeling nervous, the women eased my tension. Afterwards, the door was unlocked and I was let go. Money makes the world economy function and flourish.

I left my hat behind, as I made my way back to the awaiting vehicle with my two amigos. I arrived back at the hotel at 3am, my flight was to depart Cuba at 11am. I went to bed, awoke, cleaned the hotel room immaculately and packed my bags. Using my last $20 to make it in a cab to the airport.

Arriving home back in Canada, felt so good. A wonderful feeling, leaving your home country and then returning. The gratitude you feel is tremendous. I appreciated all the wonderful amenities and advancements of modern civilization. The first thing I did was smoke a bowl of cannabis when I got to my apartment. A sigh of relief as stress was removed and I felt at ease.

The hospitals, the police force, the roads, the infrastructure was so much more advanced. I was blessed to be a Canadian citizen and able to return home to the wonderful country of Canada.

A Sparkle of Light, adventure to Cuba was complete! More of the story I could than write. Closer to the end! My life story, to be written, finished and published! I uploaded all my photos to my computer, than dropped a bit of LSD as a micro-dose. I began writing about my adventure and the mysterious miracles and fun that occurred.

More than a story or book, this was light itself, in literature form. It’s the manifestation of it all. Into letters, numbers, symbols, omens, words, phrases, sentences and the book. It’s the universe talking through a human hand

I had to get a new job, so I joined the concrete labors union. It was a very tough, dirty job working for some rough characters who had bad attitude towards workers and new guys. I was tall and skinny, not a strong muscular man, so I wasn’t built for the concrete industry but I needed the job and money so I worked my ass off, managing to do my job and keep up with the others as I was a fast learner. It was tough, as a lot of the guys new my dad or did work on his foundations so I had the pressure to work really hard and impress them and not be teased by them. I started off doing basement foundation footings and foundation walls. They used to average eight feet in height, but now basements were nine feet in high so the wood forms were larger and heavier than previously used. There were a few convicts and people with anger management issues, one guy got angry and threw his hammer across the jobsite and it went right by my face almost hitting me. Another time, that same angry guy knocked over a nine-foot form 14” wide and it fell and hit me in the leg nearly breaking it, causing a massive exterior hematoma. I had to finish the day working, and only took one unpaid day off the following day to recover. A guy’s parole officer would even visit the site to make sure he was there and working.

So many workers, in high-visibility orange shirts carrying large wooden forms, looked like ants carrying large leaves.

One evening after work, a blue jay came to my balcony, and landed on the railing, and began to sing. It seemed friendly, and I had peanuts, so I opened the patio door stuck out my hand and rolled them onto the table for it. It didn’t hesitate to jump over and pick up a peanut and fly back into the tree to eat it. This process continued for a year, it would return in the morning and evening for peanuts, calling out when it arrived. I wouldn’t leave peanuts out unless it came, cause the squirrels would be sneaky and take them first. I later found a blue jay feather on a hike, and attached it to the pen that I used to write all my journals and books. I would just re-tape it to a new pen if the ink ran out. A starling came another time, and tried attacking the blue jay but it defended itself valiantly.

In the news one day, I read that a kid I fought in high school, Karl – was now in jail for murder. He had attempted to buy a gun in high school so my friends and I stopped him from being able to access one, then he wanted to fight one of us so he fought me the easiest to pick on. I won, but got suspended from school. It ended up on the news for some reason. They made us go to the neighbors and apologize for causing a commotion and issue.

The apartment I had moved into wasn’t ready the first day when I moved in, they were still sanding walls and painting. The movers were also awful, so careless they damaged a special picture frame of mine, promised to pay to fix it but never did. Like most people, liars and deceivers. I was promised a brand new renovated unit, they left it a dirty mess, dust everywhere on the floors, walls, baseboards, in the cupboards were construction debris and in closets. I had to clean the entire apartment myself. The workmanship was awful, you could see large patches in the ceiling and walls and they didn’t replace all the old stuff they promised. The baseboard radiator heater was still the original, 50+ years old, as well as the loud squeaky patio door and windows. The walls were paper thin, you could hear full conversations of people from beside, below and above. Including every footstep. It was tormenting, especially when trying to quietly write. The unit above sounded like it was full of circus animals making noise 24/7. Yet the apartment landlord sent me, of all people, an eviction notice saying I was “walking too loud” and if it continued they’d evict me. Absolutely ludicrous!

Chapter 6

As I continued to write in my journals, the idea of turning my journals into a book; A Sparkle of Light came to mind. I was a writer in the morning & night, and construction worker during the day. Working as a laborer in the concrete union doing foundations for homes and townhouses. One day in the hot summer sun, a recently released convicted meth dealer who got a job with our company and got put with our crew, had an outburst; “Don’t fucking speak to me like that ever! I’m no jailbird!” Yet I and no one had looked at or said anything to him. I had to work with a bunch of wild people. It was taking a toll on my mind, body and health, especially my knees and lungs from all the concrete dust. Wearing a mask all the time was difficult when the entire work day was full of dust.

I worked with many different people, including the son of a full patch Hell’s Angels member when I got put on high-rise construction. He wasn’t the worst guy on the job, but he didn’t work too hard. It’s tough when other co-workers are dramatic-gossipers. I went above and beyond for one guy at work, even gave him five-six free rides, but he didn’t hesitate to talk bad about me and backstab me behind my back.

One day at work, on the fifth floor of the high-rise we were building, I was laying the plywood on the top deck when a squad of fast-low-flying fighter jets approached. Five-Six red and white Canadian Snowbird Fighter Jets, roared so low overhead, directly above, they looked like they were gonna hit the tower crane. It was a cool interesting sight to see while working.

I got fed up and needed a new jobsite, so they sent me to do a 4-story low-rise that no one else wanted to do, because the last one similar collapsed and two workers were killed. I needed a pay cheque and wanted to switch jobsites so I had to rise up to the challenge. They overworked me and the other guys, because they couldn’t get enough workers. They had to ship some in from Toronto and Montreal. The steel guys did the prefabricated walls while we formed up and poured the floors. The steel guys kept slowing me down, making mistakes, and even put a wall in backwards. In 35 degree Celsius heat it was too much to handle. After being berated by the incompetent foreman, I packed my tools up and left the job for the day. The foreman blamed me, one guy with dirty yellow teeth, and fogged up thick old glasses, took them off and mocked me saying “we all see it”. Meanwhile I had laser vision and could see perfectly clear, literally and metaphorically. They then laid me off, rather than own up to their abusive and toxic workplace and change their ways. A lot of people, and construction workers do “mouse-trapping”, they ask questions only to entrap you and berate you about whatever they said or asked, it’s ridiculous.

As I left I said, “pigeons flock together, eagles fly alone.”

I had to sell my 2016 Chevy pickup truck to afford to survive, as I waited over a month for employment insurance to get approved, I had no choice but to sell my beloved truck to get financial funds. I went all in on my books. When I sold my truck, I bought a car for much less, a 2010 Honda Civic. When I went to the car dealership in Guelph to sell my truck and pick up the car, a large RV was parked beside the Honda Civic when I went out to claim it as mine. The RV had writing on it’s side that read “American Dream”. Which is exactly what I was working for, selling my truck and making the sacrifices’ for. The American Dream! To become a famous author and filmmaker, somehow, someway, someday! It was a positive omen of synchronicity, as I’ve always also wanted a RV.

I was then laid off work for what turned out to be a year, in which I used the time to set aside A Sparkle of Light and work on a new science-fiction book that came to mind, Brain Virus. It took a year to write and over a dozen drafts. I hired a professional proof reader, an English teacher from New Jersey. I couldn’t afford the cost for the book cover, so it stayed unpublished on my computer until I could save the money, $450. I also managed to write a short story, Rise from the Mud & Shine from the Sun which I published and sold four print copies in its first week, without any advertising. I also took a construction manual guidebook I made while working for my father and turned it into a book, made a quick book cover and sold an eBook within its first week as well. I then made a Scarpz Paintball Photo Book that contained all photos from my paintball days. Two published books, I had three more to put out there. Just needed the money to get the book cover designs done.

I had created an art piece, on a split log that looked like a slice of watermelon. I spray painted it sparkling gold than added natural rocks, a pine cone, sea shells, a snail shell, a fossil, cool rock crystals like amethyst and opal, then added feathers to accent it. I found a raven or crow feather and added it, then found a sand-piper feather, white with brown spots and used it for it. Than a goose feather appeared on my path so it got added. In a long search I found a pond with great blue herons, one day the pond dried up so I went out there and the place was full of great blue heron and white egret feathers. While on a hike, I found an abandoned raft bouncing along the shore and no one in sight so I jumped aboard spontaneously and took it downstream a few miles before hitting rocks and being forced to abandoned the raft and tread through the water to the shoreline. Climbing up the big steep bushy tree filled hill, I found a blue jay feather, looking at the time it was exactly 5:55pm. I used it to add to the decorative art piece I was making for Kayla. The final feather needed was a red cardinal feather, which took another year to finally find! When I did, I added it and made an art wooden crate to ship the art-piece in, from London to British Columbia for Kayla.

I packaged up my book, Brain Virus, after printing it from my computer, along with the character art graphics and a film rights proposition for a set amount and 13% royalties to a major film studio, but after over a month they never responded.

Walking through the apartment hallway and in the elevator, often there would be a small spec of colorful glitter that created a sparkle of light as I walked or stood in its presence. A sign of hope, light at the end of the tunnel.

I got a job lined up in British Columbia, they were going to pay for first and last month’s rent as a moving bonus, and cover the moving expenses. But at the last minute they reneged on the deal and wanted me to pay all the money upfront first and than show up to BC with dozens of receipts. I wasn’t in any financial position to fund a $7,500+ road trip across Canada, onto a ferry, and to Victoria Island. So the job fell through, and I was stuck in London for a while longer.

My Unemployment insurance was about to run out, so I called the concrete union to get back into work, and they said I owed $580 in union dues. Which was unfair, if I was laid off for unfair reasons, the company should have been paying that unless I was actually fired. It was corrupt but I had to find a way to pay. I was in the mental health program in London at Victoria Hospital, and they had a get-back-to-work program and offered to pay the cost to get me back to work, a financial life-saver. As I prepare to return to hard construction labor, so I can publish my remaining books. With many more ideas for later, I am completing A Sparkle of Light. What happens in my future, for now, is unwritten.

The rest is to be continued..

Manifest Destiny.

My life became a story.

My story became a book.

My book became a script.

My script became a film.

My film became a legacy.

My legacy became a light.

My light became a symbol of hope.

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Your destiny, it awaits!

Thanks for reading!