It felt as if my life had come to an end. Coming home from my classes, I found that my roommate had conveniently popped a piece of mail on my desk- which was strange, considering most of us in the apartment never got mail. Naturally, I opened the envelope, and naturally, I almost crapped my pants when I saw it was my credit card statement with thousands of dollars in charges I never made.
Let me tell you, there’s only one thing that sucks more than having your identity being stolen— and that’s having it stolen by someone who makes you feel like they use it better than you. Every one of the charges made on that statement was made to a charity or a foundation. Apparently, I was a savior to the poor, champion of the weak, and quite the fellow with the ladies. Well, the battered ones, anyhow.
Ok, buy a flat screen television, a car, drugs, but a well for an African village? Yeah, it was my money—but looking for some upside to the situation— I had to admit this was one of the ways I always thought I could help the world-given the money-and that got me thinking. On one hand was me with the big dream of making it big in Hollywood, and on the other hand there was this desire to live for something more than a fat wallet and a house in the hills. When I thought about it, it boiled down to a struggle between being selfish and selfless, with the question of whether I could ever combine to two...
Then I realized no matter how I spun it, I was screwed—until I found out that the bill was for someone else with the exact same name as me (go figure). But still, in the search for answers (and a job) I’ve decided to head out west- waay out west to
