What hides behind your masks
How can THIS guy be your Valedictorian?
Seriously, look at me. Covered in tattoos, breaking stereotypes, and challenging the very image society has created of what academic excellence is supposed to look like.
But that’s the beauty of being the underdog. Nobody expects you to reach the pinnacle when they’ve already decided where you belong.
I’ve been judged by my appearance, underestimated because of my past, and challenged by circumstances that could have easily broken my spirit. Yet here I stand, a college Valedictorian, proving that success isn’t determined by how you look, where you’ve been, or what others believe you’re capable of accomplishing.
And here’s something else that might challenge your perception: I’m a Functional Pothead.
Cannabis has been part of my personal journey of healing, self-discovery, and perseverance. While society often associates cannabis consumers with laziness, a lack of motivation, or an inability to achieve greatness, my experience tells a different story.
I didn’t abandon my ambitions. I pursued them. I didn’t surrender my intellectual curiosity. I expanded it. I found my own path toward balance, reflection, creativity, and personal growth. Cannabis became one part of that journey, alongside discipline, determination, education, and an unwavering refusal to quit.
Cannabis didn’t earn my grades. I did. Cannabis didn’t write my papers, complete my research, or walk across that graduation stage. I did. But it has played a meaningful role in how I’ve navigated life’s challenges, and I’m not ashamed to acknowledge that.
Being a Functional Pothead doesn’t mean sacrificing ambition. For me, it means refusing to let a stereotype define my potential.
There’s a powerful message in a quote often attributed to Bruce Lee:
“Don’t speak negatively about yourself, even as a joke. Your body doesn’t know the difference. Words are energy, and they cast spells; that’s why it’s called spelling. Change the way you speak about yourself, and you can change your life.”
Whether or not Bruce Lee actually spoke those words, the philosophy behind them resonates deeply with me.
Your perception of yourself can become either your greatest limitation or your most powerful motivation. If you constantly convince yourself that you’re incapable, eventually you may stop trying. But when you challenge that internal narrative, you begin to discover possibilities you never imagined.
I went from being the person others underestimated to becoming the person standing at the top of my graduating class. And I’m not finished climbing.
I am Pinnacle.
Not because I believe I’m better than anyone else, but because I refuse to accept anything less than the highest potential I can achieve.
I’m a veteran. I’m a scholar. I’m a photographer. I’m a writer. I’m a Valedictorian. And yes, I’m a proud Functional Pothead.
I am living proof that you cannot judge a person’s intelligence, discipline, ambition, or potential by their tattoos, their past, or their relationship with cannabis.
So the next time someone tells you what you cannot become, remember this:
The underdog doesn’t need permission to rise. The underdog just needs the courage to prove them wrong.
Be Functional. Be Ambitious. Be Unapologetically You.
Stay Functional, My Fellow Potheads!
I woke up this morning and thought, I wonder if this is a dream. How can this even be real? I am just a nobody trying to be Somebody. I’ve been steering a proverbial rowboat, feeling like a butterfly in a jar. Sometimes the voices scream, “Get out of my rowboat,” but I think to myself, who would be the captain?
Growing up in small-town Indiana in the 80s, I never imagined where life would take me. I enlisted in the Army on August 20th, 2001. By 2003, as a 21-year-old, I found myself navigating the violent streets of Adhamiya in Baghdad. The names of David McKeever, Michael Deason, and Jeremy Ruiz are etched into my soul forever.
David was killed in action in 2004. Michael was lost in 2006. And Jeremy, whom I deployed with in ’03, lost his battle at home in 2010, just weeks after I arrived in Afghanistan
Who is Jameson:
After 14 years in the Army, I was medically retired. Today, I’m basically part-human and part-hardware store, complete with plates, screws, wires, and a battery in my back. Walking through TSA is always an adventure, but honestly, laughing about it is my superpower. That humor is where I found my true resilience. Despite enduring more than 15 surgeries since my retirement, I refused to let the hospital bed define me. Instead, I used that time to earn two degrees from Columbus State University, and the one from University of New Mexico.
I transferred here after being attacked by someone with a knife on campus at CNM a few years ago. It wasn’t easy, and I had setbacks, but I persevered and came back better than before that incident.
Class of 2026, I know you are ready to celebrate, but let me tell you this last piece of advice. Challenge yourself; be quite methodical, deliberate, and purposeful in your aspirations. Thank you and good luck!
What is pain… Is it an emotion, a feeling, or even a cognitive process we have no control over? What if I told you there was a feeling of numbness when you reach your threshold, that peak moment where the agony and the sounds bring you to this “Zen” type of nothingness. Lying there cold, my body trembling from knowing what I am about to endure.
Questioning whether I made the right choice or just to live with the constant and relentless pain in my body. I had no cushion left in my spinal column at the L5-S1 region of my vertebrae from all of the grueling miles through rocks, dirt, sand, and wherever my feet took me. Of course, this task wasn’t without the use of a rucksack filled with all sorts of Army-issued shit that was “required,” if you will, and the water weight added to said luggage made for a fantastic walk in the park, right.
I wonder at what moment my body simply broke; I like to think of myself as very durable, the type you find firing on all cylinders even if the tank is empty. I am that guy who you will come to learn has overcome, endured, and experienced some of the most chaotic and vividly horrific imagery known to humankind; to a man who wonders if I am the butterfly or not. That would be in reference to a great Chinese philosopher by the name of Zhuang Zhou, who built his principles from Daoism.
Why the secrecy:
I don’t want to leave too many breadcrumbs as to who I am, my life, and experiences that brought me from small-town nowhere Indiana to the pinnacle stage where I currently stand. Reinventing yourself is a constant process; trust the process; if you aren’t happy with the product, try again. That’s the fun in our lives; we are the main characters and decide what turn to take at the proverbial fork in the road. Let me share with you the twists and turns I decided to take: was it the red pill or the blue one… Follow the white rabbit, Alice, wasn’t it? I hope you’re ready.
Indiana, the slogan growing up was “There’s more than corn in Indiana.” This slogan ran rampant during the late 1980s and into the 90s from a place called Indiana Beach. Growing up, all I remember is being at some form of water source to swim. I spent countless hours of my summers at the lakes throughout Indiana; we camped a lot growing up, and it was always an event my sister and I were excited about. Although my sister was the typical 1980s teen growing up, she was four years older than me and was born in 1977.
What defines you:
I found comfort and solace in swimming at a very early age and still enjoy just being in an area of water. Floating, the feeling of weightlessness, and being able to manipulate yourself in many ways due to your buoyancy. It is one of the ways I find a way to escape my own reality and the world that surrounds me. When I float and meditate, I hear nothing! Pure silence and the imagery of a strong rock protruding from a stream, which is ever so narrow. Perhaps 3 feet across and roughly two feet deep. I see roundly shaped and smooth rocks sharing space with sharp and jagged rocks, all scattered about on the stream floor. The water has a little brown hue with pockets of clear bubbles dancing around as the water makes contact with the surface and immediate surroundings.
As I scan the surface, I notice this particular rock. It has faint red coloration with a very distinctive fine-grained structure, as if it were a part of the wall from the Grand Canyon. Black and grey lines etch the surface of the rock as if telling its story. About two-thirds of the rock is under the water submerged in the cool mild brownish water, Small green algae spots are settling on the very bottom portion where it is permanently fixed to the creek bed. On occasion, a little colorful trout waves it tail through the light rolling rapids of the stream.
You can smell the odor of fish and taste the smell of the water on your lips from afar. We all know and understand the smell of being near a small creek. The focus, though, is on that portion of the rock which is proudly holding steady each year as the water levels change. Right now, though, the creek is flowing at a rapid but smooth, gentle pace where you hear the sounds of water crashing into the rocks and giving off those lovely bubbly sounds we all enjoy. Again, there is that rock, the water pushing as hard and fast as Mother Nature intended.
This rock is also pushing back against the forces of Mother Nature in this epic battle of time and patience. Water, as we know, will win the test of time and endurance, as the rock is not a formidable opponent against this pure, raw energy.
From the Front Lines of Iraq to the Streets of Baghdad: A Story of War, Brotherhood, and the Bonds That Never Break.
Stay with me as I prepare to take you on a journey beyond the headlines, beyond the battlefield, and into the memories of those who lived through the chaos of war. I will be sharing powerful, firsthand stories from friends who stood on the front lines of Iraq—stories of courage, sacrifice, survival, and the unbreakable bonds forged in some of the most dangerous circumstances imaginable.
His name is “Phantom.”
But there is one story, and one man, I especially want the world to know.
He is an Iraqi national. He is my best friend. And our friendship is proof that even in the darkest chapters of human history, something extraordinary can emerge from the devastation of war.
In an upcoming podcast, I hope to introduce you to Phantom, giving you the opportunity to hear his perspective, ask him questions, and experience a side of Iraq that too often goes unheard.
And perhaps the most meaningful chapter of this journey has yet to be written.
My dream is to return to the streets of Baghdad—not as an American soldier navigating a war zone, but as a friend walking beside another friend. This time, I want Phantom to be my tour guide, showing me the city through his eyes rather than through the lens of war.
Two men. Two different nations. Two perspectives shaped by the same war. One friendship that transcends borders, cultures, and conflict.
Because sometimes the greatest stories to emerge from war aren’t about the battles we fought, but about the humanity we discovered along the way.
Stay tuned. Some stories deserve more than to be remembered. They deserve to be heard.
