"From the Streets to the Skies No Limits" is based on a true story and the diary of Crystal Victoria. The book addresses many obstacles facing our young generation, as they evolve into adulthood. Many times the author made decisions based on peer pressure and an immature mindset. In the end, she overcame her biggest problem, which was herself. This is the story of her failure, flight, and motivation to overcome the struggles in spite of the conflicts that could have held her back.
The message "From the Streets to the Skies No Limits" communicates to individuals is to be your best self. The author's age, level of understanding, and in-depth story is certain to grasp the reader's attention and will keep you on the edge of your seat to the end. The life she previously lived was full of crime, drug abuse & dealing, prostitution, and domestic violence. It is by the grace of God, she survivied the adversity. "From the Streets to the Skies No Limits: Diary of A Boss Lady" illustrates where and how she went wrong in the beginning, but also gained the strength to move forward and correct her mistakes.
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From the Streets to the Skies No LimitsDiary of a Boss Lady
By Crystal Victoria
AuthorHouseCopyright © 2012 Crystal Victoria
All right reserved.
Chapter OneJournal Entry 1: The Good Old Days
"If you want children to keep their feet on the ground, put some responsibility on their shoulders."
—Abigail Van Buren
After eating a piece of Church's Chicken on October 7th, 1985, my mother went into labor and a few hours later I was born. I never liked chicken much as a child and that's probably why I came on out of the womb in the first place, nine pounds and some change, a fat, healthy baby. Of course, I had no way of knowing then what I know now. The life I would live, the events which would occur, from the streets to the sky, my cycle began.
My childhood was happy, even though my father, Christopher Milton Lott, died when I was six months old. According to my mother and everyone who knew him, he was quite a character. He was abusive to my mother whenever he would drink, and on the way to Houston on day in search of a better job to take care of us, he was in a police chase. The chase ended when he lost of control of the vehicle and crashed and burned to death. My mama was always sad because the last thing she told him was she no longer loved him or wanted to be with him.
My mother, Grace Lott, kept me in a bubble. She had an excellent job at a truck company in Denton, Texas, and spoiled me rotten. I don't remember having one unhappy day. For several years we lived in nice apartments in the Denton area and never moved very much. Everywhere we lived, we stayed for three or four years until after she had our first house built.
The only sadness I felt was when I ventured outside of my "happy bubble" and encountered people. People were mean to me, though I never understood why. I just wanted friends and I just wanted to be loved. Yet over and over, I experienced the opposite. I never retaliated; instead, I responded with a smile. I used to give away my allowance so other kids would play with me. I hated being alone.
On top of that, I was fat and my mother cursed me with a Jerry Curl. It grew my hair and I was told it was Wave Nouveau, but let's be real: it was a Jerry Curl. For that and my weight I was teased all the time. The kids called my hair "juicy" and told me I was fat and ugly. When I'd come home crying to my mama, I'd get fussed at for letting it get to me. She'd tell me to "be myself," but how do you be someone you don't even know? After a while I began stuffing my feelings and not telling anyone about my pain, simply covering it up with a smile. I can only imagine what children are going through now with "bullying" through social networking sites and text messaging.
In school, I was smart and always on the "A" honor roll and in EXPO classes. My first grade teacher had the biggest impact on my life. This woman was ordained by God to teach children. When I say she loved me, I mean that. I always felt her love, but more importantly, she loved what she did and was extremely good at it. We learned everything through song and I still remember almost all of them. Because of those songs, I could add, subtract, multiply, and divide in the first grade.
Every night, my mother and I would read a book. I memorized entire books that way. I tricked my teacher one day by taking a book I'd memorized to school and telling her I could read. She was amazed when I began reading to her, so she took another book off the shelf for me to read. I didn't anticipate that. She and my mother laughed about my stunt afterwards.
I had a slumber party that year and invited all the girls in my first grade class. Not that they were my friends—my teachers were the only real friends I had at that point—but I desperately wanted a party and hoped I could make friends through it. Thirteen chaotic, rambunctious girls swarmed through the house playing games. Before we went to bed, a surprise guest showed up with a present: my teacher! I felt so special and I cried when I graduated to second grade.
I attended private school in the first grade, but the school didn't teach higher grades, so I had to change schools for second grade. Now I faced a different challenge: public school. Here, the teasing and cruelty reached a new level. The other kids constantly picked on me. I once got blamed for writing nasty notes in class. I had been in trouble before, but not like this. I had to spend the rest of the day seated in a cubicle in the principal's office. For me it was torture if I couldn't talk to somebody. Despite the torment of the other kids, I did have one friend, Sandy. She would always play with me and is still my home girl to this day.
Though school was torture, life was good at home. Grace did everything she could to give me everything. I was raised in the Baptist church, attending every Sunday and most Wednesdays. My mother was on the usher board and in the choir. I liked to sing and usher, but didn't stay an either position long. When I was six years old, my mother ran out of church one Sunday morning, I don't know why and still don't know, but afterwards we began attending St. Emmanuel Baptist Church in Denton, Texas where we remained until I was grown.
Every summer we went on vacation. We traveled all over Texas and went to Disney World, New Orleans, New York, and Las Vegas. Back then, I thought my mother and I would be best friends forever. I never thought I would hurt her, but I imagine I made her mad at times. I would throw temper tantrums occasionally when I couldn't have my way. My family praised me for my grades and decent behavior; but honestly, I was a little devil in the making.
In 1995, my mother bought her first house. The house was a three bedroom, two bathrooms, multi-color brick home with white trim and a two car garage. It was built in a new housing edition in North Denton, which meant I moved to a new school. The school was better but still, I got teased. I was still called fat and ugly and wearing braids at this time didn't help either. I made a few more friends and became involved in school musical activities, because I'd always loved music. Our music teacher assigned me to play the bell chimes.
Ashlee and Sara were two of my new friends and we hardly ever had any problems. On occasion we'd get mad at each other and it's still like that today. Sara and I used to be together all the time. Her mother loved the song by Desiree called, "You Gotta Be." We listened to it all the time, but Sara always wanted to hear Tupac. He was hot before his death and the CD that she had was, "All Eyes on Me." This was my first encounter with gangsta rap. I can remember her singing, "I'd rather be a N-I-G-G-A so we could get drunk and smoke weed all day/it don't matter if you love me baby/you need a thug in your life/ them bustas ain't lovin you right". The odd thing about that was Sara was white and not racist. There was nothing that she did which made me feel uninvited, mistreated, or bad. No weekend or day went by in which we didn't hang out and talk. In the fourth grade, I started listening to this type of music. Little did I know that this is what my life was to become. I still love Tupac, but he is not the reason that I made wrong decisions.
Ashlee lived down the street. We would walk to school together and take turns beating on her little brother, Steven. She never really conformed to the crowd but always did her own thing. We didn't argue or disagree much because we were very passive. She had great intuition, but hardly went out as much as I did. When we did go somewhere together, we always had fun. Although we didn't talk on a daily basis, our relationship was solid. Her friendship proved true as time passed. I didn't know it then, but she would later become one of my best friends. Her family embraced me just the same.
My grandmother told me my father went to hell because he burned up in a car accident. Because of that, I was angry at her for years. By the grace of God, Ashlee's grandmother stepped up to the plate and treated me as her own granddaughter. Things are healed between my real grandmother and me now, but I had to learn to forgive her. My grandmother is still my grandmother, and I'm more like Josephine Williams than anyone in my family.
My grandmother was a maid for a wealthy white family in Denton for over thirty years. Her favorite things to do were read and watch soap operas. My love for reading came from her, but I never liked soap operas. She is the wisest woman I've ever known, however back in her day she was a bit of a devil herself. At a young age, she was raped by her uncles and always seemed very angry. She had nine children, and seven of them were my grandfather's children. My mother was child number eight.
I wasn't materialistic as a girl, but my mother would buy me whatever she thought was educational or fun. At the end of every school year, I'd get a reward for having all "As." I had a trampoline, my own phone line, and could go to any event or party. I hosted plenty of parties for all the girls to come spend the night and ransack my house. When I was in about second grade, my mother and I made a deal. If I made straight "As" until my sixteenth birthday, I could get any car I wanted. My grandpa had taught me how to drive on a lawnmower when I was six or seven years old. When I got older, he let me drive around the small town of Pilot Point as long as he was in the car. He was my father figure and favorite person to be around.
The only thing my mother couldn't give me was the love and attention I needed to withstand the negative influences of my peers. They may have exposed me to the wrong things, but I can only blame myself: I had a mind of my own and did what I wanted to do. I got sick of being teased and had a low self-esteem, which negatively influenced my behavior. I left fifth grade overweight and greasy from my hair, but over the summer I slimmed down, got a perm, and an attitude to match it. I entered sixth grade still making good grades, but now I was mischievous and sneaky. My childhood was over.
By eighth grade, I was a different person. I cussed out teachers, fought, and was on the fast track to becoming sexually active. My grades were no longer all "As" and for the first time ever I failed a semester in Math. When I saw the grade, all I could think of was, "There goes my car!" I stormed home, angry and in tears. Of course, I blamed the teacher. By the end of the year, I bought my grade up to a "B," but my attitude hadn't improved. I started smoking weed and cigarettes. I didn't get high a lot at first, but when my mother started working the 4 p.m. to midnight shift, I had to find something to do to entertain myself.
I started working at Winn-Dixie as a sacker. I liked having my own money and working, since that's what my mother always did. Because I was working and had good grades, she let me keep her car while she was at work. At home, I pretended to be an innocent girl who did nothing wrong (or at least that's what I said), so my mother rewarded me and let me drive.
At 14 years old, I had the car and the house to myself. What a sweet deal. Everyone thought my mother was crazy for letting me have such freedom. But Grace had raised me right; now it was up to me to act like I had some sense. I was smart, but Grace was smarter and knew the only way to discipline me was to let me bump my own head. I'm surprised I didn't knock myself unconscious.
My mother told me once that when I drove, everyone in the car puts their life in my hands. That scared the mess out of me, so I lived and drove by that statement. No matter how high or drunk I was, I made sure to keep everyone's life in mind. Another reason my mother let me drive was because she didn't want me missing school functions and games if she couldn't take me. Her main concern was that I would get in the car with anybody and get in trouble.
Driving became the largest responsibility of my life. I could handle a lot of things at fourteen, but driving was not one of them. I was still searching for friends and acceptance. I found acceptance, but not friends. What I did find was other lifestyles which knocked me off track. Way off track.
Chapter TwoJournal Entry 2: Sex, Drugs, & School
"Freedom is not worth having if it doesn't include the freedom to make mistakes."
I lost my virginity behind the mall garbage dumpster at age thirteen. Why did I do it? It was a dare. The slender boy was cute and older than I was, but also cocky and mean. Everyone thought he was funny. He knew I liked him and dared me to do it. Afterwards, I found out he was just as afraid as I was of getting caught. At first, I hesitated but then I went ahead because I was curious about sex. There wasn't much trash around the dumpster or inside, and it was located in a dark area that hardly had traffic. I laid down on my back, and he crawled on top of me. He wasn't fully erect so it didn't hurt, but the process made me feel nasty and stupid. Most of all, I was angry at myself for stooping so low.
The worst thing you can do to a child who wants friends is dare them to do anything. I thought I was Billy Bad Ass, and probably was, but after that experience I felt worse than the trash in the dumpster. I was already called a million things, and now "hoe" was added to the list. It was at this point that somewhere deep inside I became a rebel without cause. I stopped caring and my fuse started got shorter. I didn't have sex for almost a year afterwards, but it was the second time which changed my outlook.
I became attracted to older men and had a banging body for a fourteen year old. A lady at church told my mother that I'd probably marry a much older man. Looking back, I understand what she meant. I never was top heavy, but always butt, legs, and hips with a slim waist. My hair was shoulder length and my mother fixed it prettily. I had a lot of salt and pepper gray streaks. Everyone used to tell me I was a lucky kid or wise; however, my actions displayed no wisdom. I could always charm with my smile, so that's what I did. No matter how sad or angry I was, I smiled.
I met the manager at the local Wendy's. Dwayne was twenty-four years old. Even though he knew my real age, he didn't care. I seemed to be more mature than others my age. He was sexy and had a gorgeous body. Without clothes on, he'd make me melt every time. He was stocky, muscular, and overall just right. It was his voice which would get to me and I loved talking to him on the phone. You may be wondering how I knew what a sexy man was, but trust me, it had nothing to do with my mother. She hardly ever dated anyone. When she did, I'd act like a fool and run them off.
Although I was too young for Dwayne, it didn't stop me from wishing. He knew my feelings got involved, so we kept seeing each other. He liked me, but he had a roommate named Chris who was always in his ear about the situation. After six or seven months, Chris talked him into leaving me. A week later, Chris came on to me. We had sex, but then I left him. Chris wanted me the whole time and that's why he tried so hard to break up Dwayne and me. Shortly after, I met Santiago.
One day Brittany, one of the most popular girls in school, and I skipped school to smoke and ride around the southeast area of Denton, or where we considered the "hood." This area was between the police station and the county jail with late seventies and early eighties-model homes. Cops constantly patrolled the area because of all the drug addicts running around trying to find their fix from the walking dealers. In the hood, there were always people sitting on porches and cars with loud music circling around.
Santiago and his cousin, Jeremy, were out strolling. Whenever someone was out strolling in the hood, they were usually selling dope. We knew about the dope game from Brittany's big brother, Adam. He was "the man" at high school. Santiago was kind of cute and skinny with long hair braided back. He had a rough street demeanor and sold dope, so he had money. He didn't go to school; in fact, no one in his family went to school. I liked being around them. I'd take them wherever they wanted to go and they'd let me hang with them. I felt accepted and loved, so I'd skip school to be with them and get high. Not too long after we met, Santiago and I fell in love and were inseparable. We made each other laugh and he taught me bits and pieces about the street life, most of which I learned by being around him. I was always very observant and asked lots of questions.
Santiago's sister, Cita, was a bad chick who rode with the best of them. She had four kids and was a mean dope dealer. She made more money than all the other dealers and had an attitude that let everyone know she was not to be messed with. I looked up to her and began acting like her. I always wanted a big sister.
Excerpted from From the Streets to the Skies No Limits by Crystal Victoria Copyright © 2012 by Crystal Victoria. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
Journal Entry 1: The Good Old Days....................1
Journal Entry 2: Sex, Drugs, & Schoo....................l9 Journal Entry 3: Troublesome Teenager....................21
Journal Entry 4: The Point of No Return....................31
Journal Entry 5: Locked Up....................45
Journal Entry 6: The Cycle Continues....................53
Journal Entry 7: The Beginning of the End....................69
Journal Entry 8: Searching For a Purpose....................77
Journal Entry 9: Cause & Effect....................89
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Wow, this book had me from start to finish. It's a must read for anyone who needs a picker upper or just wants to pass some time. She has certainly dealt with some issues - some that the average reader can relate to and others that provide a deeper insight into what life is like on the streets...the betrayal, lust, revenge. Simply put, this book has it all. Definitely worth the investment and I am eagerly waiting for part II.
Author Crystal Victoria is truly awesome. This book is one of a kind and I would recommend it to everyone. Her bravenest is such an inspiration. I truly love her for that. She is strong enough to tell her story. God Bless her always and I cannot wait for other books from this author.
Crystal reveals lots about her life growing up. The younger generation could learn a lot from the book and apply it to their life's.
This book gives lots of information on Crystal transformation from her pass to the present. Cystal books tell us how she overcame trial and tribulation to become a force in corporate America! This is a must read book
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