The Story Part 1

Well, it seems like unless i explain to you how this formerly innocent girl ended up here, you won’t understand where I’m from.



First of all, I’m the 3rd born of a family of five (my father’s first child). I lived with a single mother since I was around 5 years old till when I was about 10, and I lost my brother to Malaria when I was 6 or maybe 7.
So, if you know anything about single mothers in AFRIKA, then you know I’ve had to hustle for everything I had and owned. Shit, till now new stuff still jazzes me up, I’m just not used to buying or being bought for stuff, it’s had been hand me down’s after hand me down’s…until my Dad came along, after he had come back from school in Ireland. So I moved to AMERIKA.

There isn’t much to say about the time I spent in the US of A, other then, great Tacos, and AMAZING educational system for people that can read between the lines. Luckily I could. So I moved back to AFRIKA. Don’t ask me why, you know why.

I’m very spiritual, I may not be shoving my opinion down your throat, but I do have one, when I was a kid, I believe I used to talk to God almost everyday, mostly because my mother forced me to, until I found out God wasn’t God, it was me…it had been me the whole time. I know what you’re thinking, seriously, there are things I’ve been through that should have killed me, and yet here I am … so I grew up (still in the process).

One of the first of the many “Eureka!” moments I had was when I was sitting in my bedroom…wait…you don’t know what I mean by “Eureka!” do you? Google Archimedes and get back to me. So any anyway, I was listening to Saul Williams and it came to “My father does not have any super powers. No one does.” And yes…I was saying this out loud, “I can do whatever he’s doing, hell I can do whatever anyone has done. In fact, I can do something no one has ever thought of!” and so it began, my mind went wild in different creative directions. Art became me, and I was no longer a prisoner.

So anyway, some people think that I started doing photography because of this boy I met back in high school. Well, all I can diplomatically say is that, he may have played a role, but it wasn’t so I could get into his pant… Seriously, who’s that lame????

He gave me a camera one day, a Polaroid…the instant type (remember that Andre 3000 song…where he says “Shake it like a Polaroid picta!”…wait, you didn’t know that’s what he was saying did you? Well...it is, and that’s the sort of camera I’m talking about), I felt like it was what my life had been missing, and I guess as they say, the rest is history. Needless to say he and I didn’t exactly work out. But hey, it was the perfect “divorce”, i got to keep our child, Photography.

It isn’t hard to tell, I am a very troubled soul. But hey, we all have our skeletons, right? Wait a second…maybe troubled isn’t the right word. Colorful…yeah, read that first sentence only insert “colorful” where “troubled” is.

I don’t like attention, contrary to popular belief, despite being that every time I decide to voice my opinion I publicize it on this blog! What can i say…? But everyone around me has attention issues, and when I say everyone, I mean everyone! Yeah, you too!

I prefer to hang in the background and play the strings, but I do not manipulate people. Maybe I am a manipulator… but you know what? I get what I want and there aint no shame in that. How the hell did this come up anyway?


My mother is my soul. She has dug this huge deep hole in me where she stays. And you couldn’t imagine how deep that is.
Well she’s got these two daughters, my little sisters, who mean the world to me.

I have been financially responsible for the three of them since I started making money. And when I say financially responsible, I mean it literally. From bills to little thrills, I provide it all.

Western Union taught me a lot of things.

I started making money when I was 15, at Papa John’s in Franklin, Tennessee. I had to quit (saddest day) because my dad found out I wasn’t going to work when I said I was. In fact, I was driving around Nashville in a convertible VW with my friends smoking grass; my father never knew this, until now.
I remember when he said to me, “I don’t trust you.” And it was like he had literally taken a knife and driven it straight to my feeble heart. Damn it hurt. But it was my fault. And I've come to terms with that, Dad.

But do you think I got scared. Hell no! What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger right? here I am.

And he kept telling me, “You mother is an adult. You are a child. She can take care of herself.” I know dad, I know, I’ve always known that. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do anything to help. I’m a hopeless romantic, what can I say.

Here I am. 21 years down the line. Feeling less educated by the minute.
My mother has a house, and health insurance. My sisters are healthy and they’re getting the education they need.


So when I tell you “Eipa, nao tenho mola brada. Nao da.”* I’m not fucking around. My money has bigger and better plans.

Okay, i think i’m telling y’all too much…




* translates to "Yo, I aint go no money. it aint gonna happen." or something along those lines.