ABOUT THE ARTIST

In My Own Words

Who am I? That's a question I've asked myself over and over and I come up with the same answer (which happens to be a question). Who cares? You see, Who I am is nothing if I have not made my life count for something... anything. Right now, I'm just some guy who works two jobs and is trying to survive the game. That is, the game of Life. Have no doubts, life is a game. Although the reasons for playing it differ from person to person, the end goal is the same. Some play to amass as much money and worldly possessions as possible. Others play to gain the many "holy points" required for entrance to a better place after death. And yet even more have no idea this grand game must be played or their existence means nothing.

The end goal of Life is simple. If by the end of the game you can say your life has set an example whereby others can benefit and your life will be missed, you've won. However, I digress, my objective is to tell you who I am. I will attempt to give you insight into my background.

So... where do I start? Well, the beginning is a little painful for me,but it is the only place to start I suppose, so here it is. I was born on June 3rd, 1969. Shortly thereafter, my mother died. I was taken in by her sister (Eva) who changed my last name to her own. I lived with Eva until I was eight years old. I was the youngest of five children. My second youngest brother and sister lived next door with my grandma. My two eldest brothers were about to go to the military when I was eight. Father? I'm sure I have one, but I have no idea where he was at while I was growing up.

I have no need for him now that I'm a man. There are no ill feelings towards him, in fact, my father by example taught me how to distance myself in situations that make me vulnerable such as trust and love. I'm told that I was a very intelligent youngster and extremely well behaved except for the occassional drawing on the walls. Every kid does it a little... well I did it alot!!

I remember my first lesson in ettiquette was a butt whooping at a friend's house. Momma and I were having Sunday dinner at our neighbor's house and afterwards as the parents talked, my friend and I decorated his walls with fingerpaints. Needless to say when momma seen all the paint on their walls and the new suit she had just bought me.. . well, let's just say Bruce Lee's skills weren't anything compared to momma's that day.

Every step I took she countered it with a "Whap!" I don't remember if it was just her hands or if she wielded a weapon of some type, but I do remember crying all the way home. lol! Nowadays that is called abuse, but back then it was called love. We need those days back again. Don't get me wrong, I didn't enjoy the pain back then,but as I grew to adulthood I realized just how much my mother loved me. I wasn't disciplined very often, but each time I was I learned a lesson in respect. Although at the time I thought the woman was just plain mean! LOL!

Shortly after my ninth birthday my life changed drastically when my momma died due to complications from an operation.

The Turning Point

I later found out that the operation was cancer related. In hindsight, I now notice that the signs were all there that she was sick. The constant hacking, the restlessness and other signs I attributed to old age. At the time I had no idea just how sick my momma was. I was completely unaware of the decimating effects cancer inflicted. Nor was I aware that smoking was a leading cause of this illness. I remember momma performing the same ritual every night before bedtime. She'd go get her ornate smoking pipe( the kind old men usually puffed on as they read the newspaper) and she'd fill the hollow end with tobbacco. Then she would go to the kitchen and pull out a largesized matchbox and strike a match alongside the box. Slowly she would puff, seemingly calmer with each drawl, as she headed back to her rocking chair. Although I was appalled by the smell of her smoking, I was fascinated by the way she looked as she smoked.

Little did I know that this fascination would eventually lead to my smoking. At age 22 I started smoking. My brand of poison? Kool milds. It's somewhat ironic actually, my momma died shortly before I turned age 9 and for 9 years I smoked cigarettes. I quit July 19th, 2004. It's been a little over 1 year so far. I still get urges, but I just pop some bubble gum in my mouth and try not to think about it and it usually works. I chew ALOT of gum though... lol. In fact, I chew so much that I created this gif of myself chewing gum and blowing a bubble. I use this gif sometimes when signing guestbooks. I think about how stupid it is to smoke and wonder how I allowed myself to be drawn into smoking even after I saw it's effects on my mother.

At my mother's funeral, I sat next to my grandma and my cousin sat on the opposite side next to grandma. I remember him crying on grandma's shoulder. I just stared at the coffin. I couldn't cry, I wanted to and all I kept thinking was that I should be crying. I didn't understand why I wasn't crying. However, I understand why now. For the longest time when noone was around my eyes would start welling up with tears and I would just not want to be bothered. That's the way I dealt with my mom's death. I became somewhat of a problem child after that. I stayed with my Aunt Loretta, Uncle George, and my cousins for a brief period until my anti-social behavior was too much for them.

My cousin Janice loved my mom (everyone did) and I think before momma died Janice promised her she would look after me (although Janice would never have admitted it). Anyway, Janice took me in and although it was rough she raised me into the man I am today. Janice came from a household where hugging and affection was rare, strict values abundant, but there was love and a strong sense of family. That being so she rarely hugged me (nor her daughter, Toni) or gave me the motherly affection I so desperately needed, but I knew I was loved. Besides, I had many friends and one of my best friend's mother treated me like a son.

For years, I spent more time with my friend's family than I did with my cousin Janice. Everyday it was straight from school to my friend's house, call Janice tell her I'm alright and where I'm at, hangout until it was time to go home or spend the night. I was so close with the family that Jane (my friend's mom) asked if she could legally adopt me. Janice knew I was happy with them and wanted to give me to them, but she didn't have any legal papers on me.

I don't know the exact problem, all I know is something legal prevented my being handed over. It was all good though because I realized after that, I had a woman who wanted me to be happy (Janice) and a woman who loved me and wanted me as a son. Between both of them, I regained my sense of self and learned to respect the power of love. Perhaps that sounds corny, but it's better than living under a dark cloud of bitterness, loneliness, and resentment.

High School and Life Today

High School was by far the best time of my growing up years. It was the time I really got into my art as a means to making money. It defined me as a person. Some of the values I learned in high school are still with me today. From the people I associate with to the music I listen to, high school defined it all. It taught me to try new things, be adventurous. Actually, I was adventurous before high school ever came along. Let's just say I was sexually experienced before middle school... *smile*. Couldn't tell me anything back then, I thought I had the edge... heh heh. I've never told anyone that. Anyway, high school was the happiest period of my life.

However, during my senior year I had a brief fling that would eventually come back and cut short my college plans. Janice had 2 more daughters by the time I was headed for college. Which meant it was about time for me to leave the nest and live on my own. I attended Murray State University where I majored in Art/Design and worked as an editorial cartoonist for the school newspaper, mainly just for fun. I wish I could say I was an exemplary student and that I kept my head in the books, but I can't. I did study and got okay grades, but the majority of my time was spent partying and in the pursuit of the female student bodies.

It was then that my past came and grabbed me by the balls. Shortly after my first year in college,I hooked up with a girl I met during high school. She soon said those three words "You're a daddy!". "A WHAT?!!"... A daddy. How was I going to be a father? The feeling I felt was... I guess the best way to describe it is to say it was like riding a rollercoaster. At first it was happiness then I was unsure how I could afford a baby,then I wondered about college, finally I knew what I had to do.

The Rest of the Story?

***The rest of this is personal to me and I will not discuss what events transpired after this point with anyone, but personal friends I feel I can confide in. To be truthful, I've done pretty good up to this point to even describe what little I have about my life. I am still somewhat very much a private person, but I'm working on it. Thanks for taking time to learn a little more about me and I hope to chat with you sometime. God Bless.