Irregular Mek

You should know that I’m not telling you my story to depress you. I’m just telling you my story so you can understand why I’m how I am”. If you ask me where I’m from I’ll probably reply “I’m from everywhere I’ve been”. If you really wanna get technical, I’m from my mother’s vagina but that’s too scientific, right? I’ve relocated so many times in my life and this makes it difficult to pin-point the one place that I can say shaped my character. The person I am now is a mixture of the different...

You should know that I’m not telling you my story to depress you. I’m just telling you my story so you can understand why I’m how I am”. If you ask me where I’m from I’ll probably reply “I’m from everywhere I’ve been”. If you really wanna get technical, I’m from my mother’s vagina but that’s too scientific, right? I’ve relocated so many times in my life and this makes it difficult to pin-point the one place that I can say shaped my character. The person I am now is a mixture of the different experiences I’ve had in different places I’ve lived. Places like Nigeria, New Jersey, Houston and Hollywood. I’m a combination of all theses different cultures, that’s why I’m a mess. It is impossible to find two people on earth that share the same exact story. Some people may go through a series of similar events but nevertheless, everybody’s story is unique. We all exist not knowing what our future holds and there is an unexplainable excitement created by this unawareness. Unfortunately, this same unawareness can lead to depression. People are afraid of the potential disappointment the future can bring if it doesn’t go according to their plan. I once found myself in this strange junction and here I am, a survivor of various suicidal attempts (not promoting this in any shape or form) and I want to give you a sneak peak at my brain. A terrible thing happened on January 18th, 1988 in a city called Enugu, Nigeria; I was born (just kidding). There wasn’t much progression in Nigeria, at least on my part and so at the age of 13 my parents shipped me to the United States in a wooden box to get my own shot at the American Dream. I must say that I am still chasing this damn thing and to make matters worse, I don’t know what the hell I’m pursuing. I guess my interpretation of the American Dream is “True Happiness”. I know it sounds corny. Upon my immigration, I lived in South Orange, New Jersey for a couple of years and then I relocated to Houston, Texas at the age of 15. It is in Houston that I graduated High School, it is in Houston that I got my drivers license, it is in Houston that I got in my first long term relationship and it is also in Houston that I got in an accident (I don’t really like talking about it cuz it’s too painful) that will later lead to the permanent loss of functions in my right hand. Life started to take a turn after this accident. What had initially started off as a simple injury (broken finger) became complicated. As off today I’ve had six surgeries done to my right hand. I developed severe arthritis on every joint on my right hand and wrist and I have a hard time doing anything with my dominant hand (Oh well). Growing up, I wasn’t really into the “feel good factor” which entails drug usage but as soon as my life changed after the accident, I got introduced to many mind altering painkillers including Vicodine. I developed a deep meaningless relationship with this reality twister. Let’s face it, there’s no feeling like the feeling you feel when you’re sedated. When I felt like I had nowhere to go, nowhere to run and no one to turn to the only thing that was there for me was the painkillers. It made everything seem okay. Weed does too but let’s stick to talking about Vicodine. Every time my body attacked me, I retaliated with a couple of pills but the downside of any drug addiction is the shitty feeling any participator feels when the high is wearing off. This is when you realize that the escape route you thought you had is temporary and reality starts to set in again. Physical chronic pain brings emotional pain, emotional pain leads to depression and when it seems that you can’t get out of your current predicament, suicide starts to make a lot of sense. I’m happy to say that during my turmoil there is one thing that always get me through; self expression through art. Most artists talk about putting their soul into whatever it is that they are involved in and I concur with this method. Art is my form of therapy. If it wasn’t for the relief that I get after creating art, I will be dead by now, plain and simple. Art is what I live for and story telling is what I love. I strongly believe that the universe finds a way to lead everyone to doing whatever it is that they are meant to do. Some people live their lives and some people just exist. I was existing for a while and now I’ve learned to live again (I don’t know what the fuck this means). Join me for this ride. My name is Irregular Mek and I am here to share my story. By the way, I have an awesome producer that I work very closely with. His name is Is He Crazy? Weird name, huh? He’s the ying to my yang and all that good shit. Our minds are synchronized creatively. Check us out.