Mobile App Development Fund

Hello World Wide Web!

I’ve developed a fun, exciting and phenomenal mobile App for Apple and Android catering to music lovers of all ages and denominations.

The App combines Jamaican/West Indian music and culture with advertising and marketing, (I’m sorry if this is a vague description as I cannot divulge too much in fear of having my idea stolen as it is not yet copy written).

My App will help provide the technological paradigm shift that Jamaica and the West Indies need in order to become even more recognized amongst the rest of the world. My App will also provide a competitive platform in the Jamaican and Caribbean markets as a well as increase the positive global notoriety of the West Indies.

Jamaica has potential for greatness and I happened to be feverishly passionate about seeing my native country thrive.

Also, once developed I plan to contribute 8% of the Apps profit to people, schools, extracurricular clubs, companies and communities in need in Jamaica.

I’ve drawn up the business plan and I’ve spoken with some App Developers and it is going to cost me $20,000 – $25,000 CAD to bring my App to life.

I’ve been actively searching for investors with no avail and unfortunately do not have that kind of money. So I figured: why not give Go Fund Me a try?

Any little bit helps and I sincerely hope to reach my goal with your help!

Thank you all and God bless!

Here is the direct link to my page:

http://www.gofundme.com/KKAppDevelopment

T’was the Night of the Turn Up!!!

T’was the night of the turn up and all through the house; not a creature was stirring, just this fly ass hard drinkin’ birthday mouse!
Her curls hung from her head top with care in hopes that the turn up soon would be there.

Binx Roy was nestled all snug in his bed, while visions of cat nip danced in his head.

Bashy in her hot dress and with a booty so fat, had concluded that this was indeed no time for a nap.

From outside the club there arose such a clatter, we sprang from the car to see what was the matter.

Away to the guest list line we flew like a flash, knowing it was the dance-floor we planned to mash.

The moon on Bashy’s 22 breast true her chest did ah show, gave lustre to her brown eyes wey did ah glow.

Then what to our wandering eyes did appear, but Ciroc, Champagne and a bottle of Belvedere!

A little ice in a glass we’re about to get lit, we knew in a moment that this would be it!

More rapid than a cougar that Ciroc vodka buzz came, as we whistled and shouted happy birthday again.

Now dash out! Now cock-up! Now whine pon a vixen! Pon di floor, pon di stair, pon di booth, whine pon any and any sinting!

From the top of the window, to the top of the wall! Now dash it out, dash it out, dash it out all!

High as the leaves we felt we could fly way up into the crisp, cold winter night sky.

So up to the DJ booth we flew, to request some Kartel, Demarco and Busy Signal too.

And then on the dance floor I heard through the speaker, “Position like dat!” this must be the Teacher!

As we cocked up and spun our bottoms around, ‘Dung In Her Throat‘ came on next through the sound!

Ashley whined all about and did ah cock-up her foot, dance fever ketch her and she couldn’t stay put!

Hands pon her knees while she ah sink in her back, she ah wine up herself to the riddim of RDX Kotch!

Her eyes how they twinkled, her giggle so merry! Booty so rosey and heart-shaped like a cherry!

On her face crept a grin drawn up like a bow, as she backed dat ass up; Wow, look at her go!

The end of a spliff Ash held tight in her teeth, true she look good and stay tight underneath!

Broad out!! Whine up and tuck in yuh belly! She ah whine pon Nona and ah whine pon Jelly.

Mi did ah whine up like sey it woulda good fi mi health. When di music lick me I juss can’t help miself.

The DJ spun the next tune with a nod of his head. Wooooooooooiiiieeee!! Jah know mi coulda split an go dung pon mi head.

The DJ spoke not a word but went straight to work, as we continued to party, dance around and twerk.

The lights came on and we temporarily froze, then continued to gambol and tip pon our toes.

Ash sprang to her feet and shot the whole team a “Queng!” We shut the club down, shut it down with a bang!

I heard Ashley exclaim as we left the club and went out of sight. “It’s my mother f**kin birthday and I had a great night!”

END

– Knibblettes

Passion

Passion: an intense desire or enthusiasm for something; a state or outburst of strong emotion, (Google). An emotion so strong and uncontrollable that sometimes the feeling has been so overwhelming that I’ve virtually been brought to tears. Having the knowledge of the upwards battle to come; that it will not come easy and can only be attained through blood, sweat, and tears is simply enough to make me cry. Nonetheless, still beyond worth it. Perhaps this is why the word passion is derived from the Latin word pati meaning suffer. You must first suffer before you can ever really prosper. In other words: “if yuh wan good yuh nose haffi run”.

Looking back on childhood I have numerous fond memories of my mom reading to me every day; story book upon story book. From the Bernstein Bears who taught life lessons, to Peter & Jane who taught me how to sound out words. By the time I was two I could recant the entire story of Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer from memory and had just begun to discover my love for reading and writing.

I would sit in washroom for hours on end just so I could finish a good children’s book in uninterrupted solitude. Steadfastly, trying to get through as many books as I could, for with each completed book I was rewarded with new stickers for my Sandylion Sticker Album, (which I endearingly refer to as my Sticker Book). And not just any stickers went into my Sticker Book, those big, shiny and glittery Sandylion stickers; sometimes even the fuzzy ones, (that is if I felt for the fuzzy ones that day). There was always an array to choose from: instruments, ballerina bears, hearts, shooting stars, rainbows and butterflies. Dinosaurs, unicorns, trees, milkshakes & burgers, fruits and every single animal and even insect you could imagine! They had Noah’s ark, birthday stickers, every single holiday, and even some that were phosphorescent. My mom definitely did an astounding job in a fun way of instilling in me that knowledge is power. “Never forget that intelligence rules the world and ignorance carries the burden. Therefore, remove yourself from ignorance and seek as far as possible to be intelligent” (Marcus Garvey).

I recall watching the weather girl Jennifer Valentyne read the news on Toronto’s morning show Breakfast Television and emulating her spiel: “Today’s high is 20 degrees Celsius, with the barometric pressure steady rising…” From then I knew that this was what I ultimately wanted to do. It wasn’t until rather recently that I truly realized that it is also what I need to do.

However, it’s taken each and every situation I’ve encountered thus far to bring me to this point. Nevertheless, I still look back on the time and years gone by because I was too apprehensive to follow my dream and as a result sometimes feel melancholy. I convinced myself that a career in journalism and politics was far too competitive and that I would graduate and have no success finding employment. Even though I’m proficient in English, French and Sign Language, I did what I find a lot of us are conditioned to do. I took the “safe” route or for a lack of a better word the “realistic” route; just as Malcolm X was advised to do by his teacher Mr. Ostrowski in his Senior high school year. Yet knowing his personal potential, Malcolm made a decision not to settle for mediocrity.

What I’ve observed is that society has conditioned us to become respectable upstanding members of our community in menial jobs. A very small percentage of us actually have the courage to embark on a quest to attain our wildest dreams. Those who have that courage to go after the seemingly unattainable – in my humble opinion – are the definitions of success. Had I encompassed the courage to go for it I wouldn’t have wasted time and money studying to become a teacher and then later studying to become a Law Clerk. I went after those things because they were of interest; but not my passion and as a result I ended up withdrawing from the programs. Yet like Malcolm X, I too have decided to throw my trepidation to the wind and have decided to be a part of that small percentile of success.

Since those college days I’ve done a lot of growing personally, spiritually and overall have come to a sense of direction – which I suppose comes along with the territory of maturing. It wasn’t until losing my Grandma to liver cancer Christmas day 2012 that I began to fully understanding what life is really about. That was my pivotal moment.

Having six children back then, (one of which was just a baby) during her quest for success my Grandmother sewed children’s undergarments, clothes and sold peanuts in Kingston’s Coronation Market in order to attain her personal success. Her success story was emigrating from Jamaica to Canada. Even when she couldn’t find adequate childcare that did not stop her. Instead she prayed to God that her customers would come to her instead and began to hang her pieces in her veranda and window for passers-by’s to see. Just as God would have it and just as she had prayed it; people came. My Grandmother’s passion of choice was a better life for herself and her children. So as the story goes, she got things in order to migrate, and saved up her shillings she’d earned working to come to Canada. My Grandma, Edelta Balga Smith – affectionately known as Gloria – is a testimony of success. She went through rough times, trials and tribulations but by the seventies she’d managed to migrate with her six children to Toronto, Canada and was blessed again with the birth of her last and seventh child.

Subsequently, I’ve yet to obtain my definition of success. In no way am I downplaying myself as I’ve been effective and prosperous career wise thus far having worked for two of Canada’s leading banks, (Bank of Montreal and CIBC) as well as several other Financial Intuitions, but I have yet to be successful; at least to my definition of the word.

I’ve always had a deep-rooted, almost spiritual connection with Jamaica from when I was a young child. I remember always having a strong feeling that Jamaica was essentially home; I still do. I owe this connection to my father for immersing me in our culture by taking me to Jamaica countless times. Although I absolutely love the renovated airport, I miss waking directly off the plane, down the stairs and onto the tarmac at Norman Manley International and taking in that first breath of Jamaica air. Jamaica has so much potential and it saddens me to see our people literally aspire to leave. I would love to help make positive changes, a visible difference to better Jamaica. Over the decades I’ve seen Jamaica evolve and I’m so pleased to see my country of heritage progress. I want to leave my footprint in the evolution of Jamaica; our beautiful country has so much more to offer. Jamaica has been sought out as a staple as early as the 1600’s when Port Royal was still teeming with pirates and racketeers.

Thus I have concluded that studying political sciences and journalism will allow me the opportunity to not only help improve a nation but finally achieve success through pursuing my passions.