Anna Marie Dote
“ME GROWING UP!”
LOL!!!
My GOTH Days!
More Pics of me!!!!
If it was meant to be, It will be…
We stumble through life one day at a time, just trying to keep up, never imagining how wildly different our paths could turn out. For me, that journey started on a farm in Hollis, Maine, where my world felt as vast as the backyard—and just as small. Little did I know, those wide-open fields and quiet nights were planting the seeds for everything I’d become.
Roots in the Soil and Sound
Growing up on that farm wasn’t glamorous, but it was real.
The air smelled of hay and earth, and the days stretched long with chores and daydreams. Even as i was growing up my mom and dad taught me if you want something. Yah gotta work for it! Nothing in this life is free and the Opportunities are not just going to come looking for ya! I would often think my parents were to hard on me and I never understood their tactics or as my mom and dad called them ” Life lessons” Because it felt like my friends mom and dads was always trying to hide Life’s truths from them for reason i will never understand. But ya know what? I can tell you I am a better person for everything my mom and dad taught and the old school way they Intrigued my mind, to tinker with the things that I Don’t understand, figure out how they work, then fix them and put them back Together again. growing up in a house where no questions were ever off the table let me learn life at my own pace because I could ask my mom and dad anything and they would never sugarcoat any subject just because I was a kid. I knew more about life when I was 13 years old then most of my friends would ever know well into their adult Lives and some are still clueless on how the world around them really works to this very day.
But I digress….
Music has always been my addiction. I guess I have always been a musical person. My mom and dad told me they thought I was going to be a boy and a drum player because I would kick my moms belly so much when I was in her belly, that My mom said I would always start kicking around the time as the sun would set and my mom would be getting dinner ready for my dad. Then my dad told me he use to put his headphones on my moms belly so i could hear my dads music before I was even born! my mom told me that if he did not do that every single night, I would start kicking around in her belly like a drummer at a rock concert.
So needless to say, My dad was the heartbeat of my musical world. He’d been in a rock band long before I came along, and his love for music filled our home. I can still picture myself as a little girl, sprawled on the kitchen floor with my blanket and pillow, listening to the muffled thump of his band practicing in the basement. Tuesday and Thursday nights were sacred—my mom let me stay up past my 8 p.m. bedtime just to soak it all in. Those sounds—gritty guitar riffs and steady drumbeats—weren’t just noise; they were magic, stitching themselves into my soul.
Music wasn’t something I studied; it was something I lived. My mom played an old upright piano that came with the farm—classical pieces for the orchestra and hymns for the church down the road. By nine, I’d taught myself to play it, my fingers finding melodies like they were born knowing them. My dad, a jack-of-all-trades with instruments, let me mess around in his band room. At 14, I filled in for his bassist during a practice when he was sick. Stepping into that groove, feeling the music pulse through me—it was like a switch flipped. I was hooked. Music became my everything.
The Messy Years of Growing Up
But growing up isn’t all rosy, even on a farm. By the time I hit 16, the outside world started pressing in, and I didn’t know where I fit in. I pushed friends and family away, locking myself in my room while my friends partied and experimented with Alcohol and drugs. I’d rather lose myself in my piano than lose myself in their chaos. I went through a gothic phase—painted my room black with neon pink trim, ripped up the carpet, and covered the floors and ceiling in that same loud pink. My mom laughed it off, saying as long as I wasn’t biting necks or sleeping in a coffin, she’d roll with it. My dad? Not so much. He wasn’t thrilled about the dark neon takeover, or my new Goth look! But I had found myself within the darkness of my room , a glowing space—lit only by my Yamaha keyboard—it became my sanctuary. Music was my shield against the mess of becoming a teenager. I was not the easiest child for my mom or dad to raise. i was alway pushing Boundaries and buttons of the people closest to me just to get a reaction. My dad was the only one who would not take my crap. But Nonetheless he is the best dad ever!
Pinky’s Black and Finding My People
At 17 or 18, everyone—friends, family—kept pushing me to audition for American Idol or The Voice. But crowds? Singing in front of people? That terrified me. I was happy belting it out in the shower or alone in my room. My friends threatened to record me if I didn’t step up, so I struck a deal: I’d start a band instead. That’s how “Pinky’s Black” came to life. We played covers at friends’ parties and weddings, our name starting to buzz around town. But an all-girl teenage band? Drama city. We fought over everything—who was in charge, what we’d play, where we’d go. I had the gear, the PA system, and my dad’s old band room for practice, but it didn’t stop the chaos. Still, it taught me grit—and it gave me Jayda-Lynn. She was the bassist who could actually keep a beat. We clicked, jamming like we’d known each other forever. She became my rock in that storm.
After two years, “Pinky’s Black” fell apart, and I won’t lie—I was relieved. The catfights were exhausting, and we’d all outgrown it. Some girls got married, others chased careers. Jayda-Lynn modeled in New York and LA, and we lost touch for a year. Meanwhile, I started college for graphic design, but it didn’t stick. Music was my heart, not pixels. Nervous as hell, I switched to business, expecting my parents to flip—they were footing the bill, after all. But my dad grinned, and my mom said, “This is your future; do what you want.” Their faith in me was a lifeline.
The Road to Annadote
When Jayda-Lynn and I reconnected, it was like no time had passed. We’d both grown, but that spark was still there. Life on the farm, the gothic years, the band drama—it all led me here, to Annadote. My path’s been a zigzag of doubts and detours, but music’s been the thread holding it together. Sharing this with you feels raw, but I hope it hits home. Whether you’re from a small town or just fumbling through your own struggles, know this: your dreams matter. Fate’s tricky, sure, but it’s got a way of surprising you.