Blog has been moved to LiveJournal
Blog has been moved to LiveJournal
My lovely boy gave me the nicest gift for Valentine's Day. A tattoo! Here are all the gory details...
I'll go in chronological order, to make things simple. Also, Sparky is not my boyfriend's real name but a pet name I have for him. I would slap a parent senseless for giving a child such a cruel name. But you know, it's cute when I do it.
1. This is our tattooist Jesse. He was super friendly and had a great portfolio. I would definitely recommend him to anyone. I'm so lame. I made him his own ad.
2. My Sparky went first, because he's so brave and I'm such a chickenshit. I already have a tattoo and I've been through it before. That was 6 years ago though, so I had forgotten that type of pain. My brave, brave boy. This is Jesse applying the stencil.
3. Here's the work in progress. Think I scared Jesse with the flash? I really didn't mean to, I swear. Seriously. I don't want him having spots in his eyes when putting something permanently on my boy's body.
4. Ah, the finished product. Isn't it lovely? Of course, right after this picture was taken Sparky stood up too quickly and passed out. I'm not joking. He said "Uh oh. I can't see," then wobbled. Jesse promptly grabbed his right arm, I grabbed his left, and Jesse kicked the chair behind him just in time for my Sparky to fall into it. Apparently most neck tattoos result in someone passing out, no matter how strong and immune to pain they are. You see, it's not the pain. It's the endorphins your brain produces and blood collecting in the head from leaning forward for so long. Then, when everything overloads, you're down for the count. I was doing well with my nervousness up until this point.
5. The next day, after some healing time.
6. Something I put together to show the journey a bit. Original Capricorn symbols to conceptual drawings I came across, then the final modified product. We thought it best to modify things to make it truly unique for us. Now don't go stealing it! Seriously. I would have to hurt you if I found out. I really mean it. I'm not kidding.
7. This is my completed stencil. It took 4 tries to get it in the right place. Apparently my spine is somewhat curved, so it made things a little difficult. That comes with the territory of being an Amazon in regards to height. Well, almost damnit. Being an Amazon would be hella cool.
8. We're about half way done with mine now. Only moments after this picture was taken I followed in my boy's footsteps and fainted. I was doing great with the pain, but again those silly endorphins foiled my plans. I really wanted to NOT go unconscious. On the other hand, it made the tattooing even more of a bonding experience than we had planned. Ah, life's little surprises.
9. All done! Which is great since the pain was a lot worse after that little dance with my ability to remain conscious. The body had time to heal when I took my twenty minutes to recover, and by that time the endorphins were no longer being produced, making the pain more intense. Boy, my skin looks angry at me.
10. The next day. Just enough time for my poor skin to forgive me. Well, almost. We've made up since then though so no need to fret.
11. Again, from the original Aries symbols to the conceptual drawing then the end result, which I'm absolutely thrilled about!
Well, ladies and gentlemen, you've had your bedtime story now. Hope you all enjoyed the pictures and the commentary. Let me know what you think!
Go to Court.
Told by Judge to come back to Court every day for 5 weeks.
Disrupt everything in normal life.
Listen to Good vs. Evil for 4 weeks.
Deliberations for over 30 hours.
Try to put back together all the pieces of my shattered being.
Pauly Shore LIED TO ME! He implied that being on Jury Duty was a great experience. Like a party. Fun all the time. Hot babes everywhere. WRONG!
On 2004/11/22, my day off, I was called upon as a citizen to do my civic duty to show for a Jury Panel. How is that different that being an actual Juror? Jury Panel members get to get the f*ck out of Jury Duty and go back home to their normal lives and not have to see and hear nasty things about other people. There were approximately 300-400 people called to the Panel, and I was Lucky Number Seven to get appointed as a Juror. Why me? I'm one of those unfortunate people with enough intelligence to realize that I must know all the facts before forming an opinion. Also, another reason for it is that since I hate my hicksville hometown so much I don't much pay attention to our local celebrities and so on, so I didn't really have a clue about the "famous" athlete who may or may not have brutally murdered his ex-girlfriend.
Yes, it's a murder trial. Which involves crying witnesses, gory crime scene and autopsy photos, and knowing way more than you would ever need or want to know about a person's personal life and moral character. And guess what? We are expected to give a verdict on 2004/12/24. Xmas Eve. Merry F*cking Xmas!
Now, don't get me wrong it is kind of cool in a way knowing that you get to be a part of something and have a life experience that so few others get to have in their lifetime. You actually get to be a part of the legal process that so many of us bitch about in our normal lives. Whether it's Guilty or Innocent, you know how you got to that verdict and you believe it to be true based on the evidence presented to you.
On the other hand though, you have to look at and hear of evidence that no one ever expects, or in most cases ever will see. The most low and depraved acts that mankind has to offer, and you're not allowed to talk about it. Even if you were legally permitted to discuss the intricacies of the trial you wouldn't bother because no one else would understand where you are coming from. Why? Because you know that they have never had to do the same kind of emotional chore because Jury Duty on a murder trial is so rare.
I can't wait until Xmas day, when I wake up knowing that the whole mess is over although I know that the experience will never leave me. That's enough of a gift for me, I think.
How do I start? I suppose it's best to just be simple and to the point. I'm sad. I'm extremely sad. Granted, I've always had my problems with depression but in the past year or so I've been very proud of my growing ability to fight it and get on with my life. Apparently the Winter Blues have come to visit uninvited again leaving me joyless and without my usual lust for life.
I'm looking outside the window and the first sign of white fluff this winter and I want to cry. I see the dishes undone in the kitchen sink and I want to cry. I know that M will be home in an hour and will be upset with my mood and I'm scared and I want to cry.
Now, my boy M, isn't that scary of a person, but you always have to have the love of your life happy with you, don't you? At least most of the time? It's the disappointed look that says "I don't like you 100% right now and I have no understanding of what you're going through so I'll pretend you have PMS so it's easier for me to deal with." I love him. I love him to death. But I wish above all else that he would understand that it's a chemical imbalance in my brain and I can't help it. And that it will be a part of my life as long as I'm breathing, and a part of our life, as long as we're together.
Now, it's not like this all the time. This spell will go away with the promise of a sunny, bright and warm day, but will come back to rear it's ugly head again. It's been building for a couple of weeks now and I never noticed it until the extreme moodiness hit me. I've been wanting to sleep more, eat more, cuddle more, be less sexual, and I have been really bad with my money. Pretty typical signs really. Especially for me. Why didn't I notice earlier? I should know the routine by now.
What to do? Take St. John's Wort? No. I'll be content and not so sad, but I'll still be lazier than sin. Go tanning? No. I'll feel better all around and I'll look healthier, but I don't want to replace the worry of depression with the worry of aging and skin cancer. Go to the doctor? Hell no. Let them put me on eight more medications that don't work and damage my short term memory and concentration or just deal with being a woeful bum for a week every so often? Compared to that, I'd take Winter Blues any day.
Goddamnit I'm not only depressed, but I'm also depressing. I shall take my leave now, but I'll try to make my next post more interesting.
Well folks, I finally gave in to the masses and became a true internet junkie by creating my own blog. Will it be interesting? Exciting? Thought-provoking? Worth reading? Hell if I know, really. I guess you'll be the judge.
Having your own blog is kind of like holding a baby for the first time because you don't know what to do with it. It's just there, looking at you, looking back at it. I'm just going to assume that it's a journal and treat it as such. Sound good? S'alright? Okay cool.
Well, I'm off to find interesting things to do so you'll actually have something to read. Any ideas? Help a girl out here!