Keep Calm and Get Tattooed

Tattoo therapy is what my good friend calls it. Desecrating my body is what my mom calls it. My favorite kind of pain is what I call it. Anyone who's read Fifty Shades of Grey might say that's a little kinky but from start to finish I love getting tattooed. The smell of the "green soap" used to clean the skin, the buzzing sound of the gun, the pressure of the artists hand as he stretches the skin,,,,I love it all. There is a rhythm to the process that really is therapeutic. It can be a little like sex, just when you think you can't take anymore and you're about to lose it,,,you get a little break, the sensitivity dials down a little and you can catch your breath and then BOOM back at it again.The main difference being that at the end of the sitting you're left with something meaningful and lovely that will never go away. My first tattoo was a tiny piece on my ankle done by an artist who no longer works in the business. The following seven tattoos have all  been done by the same artist. I also have two spur of the moment tattoos. One on my wrist done by a local female artist and one on my rib cage done by a talented guy who happens to have just one hand. Some tattoo lovers collect pieces by certain artists like others would collect Van Gogh or Monet. I like to collect experiences, the whole process. Each shop has its own vibe, each artist a different personality. My artist is someone I've known for years, he used to come into the record store I worked in and always scared me to death with his appearance. Now ten years and seven tattoos later I call him a friend. Tattoo culture fascinates me. I dance along the edge of it all always trying to strike a balance between what is socially acceptable and my inner desire for a neck tattoo. Seriously.
I fully intend to continue getting tattooed, someday maybe I'll branch out and give some skin to another artist. There are a few people and places I'd like to visit. Until then, it's time to put some aquaphor on my latest edition and contemplate the design of that neck piece......

"Our house, in the middle of the street "

I remember the first time I walked through the model home, I fell in love but didn't really think it could be ours. This was a Dream House and packing up the first place we'd lived outside our parents homes to move in was almost too good to be true. We had followed the progress each day, walking the construction site and taking pictures as it turned into a house. Its just a building but with each nail and wall going up I felt hopeful for the life I believed we'd live inside it. I decorated it with enthusiasm and this was way before Pinterest. Many trips to Ikea and Lowes later we had a home that reflected all of our tastes. My 80's paint splattered office, my sons space themed room with the spray painted ceiling, the movie room,the nursery with the barn animal theme, my daughters tie-dyed room and the bathroom with all three of their handprints smushed across the wall. It had turned into Home. Each Christmas party and BBQ, birthday party and sleepover,first day of school and learning to swim in our pool made it a part of our family. Now as I'm preparing to leave this house I see things differently. As I walk up the stairs I see the hole in the wall that was made when my ex husband was moving out his half of the furniture. I see so many holes from angry fights when his temper got the best of him. I see projects that were never finished and it feels like hope became a deflated balloon. Dustbunnies and dirty hand prints around a massive pile of boxes as we wait to move to the next building. As I wake on this last Monday morning I'm not even sure where we're going but I do know this...where ever it is will be Home.

May 4th

My something old was the lace that came from his mom that made up my veil, something new were the hot pink 10 hole Doc Marten boots I was wearing, something borrowed were my Grandmothers pearls and something blue was the garter around my thigh. I walked down the aisle to the battle song from Braveheart and then proceeded to do battle for the next 15 years. Sometimes with myself and my expectations of what marriage and family life should look like, sometimes with him and his inner demons. Sometimes with the families we'd married into and sometimes with our so-called "friends" but battle I did until 15 years later sitting at the Gordon Beirscht micro brewery wearing a Dodgers jersey and a worn out look on my face. In the year since that day I have reflected on the mistakes that were made and tried to figure out what lessons could be learned. I've gained things and lost things - I lost my nice car and I'm about to lose my nice house but I gained employment and self worth. I lost material things and gained humility. I haven't turned bitter or become distrusting of all men. I have forgiven myself and I'm working on forgiving him. This past year has gone quickly some times and very slowly others. I have discovered that I don't sleep well when my babies aren't home and that I can handle more than I thought I could. I've learned that I have friends and family who will help me pack or clean a pool, let me cry on their shoulder or help with my kids. Growth has come in leaps and bounds this past year and I expect that God will continue to provide me opportunities to do some more growing. Happy Fourth of May Melisa and congratulations on a year well spent.

It's 3D bitches!

Make fun all you'd like but Yes....I did it. I contributed my hard earned money to the James
Cameron Retirement Fund. Last night a friend and I took our daughters (who weren't alive when the film originally came out, by the way) to see Titanic in 3D. Sushi for dinner and then off to the theater. The first time I saw it I was pregnant and quite uncomfortable. This time I had stuffed myself with one too many monkey brains and was equally uncomfortable in my seat but I was ready to go back to Titanic. Little known fact about me....I truly believe I am a reincarnated survivor of this tragedy. Yeah, I get it, it weird but it's the truth. I knew I soon as I read in entertainment weekly that the film was being re-released that I would be going-plus it's in 3D!! That being said there were elements of the film that did not benefit from the 3D treatment. Mr. Cameron's computerized passengers looked even more fake than last time. The details of the decor, roses' dresses and that guy who hits the propeller before falling into the Atlantic as the ship sinks-stellar crispness! Besides crying as the life boat comes back only to find most of the people have turned into Popsicles be best moment for me was singing that God-awfully cheesy Celine Dion song (out loud, in public)to the deep embarrassment of our daughters. A friend said that the only history in the fil is the launch and the sinking but I'd like to imagine, as a survivor, that jack and rose were real. Happy 100th anniversary Titanic. Rest in peace.

lies lies lies yeah....

It's a line from an old 80's song by the Thompson Twins - who weren't actually twins..lie number one straight out the gate! We all tell lies and anyone who says they don't is well....lying. Big lies, small lies, white lies whatever it is. I won't say they're all the same because that's not true. Telling someone their butt does not look fat in those jeans they love (when it does) isn't the same as saying you'll be faithful and then cheating.  And just to be clear - leaving parts out of the story is still lying - it's called a lie of omission. Keeping your word in this day and age seems to have gone the way of land lines - old fashioned and unnecessary. I still have a land line and I try to be honest with everyone but most especially myself.  This means making some pretty sweeping changes in my life.....but if you aren't honest with yourself you won't be honest with anyone. The lies we tell ourselves are often the worst and most painful.  We tell ourselves we aren't smart enough, pretty enough, thin enough etc. We lie to ourselves saying "this will be the last time I will do..... fill in the blank".  We've all had that moment. Another old 80's song lyric that comes to mind is "never again is what you swore the time before"....Policy of Truth by Depeche Mode. I could write a whole post just in song titles....hmmm now there's an idea. Be honest - what do you think of that one?
But I digress....It seems to me that it is far easier to just tell the truth, you'll never have to keep track of what you said that way - it frees up SO much brain space. Tell the truth in kindness and don't worry what the other persons reaction will be - that is their responsibility. Lyings' ugly cousin is manipulation and I believe that people often lie to avoid a certain outcome or to try and cause one. Too much work I say.
Bottom line is this - Politicians lie, spouses lie, friends lie, we lie. But you have a choice to stop. Just say no to lying. Tell the truth even when it hurts and let God sort out the details. OK - I'll get off my soap box now. Good night.

the chick in my head

You know who she is...that chick that lives inside your head. She knows everything about you - the good and the bad. She's seen every embarrassing thing you've ever done and she knows your innermost desires. She knows what scares you and what makes you cry. She knows your darkest secrets and won't hesitate to hold them over your head if you let her. She remembers the first time your heart was broken and what his name is. That chick also knows what makes you ridiculously happy and just how to get a smile out of you but she doesn't usually do that. Her real expertise lies in bringing out the negative. She's the one who tells you that you aren't smart enough for that job so don't waste your time. She's the one who suggests that you change your outfit three times before going out because you look fat in that... She's the same one who will tell you over and over again that things will never get better than this...you know what? She's a liar and we all need to tell her to shut the hell up.

where have I been

After so many years you tend to forget who you are- at least this has been true for me. I always defined myself though the music I listened to or the clothes I wore. The concerts I attended and the books I read. My job or what I was studying in school. And of course by who I was dating. Then I became a wife and a mother and my identity shifted. Now I was defined primarily through the actions or inaction's of other people. I still listened to music and read books, and of course attended as many concerts as I could but I was losing myself.  I didn't realize how bad things had gotten until a certain event in my life - a real foundation rocker. It was then, laying in the hospital that it came to my attention that I just might not know who I am any more. How did this happen? It wasn't any one event but a series of little things, choices I made each day to let go of something or stuff it down. To pick up someone else's bad habit or attitude, to put others before myself. I'm not talking about taking care of people, I'm talking about taking better care of others than you do yourself. People pleasing is a disease and if you're not careful it can be terminal. So what next? I begin to reclaim the lost pieces of me one by one - read a new book, check out a new band or re-read my journals. Talking to old friends helps remind me of who I was..look at pictures or ask God because he'll always tell me straight even if it isn't what I want to hear. It's been my experience that there are 3 answers to prayer. Yes, No and Not Right Now....so now I wait for the answer and embrace the pieces of myself as they return.