the thing about mirrors

Mirrors are a funny thing, and I'm not just talking about the ones made of glass, I'm talking about anything you find yourself reflected in... glass, water, security camera at a store, shiny door knob, or even someone else's actions.
Each mirror shows you something a little different, each one takes the light and reflects it back differently. Sometimes our shape is distorted, sometimes we wish the image was distorted but it's quite true to reality... sometimes we are surprised with what we see and sometimes (all the time) what we see is altered quickly in our minds before it can reach our conscious thought.

I was thinking about this today, when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the way to the bathroom, not bad, I thought, surprisingly not bad. And then later, when I looked up to see a security camera view of me glaring back, bags under the eyes deep... ew. And then not thirty minutes later walking up the stairs in my dad's house, looking straight into the enormous mirror that is at the landing... again, pleasantly surprised, especially after seeing the mess that was the security camera view.

Despite the fact that I didn't always like how I looked, I have secretly always liked mirrors. I'm not sure what it is about them. Maybe it's the way it reflects a part of reality to me, because when I'm not looking in a mirror I have very little clue of what I look like. The concept, the picture of what my face might look like escapes me as soon as I lose sight of a reflection. I go on what people mirror back. But that's not always safe. What people mirror back to you, about you, is often twisted and turned around by their thoughts, if they know you then those things affect the reflection, if they don't know you then what's going on in their life affects the reflection.

Is that why so many people are into taking selfies now. Ha, the word selfie is ridiculous, but the thought is serious. What got us caught up in taking pictures of ourselves in mirrors? What got us taking pictures of ourselves with our cameras and phones? What made it necessary for phones to have a camera on the front and the back?! Am I in the majority of people who just keep forgetting how they look and so they need reminders? Do we need them as proof on the days where our hair just isn't sitting right or the laundry isn't done so it's baggy butt jeans and a shirt that just isn't right?

I think these kinds of things can be easily mistaken for vanity. Taking pictures of oneself and posting it to the web. But is it really? Is it just a search for attention? Not desperate, but just a little pick me up. A yeah, you do look good in that picture girl. Go you. I really don't know. Some people make money off of their face, and that's awesome. But are they sitting there thinking their face is great or are they questioning it just like the rest of us? 

I don't think I'm going anywhere special with this. Just a thought process I had that needed to get out. Something about reality and how we can be so far from it when we are trapped in our own mind. Or how far I can be from how things really look when trapped in mine. I forget how I look on the outside, how others might find this shell pretty or nice to look at because I am constantly in the trenches of my mind dealing with the not so pretty, the not so aesthetically pleasing. I'm not saying I'm ugly on the inside, I'm just saying it's messy, and feels nothing like my reflection looks. Do most people operate from deeper inside their head? Do they have an idea of what they look like? Do they ever lose that image?

I'm trying hard to remember reflections, and when they are from other people, not to get too caught up in them. Take it, process, move on.

xoxo

travel is necessary

I know it's been said before, I know I've learned this lesson before, I know it's part of physics, but I found out again it's really true that doing is conducive to more doing, that action breeds more action and that an object in motion stays in motion (unless another force is put upon it).

What I'm trying to say is, after my little trip up and down the Golden Coast I promised myself that I wouldn't stay as stationary as before. I would go to beaches in LA, or museums or anything. I will go downtown more and see friends there, even if it seems like gas is expensive and I can't afford it.
Because I can.

In fact, I can't afford NOT to go.

When I get out, when I explore new places, when I get moving, I feel better. I feel so grateful, I see beautiful and/or interesting things everywhere and the problems that seemed so grand shrink significantly.

It seems, travel, even in short distances, is absolutely necessary for my survival.

And a little sand between the toes doesn't hurt.

xoxo

I Can't Take Another Day For Granted

yes it's 22.5 minutes, but I promise it's worth it

I sat last night and watched this video and was moved to tears. That shouldn't be surprising really, I'm moved to tears about a lot of things.
I was moved to tears but I was also filled with gratitude. Filled with gratitude for my life, for the air I breathe, for the body I have. I was filled with wonder, this young man was talking about acceptance of upcoming death, he was talking about dreams and aspirations, he was so positive.
My heart couldn't decide if it was breaking or filling up.

I want to live my days full of wonder and gratitude. I want to try things, I want to reach people, I want to appreciate what I have been given. I want to remember that this, all of this, the good and the bad is a gift.

This family, I can't even imagine, they are so strong, and they will have to be so strong.

This video, it made me realize again what I already knew, I want to do something big, I want to get out and meet people and have conversations about life and love and what makes them keep pushing on. I want to see what other people think is beautiful.

This video led me to the Soul Pancake youtube channel. If you haven't heard of it definitely check it out. They have different kinds of series, My Last Days, Metaphysical Milkshake, The Flipside and more. My Last Days make me cry, but they also inspire me, Metaphysical Milkshake makes me think... basically Soul Pancake is my new jam.
Also, just a little tidbit, Rainn Wilson does Metaphysical Milkshake and is one of the contributors/backers to Soul Pancake... they have a book too. I bought it today. I'll let know you know how it is!

What youtube channels or websites inspire you?

xoxo

the story

found here

I read a book* recently (I'm surprised more of my conversations don't start with that line) about a man who realized his life wasn't that good of a story. It wasn't a bad one, per say, it just wasn't good. It wasn't doing him any favors and nobody would want to watch the thing if it were a movie...
So he did something about it. Less for the movie aspect, and more for the having a life worth living side.
That synopsis doesn't sound nearly as deep as it feels in my head, but we'll get there, stick with me.

So, as I was reading this story I found myself relating to certain parts (as we do when we find what we think is a good story) and almost wanting to cry. This could be because I seem to have a surplus of tears lately, or it could be because what was being said held some weight, some deep and significant relevance to my life.

I picked up the book any time I could, I spent hours in beach parking lots reading by the light of the setting sun... well, maybe two hours, three tops... but you get the point. It was a good scene to read a book with weight and meaning.

I am in this story, and I've created it, I'm suppose to be creating it... or maybe something else is. Something that I refer to as Mother Nature or the Universe or the system and what he refers to as God... is writing this story, and it's not without conflict, and for some reason I expect it to be. For some reason I feel like a lot of us expect this created, blessed life to be without hardship, maybe not those who hit hard and wised up a bit... but some of us hit hard and ran. I'll raise my hand and admit it... hard hit several times and I thought things were suppose to be relatively easy so I ran, thinking the next place might be easier, or the last place, or back to the second place... or back to home again. Nothing was easier. I was still there, plots still have to thicken and the resolve of the main character has to have strength.

I'm in a moment of high conflict in my story right now. And I want to run. But I know I don't have anywhere that I can go for long. And I know that the only way to come out of this better than before is to go through. I'm wincing just thinking about it, but my struggles are really not so bad. When I sit back and think, and compare to other plights, I realize I'm living a pretty basic life.

So maybe I'm not wanting hard or big enough, maybe I'm not working hard or big enough. Maybe I've exhausted the inner work projects and need to find some outer work projects to bring new life to my story. Because right now it's sad, and not pretty. My story is looking on the shabby side and there's no chic involved. My life hurts almost daily, it feels unstable... I often want to take a break from myself. Being sedated sounds like a great option if I wasn't so adverse to drugs, prescribed or not.

But that's not how this goes, that's not how this gets better. If I keep avoiding or running the problem section, the conflict might go away for a bit, but it's not gone, it's just waiting. It's another test and this time it really needs me to get through. Correction, I really need me to get through.

___

It's been a week since I started writing this post and some things have changed. I went to a meeting for Depression and Bipolar which was very insightful, I found a new place to live that is a lot more stable than where I was before, time passed and the hurt of being "given space" to figure out my life lost a bit of it's edge, I went to the shooting range and found a quiet mind for an hour, I went on two interviews and I spent some much needed time with friends. 

To say that I'm out of the woods is a stretch. This month is going to be tough, but I think it's going to be a different kind of tough. I'm hoping it's a tough that means rebuilding instead of falling apart. Sometimes things are still going to seem a little broken, sometimes I'm going to feel sad, but I think I'm on the up for now. There's so much work to be done still, but some of it I will really enjoy, and other parts... well, I'll soldier on through them. 

It's time to be a little more active, time to make some things happen, time to add exciting bits to the storyline. That's when the story starts getting good, when an effort is made. And I'm sitting here, some days just doing everything I can to show up, others doing that and more. 

I don't want to look back years from now and wonder what happened, why I stayed so small. I want my life to be big, and maybe that's what 2013 knew. Maybe what felt like destruction was making room for growth. I can only hope, and continue to live my story. 

xoxo

* A Million Miles in a Thousand Years - Donald Miller

a question

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I would start today, I would start today little or small. I would start so that a year from now I wouldn't wish that I had started and didn't.

My question is... what? What am I suppose to start? What am I suppose to change? I've moved back and forth when things have seemed stale, I've tried new career paths, I've read new types of books. I've held back feelings and let them fly free. I don't know what I'm suppose to start anymore. 

Am I just suppose to start anything? 

Am I suppose to start doing a cartwheel a day or writing a page a day or what? 

I've started writing 750 words a day, I started that over 55 days ago. 

Am I suppose to drink less soda and more water every day? 

I started that back in January. 

And then I know some will say it's not what I am "suppose" to start, but what I want to start and the fact of the matter is I don't have anything I want to start that I haven't started and don't know where else to go with. I've started taking more pictures, I've started learning more about my camera, I've started writing daily, sometimes more than once daily, I've started working on my breathing. 

Am I already started? Is this saying for people that haven't started anything? Or is there still something I'm missing. Because these past three months have me feeling like I've definitely been missing something I am suppose to be doing. That I've messed up somehow. 

So what am I suppose to start? Because what I've started before just isn't it.

xoxo

blurry picture and nonlinear thoughts

a photographic representation on my thoughts about life right now... hazy, blurry, a little jarring to the senses...

I've come to a point where I don't even remember what it is I use to write here or why I did it. I get so lost in the "what kind of post should I do?" that I forget about what I use to want to do when I thought no one read it, or when I just wanted a collection of things for me. I go back and forth on what I want from this space, sometimes I want to scrap it entirely and start over but I'm not sure I would do anything different than I am now. I read books about blogging and wonder how to make this little space more popular, how to reach more people, but I often come back to the question why? Have I stopped going through my day to day here because I don't want to bore, offend, or seem any certain way to people who may or may not read this?

I really don't know.

What I do know is that there are a handful of blogs that I would just love to be like. But I think I get caught up in being like them that I don't know what to be myself.

Or I don't have pictures that will go with the post. I don't like using other people's pictures anymore because of respecting the artwork of others AND because I want to be motivated to take even more pictures. And then I get caught up on if the picture is good enough or if the words flow well or if I am giving an accurate representation of my day or life and I stop typing and save a draft and walk away.

I've been told many a time that I'm too hard on myself. I don't know how to fix it because in my brain I've decided that the thoughts I have about myself are normal, and like many pessimists will say, "I'm not being pessimistic/negative/cynical, I'm just being realistic."

I've been feeling like my life is really cyclical lately. Like no matter what I do, no matter how fast or slow I go I always end up back in the same place. Not like a circle, more like an infinity symbol. This realization along with some others has made me seek outside help to realign my thoughts, my mind and my body. I don't want to feel like it's inevitable that I find myself back in the middle over and over again, I want to feel like I'm getting somewhere new. It doesn't have to be an intensely better new, but a new with different feelings and emotions and experiences.

I might post about my trials, I might not, that decision has yet to be made.

What I do know is, I just went to kill a spider in my room (sorry spider lovers) and I hit it just so that baby spiders burst out of it... worst part, mama spider got away, back under my bed. I'm feeling a little itchy now.

xoxo

I Couldn't Agree More

My Life Isn't Just Photos and Books - How I Really Feel

Where to start? I feel like I'm really growing this blog into something I want it to be but at the same time I feel like I'm still missing something. I like my scheduled posts, I think I have three a week now, when I actually follow through, and when I don't at least I know what I could post if I was at a loss for something to share. In my day to day life, with my face to face or chat space (facebook chat, text etc) I am rarely at a loss for something to say.

Honestly, I think I am usually complaining or wondering where I am going wrong. I feel a stagnant even though I have been making consistent changes in my life since January. They started off a little slower but to say that I have started 4 new jobs since January this year and have kept 3 of them is something of an achievement I think. What I focus on instead: the fact that I am not making enough money to live the way I want... what exactly does that entail you ask? Well, a room of my own, in a house that is not owned by my mother or father, with a place to sit and read as well as a place to work, a closet that doesn't have sad and mostly over-worn clothes in it, no guilt when I think of needing a hair cut, food that I find delicious to fill my belly three times a day, and time for adventures and every once in a while a weekend trip to Palm Springs, LA, or even San Francisco.

If I'm honest with myself, and I'm trying very hard to be honest most of the time, I could probably have a little more money for clothes or activities if I didn't eat outside of the house so much. The worst part is, the food that I buy elsewhere usually doesn't even taste that good. If I saved up and passed on all of those $6-9 meals I could go to the grocery store and get bread, jelly and peanut butter, a fruit or two, some carrots and have a healthier meal and money left over (this is not to say that's a healthy meal, it's just to say it's healthier than the ones I am eating). Unfortunately this having three jobs thing means there is a significant amount of time going in to travel and so much wiggle room to justify just stopping somewhere and getting a bite when going from one place to another.

I also haven't really made an effort to consistently exercise in a good while. I had a schedule going and I was sticking to it pretty well and then crash boom bang, there I go off the good habits train. After typing that I got down and gave myself 20 push ups and 15 reverse crunch/leg lift things. Felt good. It always does once I get into it.

I feel like I'm operating in a black hole, I've come off my meds and nothing is different for better or for worse. I still have emotional times where anything can send me to the brink of tears and temper tantrums (seriously anything, like not getting a sock bun right), I still blame myself for things that I have no control over and I still get in these aggravating and self deprecating fights with myself about how hopeless and pathetic I am. And by fights I mean that I give in to the abuse and don't fight back. So it's really not even a fight.

I'm so good at telling other people how great they will be, and how things will change and suggesting small things they can do to start turning their thinking around. I try these things, and if I look back far enough, I realize I have become a way nicer enemy to myself, I'm not nearly as harsh as I use to be about everything, now I can tell myself I'm pretty while telling myself that counts for nothing and won't keep a man around or get me a high salary career. Before I was ugly and couldn't have anything good. PROGRESS! Right?

I want it to stop, I want the self abuse, the torture, the search for the most hurtful words to call myself to stop. I want the broken record of inadequacy to turn down the volume if not shut all the way off.
I want to stop spending money on silly things like food at places I don't need to eat, I want to make more money, I don't want to be running around to three different jobs, maybe one of which really makes me happy. I don't want to be the one that tries to talk people out of thinking I'm great, I want to actually be able to believe them. I don't want each day to end and wonder why I wasted it, but know that I didn't know what else to do. I want my days off to feel like days off, not just quiet time to tear myself apart without distraction.
I want to believe that my future includes a man that loves me as much as I love him, one that doesn't make me feel like I am second best to anything, one that is actually a man and not a boy, who gets shit done and knows how to work through things when the going gets tough. A man that isn't afraid to have a child and a family, that doesn't need to keep partying because he wants to feel young. A man that likes to travel. He doesn't have to be interested in photography, he doesn't even have to like to read, but he needs to respect and admire that I love them both, just like I'll respect whatever it is that he is really passionate about, even if I'm not all that into it.
I want a place that feels like MY home, with big windows that let in light. That has a kitchen I feel comfortable in so I don't constantly want to go somewhere else for food. I want a kitten who will grow into a small cat that is cuddly and fun (and a girl). I want wood floors and pictures on the walls. I want my bed to be made for two, and eventually room in our life for the two to become three. I want time and money to go on a hot air balloon ride and go back to Argentina. I want to know what it is I want to work my ass off for.

I think that's the hardest thing, to not know what my next step is. That's what has me going in these same circles. I want to move upward not in a straight line or worse off, backward. (I also want this fly in my room to die.)

I want cuddles and date nights and weekend getaways with friends. I want to keep learning, keep exploring and maybe have my hand in a few buckets (three at most) so that I am never bored, always able to switch gears when life feels a little stagnant.
I don't want to be solely responsible for answering phones, I don't want to work for companies who's business practices or employee treatment I don't agree with. I don't want to create half ass newsletters to people that really don't want to be bothered with the information anyway.
I want a schedule that I control. I want to be able to wake up when I want to (granted, I want to change my body clock to be an earlier riser instead of a night owl), I want to be able to decide how long a project is going to take instead of having to make it fit into 8 hours. If I get it done in 2 then I should still get paid the same amount.
I want enough money to be able to not worry about random purchases of up to $200, but I also want to be controlled in my spending so that those kinds of random don't happen often at all. I don't want to have to worry about where the money is going to come from to go to the doctor's office or get new tires on the car. I don't want to have credit card debt that looms when I think of things I want to save for, like a new computer or vacations or new tattoos.
I want to be healthier and by that I mean eat more vegetables, less fatty meats, and more fruits. I want to exercise more which means at least 2 days a week at a dance studio, they don't have to be the same one. I want to compete in a pole competition and get my twisted grip ayesha. I want my middle splits and an impossible looking back bend. I want to pay off my car and my credit card debt and get a car that I love looking at and driving, one that doesn't rattle when I put on the breaks going downhill with my wheel slightly turned.
I want, I want, I want.
What's the first step? In the most basic terms: make more money in one or two places, not three. Find a job that pays enough to get all the bills and some extra at the end of the month and still have time (and energy) for everything else. One that will help me create and explore what's next.
I want peace in my mind, I want to like myself consistently. I want to be happier, I don't need to always be happy, but I definitely want to be happier. I want change and I want answers and I want to stop feeling pathetic.


They say life is what you make it, I feel like I'm falling short on making it anything. Is this just the storm before the success? The turning point where life decides if I'm woman enough to handle it? I can only hope, because I am tired of looking at my friends lives and wondering where I am going wrong. Wondering how they can stay so positive and figure these things out.

xoxo

Burn Bright

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After reading a post by Brandi over at Not Your Average Ordinary I thought I might share some thoughts of my own.

The subject: intimidating women 

I am not a heartbreaker (that I know of), I don't find myself to be drop dead gorgeous, and up until recently I didn't think myself to be much smarter than the masses. Many have told me otherwise since I was born (first parents and then those who didn't have the first baby stars in their eyes...) but my own brain, often the perfectionist enemy, wouldn't listen.

I, like many other women before me, have found myself change slightly (or exponentially) when interested in certain guys or even certain friendships with other women. I've grown quieter with some, louder with others... I've tried to censor what I talked about, I've tried to keep out certain parts of my life and it's always left me feeling exhausted and frustrated.

I found early on, well, maybe in high school, that when I changed who I was, what I liked or what I thought for other people, my motivation to do things and enjoy life would diminish. Soon I stopped apologizing for who I was, what I liked, and what I wanted to do.

Soon I found myself wondering: Why would I tone down who I am? Why would I soften my shine? 

If someone finds me to be intimidating and can't get past the intimidation to get to know me then it's not meant to be anyway.

Yes it's frustrating to constantly feels like I am scaring guys away. To not know if they disappear because they want someone dumber, less enthusiastic or less expressive. But it's even more frustrating to dumb it down and then eventually let it out and still have the person walk away. 

When I try to dumb it down, when I leave things out or hide parts of who I am I feel like crap. I feel like I'm only showing part of who I am and that I'm telling a lie. I have learned time and time again that starting out a relationship hiding things isn't going to work for me.

So here it is:
I will not dumb down my enthusiasm, my mouth, my occasional vulgarity, my willingness to be silly or my wants in life just to keep a person around. It’s surprising to me how many people stick around (some of which even fight to stay in my life) and so I figure I’m doing something right at least part of the time. I will apologize when I have offended someone or have done something wrong, but change who I am or dull it down? Where’s the fun in that. 

I feel like dulling my shine is like giving someone almost in season berries when I could be serving them, in season, bursting with flavor fruits. No one would order the dulled version of their perfect food... The person (or persons... who knows in this life) that I am suppose to be with are attracted to my qualities already, they aren't looking for some half baked me, just like I'm not looking for a dulled down, less passionate, contained them. 
While my passion, my excitement, my facial expressions, my intelligence, perceived  beauty, hair color or tattoos might intimidate or scare people off, they also draw other people closer. Someone out there will love my enthusiasm and may even have a boat load of his own, and we’ll mutually intimidate each other and giggle about it for years to come.

Ladies (and gents) have you found yourself dulling down what you are, what you do, what you like etc so as not to intimidate someone you want to be friends (or more) with?

xoxo

taking the work out of working out

source

It's been a rocky road that fitness and I have been on since my toddling days. I fluctuated between feeling great by physical activity and wanting nothing more than to curl up on a soft, cushy place with a book.

When I was little and learning to ride a bike without training wheels there were some spills, unlike most kids, I remembered those spills quite well and after each I would become more and more careful. Not only that, but my dad's family was (is) super athletic and any time I would go along for a family day of roller blading or bike riding I would find myself frustrated and terrified the majority of the time. They were so good, my brother doing spins and racing my stepmom around, weaving in and out of other people on the sidewalk. I would trail behind, relying hard on the breaks, doing my best to avoid other people at all costs.

As time went I didn't get better, and they did. They were already so much more comfortable on bikes, hikes and wheels than I was. I didn't practice when I was at my mom's house, though at the age of about 10 I did get into gymnastics. I wasn't a completely lost cause.

But family outings of the physical activity variety always left me with dread. I'm not going to hold back here, they still do from time to time. I know when my stepmom suggests a hike I'm going to want an oxygen mask by the end. Okay, maybe that's a taaad extreme, but the last "hike" we went on was sold to me with a promise of relative ease and a view of at least 3 waterfalls...

the truth looked a little more like my dad and I at the back of the group asking for the pregnant lady trail. I found myself wondering why I didn't bring my spiked hiking shoes (oh yeah 'cause I don't own any) and my stepmom merrily chugged up the path.

There were no waterfalls... and that hike is now talked about as that one time we mountain climbed in Oregon.

All joking and ribbing aside, my love for fitness has always had strings attached and I've done more than my fair share of running away. 

A little extra fitness history:

I loved swimming when I first learned how and many years after. I lost my love around puberty and wanning eye sight. I never swam competitively, nor do I know any of the strokes well, but I did love pretending I was Ariel (or a dolphin) and would spend hours in the water (if it was warm enough). 

When my eye sight started going a little wonky (I wear glasses or contacts or else I would not be able to do anything now) I stopped wanting to be in the pool as much. I like to open my eyes under water (could that have been what ruined my eyes?) and you can't do that when you wear contacts (unless of course you want to lose them). Sure, goggles you say, but those fog easy, they hurt my head (true story) and are just a pain. Yes, excuses I know....

And then there was puberty... feeling awkward in my own body and totally self conscious in a bathing suit kept me out of the pool and ocean for a good amount of time. Being as pale as I am, I decided not to subject friends and fellow beach goers with my sun reflecting body. (Don't worry, I'm okay with making them suffer now... I tell them to bring dark sunglasses.) 

Then there was the problem of make up and hair and ugh being a teenager had me worrying about every inch of what could possibly be wrong with my looks. 

So like I said, there went swimming.

I'd like to say I've come back to it, but there's still that annoying issue with the eyes... and as vain/shallow as it sounds, I would love to find a mascara that stays on with chlorine, I am just not a fan of how pale my eyelashes are by themselves. Seriously... (and I call myself a feminist...psh)

Moving on... Gymnastics came into my life and swept me off my feet. It all started with gym camps at the YMCA during summers and then going to classes with my childhood best friend. Those were some awesome, and scary, times. I loved gymnastics, I was good at it. I was (and still am) more flexible than a lot of the girls, I picked up handstand and cartwheels pretty fast because my stepmom had taught my brother and I long ago how to do them in our extra large room (those were the days).

Gymnastics help me for a good while. But then I reached my fear threshold. Once I found the level where I was suppose to be doing things on the high beam or doing flips without a pit to fall into, my confidence waned. Cartwheels on the low beam, YUP. Cartwheels on the high beam... heck no. 

One thing gymnastics really gave me was confidence in my physical abilities. In school I was one of maybe three girls that could do a number of pull ups. This girl Danielle, total tomboy, beat me on the number though... she also beat the boys so I wasn't too upset about it.

Despite my early love for the gym, I left gymnastics in middle school for a bit but decided to try out for the cheer team. Somehow I put my shyness aside (I was shy in junior high, go figure) and made it. In cheer I was somehow able to master a back handspring,  something that had alluded me in those years of gymnastics. Not only that, but I also got my roundoff back tuck. Those were the golden years. I was tricked into working out (even burn outs had some sort of fun and level of friendly competition behind them) and I was a body full of strength.

Before my freshman year of high school I tried out for an all-star cheer team... and made it. But there were excuses abound in my head over why I didn't want to actually join so I told them I couldn't do it and only now, on this day, do I wonder if I made the right choice there. Not that there's anything to regret, it happened, I chose, but fear definitely guided that decision. 

So freshman year I changed over to a new school and stopped most of my physical activities. I no longer needed to go with when my family went on their outdoor adventures so I chose not to instead of being behind all the time. I burrowed into my homework and made it harder than it needed to be. 

I think I found exercise again my sophomore year. Sure we had P.E. classes but they were a joke. Seriously we were allowed to have any time on the mile, we didn't have to run AT ALL and most of the other activities were very low impact. My exercise came from dance. I tried out for the dance team after seeing them perform at assemblies and the like and just wanted so bad to be a part of it.

I tried out, made the B team and was told more than a handful of times that I had talent that I just needed to keep working with.  (Don't get me wrong, they weren't telling me to audition for Juliard...) 

I stuck with that for a year and a half, maybe two and then the original team disbanded and was taken over and I didn't want anything to do with the change.

Sometime in the summer before senior year I decided to take ballet. Oh ballet, beautiful, difficult ballet. I wrote one of my personal essays for college on ballet. I would point my toes so hard in my sleep that I would wake up with cramps in my calves. But my excuses came again (this time monetary) and I left ballet too. 

Between ballet and now there were several times of good intentions. Times where I would force myself into the house gym for a couple days. But my resolve would soon fade and I would stop again.

This year I decided it was time to really and truly make a habit. I found dance classes I really wanted to take and I put some money into them. Then I asked for classes for Christmas. For the first time in, well ever, I didn't waste one single class. I went to all in the package I bought. 

As if that's not enough, I have found inspiration to work out on days that I don't have those classes. Why? Because I want my body to be the strongest and most flexible it can be so that I am prepared to learn new things.  I have weeks where I only go to dance class once or twice, and then I have weeks where I go to dance class and work out in Dad's home gym three times. My enthusiasm waxes and wanes from week to week but I feel a need to go back when I miss too many days. I feel so good when I'm done with a work out. I've become even more flexible and I'm starting to really see the changes in my body. My arms are stronger and the muscles are really starting to show. People are telling me how fit I look. It's so great.

I don't care about weight loss or gain, I just love feeling strong, and fit. I still have so many fitness goals to meet and I'm not sure I'll ever reach a finish line (always something new to strive for) but I am really content with how my relationship with fitness has improved.

xoxo

The Meaning of Home

source

Today I received a text stating simply "come home." It made my heart ache. It was sent by a very close friend of mine still residing in Portland. I miss her so. And there are many times where I miss Portland so and I wonder if my choices were correct.
Then I remind myself that it isn't about right or wrong, it's about taking it for what it is (done) and making the best life I can out of each day. Most days that settles me. Today it even settles me. But I still miss her.

Her and three other ladies were my lovely sanctuary in Portland. None of them were close to the other, they all had their own things going on, and I knew each of them from different places, but those four were unbeatable adventures and friendship in the ever maddening but beautiful Portland.

Don't get me wrong, I have close (best) friends here too, and my closest friends (time known etc) reside in San Francisco. But Portland's relatively small city limits made it easier to see any one of the four ladies within 20 minutes. I don't have that same ability here. Some friends are closer, some are... well, hundreds of miles away.

The text just made me miss the proximity. Here in the burbs life is not so bad, I mean, Target and Starbucks around every corner ;), gas stations that stay open late, grocery stores that serve hard alcohol, less crime (? is that true, I don't know) etc. But there's something about the city, even the Portland kind of city (a big town posing as a city most days) that calls to me. The ease of getting to friends and being able to enjoy a cup of coffee or sit in each other's living room and just chat the days away, or even nap them away if it's me and M...
The range of foods and shops and types of people milling around, the ability to go to the bins and dig around and buy things for SUPER CHEAP... the art, the bookstores... oh the bookstores.

There are many good things that have come from me moving back home to San Diego. I do enjoy it here and this part of California will always, always have a place in my heart. Always. I don't hate it like I use to but I do understand the frustrations I would have with this city every time I have come back.

I'm torn.

I'm torn on where home is going to be in the future and where I want to be now. I'm torn about leaving friends and such but that will always happen with a person like me that likes (has) to try new places. I feel the most "at home" with a certain few people. Some of them I've known way longer than others, but their friendships all give me that sense of security and belonging.

Since I've been back I've spent a lot of time at home, most of which was self imposed. I get into projects or start reading blogs, or find a cleaning project and then I can't be bothered to get out of the house after 8pm, even on weekends. Totally self induced seclusion. Worst part, I'm not even in hermit mode, I'm just not into bars or shopping mode either. I have yet to find things to do not involving either. And we're all busy. Yes we were all busy in Portland too, but being closer together meant small amounts of time were actually available to hang out, catch up, walk down 23rd or Hawthorne or Belmont and just enjoy life.

Technically I'm home but I don't feel like I belong here. I know why I came back and I'm sticking to those goals but this isn't forever, just like Portland wasn't. The good thing about having friends all over is that you get to visit them and the cities you love whenever you want (read: and you have enough money in the bank.)

I should consider myself lucky (and most times I do) that home to me is being with certain friends (and family) and not a place. I figure that means I could be just about anywhere and feel at home as long as I had a best friend beside me. What I wish right now, during this stage of semi isolation from best friends, is that I could have them near. A solid dose of home.

xoxo

Things I Am *Hesitant* To Tell You

The start: Creature Comforts, and Mimi+Meg

I don't know if you've been seeing this around blog world, but there's been a series of lovely ladies (and possibly gentlemen) telling us things that they normally wouldn't. I like to think of myself as an open book, but sometimes I don't share things out of respect to my family or friends.

Most people are calling their confessions "Things I Am Afraid To Tell You" but I'm switching afraid for hesitant, because I'm not afraid to share my life, at all, I'm just thinking of others when I keep my lips zipped (or fingers off the keys).

Also, I have a history of sharing my depression and frustrations with others. I have been called negative on more than one occasion by people I love and I'm working towards being a less negative, if not totally positive, person.

With all of that being said, I'm going to put my lesser known (maybe, who knows, I'm a pretty open book) quirks (and things I get embarrassed by) out in the open...

Ready?

Relationships
- I've had two boyfriends in my life. Both relationships together totaled to 2 1/2 months. At 26 I find this annoying, frustrating, and many times a bit embarrassing. I often wonder what exactly makes me different from these other girls who get guys like it's no big deal.
- Maybe because of fact #1, I find myself often easily jealous and totally unsure when I am interested in someone. I overanalyze every little detail, every phrase and I find myself on a roller coaster of "he likes me, he likes me not." I hit the "he likes me not" more times than the other. Frankly it's exhausting.
- I amaze even my friends with how bad of a track record I have with guys. It becomes comical after a while, but there have been many a sad night (and day) due to douche bags and my not so great choices.
- I get asked pretty often if I have a boyfriend and when I say no people give me this amazed look and wonder how that could be. If I had the answer people, I probably wouldn't be single.

Okay, enough of that... next:

Friendships
- I could be a better friend. I am horrible at remembering birthdays, even when I have them in my phone, I don't call or check up often...etc. I also like to talk a lot about me, and when I say talk, many times it's complain or give excuses. (In all fairness to myself, so this isn't a total bashing, I am incredibly loyal and protective over my close friends, so maybe that's why they keep me around despite the other things.)

Daily Habits
- I hate washing my hair. I put it off many a day when I can. It's not the actual act of washing it that is so bad, but the drying procedure. If I let it dry by itself I don't feel like I look my best and then get self conscious and lalala. If I take time to blow dry it then I also need to straighten or curl it. Blow drying my hair takes time people. Don't get me wrong, I love my hair, I just put off the washing all the time.
- I'm really bad about making my bed. It looks so good and my room feels so much better when it's made but honestly I find myself back in my bed so often that making it just seems useless.
- Which brings me to: I sleep a lot. While other people use drugs, drinking, sex, shopping, etc to take a break from their thoughts, I use sleep. I sleep best during the day when the sun is coming through the blinds and the sounds of life outside come through. I'm talking myself out of going back to sleep right now.
- I don't wash my car very often. When I get a new one, or when I get into OCD clean mode I promise myself I am going to be better about keeping my car clean and lovely. Recent excuses for not washing my car: I really don't want to get wet while washing it and I don't have money to get it washed by someone else. Neither of these reasons really hold much weight but my car stays pretty dirty on the outside.
- I drink soda, Diet Coke specifically, every day. I haven't given myself the strength to quit it. If things are a little off AND I'm trying to quit DC I am heinous to be around. I get sick of me.

Which brings me to probably my biggest fault, my longest running secret that until the past few years I've talked the least about:

** I am quite often not thrilled with myself. It doesn't matter how much praise I get at work, or dance class or from friends or guys... I find myself to be annoying and frustrating and frankly, a bit dumb. Ah yes, and pathetic. I'm twenty-six living at my mom's house working at a minimum wage job even though I have a degree and had such potential (or so everyone thought) in high school. I want to be great but I don't know what to be great at or how to even begin. I can't even figure out how to pay for my own life. Some potential right? Not as smart as they thought am I?
I keep the lows to myself as much as possible but sometimes it's like a compulsion to tell my friends how horrid and awful I am. I won't believe any good they say about me.
Then there are days where I seem fine. Where I seem happy, put together, enthusiastic, etc. I can't explain that. I don't have an explanation for the shifts, the good or the bad, the high or the low, all I can say is I'm pretty sure the Zoloft doesn't regulate anything, and I'm not sure this is a problem for medication.

I find it very hard to be proud of myself for anything I've done in my life. I can tell you why any accomplishment really wasn't that difficult or why I don't deserve praise. I can tell you what's wrong in everything I do. I can tell you how, even though I've been working out a TON more than I use to, it's not hard enough or how I'm still not strong enough.

There's no process for me, it's all or nothing, change immediately, no weaknesses... right here, right now it has to be perfect otherwise I'm going to hear it.

Pretty impossible to live up to.

It's a mental cycle that I still don't know how to break after all the books, lessons, counseling sessions. I'm still me, still flawed. **

So there you have it. Some of the things I'm hesitant to share. I want to delete the last bit because this is suppose to be a place of happiness and good things. It's just about the only place I fight to keep positive. But I guess that's the point of these confessions.

xoxo

Dating 101 with this girl right here *points to self*

found

Today I'd like to shed some light on my trials, tribulations and now lessons on dating those of the opposite sex (mainly because I've never had a date with the same sex so I really wouldn't know where to begin besides, be a gentlelady).


My first tip in dating: Don't do it.
Save yourself...

Noooooo, I'm kidding...

Am I?

Sure.

Moving on, I'm going to get cliché and self help book on your and say first things first, know, and love, who you are. Feel like your butt jiggles too much? Love it. Worried it doesn't jiggle enough and you're envious of those talented ladies in the Wally World You Tube video? Love it. Was that a personal example? I can't really say. Please don't ask such personal questions, that's rude.
Love who are, what your body does for you, what your mind does for you and what you do for both. It sucks... like totally supreme suckage because those times when you're really all YEAH-times-a million-high-fives-to-myself-because-me-and-my-just-the-right-amount-of-jiggly-butt-are-awesome are the times when generally it's quite fun to be single. AKA the times when you (maybe this is just me) are the most attractive are when you say pish posh to the idea of a steady date and run around like a chicken with your head cut off (not playing musical beds mind you, that would be too much work. More like flirting and then doing a whole bunch of projects you find on Pinterest. Just me again? Sigh. Okay, more universal, like fortune cookies...)

Let's just go to the second lesson/rule: They want to sleep with you. No, seriously. If you're a woman and he's a dude taking you out and he asked you, and even if you asked him and he said yes, he wants to sleep with you. For all those who are going to be quick to call me bitter here let me just clarify I did NOT say that's all they wanted. Though if you're meeting them for the first time at a bar and you're pretty sure their really quite drunk... I'm going to say 95% that's all they want.
I really don't know for sure though, I mean some of my friends don't know how to keep guys from wanting a relationship and well, let's just say I don't have that problem. "How do you get a guy to do more than just kiss" they ask me... hahahahahaha WHAT?! How do you get them to STAY at that spot for more than 2 minutes? Seriously? Am I just hitting on guys who's hormone levels are stuck in high school mode? Silly question, don't answer that... answer is most positively yes.

Lesson three: If you have a problem keeping your pants on use this trick... wear jeggings that are at least slightly difficult to get off AND don't shave for a couple of days before the date/meet up/hang out/whatever. Don't tell the partner of the moment about these sneaky blocks you have. Act like you really are interested in them and their supposed "skills", but you're also interested in keeping those lovely pants on. Seriously, if you tell a guy he's probably going to say whatevs to the stubble on the shins, honestly I'm not sure many actually care, but I know I do. I care. I would think twice, maybe even a lot more than twice about things going past a innocent high school-esqe (hahaha innocent... tv shows are showing the reality of high school make out sessions... the youth!) make out session.
Seriously, jeggings with ankle holes that have a hard time going over your heel... almost better than a metal chastity belt. Almost. I might bring those back. Though I'm not so sure about hygiene with those. Nah, never mind, jeggings it is, at least they are made of mostly cotton. Breathable...

again I digress..

Lesson four: Trust your gut. Not like, trust it to not have any more drinks or eat that last cookie, I mean, trust it with that too... but trust your instincts. So many times I've tried to give one the benefit of the doubt just to look a fool. Don't give anyone an easy out, make them prove their worth.

Lesson five: Don't believe them when they say their ex is crazy unless she happens to have shown her crazy, to you, in person. Even then, wonder if your new man friend may have done something before that wasn't so awesome.
I'm not saying all ex-girlfriends are misunderstood, but a lot of them are given the "crazy" label because a guy just can't cope with whatever happened. I mean, I would like to think that someone of my gender might give me the benefit of the situation if an ex of mine ever called me crazy.
In my experience, when a dude says (friend or romantic interest) his ex was crazy it usually means "but if she offered make up sex I'd be back in a heartbeat." I don't know what it is, when a guy uses crazy to describe his ex I know to run for the hills if I was thinking about being interested... so many unresolved feelings come with that one little word.

I guess Lesson five comes with a "if they are talking a lot about their ex, run" bullet point. They are either still unresolved on the relationship OR just want to get laid and are still besties with their ex. Besties, like buddies for life... like, help each other get knew dates months after they break up besties. Odd... wait, not a specific example, I didn't know a guy like that.

I guess to wrap up I'll say this: I have little actually helpful knowledge on dating. While it is surprising to some that I've only had two actual titled boyfriends, it remains true. Probably because I was dealing with a whole lot of losers (see all examples above where I say it didn't happen to me).

Truth be told I'm more than a little bent out of shape about dating at the moment. More than anything I'm scared of happening upon another male to like. Why? Because when I fall into like, I fall hard. While that crazy first getting to know someone energy is incredibly intoxicating and oh so great feeling, the come down is quite harsh and I don't want to feel that come down again. Next time I am going to work really hard to not get excited for a loooong time. And I'll probably need to re-read this again like a bajillion times. ;)

Oh yes, here I am re-reading and totally not taking my last bit of advice.

xoxo

A More Solid Foundation

pinned by Becka Robinson via Little Reminders of Love

If I sit back and think I come to the realization that I can't count more than a handful of decisions that I have loved enough on my own since high school. My first step in rumination of that fact it to think that maybe I just had it way more together in high school. But it takes mere seconds to realize for certain that isn't true. While I was a bit more confident in high school, well freshman through junior year, I must admit it was a confidence that comes with youth. One that has been pampered and never let fall too hard. 

Also, looking back, the past always looks prettier than it was. While I was more certain of some of my decisions in high school, they weren't very big ones. I did mention that I was more confident until senior year. Guess what, senior year was the year of meaningful decisions. Before that I could decide for sure I wanted to be a lawyer and it wouldn't matter for a long while. Senior year rolls around and I need to make a decision on where to go after high school and my false sense of confidences shatters. I remember the feeling, the fear, the frustration... I remember it so well because I feel very similar with my life right now.

I'm at this place where forward movement needs to happen (bold, italic and underlined, very, very serious stuff). It is imperative to my development into an independent adult that forward movement happens. It is imperative to everything that I start creating decisions that I love. 

There is an insistent, inescapable must in my life right now. One that my body and mind are doing many things to try and avoid.

Why?

It all comes back to confidence. In order to find a decision or a route or a next step to love unconditionally, one has to be confident enough in ones decision making abilities and from there their own abilities to carry out the actions necessary.

Basically, sometimes I find options that I think I love. I sit with them for a second or two, and more recently I've started, like baby steps started, trying some of my ideas out. But I constantly check them with other people and I am greatly affected by people's opinions. It doesn't matter if I think they are spouting hypocrisies left and right... some little part (Seth Godin would call it the lizard brain) will take heart of their negativity and believe it.

Confidence. Something people assume I have a lot of. Not in the way of being cocky, but in the way of being self assured.

Really, I second guess just about everything I say, write, and think I am interested in. Through this action of second guessing I've created very shaky, uneven, and totally uninhabitable ground to try and build a foundation on. 

Confidence? Ha! 

So where does that leave me? It leaves me second guessing, it leaves me constantly changing my mind, it leaves me unsure of things I think I'm interested in. 

It leaves a big gaping hole instead of a place to put my next step forward.

Is it time to fill that hole? Yes. Do I know how.... no. 

I want to be the person high school me imagined I would be. Smart, put together, figuring things out, confident, able to start a relationship... I want to be the person who is so confident in her decisions, or at least her ability to take care of business, that she doesn't need anybody else's positive opinion. (She will always share them with her closest confidantes regardless.)

I want to be the person people think I am. The one that has her head on straight and can get things done. The one that is everything that I don't feel that I am.

Where does one start changing how they feel about themselves? How do I get out of this doubt? What do I have to do to create a solid foundation for my dreams and wishes?

Questions I will be continue asking until I figure it out.

xoxo

Things To Think About

art by Valentina Ramos

While I would normally leave these links for my Friday, Happily Wasted posts, I just couldn't help but find three posts that spoke to things I've been thinking about lately.

First I happened upon Life as an Artistpreneur's Coffee Cup Chats and, as usual, smiled. This week's CCC was about sticking in your old cages even when you've clearly outgrown your restraints. It's about fear and how we learn to stay where we are, even when we have the means to be somewhere else. It's also about elephants, and elephants have a special place in my heart.
Click here to read the post and then come back...
I'm still here.
Okay, so now that you've read it you know what I mean when I talk about baby elephants vs grown ones. That I still feel very much like a baby elephant, held down by previous constraints that I don't now and never have fully understood. At least the elephants can see the thing that's holding them in place. But even if I could see it clearly, would I still be like the grown elephant thinking this tiny, insignificant stake in the ground and rope around my ankle could really keep me?
I have let things keep me from growing and moving on in the past. I switched locations but the same, invisible restraints have kept me in my patterns, my ruts, until I'm too deep to see out.
So where do I go from here, what am I testing, what am I pulling out of the ground to set myself free?
I'm no stranger to introspection and I can say that this tendency, of misjudging what's in front of you, is affecting many if not all aspects of my life.
I worry about my previous judgement with boys and wonder if I'll ever be able to find a man... I worry that I will not be good enough or smart enough to figure out how to take care of myself, even at 26. I worry that my writing is shoddy or less than other people's. I worry that while I have a passion for reading and literature that I might not have all the little pieces of knowledge necessary to be a decent teacher.
I could go on longer, but I think you get the point. I sure do.

Which leads me to the second post that I found thought provoking...
The second article has a similar animal to human comparison aspect to it... This time it was about a goat that thought and acted like it was a dog. First off, can I just say my heart melted (it oh so very cold usually ;) ) reading the story. I mean, a goat that makes a lot of noise at strangers, or chases smaller animals or runs in a pack of dogs... HOW CUTE?!
Okay, moving on to the more relevant part... the family of said goat had wanted a goat, not an extra dog. But when they created a separate area for the goat and kept him caged he became despondent and didn't eat. I'm happy to say the family gave the goat to a different family who wanted a goat/dog.
So what does this have to do with humans?
Well, how many times have you found yourself saying something that wasn't quite true because you felt like it was something you SHOULD say. As an example, I often find myself saying I love something when I just like it. For instance, many of my friends love zombies... like a good handful are obsessed about the possibility of a zombie apocalypse and can argue the methods of surviving with great detail.
In casual conversation with people who aren't this handful, when zombies are brought up I hear myself saying, "oh my goodness, I LOVE zombies." Here's the truth, I have read a few zombie stories, I watch The Walking Dead and I'll watch any other zombie movies if in a group of people. I'll even admit they can be scary or not so scary and argue some ways of surviving. I'll admit that if I were to be in that kind of world I might just take a long nap and offer myself as zombie food after a while because I don't see how I can find survival on few hours of sleep for years any kind of real living.
But do I LOVE zombies? Do I love them to the extent that real zombie lovers do? Probably not. I don't spend extra time looking things up about the possibilities or really arguing over methods. If the conversation is there I'll take it, but I'm not going to start it. And I'm not going to put zombies in my lists of interests any time soon.
Relevance Corey? What I'm saying is that unlike this goat, sometimes I try to fit in somewhere I just don't feel quite right, and it's habit more than anything else. Truth be told, I'd choose Pretty Little Liars or reading over most zombie things if I'm doing something on my own...
Truth be told I would love to work from home instead of working at an office or in a store. But sometimes we act like things we don't feel like we are.

Does that make any sense at all? I guess my thoughts aren't as organized with this one. But it sparked my interest.

Okay, I think I've got it... you are what you think you are. So if I think I'm horrible at something, say, like above where I think I'm incapable of finding a good partner, then I will be. Or if I think I'm a decent writing, then maybe I will be. Maybe my focus above was all wrong, maybe it doesn't matter if I say I love zombies when I only really like them, I don't have to know every detail of the different kinds of zombies... I just have to believe I like them.
Again, not the best example, but it's something to think about.

Basically, I am going to keep working on believing I am what I want to be, and working on gaining the skills or knowledge to make it true.

Which awesomely enough leads me to the third post...
Elise Blaha, one of my favorite bloggers, the two above are also in my top ten... wrote about making it work even if you aren't an expert. I think this post (and can I say I read these in this order... sometimes things just line up right) ties it all together.
When you think you are tied to one spot, or you think you aren't an expert, you may stay rooted in one place, unable to move anywhere besides the circle your post and rope allow you. But if you think about your strengths, in Elise's case, getting things done, and move forward anyway, you have a chance of reaching a goal you never thought you could have.
If I only think of what I'm lacking then I might not move forward and try anyway.
Sometimes, (read: many times) those things we think are important that we lack end up being small issues even though we (I) had made them these colossal roadblocks. Maybe we have to put the car in park for a second, get out of the car and move the light fence someone put up, but they aren't brick walls...
And then, when they are, it's time to try something different, or grow more and drive again. Sometimes we don't know what it is that we do that will break down that wall.
We have to have a first time doing things, we have to learn and sometimes we have to ask for help.
But most of the time we really just need to start.

Is this making sense?

Moral?

Be an elephant, but purposefully forget how those times you were held back before. Try again and see if your added bulk (knowledge, expertise, experiences) makes a difference... and while you're doing that, think that it will make a difference. Pretty soon what was a stake in the ground and thick rope on your ankle will be as insignificant as a twig and string.

xoxo

Sometimes I Spit Out My Gum In Public: My Classless Response to Lisa Khoury

Some of my favorite tattooed and completely classy ladies: Emma, Danielle, Elsie and Kyla Roma

Four totally classy, tattooed, intelligent, successful women. 

please read this article first and then if you would like read Mrs Danielle's response at Sometimes Sweet.

Dearest Lisa,

I'm going to try and understand what you REALLY meant by this article for a second. The real meaning and feelings you have about women and society and how they just became a jumbled mess and misinterpreted after you hit publish.

Best case scenario from your article:

You think women are beautiful. There are few people who would disagree with you there, some might say that not all women are beautiful but I figure that what you meant was the lines and curves we are made up of as women are soft and supple, they are capable of so much, while mens are more straight and angled, which, while artistically appealing, aren't as soft and beautiful as women's. 

I get you there.

Now I'm going to take a deep breath or five... ten? twenty? Okay, I'm in a better place to tackle what you hopefully just worded wrong.

I figure maybe you've seen some tattoos that you don't think are that pretty. You mention angel wings and I wonder if you are talking about the spur of the moment, chinese symbol, butterfly or other tattoos. The ones that someone walked into a tattoo shop, pointed at the wall and said, "that one."

While your judgements are still read harsh on these women I see what you are saying about them being permanent. Yes, we should probably take some more time when we are 18 to think about what we are permanently (well, mostly permanently they are getting so good at removal these days) putting on to our bodies. 

As a tattooed women I can't point too many fingers to those who get tattoos, the only finger I can point is to those who don't research. Sure, you want a tattoo on a whim one day, be my guest, I did that twice and I love them so much still. Of course mine were words I chose with meaning that I'd been thinking about, but I didn't make an appointment and I didn't know at the beginning of the day that I was going to go into a shop later. Spur of the moment can work. 

My concern is when there is no thought put into the artist, the price or the location. Yes, get a tattoo, no don't bargain shop. Don't hear that someone's apprentice is giving away free tattoos from a friend of a friend and automatically think it's a good idea. Sometimes it will be and sometimes it really, really won't. 

Just about any tattooed PERSON (not just women) will tell you that bargain shopping on tattoos is basically THE WORST IDEA EVER. But that's a rant for another time. Let's get back to you Lisa.

I started to mention above the idea of the tattooed person instead of the tattooed lady. Why is it so classless for a woman to have a tattoo and not a man. Maybe that's an article for another day? Were you going to write a continuation on how men are also lacking class with a tattoo or twelve? I hope this isn't just about keeping women's bodies pristine because if so then maybe we should just cover our ankles and shoulders again.

Oh wait, no, you say dressing up and shopping are okay. That flamboyant colors (my words not yours) are okay. Even if they draw attention, in fact, please do this to draw attention. Make those boys drool... 

Frankly by this point I'm more than confused and I must go back to my original frustrations. It may be a flaw in my abilities, but I'm having a hard time continuing to follow your reasoning... so here's the rest of my response to you, dear Lisa:

As you may know by now, I have tattoos. I have tattoos, I am going to get more tattoos and eventually my left arm and possibly my right leg will be covered. You know what else? I still consider myself to be classy at least 85% of the time. I mean, as mentioned in the title, I have spit out my gum in public, and forgotten to put my napkin on my lap at dinner, sometimes my elbows on are the table too... but shoot, we can't all be perfect right? 


What class means to me: knowing when to speak your mind, knowing how to speak your mind, knowing when to let something go, knowing that throwing a punch in a bar probably isn't the right thing to do, knowing that getting wasted and peeing outside while leaning on a car isn't going to feel like such a great idea in the morning... etc. It's about holding your head high no matter what your body shape, gpa, income level, or family background is. 

You say that you don't learn anything about yourself from getting a tattoo, that there's no meaning behind it, that you may as well sign up for a yoga class... clearly you've never been there. If you haven't been in the chair, felt the needles, stuck through it for hours because you know it's going to be beautiful and that when you look at it each day or catch it out of the corner of your eye you're going to smile because it reminds you of something beautiful or it reminds you to keep your head up or it reminds you of someone you use to know. Sitting in that chair or laying on the table you start to realize what you can handle. No, it's not child birth, but it's definitely annoying at times and despite what some people say it hurts. I'm not talking about tears rolling down the face hurts, just uncomfortable hurts, like a grimace here and there. You learn how to zone out and take yourself away from what's happening to you. Yoga could probably help with that, at least meditation could. 

Why am I looked down upon for putting ink into my skin and having a pretty piece of art (not angel wings by the way but I do have a friend who has wings that span from her shoulders to underneath her butt and the work is phenomenal) when women go in for plastic surgery every day coming out like 

carbon copies of one another and are defended because it makes them feel better about themselves? I know your piece doesn't say anything about plastic surgery but when you support shopping, nail painting and other such activities so much it's hard to believe you would be against superficial surgery. 

Look, if you're really doing it for you, then do it up. If you want size H boobs and a back scoop and you have the money, go for it. If you want your arms covered in colors, do it. I mean, you're comparing a tattoo to a bumper sticker... have you only seen bad tattoos? Generic, from the wall hearts, butterflies and such? Have you seen what these artists can do with a vibrating needle? The precision, the detail... they are ARTISTS. I'm sorry, I rather have art ON my body then silicone IN it. I rather have the nose I was born with, the small boobs I was "blessed" with and have a sleeve full of tattoos that all mean something to me. That document where I've been and where I hope to go. Or that just look really good. 

Clothes go in and out of style, they don't portray who I really am, you can't look at my boots and ask me what that means in relation to my life. My nails... I mean really? Getting your nails done ever teach you anything about yourself? Any new self realizations after huffing all of those nail particles? Again, not against women getting their nails done or getting new clothes or dressing up. You want to dress up? Do it. You want to wear leggings as pants, make sure it's flattering and that they are thick enough so we can't see where your thong ends and your ass begins. You want to wear denim skirts and uggs, sure, I mean, it makes the thighs look nice I guess. Not my style because my legs get cold but I have been known to wear boots with tights and a skirt in winter. I also have a pea coat to put on. 

And why is this geared to only women. If you hate tattoos, fine. Say it's classless on a guy or a girl. Say that putting ink in the skin is an abomination against the beauty of the human body, not just a women's. If you're argument is solely for women's bodies then you are reducing them to just that. Clearly, as a writer I figure you believe yourself to be pretty intelligent and more than just a hole to stick something in right? I mean, let's hope most if not all women think a little higher than that about themselves... so why are we making the act of keeping the body pristine so important? Would you demand that a scar be removed if you were in a bike accident? Even if it wasn't on your face? Would removing that scar be going against what you've been given? Would keeping the scar go against keeping the beautiful canvas clean?

I suggest further research into the subject you are writing about before putting something up such as this. I don't care if you never want a tattoo or if you regret the tramp stamp you got years ago. That's fine. And yes, there are many people and even many women that end up regretting some of the tattoos they get. Know that's not all of us. Some of us take the time to think it through, some of us research the artist and sit with the drawing we want for a bit. Some of us don't and still love the tattoo 10+ years later. The body is merely a vessel as far as I'm concerned. It's my space to remind myself that things can be beautiful and you don't have to fit in to the crowd to get along. It's taking what is important and putting it on the outside. I feel like the outside is starting to mirror the inside a little more with every tattoo I get. 

If any of all of the above is classless then shoot, give me that bumper sticker (and a Ferrari).

With as much sincerity as my frustrated heart can managed,

C