Waking up having forgotten and remembering again the full extent of what forever is

 So. A lot has gone down. 

And by a lot, I mean really nothing terribly interesting, but I am procrastinating, so anything to keep me from writing what I am SUPPOSED to be writing. Bring me another mai tai!

So, first thing's first:

Trip to Chicago was great. I got a lot done, took a lot of photos, rubbed a lot of shoulders...wait, no. I did not do that. Not in the literal way. In the figurative way. Is it elbows you rub? Shoulders? I legitimately cannot think of the fucking idiom. This just in: I had to look it up. It's rubbing shoulders, but because this isn't something I say a lot, it sounds mega fucking creepy. It isn't sitting right. So of course I'm going to leave it exactly where it is. 

I applied to be an instructor at a convention. I am aware I won't get the green light, because I think I left some of the current instructors a little cold. A lot cold. In that I was very dismissive of two of them in particular, and they may hold a good deal of sway. So, I can add "burns bridges" to my CV! 

I'm sure at the end of the year, I'll post the photos I took in Chicago, but I can't be bothered right now. 

Second thing's second:

My tattoo. 

I have mixed feelings about it, and the mix is ambivalence and frustration. I do not love her, and I want to, but I cannot. When I gave my artist my tattoo mood board, it was fucking wacky. Just so much weird shit. I wanted a mermaid, I wanted flowers, I wanted something that Dali would have a nightmare about and obsess over for several weeks after. I had femmes with lots of eyes, eyes in weird places, weird fingers on weirder hands, strange figures for bodies, dreamy colors, a mish mash of artistic styles, and I said I wanted my fucked up and weirdo mermaid to be surrounded by flowers, my favorite ones. Orchids and dahlias, I would also accept peonies. I had a vision, it was fuckin' WEIRD, and my artist seemed super duper excited. I asked him if I could have a look at what he was planning on several weeks before hand so I could veto it if I hated it, and he said no. He said he knew better than me, as the artist. And I was like...well....that's cool and all, but have you tried listening to the person whose body this will be on forever? And he was like, nah, fuck that. 

He tried to convince me that I should know where he's coming from, because I'm a photographer, and I was like, eh, but photos, as permanent as they are, can be retaken. They don't fundamentally alter your body in a forever kind of way. So if someone hates a photo I deliver of them, I can re-edit it, or they can go to another photographer and get them redone. Either way, they have unlimited shots at happiness here. And he was like, meh. I'll show you the day before. 

He showed me the day before, and I was like....uh. This? This is my funky tattoo??

Bitch.

It's just a fucking mermaid. 

And like, look. She's cool and all. But she is fucking NOT what I wanted. She is just a basic ass mermaid. Just like....she's just pretty? I wanted weird. And I didn't have it in me to be like, THIS IS WHY I WANTED TO KNOW MONTHS AGO. Now there is no time to fix it. So I just said, "Oh, she's great, I love her!"

And it isn't wholly untrue? I love her a little...and people who see me in public seem to love her a LOT. People stop me all the fucking time to ask if they can marvel at my tattoo, something that has never happened to me in my life. So she's getting attention, which is cool, and she's a great segue into talking about being a mermaid photographer. But she isn't what I wanted, so I am still on the fucking hunt to find a photographer who can do what the fuck I want. I am legit thinking about looking at a big city known for it's weirdos. Like fuckin' Portland or San Fran. I'll travel for that shit, I don't care. I have a few friends in San Fran that I would love to see for a little bit, so maybe I should start thinking about that. Anyway, here's wonderwall. 

Is she bad? No, she's pretty alright, Austin is hella talented. Is she what I wanted? 100% not. Austin is talented, but could not meet my sumptuously fuckin' weird tattoo desires. 

Austin laid down a little bit of the color:

                                                                            Gross!

8 hours in the chair is my longest session, and Austin is by far the fucking heaviest handed tattoo artist I've ever had (look at those outlines!! THICK!), and I am pretty fucking covered in tattoos, I've done the legwork. I was pretty spent after spending all day in the chair, and I was sore for fucking days after the fact. I go for my next session in the middle of January. Updates then. 

It is currently the beginning of October, and in a month, I will got and spend almost a full week with JUST my bestie. I arrive in Nashville on November 9th, and I leave November 14th, and it'll be just me and her the entire fucking time. Check out the things we are doing for our Saturday night birthday date night:

First, we will be getting our hair and make up done. 

Then, we have dinner reservations for 6pm at Drusie & Darr by Jean-Gorges. Then, we head to Skull's Rainbow Room and have drinks while we wait for the Burlesque show at 11 (which is a late show, and I'm usually asleep by midnight because gummies are magical, so this will be a long evening for me for sure). It'll be Amber's first burlesque show. Happy fucking 40th, babes!!!

I am so excited to get all fancied up to go see my most bestest soul mate. We're going to have such a fucking good time together. I think this will be our first time hanging out together with JUST US since we were teenagers. 

I am so fucking excited, I fully plan on spending the week being childish and obnoxious and wild, and it being the best time. I cannot fucking wait. I'm going to take so many fucking photos with my bestie. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

In completely unrelated news, I had forgotten Gavin DeGraw used to be someone I listened to (circa Dan, so it's been awhile), but as I was grabbing myself dinner from the commissary, I caught myself singing along in the aisle to one of his songs that I for sure would have assumed I wouldn't know the words to anymore. And then I got in my car and sat for a little bit, feeling that stupid nostalgia creep up on me, and I listened to Gavin DeGraw songs all the way home. Maybe 2 miles from my street turn off, I decided to pull off to the side of the road and enjoy the sunset. It was an amazing one:

I had been driving along, uncomfortably wrapped up in some weird nostalgic thoughts, and I kept telling myself, "I should pull over, I should pull over." and I kept responding to myself, "no, you've got a car full of groceries, you're wistful and angry and you get weird when you're like this, go home". But I can't remember the last time I pulled over and enjoyed being with nobody but myself, soaking in the breeze and watching the day end. So I did. Singing to myself, thinking to myself, enjoying myself (but not in a Cinemax kind of way. Is Cinemax still around????), and watched the sunset fade into the eveing. And I've been in a mood ever since. 

I've been supposed to be writing for hours. Also hours is doing a lot of heavy lifting, I mean months. I've been supposed to be writing for months. But specifically tonight, I was supposed to write two pages. And now I'll have to do it tomorrow. I think I'm going to get under my weighted blanket and get all up in my fuckin' weird headspace and freak myself out. Again, sadly, not in the Cinemax kind of way. Which I can now report does not exist anymore, I looked it up. Also...Warner Brothers?? Really? 

I may or may not be an hour deep into an edible. I am not nearly lucid enough to be blogging. It's been a weird night.