christmas fucking cheer

When I was little X-mas was about the anticipation of gifts and with that came the expectation of some kind of blow up within the family. My dad usually got drunk and mad about something and at a very early age I learned to put together my own toys so he didn’t have to bitch about it. As I grew up I cared less about gifts and more about the fact that I knew something was going to blow up and I’d end up in tears. It usually never fails there are always tears, not of joy, at xmas for me. When I was poor in my late teens and early 20’s I thought hand made gifts were where it was at. I’ve got a lot of crafty skills and I always thought I could make someone something better than I could find at the store. Soon I had a tiny bit more money than I had time on my hands so hunting for the perfect gift was my goal, something that I knew in my heart that person would really enjoy. Now as an adult in my 30’s I just don’t give a fuck anymore. Xmas is now about making a list of the shit you want so someone else can go buy it for you. I don’t see the point in this. Here’s my list of shit so you don’t have to really know me to know what I would like. I’ve become so dependent on the list that I’m terrified to deviate from the list and hell, if there is no list what do I do then? Then you have to remember a gift receipt, so people don’t know what you really paid unless they hate it enough to take it back and then they can be upset with you for not spending enough.. or getting the right thing from the fucking list in the first place. I don’t need this shit, it’s fucking stressful. Hunt around for the best deal, buy it, take it back when you find out someone else bought the same thing or when you find it for an even better “lowest fucking price”. Don’t forget that we have to drag this shit 5 1/2 hours most likely in a lake effect snow storm and then have people yell at me for not finding snow “magical, refreshing, or calming”. I use to think that giftcards were lame and impersonal. Fuck that shit. Everyone is getting a gift card. Maybe I’ll make you a lil something something, but that’s it. You know what my gift to myself this year is? Not landing my ass in jail for fucking up some asshole in a store when they can’t get out of my way, or decide what they want, or know how to use the fucking self checkout. Seriously people, if you can’t master the self checkout and make it faster than going to a real person don’t fuck up my day. I can use that shit like a pro, in fact I’ve got most of those “key in codes” memorized so get the fuck out of my way.
I don’t have any x mas cheer, I don’t find the magic in the holiday, and I sure as hell don’t think it was the night my savior was born. So I will give you my money and you can go fight for your own shit. You know what I want? I want every shelter animal to find a loving home, I want to feel like a normal happy person more than once a month, I want to feel like someone actually knows me and loves me and most of all I want some fucking motivation so I can know what I really want in life so I can be vaguely productive, artistic and valuable. Try finding a deal on that. Merry fucking xmas.


Something has to change. I’m useless. I don’t want a job, I don’t wanna do house work, I don’t wanna workout. Something needs to change in my attitude. I use to have passion. I use to have pride in the things I did. Now I just don’t care.

time zones

I live my life opposite to everyone else in my house which means I spend most of my time alone. Since I took a vacation from my job I’m home all day alone with the dogs. Dave gets up early and is out the door before I even know what day it is and is asleep at night before I’ve even had my first glass of wine. I live with characters from tv shows and books. Sometimes I feel like that suits me more. Sometimes I wish for something else.

Playing in Pain

Everyone who has ever played sports has hurt themselves to one degree or another. So far I have been fortunate enough to have not done anything too bad in my derby career. (knock on wood and every other thing in sight) No broken bones, no concussions, no near death experiences with EMTS hovered over me.
I did have a fall almost a year ago. It was my own damn fault, just turning around to toe stop, I was tired and somehow clipped my own wheel sending me straight to the ground with my arm stretched out. I busted my arm, my shoulder, and my hip. It hurt but I scraped myself up off the ground and went on with practice. Yes, it was just practice, not even a game.. I screwed my shoulder up pretty bad. It hurt to put on shirts and wash my hair. The next day I couldn’t even raise my arm to shoulder height. I was scared into going to the doctor by my boss who was sure it broken. It was not, so say-eth the xray and doc told me that it would be ok, take some pain pills don’t use it, it will heal. Well 2 months later it did not heal, I was sent to physical therapy. Long story short 3 months of PT and it was back to normal with a lil’ extra noise and a crunchy feeling but fine, I could put clothes on with out whimpering.
So almost a year from the first injury I hurt my shoulder with a sad, useless “shoulder block,” if that’s even what you want to call my blatant display of pissed offed-ness after being knocked down. Of coarse those middle of the road injuries never really hurt until after the adrenalin wears off. You go off to the after party and start to feel the pain and stiffness set in, you have a couple drinks to counter act it and before you know it you wake up in the morning unable to roll your ass out of bed and then wincing with every movement on your way to coffee.
We have 2 weeks in between bouts. Not enough time to heal up right. In all rights I probably shouldn’t be whining about this. Yeah it hurts but that is part of derby. It’s the psychological toll it takes on you. When I hurt myself the first time it took me months before I could do turnaround toe stops on the part of the rink I was on when I fell. No matter how hard I tried I could not make my body do it because all I saw was myself hitting the ground. I had to go in at open skate and do toe stops getting closer and closer the scene of the crime until it was out of my head.
Now I want to baby this shoulder. That’s a sure fire way to get hurt in my book. As soon as I start thinking about my body when I’m playing I get all screwed up. There is so much to think about out on the track my hurt this or that should be the last thing on my mind. If I go in distracted I will for sure hurt it, or something else.
How do you psych yourself out? Build your brain up to cover over the doubts you have? You gotta just keep taking care of yourself and hope you get better. I myself am going to buy stock in KT Tape, Bio Freeze and rum and keep up on the PT at home. Come game day, “I’m fine” and hopefully my ass will do more of the work this time….

shoulda woulda coulda

There are few things in life that can mess you up like the loss of a parent but the guilt of not being there for everyone else is a pretty close second. I should have went home when it was bad, I should have stayed, I should have helped more. My family is not that close but my brother had to carry the weight of this on his shoulders since he was closest. He had to mow the lawn and carry down the air conditioners and move the couch when the hospital bed came in. He had to help plan the funeral while I waited to see when I could even get home.
I dread going home and facing people. I dread the line of people who I won’t recognize waiting to “console” me.
It’s hard to really wrap your head around having someone there one minute and then gone the next. I don’t think I’m processing well.
When I go I want a party, New Orleans style. I want a fucking parade down the street with some ska music and I want you all to get good and drunk. And I hope I come back to haunt something, at least then I’ll make a story.

Today is the day I give up

I drove an hour to work today, past a car crash, over the dirty bridge, through Detroit, and a stretch of graffiti covered abandoned warehouses and buildings to turn around and come home. That’s how much I hate everything today. Not just today. It’s not like i just woke up and said to the world “I hate you and everything in you today!”. Maybe I thought it… but still. It seems that everyday I wake up with just a little less caring and passion.
My boss was not there when I got to work. I was very late, not that I have a good excuse, simply because the thought of getting out of bed, leaving my dogs, and driving though a sea of assholes to get to a shit hole of a warehouse to make some crap that no one appreciates gives me little reason to pull the covers off my head. Every day those covers get a little heavier and the time I actually pull myself out of bed gets a little later. I just don’t care. I texted my boss to find out what he wanted me to do. I was already on edge, I have a lot of projects going on that I want to do and a lot of personal shit weighing me down so needless to say with not wanting to be there I was in no mood for shit. He texted back ” come to work on time.” He’s a joker, a haha funny I wanna be your friend, kinda boss, but I was in no mood for humor or sarcasm with a hint of truth.
I’m not needed there. Despite what people think it takes very little talent to make anything and art schools are pumping out hordes of kids who paid a lot of money to learn how to make stuff because making stuff sounds way easier than doing stuff. I looked around at all the faces that I didn’t know, who just got hired in the last week while I was a away, and all the people I had worked with for the last few years and I was pretty sure no one would give two shits if I was there or not. so in the midst of tears I turned around packed up my bags and left. I didn’t even punch out.
I don’t know what it says about me as a person when there are so many people who can’t find jobs and I just walk out on mine.
Seeing someone you love in a hospital bed wasting away telling you how they regret not spending enough time with you when you were little is a pretty big wake up call to not spend your life doing shit you hate. It just takes a a different kind of person to know what they want and that is not me. I shouldn’t say that, I know what I want, I just don’t have any support in my grand ideas about what my life should be. And that’s what keeps me doing shit I hate. Being miserable is easier when everyone else is happy about what you are doing until you break and then you feel like a big pile of shit about everything and you say today is the day I give up.

And a very happy fuck you too…

My mother called to wish us a happy five year anniversary but she can never just have a nice little moment she always has to throw a lil something in there. My side of the family tends to be a glass half empty kinda bunch, not just empty more like the poke you in the eye so you can be as miserable as the rest of us.
I think her exact words were ” happy aniversary.
me”-awwhh thanx, how have you been”
Her- I’ve been home from work for the last two weeks, your father is getting bad, I don’t think he’s going to be around much longer”
My dad has been sick for awhile now and going down hill so it wasn’t a surprise, it’s just sometimes she has little tact.
I don’t really know how to deal with all this. I’m an adult, I should know how to deal with this but my relationship with my father has never been an awesome one. I use to laugh when I told people the shitty stories of my childhood thinking they were normal. Don’t get me wrong, my dad worked hard, we always had food on the table, we usually got the things we wanted. As I look back I know now that he was just fucking mad.
When I was little I use to roller skate outside all summer long, maybe that’s why I play roller derby now. One time I fell and scraped my knees, I was bleeding all over the place, you know like kids do. My father, who was not one for blood, instead of taking care of me or throwing out a kind word said, “good, let her bleed, she shouldn’t be doing that shit anyway” I’m still not not sure what shit I shouldn’t be doing, skating, falling, being a kid, what ever..
When I was about 10 I cracked my head open while riding, or I guess falling off my bike. My dad worked 2nd shift at Briggs and Stratton, he would call home every day to see how things were going. When my mom told him that I had to have stitches he came all the way home from work, screamed at me, screamed at my mom for letting me get hurt, and then threw my bike across the yard and told me I would never ride it again. And I never rode it again that summer.
When I was in high school I was working on a drawing on the living room floor in an attempt to be social. I was apparently being a bitchy teenager because he out of the blue told me that I was a bitch and that I was never going to get anywhere with art and that I should find something real to do. At least he was kinda right about that.
After I left the house I tried to forgive my parents for my shitty people skills and my lack of emotion  that they instilled in me. I learned how real families talk to each other and interact from my in-laws.

People change over time, and after my dad retired he wasn’t quite as blunt or mean but there’s part of me that just can’t get over all the shit we went though. It pisses me off that everything that is wrong with him now was self inflicted from years of smoking and drinking and not taking care of him self. Poor decisions accumulate over the years creating a boulder rolling down hill that will eventually pick up enough steam to catch up with you.

That first part was a draft I started a few days ago.

Today I got a text from my sister -in-law saying that my dad was in the hospital. I know I’m a state away but I’m always the last to know. At least she was kind enough to loop me in. I know I’m going to get that call, or god forbid that text, or worse yet and facebook message about how my father has lost his struggle and is now at peace or some bull shit. How do you go home and say goodbye to a parent? How do you look the other in the eye after the fact? Everyone treats me like I’m still a little girl who cant take the bad news. I think it will be hardest for me because I still have a little care left in me and a whole lot of good old catholic school guilt. 12 years of 10 commandments and turning the other cheek, love your mother and father and forgive those who trespass against you, blah blah. It’s hardest to forgive those who screwed you up the most.

The moral of the story is that I’m mixing a relaxation drink with vodka to put myself to bed and this whole story is going no where fast. You can piss people off by living or by dying but if you kick it you don’t have to listen to them bitch anymore.

Sometimes life is best described by a musical.

“I’ve heard it said That people come into our lives for a reason Bringing something we must learn And we are led To those who help us most to grow If we let them And we help them in return Well, I don’t know if I believe that’s true But I know I’m who I am today Because I knew you…

– Wicked,  For Good

Everyone has that one friend that no matter how long you go with out seeing them you can instantly connect with them the minute you are together again. Someone who accepts all your faults and encourages all the good things in you. Someone who inspires you. Your partner in crime. I just got to spend a long weekend with mine.

When we got relocated to Michigan my biggest fear was that I would loose myself. I would move away from my job, the people who inspired me, and I would loose that spark inside of me that pushed myself to be better.

I was fortunate enough to find a job right out of school that embodied everything I was, creating things and solving problems. At that job there were a handful of people who were like me, with the same ideas and wants, and the desire to create. My relationship with my partner in crime formed there over 6 years. We would come into work almost every morning with new ideas to share. One idea would lead to another and then another until we were creating fantastic worlds full of costumes and props. It was never an attempt to one up each other but instead every time one of us thought of something the other would build on it, or maybe head off in a related yet unrelated direction.

When we moved I lost all the people who pushed me creatively. It’s like cutting off your hands and having your eyes poked out. I moved and found myself in a group of people who delivered dirty looks for my crazy dyed hair and tattoos and after feeling like I had a real family I found myself in a foster home where I really didn’t fit in. It can be really over whelming when you feel like you can’t be yourself.

Slowly I’ll find my way back. I started finding people who are more like me and more accepting of who I am. Roller Derby helps with that.

I cherish the time I get with my partner in crime. Even if it’s just fabric shopping, or watching a movie that we’ve both seen a hundred times while we drink and bitch. She’s like therapy for me. She helped make me who I am today. I hope she knows how inspirational she is to everyone she meets. Thanx girl, I better get to work on all those projects we talked about. First up- Steampunk purse! ❤ you!

The things we do part 2

Everyone has things in life that they regret doing, or maybe not even regret but question after they have done it. I spent a lot of time going back and forth about a decision to put portraits of 3 of my dogs on my arm. Now most rational people would say that’s a dumb idea, who puts portraits of their dogs on their arms? Dumb people like me I guess. You have to understand that my dogs are my kids, not just my kids but my laughter, my struggle, my sanity (most of all) and my love. I know people think I’m the crazy dog lady who would rather have a litter of puppies rather than a baby but I look at people with kids and wonder how they live with out a dog (or 2).
Recently, well almost a year ago that feels like yesterday still with the pain in my heart, our first dog, (my husband and I together), Marvin passed away. We had to put him to sleep and it was all my fault. The girl who loved her dogs more than life its self feed him a giant bone and left him unattended for 10 minutes. In those 10 minutes he ate the entire thing and shattered my heart. We spent 2 weeks on a rotation of vets and emergency vet stays with Pancreatitus and a heart condition and liver trouble, all from a stupid bone. We had to let him go on August 23, 2011. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made. He was in so much pain, and spent his last days locked up in a vet hospital cage instead of laying in the sunshine of the patio door like he loved to do. I have had countless nights since that I have cried myself to sleep because of his loss. I had a dog growing up, but Marvin was my baby, my responsibility, and my companion. I’d be lying if I said that it’s all better now, that I don’t cry every once in a while about him, more than I should, most people would say for a dog. We adopted a dog while Marvin was still alive, an Australian cattle dog named Foster and she went though the same grieving process. I opened my heart to another Cattle dog named Astro just 6 months after Marvin passed away, not to replace him by any means, but I still had a lot of love in my heart and If I could save one more dog from a cold cage than I would.
Now you know the back story… and my insanity. I wanted to pay tribute to the creatures who keep me sane, drive me crazy sometimes, teach unconditional love and forgiveness, are always there when I need a friendly face and have given me a reason to get up everyday. 3 Portraits of my dogs went up on my arm this past Sunday, 1/4 sleeve, shoulder to elbow. It was bigger than I intended for clarity and detail. Once I make a decision I run with it. I forget about what other people will think or maybe I don’t care, or maybe I just think I don’t care. After some comments like “oh wow”, not “OH WOW that’s awesome!”, more like “oh wow you are a moron”. Tone- It’s an important thing. And “are those your dogs?” No moron cashier, I just picked some random floating dog heads to drop a bunch of cash on. But my favorite so far is the “oh let me see it!” and the awkward silence and nodding that follows. They are good tattoos, they are good portraits and it’s not done yet.
Tattoos use to be taboo, only sailors and inmates had them. I know more people who have at least one tattoo then people who have none. Yes I’ll still have a job, and yes I can still get another job. If an employer doesn’t like it then maybe that’s not the place that’s right for me, and if I really have to they make these things called long sleeve shirts. At the end of the day I get to take my babies with me everywhere. Marvin is always with me and now I can look down and see his face. I guess I don’t care if you like, just ignore it if you don’t agree with it. When it’s filled in it will be a piece of living art and a tribute to the things that mean the most to me.
Everyone has stuff they do that is questionable or regrettable but I don’t regret any of my tattoos, they each tell a story of a time in my life and come with a memory.

The things we do

First things first, I’m starting this blog for me, not for you. So if you read it, sweet, if not, oh well. Sometimes you just need a place to put your feelings and thoughts so you know where to find them.  You might find some stuff here that you don’t like, don’t take it personally. I swear, I bitch, my sarcasm is over whelming  and I come up with things that could be taken as offensive. Sometimes I don’t make sense, sometimes I make too much sense. Welcome to my journey.