Time to be Grown Up

Sometimes it seems, being an adult doesn't mean running away from your problems by moving into a hovel studio apartment. Sometimes it means continuing to live in your childhood home with your dad and paying for groceries occasionally, making dinner, cleaning, and being there for the man that has never left you.

My dad is awesome. He taught me to love history, appreciate sci-fi and embrace being a nerd. He's funny in some strange old-man way, ridiculously smart and loves me and my brother with his whole heart even though sometimes, as children, we suck.

As an independent Julia, however, I have been up to quite a bit. I got a rose tattoo (Behold! A photo!) by the fantastic Anji Marth, visiting Phoenix from High Priestess Piercing and Tattoo of Eugene, OR. I followed that up with another tattoo of another flower, a sort of violet called a Johnny Jump Up, on the inside of my right ankle. My family used to plant them every year and my little brother, John, would get so excited to have flowers with his name. He was so little and sweet and he loved me and liked me just because I was his big sister.

In piercing news, I got my traguses (tragi?) repierced and I hate them. But they're so swollen and goo-ey and gross that I was warned not to take them out yet or I could get an abscess. I took out my hood jewelry because my tricky hooha made it hurt like fuck every time I moved. I took out an anchor I had behind my ear. I'm repiercing my nostril (maybe both) in the next couple weeks, as soon as I can get jewelry out of a tragus (or two). Ooo! And, after like 1o minutes of palpitations I got my conches punched at a 12 gauge. It's like a tiny cookie cutter that goes through tissue removing said tissue, instead of a regular puncture. It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it'd be. And the jewelry options are almost limitless!!!

I literally don't think I have anything else to write.

this is all for now

My parents are getting a divorce.
Shit sucks.

Wordless

Things right now are hard. Not everything, I have 2 clients, might get a third. I just started a beautiful tattoo with Katelyn of Black Lantern Tattoo. I'm looking at apartments and thinking very seriously about moving. But right now, things are mostly hard and sad.

I don't know what to do.
I don't even hhave words.

Help me find my words?

Robo Cookie / Anger

Today I woke up pissed. I had a dream about Jarre in which he chose to move in with a bunch of dirtbags and get high all the time instead of dealing with his shit.

To be frank I've been mad at him for a few days now. Actually just mad at everyone and everything with anything to do with him, except his beautiful and wonderful family. It's really draining to be that angry for that long.

Finally, I thought about it. The three types of love that I try to live my life by (Ahava, Raya, and Dod), that I had so much of for him, he didn't reciprocate. He loved how I look, he loved holding me and squeezing me and loving me in a touching manner. But he wasn't my best friend. He was mean to me and kept horrible, debilitating secrets. He refused to talk to me. There goes the Raya. When things got hard, he left me. Every. Single. Time. And would blame me to make it easier for him to ignore his shortcomings. Total lack of Ahave.

He never loved me the way I loved him. It sucks. I wasted like 4 years of my life.

Needless to say, I found it time to move on with my life. And what better time? I'm getting tattooed on Monday and I have the summer to ponder over life and find myself...again.

I started this transition with a piercing I have both wanted and feared for a great length of time: a vertical hood. I was scared that it would hurt, that it'd be unattractive to my future partners, that I'd be super uncomfortable with people I know semi casually looking that closely at my hooha. But I am a brave little person and decided to just do it.

To make things a tad more terrifying, the aforementioned piercer, Marilyn, the self-dubbed Queen of Cootchie, tells me that I have a tricky hood.

After much giggling, marking, pondering, and deep breathing, I grabbed/squeezed a lovely counter kid's (Anthony) hands in prep for the needle. Marilyn did a fantastic job but that shit hurt. I screamed an obscenity and almost cried and then, I was fine. I don't know what I did to poor little Anthony's hands.

The point is, I have reclaimed myself and my hooha and become a little shinier in the process.

Go forth, be shiny, and above all else, be your true, fantastic self.

In desparate need of...

1) Not living with my wackadoo family. They don't get along with each other and it causes me unnecessary stress.

2) More money to support not living with my wackadoo family.

3) Ink in my skiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin.

4) More friends. Though I adore the ones I have con todo mi corazon ("with all my heart" for those of you with less Spanish-speaking awesomeness), I have lost some friends lately and I need to replenish my supplies. I have also decided that one can never have too many friends.

5) CURRENT PICTURES! My ears are bigger and my entire person is shinier and more colorful than in any existing photos of myself at the moment. A few pictures have been taken of my body parts though for the updated HTC portfolio and I have requested copies of those though my ears have changed since.

6) Another meeting with that very attractive boy from a co worker's party. I flirted with him and I think he flirted back and he is nice to look at.

7) Dinero for the fancy coffee beverages I have come to love.

8) Being skinnier. Less fat cells. And bigger boobs.

9) Not being hung up on Jarre. This is ridiculous.

10) Sleep. Goodnight friends.