Sometimes in my travels I have been able to use my shocking appearance for good. Often when you come off as a total psycho to someone they don't think twice about testing you. A long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... okay, it was actually The Mall of America in Bloomington, Minnesota. Anyway, I was standing outside smoking a cigarette when I noticed a rather unpleasant domestic situation unfolding in front of me, a mother screaming at her son. Her son was quite young (guessing about 5 or 6 years old) and I don't know what this woman's problem was but she pulled the shit no mother should ever do, she slapped her kid across the face. Her son began to cry, she then yelled at him and said if he didn't stop crying she was going to smack him so hard that his teeth would come out.
It took a lot of restraint for me to avoid walking straight up to this woman and beat the absolute mother fucking shit out of her and take her kid straight to protective services. Instead I just stared a cold hard stare at this woman. Eventually she threw her hands up in a cluster of curse words and her eyes caught mine. She stared back at me motionless with a look of shock and perhaps fear as I stared back at her in a security guard stance with a look that could kill. She finally broke the silence and shouted "AND WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM??!?" That's when I broke into dramatics.
She stood about 15 feet away from me, I walked towards her quite slowly and kept eye contact the entire time with hateful eyes. I felt the numbness in my hands and feet that I often feel before a confrontation, along with the sensation of not knowing whether I wanted to throw up or scream. By this time I could see this woman's eyes a lot better, they were full of fear. I knew the majority of the feelings I wanted her to feel were now accomplished, but I decided to stop right in front of her and stare directly into her face... I then decided to take it to a whole new level.
I took a drag off my cigarette and cast my eyes down towards her son, who now had snot coming out of his nose as he cried. Her son was completely unaware of my presence. Once I saw this, I exhaled the smoke and reconnected with her stare. Her eyes scanned across my face, inspecting every piercing and then stared into my eyes with a look that said "please don't hurt me." I couldn't help it, I was fucking pissed. Suddenly a blatant lie dispelled from my lips. As I looked at her I said "You know lady. My parents used to smack me around too." Her eyes grew bigger as she gasped with what sounded like pure fear. I decided that I had better wrap this up before any other craziness came out of it. Before I left her, I took another slow dramatic drag from my cigarette and said "All I can say about that... paybacks a bitch. I then turned my back to her and flicked my cigarette into the street and walked back into the mall.
I really hope that this impacted this woman in some way, in fact I hope I traumatized her for fucking life. All I know is that is is never okay to hit a child, especially in front of me. Regular discipline, even spanking is one thing, but a full hand slap across the face in public... forget about it, I will put the fear of god into you. Just to be clear, my parent's never smacked me around as a kid, but they did find this story absolutely hilarious.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The Core of Me
Hello everyone. Okay, so it has seriously been about a year since my last post. I am officially reformatting what my blogspot is all about. Since I am mainly working with general public again it has come to my attention that there is no shortage of idiots out there, and their opinions of my appearance. Normally this sort of thing does not bother me, but for the last year it has slowly been eating away at me. I seriously get some of the craziest shit said to me on a daily basis, and fans of my old entries are apparently getting sad about my 'lack of rants', so here we go.
Time and time again I think "This kind of shit never happens to me at the tattoo shop!!" and just like that, inspiration struck. I am by no means raising myself as some kind of martyr, nor do I intend to make people feel sorry for the crap I go through everyday. Keep in mind, it was a conscious decision of mine to have a rather extensive collection of body piercings and tattoos. I was quite aware they would put me in situations that were not always pleasant and that I was going to be judged by my appearance. People often think I am rebelling against my parents or severely neglected as a child, rebelling against authority, someone who was abused that can't 'deal with it' or trying too hard to scare people. Therefore, I feel the need to explain myself to the readers a little bit better and give you a chance to get to know me a little.
The cold hard truth and the reason why I have so many piercings and tattoos is because...... I honestly love body art. I have always had an obsession with art in general, so it made perfect sense to want to have it on my body. I have honestly sat and thought about it a lot, and that is the only answer I have ever been able to come up with. However, when I deal with someone I honestly don't care to explain myself to, the simple answer I give is "I have ADHD".
*DISCLAIMER: I must confess that if I'm dealing with someone that I REALLY don't want to talk to, REALLY bored, getting fucked with or getting hit on by a douchbag. I will make up elaborate stories (and for the most part they're hilarious). I think it was 3 months ago I convinced a naive teenager that I was a member of the Maori tribe of New Zealand. I told him I ran away to America as a pre-teen and therefore never received my Moko (for those of you that understand Maori culture or know what a Moko is, good for you and I hope I made you laugh).
Since I was about 8 or 9 years old I have been obsessed with tattoos. I remember finding some Tattoo magazines that my brother had brought home as a kid. It was there that I saw a person with these huge angel wings tattooed on their back, I remember thinking "That's what I want when I grow up!!" 17 years later, after careful thought, I finally got my wings. In the beginning I had no real plans for my body art, I began getting multiple piercings in my ear and pierced my nose myself. Mom and Dad were pretty cool about it, I'm sure they thought it was just a phase (I was often coloring my hair strange colors, which I grew out of for the most part). Mom eventually put her foot down and said "No More until you are out of this house!" and I wasn't too upset about it. I kept seeing my friends piercing and tattooing each other in basements with safety pins and stolen bottles of India ink from the art room. All I could think about was the beautiful tattoos and piercings that I saw in magazines and thought "I'm gonna wait and get something that is thought out and done professionally" (Yes, I also was this stubborn about having sex).
My first professional experience was when I was 18, I got my Eyebrow pierced. Over the next few years I got more piercings. I can still recall every piercing in order, what shop I was at and who did them. Originally for my 18th birthday my brother and I were going to get matching sibling tattoos, it was one of those things that never manifested. I wanted it to be my first tattoo since it would be his first tattoo as well, but after a year I could not wait anymore. I went to a local tattoo shop and got a very small tribal pattern that I drew up in high school. $60 and 20 minutes later, I had my first tattoo.
Everyone goes through a change after their first tattoo. I have made several mental notes about that over the years of working in shops. Whether it's pride, closure, dedication, love, feeling tougher, belonging or feeling more confident. It is always a very personal and sometimes spiritual experience. For me personally, I felt happier and somehow closer to myself. I like the way I look, I like how I feel when I see myself everyday. We live in a world where so many people hide who they are, a lot of people wear masks. I can honestly say with confidence that I feel I am not one of those people, how many people can say that about themselves? Without any doubt in my mind I feel truly blessed. I'm fortunate to have the coolest parents alive, a brother who is more like a best friend and a sister-in-law who is more like a biological sister. I'm happy to have had the opportunity to travel all over this crazy land making lifelong friends along the way. I am absolutely in love with this life I have, and I will never let the words of a few shallow minded people make me feel otherwise.
With that said, I hope you enjoy my new format and the new stories that come of it. I hope for it to give insight to just how ignorant and mean people can be to a total stranger, and possibly give readers a chance to look at themselves as well. In life we are always told that you cannot judge a book by it's cover, I just wish more people read the damn book!
Time and time again I think "This kind of shit never happens to me at the tattoo shop!!" and just like that, inspiration struck. I am by no means raising myself as some kind of martyr, nor do I intend to make people feel sorry for the crap I go through everyday. Keep in mind, it was a conscious decision of mine to have a rather extensive collection of body piercings and tattoos. I was quite aware they would put me in situations that were not always pleasant and that I was going to be judged by my appearance. People often think I am rebelling against my parents or severely neglected as a child, rebelling against authority, someone who was abused that can't 'deal with it' or trying too hard to scare people. Therefore, I feel the need to explain myself to the readers a little bit better and give you a chance to get to know me a little.
The cold hard truth and the reason why I have so many piercings and tattoos is because...... I honestly love body art. I have always had an obsession with art in general, so it made perfect sense to want to have it on my body. I have honestly sat and thought about it a lot, and that is the only answer I have ever been able to come up with. However, when I deal with someone I honestly don't care to explain myself to, the simple answer I give is "I have ADHD".
*DISCLAIMER: I must confess that if I'm dealing with someone that I REALLY don't want to talk to, REALLY bored, getting fucked with or getting hit on by a douchbag. I will make up elaborate stories (and for the most part they're hilarious). I think it was 3 months ago I convinced a naive teenager that I was a member of the Maori tribe of New Zealand. I told him I ran away to America as a pre-teen and therefore never received my Moko (for those of you that understand Maori culture or know what a Moko is, good for you and I hope I made you laugh).
Since I was about 8 or 9 years old I have been obsessed with tattoos. I remember finding some Tattoo magazines that my brother had brought home as a kid. It was there that I saw a person with these huge angel wings tattooed on their back, I remember thinking "That's what I want when I grow up!!" 17 years later, after careful thought, I finally got my wings. In the beginning I had no real plans for my body art, I began getting multiple piercings in my ear and pierced my nose myself. Mom and Dad were pretty cool about it, I'm sure they thought it was just a phase (I was often coloring my hair strange colors, which I grew out of for the most part). Mom eventually put her foot down and said "No More until you are out of this house!" and I wasn't too upset about it. I kept seeing my friends piercing and tattooing each other in basements with safety pins and stolen bottles of India ink from the art room. All I could think about was the beautiful tattoos and piercings that I saw in magazines and thought "I'm gonna wait and get something that is thought out and done professionally" (Yes, I also was this stubborn about having sex).
My first professional experience was when I was 18, I got my Eyebrow pierced. Over the next few years I got more piercings. I can still recall every piercing in order, what shop I was at and who did them. Originally for my 18th birthday my brother and I were going to get matching sibling tattoos, it was one of those things that never manifested. I wanted it to be my first tattoo since it would be his first tattoo as well, but after a year I could not wait anymore. I went to a local tattoo shop and got a very small tribal pattern that I drew up in high school. $60 and 20 minutes later, I had my first tattoo.
Everyone goes through a change after their first tattoo. I have made several mental notes about that over the years of working in shops. Whether it's pride, closure, dedication, love, feeling tougher, belonging or feeling more confident. It is always a very personal and sometimes spiritual experience. For me personally, I felt happier and somehow closer to myself. I like the way I look, I like how I feel when I see myself everyday. We live in a world where so many people hide who they are, a lot of people wear masks. I can honestly say with confidence that I feel I am not one of those people, how many people can say that about themselves? Without any doubt in my mind I feel truly blessed. I'm fortunate to have the coolest parents alive, a brother who is more like a best friend and a sister-in-law who is more like a biological sister. I'm happy to have had the opportunity to travel all over this crazy land making lifelong friends along the way. I am absolutely in love with this life I have, and I will never let the words of a few shallow minded people make me feel otherwise.
With that said, I hope you enjoy my new format and the new stories that come of it. I hope for it to give insight to just how ignorant and mean people can be to a total stranger, and possibly give readers a chance to look at themselves as well. In life we are always told that you cannot judge a book by it's cover, I just wish more people read the damn book!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
