to bang or not to bang

Yes, another hair post. Yesterday, in an attempt to correct the color in my dull and ashy hair I colored it an allover rich dark brown that is exact to my natural color. Loving the color. The cut and texture? Not so much. About a week ago I had a haircut that was supposed to put some movement in my hair and alleviate the heaviness by taking some of the weight out. Well, $75 bucks later, I have a bunch of uneven layers that look like split ends and not soft, freshly cut panels in my hair. Needless to say, I immediately made an appointment with Peter to fix everything and work his magic. One word to the wise, spend the extra money and go to the person who has cut your hair before so magically that you don't mind spending $200 a couple of times a year to get it done right.

Knowing that Peter can do anything, my next dilemma is the face framing issue that now plagues me. I'm already about four or five weeks into growing out my bangs and I'm beginning to wonder, "Am I am bangs girl?" I've bangs just about my whole life and to be honest, I really feel better with them. I've had the rockabilly short baby bangs, the rounded Bettie Page bangs and the pointy devil bangs. I've also been through the long hippie bangs, the modern choppy bangs and the rocker in your eye bangs. I love them all. So now, do I continue growing out? Or cut again and go for a hot rock look? Since I have learned lessons (see above paragraph) I am going to wait patiently and talk to Peter about it in a month. Also, scrolling through websites and magazines will help me find what I'm looking for.

I need to decide by Las Vegas time in November. Perhaps a bleached skunky stripe or two will persuade me and get the hairs up on their feet.

in love again

It's no big deal, just a crush I've been carrying since I was about 19 years old... So that's about the last 12 years of my life. Ultimately, I must immortalize this beloved on my skin, right? Right. I need a Greta Garbo tattoo. A big one. One so big that it takes up my entire back or stomach complete with snowflakes, a Swedish flag and lots and lots of twirly ribbons.

I know the first time I saw Miss G was in "Grand Hotel" at the Laemmle Theaters on Sunset. I woke up super early to hit up their Garbo festival and of course, at 10 a.m. on a Saturday morning, there weren't many people there. So I had her almost, just about, all to myself. I think this is what Bob Seger was talking about when he sang "born with a face that would let her get away..."

Then when I saw her in "Conquest" at the Tuesday matinee at LACMA, that was even more surreal. When she appeared on the square screen, the audience made up of geriatrics and one-foot-in-the-gravers gasped. I mean, they literally gasped. Breaths were held and eyes didn't blink. I heard it and saw it. I seriously doubt any actress will EVER be able to ellicit that kind of response from an audience ever again. I just won't happen.

I do love her so. It pains me so that such worthless pieces of digital crap like "50 First Dates" and Olsen Twin shit stories are available on dvd but priceless celluloid movies like hers aren't. There are some missing titles from her catalog of films that aren't available at all for sale. And yes, I am waiting anxiously for those jerks at MGM to realize what they have in their vaults and release it. Or is it Ted Turner that sits upon that throne of black and white paradise?

just want to get there

I always say, "If I knew it was going to be this hard, I would have started sooner." Or picked a different career path... Every day is a bit hard for me when I'm in school. I seriously had no idea how competitive and intense it would be trying to get into a nursing program. Since I'm not entirely too sure about what I would be doing at this particular junction in my life, I guess I can't complain and nursing is as good a job as any.

I try my hardest not listen to anyone and just keep moving forward. Lately it seems like I'm having a tough time saying that this is what I was put on this earth to do because each day is such a fucking challenge. Most days I question myself as to whether or not I want to continue down this road and whether or not I have enough gas left in the tank that is my life to keep it in gear. I don't believe I'm different than everyone else but I can't help but think even if for a split second, "Is everyone else having as much trouble or experience as much self-doubt as I do?" If so, how the hell do they keep going on?...

Well, I'm hoping that there is some light at the end of the tunnel. I hope somewhere there is a nursing program especially for me. Where I won't need just one more class, or have to put my life on hold for ten years while all I really want to do is just keep living. Its like that dream that I always have where I'm running and trying to get to my destination but I just can't. All I want to do is stop running and only wake up.

my list

Inspired by Dorothy Zbornack's "Life List" I'm gonna make a list of at least 10 things I want to do before I get super old. Major stuff, stupid stuff, anything that makes me feel real. In no particular order.

1. Master the German language.
2. Have both of my arms sleeved.
3. Learn how to drive the hot rod really awesomely.
4. Be the best horseman (or woman) I can possibly be.
5. Own a German shepherd.
6. Visit Iceland.
7. Blog every day for a full year even if its about nothing.
8. Self publish a book of my photographs
9. Keep my nails manicured & free of bad cuticles & chipped polish.
10. I need to give up eating meat again.

These are really things I want to be better at or get to do. I feel like every day that goes by, I'm not living to my fullest potential but I'm not sure how to get super motivated. Talking to myself sometimes is enough, I need someone or something to keep me honest and keep me going. Maybe Jesus?

trapped

I really hate to use the above term in reference to how an animal might feel, but its sort of that "rat in a cage" feeling. Its not a good one which is probably why I despise making the connection between this physical and mental state of being, with something so precious as even a rodent.

I guess the feeling comes from my current situation of not having a job and relying on someone else for money. I've always worked and always had my own incoming flow of cash, no matter how small it might be, so it has been a difficult period of adjustment. With the disappearance of financial self-support, also goes any kind of freedom, hence the feeling of entrapment.

Not only can I not buy everything that I am used to, my traveling legs have been cut off. Buying something such as a $500 airline ticket that can carry me away half way around this earth is not even an option. In live money terms, that's a pretty good deal. You can't drive to the other end of this country and back for 500 bones let alone get on a plane and go to Europe. I should be jumping for joy and grabbing my debit card to purchase such a memory waiting to happen. Alas, no job, school only and no life. Even during the breaks I have during school...

the drink

There aren't very many people who have heard me go on an on about my desire to really and truly stop drinking. I usually only share those stories for not even a handful of my closest friends. Like all things that are bad for you, it is hard to stop. Even in the face of all the horrible things that it brings. The hangovers, the lost days, the wasted money and worst of all, whatever legal shit happens to come your way after a night of too much booze.

Granted, I have had many fun and awesome times boozing, but lately I've been really detached from anything that involves alcohol. Honestly, unless I can get totally and unequivocally drunk, drinking makes absolutely no sense to me. A glass of wine with dinner? Why would I want just one, that's lame. One beer? What's the point? The bottom line is, I don't believe people drink alcohol because they like the way it tastes, we like the way it makes us feel. Being the honest extremist that I am, having just a single drink defies all logic and goes against any rational thought. That's the God's honest truth to me. Then again, I'm pretty sure I have an addictive personality and I come from a long line of addicts.

I've noticed that as I've gotten older, my tolerance has increased but so have the ramifications of a wild night out or lonely night in. Alcohol has the total opposite effect on me than it should as it's place belongs in the "downer" category of drugs. Most human beings go home and pass out. I go home and shake and quiver all through the night. I don't sleep, my mind takes over and fear finds me in my weakest of states. I pray to God that I promise to never drink again if he helps me through the night and I take an oath moving my lips saying "this is the last time." I've had too many "last times."

So where do I go from here? Giving up alcohol is saying goodbye to my most awesomest of friends. In fact, I'm thinking "where can I buy a jug of Club Pina Colada?" right at this very moment as I type these words. That doesn't mean I'm going to go do it, it just means that when I do, I probably will go through it very quickly. Not to mention, giving up drinking isolates me from the most popular of social activities and it will mean that I am going to have to learn how to socialize all over again. In ways that are more beneficial and productive rather than dousing away what is actually a really good life.

How do I tell my friends that drinking for me is different than drinking for them? This is my life. When I go back home, its just me and I have to deal with it. No one is stroking my head, holding my hand or tucking me in to get me through the night.

new tattoo day

Just a few more hours before I'll be sitting in the chair again and getting a new piece. Its funny but I always seem to get tattooed when my bank account is at its lowest. Bad timing or just a way to pick up my spirits when I realize I'm flat broke? I don't know so I'll let you be the judge.

I had a hard time thinking about what I wanted and it wasn't for lack of ideas. I actually have tons of concepts floating around my head, its the indecisiveness which kills me. I just can't fucking decide. I had originally thought of getting a ghoulie pin up girl but went against that because in my heart of hearts, I really don't feel like I want to wear the badge of a horror geek on my arm for the rest of my life. So further into the nether regions of my soul and past I went, and came to the conclusion that I need a metal chick.

You see, I'm pretty much a rocker from way back. I went through my hippie phase, my rockabilly gig and now I've come full circle back to what I've always loved and that's the rock and roll. Blame my Uncle Carlos I guess. It will be interesting to see what Sid comes up with using heavy metal album covers and hot chicks from the 80s as his inspiration. I trust him completely.

Getting tattooed always brings up conflicting feelings for me, as well. I've never had anyone in my family other than my uncle who has been supportive of me getting tattooed. Its still a very taboo thing and I'm pretty sure my mom thinks that I'm never going to be able to find a man for the rest of my life or that I'm going to get brain damage as the result of being tattooed. So I guess I will perpetually suffer and feel like I'm doing something wrong as long as I follow this road. Its that old feeling of "When I get home I'm going to be in a world of shit." Its not a fun way to live especially since I'm 30. The bottom line is, I'm kind of an authority girl. I do respect authority and I have a reverence for following the rules. That has to be my inner German clawing to get out. I think people would be surprised to find out that I'm a pretty conservative person. I don't like going against my elders and disappointing people in my family but at the same time, I'm not going to compromise in my life. Believe me, its just a narrow victory for my independence and I feel like I should be ashamed. But I just can't goddammit. I'm gettin' tattooed.

blown away

Again. It seems like most of posts usually have something to do with whatever it is that I am listening to or watching at the moment. That's cool, I have no problem with that. I think it has been established that I am a highly visual and auditory human being. Which is why I was so entirely captivated by "Anita O'Day, Life of a Jazz Singer."

When I realized that Anita had died about two years ago back in 2006, I felt horribly. I felt like I had lost a friend and once again, that I had taken someone for granted. As usual, I felt that she would always be there and I could write her once more or perhaps come across an appearance in this wasteland of oddities that is Los Angeles. Perhaps she would have enough spunk left in that old gas tank of hers to sign her last cd or even that someone would prop her up on stage and have her snap her fingers to her old tunes like "Sweet Georgia Brown." Alas, that never happened and to make things worse, I was so wrapped up in absolutely nothing that I never even bothered to look. That's what hurts me the most.... The inaction.

At any rate, when I saw that this documentary was available on Netflix, a simple click shot it right to the top of my cue and it went right into my dvd player the day it came. Anita was awesome. She was a rock n' roller boucing around the swing and jazz worlds and sometimes those worlds bounced her pretty hard. Fifteen of those years she was addicted to heroin and I loved her more for it. Anita never let that bother her. She just kept going, after all, what else was there to do? She honestly was one of those that made me want to sing. She made me feel like I could sing because hers wasn't a voice, it was a instrument. Like a horn, or a drum, or even keys on a piano.

This film made me remember her and lately now I can't wait to listen to her music. I wish she was back. I wish I could catch that one last show, hear that one last perfectly timed chorus where she jumps in exactly where she knows she needs to be. That kind of stuff that takes decades to learn and watch how she could just do it anytime. Even when she living those high times, hard times, broke times, lonesome times, she just did it.

One thing that I will take away from those interviews and clips and remembrances, is that she made no apologies and blamed no one. "Those were the times" she says. A life lived full and lots of things to talk about and stories to tell. I wanted to hear them all. Even the heartbreaking ones that never caused even a tear or a quivering lip. That was Anita.

the difference between jam and jelly...

You're gonna have to watch "Halloween 2" to get the answer to that one. I was so pumped to finally see Rob Zombie's newest flick and without any doubt, it was the bloodiest movie he's made yet. Darker, as well. Its awesome to see because its so obvious that he has really refined his point of view. I mean, he's always had one, its just that with each movie it becomes a little more apparent and he's becoming better at how he wants to present things and what the viewers finally see. As a wannabe photographer, I love watching other people with a strong visual sense make progess and see how they communicate the visions that are in their head and bring them to life.

Even cooler was that Lori Strode's character evolved from the first Halloween to what she is in this one. Come on, if you were almost killed by some 7 foot tall fucker wearing a scary-ass mask, you'd be fucked up too. And she is. Everything from her skinny and almost junkie-like appearance to the shit hole bathroom and bedroom she calls hers. Sleeping with a Charlie Manson poster that is 7' x 5' above your bed is not normal! And I know this because for three years I had a big ass Sid and Nancy portrait above my bed and I was totally batshit. At any rate, that bitch can scream and cuss like a midwestern trucker. I love Scout Taylor-Compton and can't wait to see what else she does. Hopefully she'll pick some more hardcore shit and stay away from romantic comedies, trendy "Mean Girls" type movies or anything that doesn't involve four letter words and dead things.

doin' work

Yes, I'm a bad blogger and I really don't give a fuck. I have't blogged because I've been out livin' my life, not hanging around and writing about it on the computer.



The newest addition to my arm is a wonderful edelweiss flower that Sid really executed just perfectly. Since the edelweiss flowers I had put on my leg a few years ago haven't aged well, I thought I would just do it up right. Sid really knows color; he took a simple white flower and made it look 3 dimensional with the blues, grays and white. You don't go to Sid and ask him for a black grey tattoo. That's like riding with Richard Petty and asking him to keep it under 30. Its a waste!







So in less that 10 days I go back for more.



School has also started. The sweet Lord smiled upon me yesterday when I was allowed to add my Physiology class and it was full to capacity. Now all I need is an A and I know the Lord can help me with that too.