I am horrible.
At least in a sense of blogger nominations and following back in a timely manner.
Bad, bad, bad.
In the midst of promising myself to get better at stuff like this, my lovely friend and fellow Horror nerd Kalyn over at Killer Kalyn tagged me in this a while ago and I finally strapped myself down to dish out some facts. Some of these if you’ve been keeping up is probably a given and initially I wanted this for my 100th post but 102 is about the same, right?
So without further procrastination I present…Twenty-five Facts of Random.
1. I’m a Gemini, almost textbook.
2. My favorite film of all time is The Lost Boys.
While most seem satisfied with that vote, honestly Adam Levine does nothing for me. I can’t even begin to expalin why he doesn’t but just…NO.Call me crazy, I already know and am okay with the fact that I am.
Since Adam doesn’t make my cut, I decided to dish out the Top 10 hunks that do. Allow me to present the 10 sexiest men alive. You’re welcome.
Join in on the madness on Instagram.
With less than a week away from my birthday and upon after being asked a few times, I’ve been putting some thought into what I want as a present.
REACHING 100 FOLLOWERS
It’s silly, but I love celebrating little milestones–that’s what life is mostly about, right? When I started this blog, it was more of just a mental release for myself and done out of boredom because I stayed in on Halloween night. But then it actually started to become a real tool for me, and eventually a way to connect with majority other 20somethings to laugh and relate on this
crazy fuck train world called life.
As my number of awesome followers
, spambots, and trolls started to grow recently, I set a little goal for myself to get at least 100 followers by the time of my birthday. It might happen, it might not.
And yesterday, that “ridiculous” wish, happened.
Awww yeah! Coming from a place where 12 followers made me stand up and twerk, I’ll definitely take this as well. Thank you thank you to everyone who has been following, reading, laughing, spamming, and staying entertained with my crazy ass.
So on to the more ridiculous.
Tattoos. They say once you get one, it’s hard to stop.
Whomever the hell “they” are, were right.
I got my first taste for addiction when I was 21; I was helping coordinate a tattoo convention being held at a hotel I worked at during the time and got an offer for a huge discount on one of my choice after scoring a good hotel price for the lead artist in charge. I’d always wanted one and it had been a year after losing my grandmother, so I knew my first should be dedicated to her.
My grandmother collected crosses most of her life and during my younger years had bought me seven of them.
I lost them all. Jewelry and I will never have a lifetime of memories together.
So for my first tattoo, I decided to get a cross on my wrist–which hopefully I will never, ever lose. It’s small and dainty and sometimes I like to stare at it to remind myself of my grandmother, what she stood for and the memories of her. She didn’t have tattoos of her own but I know she would have loved it. She was cool like that.
My pops, on the other hand, upon discovering my tattoo virginity was taken, reacted like this:
He was a little more calm the time he discovered my second tattoo, which by then I was 23 and out of my first serious relationship that I had ended. This time around I chose a flying dove on my ankle, for some symbolic reasons but if anything to remind myself to not ever put myself in a relationship with the likes of someone who was controlling and verbally abusive.
Being young and naive, you make excuses for people or shield a blind eye to certain things and situations because you don’t want to face the truth. However at a certain point, you have to face the music–and the smartest thing to do is to dance on out before it’s too late.
Happy Mothers Day to all of my moms out there!
My mind is constantly on RUN and I wanted to just sit down and really take a moment to pause and think about all of the women, moreso the mothers in my life that have influenced me.
And honestly, I almost didn’t do this post because just thinking about it got me extremely emotional.
But what I’m learning more and more as I go through this insane journey that is life is that you embrace where you come from, and you let it make you better–not bitter. It’s still a task that must be accomplished for me. And also what I find out in the end is that what you think you’re going through, went through and/or dealing with–someone else out there has been through the same or worse. Remember, it could always be worse. The movie Precious really brought that theory to life–the whole time while watching I just kept thinking, “Damn, I thought my mother was bad”.
Since your writing should be your truth and your truth should be your writing, I’ll go on record and say I don’t have a good relationship with my biological mother. In fact, it’s non-existent.
I am a believer in “never saying never”, so I won’t say that this current situation will stay the same. But for right now it’s for the best–mentally moreso than anything else.
I spent only a small part of my childhood with my mother–some parts I remember like it was yesterday, other parts I do not. I was seven and already at my third school by the time I moved in permanently with my grandparents, my mom’s parents, and started off another chapter in my life under their care and the care of my father. My dad owned his own business so his time was pretty limited although he always made an effort to spend time with me or give me a phone call.
At that age I wasn’t able to fully understand why I was moved or why my mother wasn’t around much. Eventually the truth became obvious as I got older and we grew further apart due to lack of emotional connection, her mental state and our desires to live on different tracks as far as life is concerned.