When Fun Becomes Sad

So, I've been watching a lot of LA Ink lately.  Mostly because I put it on out of boredom but it has slowly become something I thoroughly enjoy watching.   I used to not be a huge fan of Kat Von D.  When she first appeared on Miami Ink ages ago, I somewhat liked her humbleness and talent and rough exterior but once she left and came back to Hollywood, I lost a lot of respect for her.  Why?  I have no good reason at all.  I guess mostly because she quickly befriended Jeffree Star and I hate everything that involves him.  I mean seriously, fuck that dude.  Anyway, over the course of watching her show, I now have nothing but respect for her – despite her choices in men, friends, or what have you.  She has the best understanding of what a tattoo can mean to someone and how important a tattoo artist truly can be to someone who needs someone to mark their body with milestones.  Not everyone gets that – especially people who don’t like tattoos or don’t want them.  But seeing her love for tattoos and those close to her has melted my heart.

It seems as if I can’t get through an entire episode without tearing up about something.  It never has to do with Kat or her life but it always has to do with someone getting a memorial tattoo of someone important that they have lost, whether it be recently or years and years later.  I don’t care whether it’s a cat, dog, bird, Mom, Dad, baby, Brother, Sister, friend, wife, boyfriend, husband, girlfriend – it doesn't matter, it makes me cry. 

There has always been something about the fragility of life that has haunted me and comforted me at the same time.  It’s so precarious.  The fact that at any time, anyone can be taken from you or you can be taken from them is just so devastatingly unfair, yet beautiful.  It’s this delicate dance between never taking anything for granted yet, being human - often finding yourself taking things for granted unknowingly.  It’s impossible to go about your daily life while constantly reminding yourself that one day, one minute, one second, it could all be over.  To think that way would be paralyzing.  At least speaking for myself – which is what I always only ever do. 

Getting off track.  The reason I’m writing this is because of something someone said on LA Ink last night.  It was this man, who I guess owns Cord magazine who came in to get an addition to an already existing tattoo he had done by Kat many years earlier.  Originally, he had just gotten a portrait of his mother on his forearm and now he wanted to add a wolf next to her – I guess she liked wolves, I don’t know.  That part doesn't matter.  What mattered to me is that he started talking about when his Mom had died, before he came in for the portrait years ago.  All he said was, “when my Mother died, there was no one to call”.  It was the most simple of sentences but it meant so much to me.  I related to him instantly and heavily. 

Now, I still have some family left and many amazing friends by my side but absolutely nothing that compares to my Mom.  No relationship will ever be able to replace it, in any form or version.  I have no grandparents left, a Father that I don’t care to associate with often, a Sister who has her own wonderful family and two Aunts that are supportive but distant.   Whenever something is wrong, I call my Mom.  Whenever I’m having a bad day, I call my Mom.  Whenever I need advice, I call my Mom.  Whenever I need help, I call my Mom.  Whenever I feel like I don’t want to take one more breath of air, I call my Mom.  If I had an amazing day, I call my Mom.  If something hilarious happened during my day, I call my Mom.  I call her every single day, even if I have no reason at all. 

I call my Mom.

I talk to everyone.  I talk to my friends, I talk to my boyfriend, I talk to my sister, I talk to my co-workers.  But those connections will never measure.  When I thought about the fact that when the time comes for my Mom to no longer be here with me, I will not call anyone.  There will be no one to call.  There will be no one that will be able to talk me down from that loss.  There will be no one who’s words could help.  There will be nothing left but emptiness.  A void that will never be filled. 

And that thought alone, frightens me to death.  It brings tears to my eyes, even now.  I owe my entire life to that woman and one day, my life won’t feel right without her.  Insurmountable loss. 

The only thing that makes it okay is knowing that while she was here, I told her everything.  I never left anything out.  I never stayed mad.  I never got angry or had resentment.  I never went a day without telling her I loved her. I never went a day without letting her know about my life – how I am, who I am.  I’ll know that she knew me best and that she knew that I cherished her.  And that those thoughts alone will get me through the pain. 

This is the woman who tried for 6 years to have a child, had 2 miscarriages, had to go through many fertility treatments to have me.  And I stuck.  In Vitro.  This is the woman who put up with my Father through all his bullshit and raised me on a single Mother salary, with no help.  This is the woman who taught me to love myself and what it is to be a good, kind, balanced person.  This is the woman who, without, I would not be.  

Two Thousand Thirteen

I always do this. I always, always do this. Start a journal/blog. Write, write, write and then stop. Then months go by.  Then I realize that months have gone by.  Then I make excuses as to why I haven't written, which goes on for a few weeks and then, like today, I finally sit down slightly determined to write something that is worth writing about.

It's 2013. Can we just think about that for a minute? Yeah, that's fucking frightening. I know it's just another year, another 12 months, another 52 weeks and all that but shit man.  I was thinking today about how I didn't make a resolution for 2013 - not that resolutions are like important in any way but they have been fun and beneficial for me the last few years. I mean, who doesn't like accomplishing goals? Fun shit.

January 2008, I vowed to never do any habit-forming, addictive drugs ever again. Best decision of my life.

January 2009, I decided to right a lot of wrongs that I did in the past.  I wrote a few people letters, I cleaned up some things, I got back into school finally and did well, while I could stand it.  Almost got my degree
complete but ended up working at the hospital and that eventually took priority over school.  Which I still don't regret.  Someday I'll finish. Or maybe I won't.  Not tripping.

January 2010, I decided to stop smoking cigarettes. Now it's been 3 years and I can't even imagine why I ever smoked them in the first place. Sure, I spent the first 3 months of quitting being disastrously sick but that  only made accomplishing that goal even better.

January 2011, I decided to lease a car. It wasn't a very thought out plan.  In fact, I wish that I would have test driven more cars because turns out, a 2011 Honda Civic isn't really as great as the old Honda Civic's from the late 90s-early 2000s.  Who would have thought? I hate my gas mileage, I hate the way it drives but I do appreciate that it gets me from place to place and if it ever breaks down, I don't have to pay for it.  Sure, I might have to cough up a couple hundred dollars every month but shit, it's worth it. Overall, good decision - no matter how rushed. Now, 2 years later, I only have 1 more year and then I get to trade it in for something else! Anything else! I will never purchase a car ever again, in life. Lease, lease, lease!

January 2012, I decided to make myself exercise 3-4 times a week. This one seemed like a real LONG shot. Me and the word exercise had never really been used in the same sentence.  Sure, I'd done my fair share of home Pilates videos while my dog  looked at me like I was insane.  I also didn't count dancing around the house like an idiot as real exercise, although, I do that a lot.  I'd never done anything diligently or routinely or even remotely on the regular.  So I gave it a shot.  I started off trying to run in the
evenings, after work.  Key word, trying.  I'm not going to lie, I am the worst runner on this planet.  This bitch can't run.  After about five minutes of continuous running, I get a cramp, my legs get hot and itchy and my head starts hurting. Not my thing.  I can run during sports, I can run away from like a murderer or something but if no one is making me, I am not running.  So I took a hint from the Nike "do what works for you" commercials and I started walking.  Brisk walking. Started off with a mile, 4 times a week. Then, slowly, I really started to enjoy it.  I found different routes to take around my neighborhood, I started walking further and for longer and now, it's one of my favorite things that I do. I walk 3.5 miles, 3-4 times  a week.  I also made a deal with myself that before I can open a beer at night, I have to do 300 crunches.  Now THAT is what I call motivation.  So for 365 days, I have done 300 crunches - that's 109,500 crunches in 2012.
I call that a fucking accomplishment.

But 2013, what do I do? How do I make myself better? A few ideas have crossed my mind - think before I speak, stop letting other drivers piss me off so much, actually like learn how to cook, travel more? Sure, I'd love to do all those things but at the same time, I don't make resolutions that I can't guarantee in some way or form. So, I've decided that this year, my resolution is to make my life into what I really want it to be.  This involves many different facets, many different decisions, some major changes and many different  things to consider. All in all, my goal is to focus on what I want, make it happen and make myself the happiest I can be.

SO THERE 2013, LET'S FUCKING DO THIS.