It looked nothing like this. Not that I'm complaining, oh nooo I am not complaining. This is how it went down...
Walking down the Vegas strip in the middle of too many people, all looking for the next bar to cool off at, drink until our hearts content and then off to the next watering hole. Suddenly there is a flash of lightening in the distance, followed by a very, very welcoming freshness in the air that brings an instant relief from the sweltering heat wave we've been enduring all day. And now, it's sprinkling.
Wait, is it sprinkling or did someone just spit on me? No, it's definitely sprinkling.
Oh my goodness, if this rain starts coming down I am so crossing this fucking goal off my list! Wait for it. Wait for it. Great, now I can't even feel the sprinkles. Dammit!! I really thought I was going to be able to do this finally.
WAIT, it's back! There's more! There's definitely MORE. D where are you?? Ok kiss me! Kiss me, right now. This is on my DZP list. Yes, I'm serious. *smooch* *smooch*
We're just about to rush into the next smoke-filled casino, gag, and now it's coming doowwwn.
STOP!
*mini make out sesh*
Okay, I did it. Phew, I did it. That was awesome. Let's do it again. Oh, no more rain. All well.
Fuck you, man. There is absolutely no reason that peppering your conversations with curse words (or smothering them in swear-filled ranch dressing) makes you any less of a woman. In what alternate universe does inserting a “shit” or a “god damn” to an otherwise hum-drum, church-approved sentence negate your femininity? What, because you are a “lady,” your life is relegated to fainting on ornate couches and hiding your coquettish giggles behind your lace-trimmed fan? And what if I don’t want to be a lady? Frankly, I prefer to be a dame, or a broad — but even if I did want to be a lady, the idea that zesting a sentence up with a blue word would make that an impossibility is an insult to intelligent conversation. Sure, if your entire vocabulary is reduced to Jersey Shore-esque bleep sounds, you might want to pick up a dictionary and brush up on your communication skills. But being inarticulate knows no gender, and cursing certainly isn’t confined to the linguistic arsenal of manhood. Bitch.
You will fall in love with someone who annoys you, whose orgasm face looks and feels pathetic. Despite all of this, there’s something keeping you drawn to them, something that makes you want to protect them from the harsh world. What you fail to realize, however, is that you are the harsh world. You aren’t their noble protector — you are someone to be protected from but it takes a lot of dates, a lot of nights where you question whether or not you are actually a good person, for this to ever resonate with you. When it’s over and whatever love is left is put back in the fridge like a sad plate of leftovers, you will finally understand that you have the power to hurt someone. You can either hurt them or love them and it’s up to you to decide what kind of role you would like to take on in future relationships. What feels more comfortable — being the one who loves more or being the one who’s loved less?
You will fall in love with someone who’s cold and always seemingly pushing you away. When all is said and done, they will be forever known as the one person you couldn’t get to love you. Unfortunately, it will hurt and sting worse than the good ones, the ones that chopped up your meat for you and picked out an eyelash from your eye and were nice to your mother, because love often feels like a game we need to win. And when we lose, when we realize we couldn’t get what we ultimately desired from a person, it makes us feel like a failure and erases all the memories of those who loved us in the past. It’s a permanent smudge on your love resume.
You will fall in love with someone for one night and one night only. They’ll come to you when you need them and be gone in the morning when you don’t. At first, this will make you feel empty and you’ll try to convince yourself that you could’ve loved this person for longer than a night, but you can’t. Some people are just meant to make cameo appearances, some are destined to be a pithy footnote. That’s okay though. Not every person we love has to stick around. Sometimes it’s better to leave while you’re still ahead. Sometimes it’s better to leave before you get unloved.
You will fall in love with the old couple down the street because to you they represent the impossible: a stable, long-lasting love. You’re trying to get someone to like you for more than ten minutes. A monogamous “never get sick of ya” love seems unfathomable. “What’s your secret, sir? Do you just say yes a lot?”
You will fall in love with smells, the good and the bad kind. You will want to wear your lovers shirt because it makes you feel close to them and you’re okay with being that PYSCHO who is legitimately sniffing their shirt in public. You will fall in love with sweat, certain perfumes, the smell of the season in which you fell in love. This particular love smells like fall. It smells like Halloween and a roaring fire and leaves and fog and mist and candy and food and family and whiskey and sex and the lint that collects on sweaters. When it ends, if it ends, you will never experience another fall without thinking of him, her, it. The memories will stick to the ground like a mound of leaves and will only dissipate when the weather drops.
You will fall in love with your friends. Deep, passionate love. You will create a second family with them, a kind of tribe that makes you feel less vulnerable. Sometimes our families can’t love us all the time. Sometimes we’re born into families who don’t know how to love us properly. They do as much as they can but the rest is up to our friends. They can love you all the time, without judgement. At least the good ones can.
This is where I’m supposed to tell you that you will fall in love with The One, a person who isn’t too cold or too nice. Their “O” face is perfectly fine and they’re not afraid to show how much they love you. This person is supposed to wait for us at the end of the twentysomething road as some kind of reward for all the heartache and loneliness. We deserve them. We’ve earned this kind of love.
So fine. You’re going to fall in love with The One. You’re going to fall in love with someone who will make sense beyond college or a job or a particular season. They’ll make sense forever and won’t ever want to leave you behind. I’m telling you this not because it’s true but because it NEEDS to be true. Everyone is entitled to this kind of love, so why not? Have it. It’s yours. Blow out the candles on your 30th birthday, holding their hand, and let out an exhale that’s been waiting for ten years. Do it. Now.
Spontaneity is probably one of the top sought after qualities people aim to be in their daily lives. The structure of having a continuous routine can make people koo-koo and therefore have this desire to break away from the monotony and just do somethin' crazay!
That, is not what I did.
I didn't set this goal because I'm too rigid and structured. While some may argue that my planning side definitely can come out more often than my spontaneous side, I am by far one of the lesser rigid members of Orange County. And with completing this goal, spontaneity kicked structure's ass!
And this is what happened...
Back story #1: Life is fucking hard. Period. Everyone knows it, and believe me! I know I'm not the only one fighting. Everyone is struggling with something. We're all fighting through bumps in the road to achieve an over-arching goal... whether it be finding that perfect career, the blissful relationship, that adorably-put-together-home, the bestest friends, the sweetest and most supportive family and the cutest pets. We're all going through life to reach that perfect plateau.
Through that bumpy road, some of those bumps are big, some of those valleys are low, and it can feel so hard and borderline unbearable.
Some days I find myself having to talk myself out of bed. Push myself to be presentable and not just a lazy mess. I'm literally giving myself a pep talk in the shower on most days, and praying so hard for positivity to push me through the day.
I can proudly say I get the job done, and by the time I'm standing in front of the barista at Starbucks, my coworkers, friends, family, puppy, I have a smile on my face. I have a pep in my attitude. I have hope for the sun to shine, because I have found a state of mind where I really am, hopeful.
If I couldn't acheive this state of mind, I would find myself holed up under the covers never to come out. Believe this.
And so, the planning side of things: I've been searching for a quote that I wanted to get tattooed that basically said, "life is hard, but keep moving forward." Something to remind me to keep my head up even at my lowest of lowest points, and serve as a visual pep talk that takes only a single look.
I would come across a few little lines here and there, but nothing ever stuck. Then one day I saw a photo of a girl's side-tattoo of this poster and I was furious! While I'm all about unique-make-it-your-own tattoos - that's what they're for anyways, right? - but this chick defamed this poster by changing the font, changing the crown, *grrrrr* oh my goodness!! *clenched-fists* I instantly thought, how could you ruin such an already perfect design??
And that's when it hit me.
Why am I searching for that perfect quote, when this crown says everything I could ever want it to say and more. Thanks to that awful tattoo, I decided, this is what I want - when I'm ready.
Back story #2: The poster. Not many people even know the history behind the Keep Calm and Carry On posters, but here's the make-a-long-story-short story... During WW2 the British gov't designed a series of morale-boosting-propaganda posters and used them across the country to motivate and uplift the people during the testing times that were to lay ahead.
Here's a quick three minute video that gives you the background, plus how it came to be commercialized:
Now, where spontaneity rules all: I had a rather tough week last week, followed by receiving some piss-poor news on Monday that completely thrusted me in one of the crappiest valleys of emotions where even a smile was just not going to happen.
The following morning I was going through some of my favorite blogs, one of which being Fuck Yeah, Tattoos! and I decided this needs to happen, today! I called my tattoo guy Todd at Ace's High in Fullerton, CA and not to my surprise he was completely booked up! Although he promised to call me if anyone cancelled and an opening would spring up, I was immediately bummed out and my spark was starting to fizzle.
I decided to, Keep Calm and Carry On with my day. I went home and started a mass amount of laundry and then *BOOM!* fate must have been on my side because one of his appointments finished extra early, and I found myself trying to decide if I was going to get this tattoo or finish drying my six loads of wet laundry (not an exaggeration). Todd gave me a window to get my shit done and get my ass in there no later than 8:30pm and I was in just under the clock. Next thing I knew, the stencil was on, needles were preped and it was done 'n' done.
I couldn't be happier.
For me, this tattoo symbolizes my daily motivation, my three-second morning pep talk, and my instantaneous reminder that no matter how hard life gets, keep my head up, Keep Calm and Carry On, because there's a light at the end of this tunnel.
