I was hoping this post was going to include a cringe-inducing video of me squealing in pain while enduring a laser-tattoo removal session, but the office manager informed me that they didn’t have their camera available for this recent appointment. It’s about the 9th session in the life of my tattoo removal process. And let me tell you, it’s a bi**h!
Tattoo 2007
I’ve included some pics (hard to find since I hid the freaking thing as often as possible since getting it in 1995.) of a shot in 2007 and one right after I got back from my latest session. I go about every 2 months, and will need to go for probably another year until it is completely removed.
Yes, it hurts worse than when I actually got the tattoo. Yes, I have scarring. Why did I get it in the first place and why am I now getting rid of it? You can read that in my tell-all book that I haven’t written, and don’t know that I ever will. The upside of those short 15 minutes of burning, sweltering, stabbing pain, is the amazing adrenaline rush I experience the rest of the day. I think I’ve discovered the cure to depression (okay, maybe not, as I think this process is closely related to an existing therapy for depression: ECT shock therapy)!
Tattoo after 9th removal session-2012
Depression, you ask? Yeah, I go through it…quite often, and it ain’t pretty. I don’t consider myself more “right brained” than “left brained”, but I will say that the creative monkeys that wreck havoc in my brain on a daily basis, have a lot to do with those common bouts of frustration, angst, and that annoying sadness that doesn’t go away no matter how many different medications, beer, champagne I ingest, or the ridiculous-albeit well-meaning-crap advice I get from doctors, fitness advisers or friends.
It’s those creative impulses, wanting to do everything, juggling multiple projects that do me in.
ZigZag Pillows
The really high “highs” and the really low “lows”, that lead to a lot of disappointment and an inescapable void. A recent acquaintance described my type as a “romantic.” Well, it’s a little too kind of a term, but usually describes the artistic, hopeful and positive types whose vision of the ideal world is too often marred by the horrifying truism that is reality, which leads us into our ultimate melancholic abandon.
To make matters worse, many of us creative types are never satisfied…even with our best accomplishments. It’s just not enough. We have to torture ourselves into believing we could do even better, and have a hard time enjoying the moment. (do I have to make a Van Gogh ear reference here? No, I’m not comparing myself to Van Gogh. Yes, I’m saying I can empathize with the madness)
White Rattan end table "Before"
But, alas, we do enjoy life, and can experience elevated levels of of happiness. Yes, intense “highs,” and intense “lows” of happiness, energy, and sadness. Hmm…sounds “bi-polar,” you say? Well, I’d love to think that attaching a label to these feelings/behavior would take care of the issue, but it doesn’t. No, I have not been diagnosed with “bi-polar,” but notice more and more that anyone with a change of mood or extreme feelings or ways of showing their emotions is often slapped with the label of a popular dysfunction, or as I’d like to call it: the “disorder du jour.” Now, don’t misunderstand, I’m not putting everyone and anyone ever diagnosed with this serious illness/disorder into the same category. Mental illness should not be taken lightly, but since I’ve been told I may be included in this category, I plan on being very opinionated on the matter, if you don’t mind.
Spray painted brown and adding stencil
Now, back to my crazy…it definitely gets worse in the winter months. I know, for those of you who recall, I moved AWAY from the cold Midwest to SUNNY, WARM, California, how could I be depressed in sunny, California? Well, it’s simple…I can’t run away from myself. I keep thinking that I can, and that the external factors or environment will somehow magically transform my way of thinking, but alas, it doesn’t happen. But, I’m tired of beating myself up, and do believe that my feelings are a manifestation of very real occurrences that send even the most sane person into moments of doubt and irritation.
Rattan end table refinished
So, it’s time to blame someone else, or something else…ya know, those “external factors” I just mentioned. It’s time to talk about that reality…horrifying reality, that some of us in the world are experiencing, and can definitely affect a person’s daily mood. So, I’m going to randomly choose one of my latest irritating realities: being jobless. And please, don’t send me your job leads, especially those on the internet that lead to hours of wasted time applying to a “position” that has already been filled but because of EEOC laws, the company still has to post the “opening” on to multiple job sites, newspapers, etc. even if the “opening” is not really “open” as in, they’ve already filled the position with someone in the company, or a friend or relative who knows of the “position” and quickly found someone who can “fill it.” Yes, I am stating that 90% of the jobs that are listed on the internet and in the newspapers have already been filled. Are you still following? I may have to speak slower for those who hold the “Secret” which we’ll discuss later. That’s right, I said “speak” because those who follow those types of whacked out belief systems such as the “Secret” are hearing voices (which could include my voice) while they’re reading this blog entry.
Now, I didn’t tell the whole truth, I am not completely jobless. Many will accuse me of being ungrateful, but I don’t consider going to a torture chamber that doesn’t even cover a small portion of my daily expenses or bills as a job, but most people do, so I will talk a little about this part-time gig, working at a retail store where the flakiest of the flakes, the weirdest of the weird, spend their limitless hours pretending to shop, when really, they are only there to torture me. That’s right. Now, not only am I depressed, I’m borderline paranoid. Yes, torturing me with their every stupid bi**h and complaint, and mindless chatter. Mindless chatter? When a customer forces you into having a conversation about the dress (or baby blanket, or piss cloth, or whatever f***ing project they are working on that I could care less about) they are sewing and continues to ask for your opinion, but when you give it, they make sure to disagree, moving on the next bottomless conversation pit about their sorority sister that they are not sure whether to pick the blue or pink fabric for, or the tablecloths for the church tables that they are paying out of pocket for, or why I can’t explain to them the physics of our Singer scissor collection…all the while about 15 other people are waiting in line, but the customer is so selfish that they continue, on and on and on…holding the retail associate (me, in this case) hostage at their leisure (as these types have nothing else to do with their day) which can span the time of 15 minutes, to 45 minutes.
That’s my job, you say? Hmmm…I didn’t realize that working for $8/hr. as a retail clerk meant being a counselor, psychologist, and many times a referee…guess I missed that part of the job description. In all honesty, the store would save money by actually having a type of concierge paid for listening to this type of drivel, so that the actual retail associates can do their job, cutting fabric, stocking product, and operating the cash register.
Oh, let’s not leave out the excess time spent bi***ing about using an expired coupon “but I was out of town when you had the sale…that’s not fair” or “I know the policy is that I can’t return an item from a year ago without a receipt, but I’m going to stand here until you do, and refund me my $2.50!” And as that customer puts the $2.50 in her pocket, she then walks out the door and steps into her $80,000 automobile, on to the next place where she will torture the next retail associate-victim.
These delightful people we refer to as “customers” remind me that every day I clock in to my job, that I have to check my brain in at the door. They remind me that I’m not allowed to start paying off my $50,000 in student loan debt if I continue working there for $8/hour, but have no choice because no one else is calling me for my mere, pathetic 15 years of experience in sales, marketing, communication, writing and even clerical work (yes, I can actually type 55 wpm!). Yes, a daily reminder that I will probably never work in my career field, but will eventually have to swallow my pride and become one of them…mindless. Or brunette. Random? Not really. My last interview felt similar to the catty bi**hes and bulls**t I dealt with in high school. The interview was for a job I was more than qualified for, but felt more like cattle to the slaughter while two females aimed and fired their heat-sinking stares, sizing me and my bright blonde hair up and down while asking ridiculous questions that have nothing to do with the job position, and a portly, older man talking with me as if we were old buddies sharing a drink on a Monday night watching some football. Trust me, the hair color combined with my painted face, and an intelligent way of speaking is more than these thinking “inside the box” types can handle, and I have too many years of observing this crap to believe it’s something different. After years of interviews with unprofessional morons who got their job through luck or nepotism..I’ve hit a wall. No more misses nice girl. Although it’s not going to be easy, I owe it to myself to be true to my gut and I plan on exposing some of the BS that I’ve observed in my lifetime, and that has been flung on me. I hope those who get it, will join me for the ride.
Oh, and for those of you who have accused me of not thinking enough “positive” thoughts in my job search, or that maybe I need to read “The Secret” one more time and visualize my success (I could barely get through 3/4 of that book without laughing out loud at the absurdity and ridiculous cultish rhetoric being spewed on to those pages) I think you need to visit the planet Earth a little more often…you’ve just been using way too many of your vacation days in La-La land. Think about it…who goes into an interview with the mantra: “I don’t want this job. I don’t want this job. I don’t want this job. I don’t want this job.” or “I hope they don’t hire me. I hope they don’t hire me. I hope they don’t hire me.” I know I shouldn’t be, but I am still surprised by the crap that comes out of people’s mouths when they think they have some key to the universe of happiness and success that you haven’t quite figured out how to master. Then again, maybe I just need to use some more of my imaginary vacation days in La-La land, or the Twilight Zone.
Phew. That felt good. I have wasted too many years on people who did not deserve my time or energy, all while putting a smile on my face and lending a helping hand, but the pot has been boiling for a long time, and I will now insert my New Year’s cliche or resolution or whatever the hell you want to call it: no more misses nice girl.
Wow, Debbie-downer, right? Hell No! I’m Barbi-speaks-the-truth (hey, a talking doll holding a beer and a bottle of pills…I am totally visualizing the money in my hands…”The Secret” followers would be so proud of me)
Some people just can’t handle the truth, so for those who can’t…definitely stop reading my blog, because I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. Yes, I believe in positive thinking. Yes, I believe your thoughts can lead to actions. But, blah, blah, blah…I’m over it, and my cynical attitude is taking over for awhile, and if my instincts are correct, this attitude may lead me to the promised land.
