Nerves, Novels, and Chamomile Tea.

Hello, blogoverse.

How were your Mondays? Mine was mostly uneventful – I got to sleep sometime around 6:15 in the morning (insomnia is kicking my ass lately), and Vega let me sleep until 2:30 in the afternoon, at which point Visa commenced puppy snugglings and I was roused from my (rather fitful) slumber. From there, I made myself some tea, put a pot of beans on the stove for dinner, and took a shower. Vega was finished work shortly after that, and we noshed while watching Orange is the New Black. Other than that? I got some art done, we had some hot cocoa (almond milk, natch), and watched the X-Files. Lazy day, which was necessary and appreciated.

Tomorrow (well, today) I have my final interview for the job I’m salivating like one of Pavlov’s dogs over. It’s just me and another candidate at this point, and I have to admit that I am a nervous lady right about now. I have the outfit all picked out (pink pencil skirt, white tank top with a slate cardigan over, black knee-high boots and my trusty leather jacket for good luck) and I know that I’m the best choice for the job…but I really don’t want to get my wee hopes up until I get the final callback. All that in mind, if you’ve got some spare good vibes to send my way, they’d be appreciated greatly. If all goes well, I’ll be sitting at that desk by Thursday morning.

As of this very moment, I’m cuddled up on the couch with the heater on and Visa at my side for warmth and snuggly-puppy-goodness. I’m writing mostly to unwind and try to get to bed soon here, there’s too much happening in my brain for me to lay down and rest right now. I feel almost bad for the “pointless” posts that have been the majority of my writing lately; but, as Spinnaker pointed out to me the other day, any and all writing I do right now is actively putting me closer to finishing my book. I don’t want to let myself get too amped on the prospect of my novel (because if I do, I’ll stay up all night writing), but it’s moved from the back burner of my mind to sizzling away at the forefront. I am planning a little writing date with myself after my interview, and I think I might start posting some of my edited freewriting here. Anyways, I was going to say that reading both Allie Brosh’s Hyperbole and a Half and Piper Kerman’s Orange is the New Black, I feel a renewed and powerful sense of faith and inspiration in my own story and the conquest of making it into a published tome. I love that conversational and frank memoirs are coming to the forefront of the literary world – maybe there is a hope in hell of my dreams of subsisting off of my ramblings… But, chickens and eggs. I have to write the damn thing first.

I’m also sipping on some chamomile and feeling inexplicably peaceful overall at the moment. There’s still a lot of messiness to me – I mean, I’m less than a year out of recovery, just over a year dealing with PTSD, and that’s just the tippy top of my mental iceberg. Most of the time I walk around feeling incredibly guilty, in particular when it comes to Vega. He’s so spectacular that words truly fail me when I try to find the right ones to describe him, and I feel like baggage a lot of the time. On the flip side, there are these moments (like right now) when it’s all so crystal clear and simple to me – I might be baggage, but he picked me up off the proverbial luggage claim, and I’m his because he wants me to be. It’s such a basic concept that I’m certain is painfully obvious to everyone else in the world; however, to me, it’s a lot to reconcile. I feel lucky and harmonious and peaceful, which is something I thought I’d lost for a long time. It’s reassuring and exhilarating to have it become more and more frequent, more ever-present, in my life once again. Life is good. My life is good. And Vega and I? Our life is idyllic.

Ughhhhh I’m so antsy and nervous and jittery about this interview…Hopefully my brains and my smile will make a fanfuckingtastic first impression. It’s such a crappy human condition to lose the ability to relax when we’re anxious about something. Of course I’m aware that being well-rested is a good thing the day of an interview, but here I am, wide awake and fighting nature. We’re badly engineered beasts, us humans.

Anywhore, if I have a hope in hell of getting to sleep in the next hour, I’d better put some background Netflix  on and read my book for a while. I’ll post some real writing tomorrow after my interview and my errands are done.

For now,

NERVOUS Wallace, out.

“I’m friends with the monster that’s under my bed; get along with the voices inside of my head…”

Hello, blogoverse!

How were your weeks? Mine was…interesting, but I’ll get into that in a moment. First thing is first – I wanted to say hello, thank you, and welcome to the 22 new followers EIB has gained this month. I appreciate it more than I can say – and thank to all of you, the metrics for this month have been just out of the proverbial blogosphere. I’m floored and excited and humbled and amazed. Thank you, from the bottom of my wee heart. I’m also just loving how much more y’all are conversing with me via comments and emails – that makes my day, every day. In the same vein, I know I’ve been a slacker with my posts, and I promise to lace up my boots and kick myself in the ass a bit in the upcoming weeks. More posts, more writing, more goodness and rambly rantings in traditional Mia style. Y’all have lit a fire under my backside!

More posts. I promise.

Anyways. This past week was just..intense. Hard. Exhausting. Work is draining me quicker than a dollar store battery in a vibrator. It was better, briefly, after I manned up and talked to my boss about my manager, but it seems that was a short lived luxury. She’s back on everyone’s case and driving me batshit insane. I’m seriously weighing my options and looking around for the next big thing in my life. Never thought I’d miss a 9-5 desk job so bad…aaaaand here I am. Ho hum, such is life and growing up sucks. I’m going to do my absolute best to stick it out until Vega and I get back from LA in January, but I tell ya, it’s a conscious effort not to either lobotomize myself or quit every single damned shift. One of my much younger coworkers was telling me to try to see it as a “humbling experience,” and it took a lot of self control to smile and nod instead of go ape and explain to her that following almost an decade of self-sufficiency and much shittier jobs that I have earned the right to be more than a little dissatisfied right now. That said, she’s almost 20 and just moved out for the first time, so as bitchy as this is, she has a whole bunch of hard lessons coming her way which will hopefully explain my frame of mind to her better than I ever could. In summation, I hate my job and I need a new one. Preferably a 9-5 desk job with business cards and the capacity to wear high heels to work. Anybody know of anything in the 250, email this girl. I’m serious. I’m starting to hate coffee and that’s a fate I will not accept.

Yup.

In addition to my work stress, the premature death of my friend last Tuesday is still weighing heavy on my mind. He was driving from Quesnel back to Edmonton to visit some family for the holidays and got blindsided by a semi truck on the highway. I don’t think I’ve fully accepted that he’s gone, and the truth is that I’m still hurting pretty hard over it. I actually ended up taking a couple of days off last week to cry and mourn and hurt in private rather than bawl into people’s lattes and such. His last post on Facebook will forever remind me how lucky I was to have known him, though. “99% of the time, the good you do in the world will be ignored. Do good anyways.” Well, my friend, thank you for the beautiful reminder of how fantastic a person you were, and I promise you, I’ll do my absolute damndest to make sure I hold myself to that modus operandi for the rest of my days. I miss you, B. I really, really do.
So, lots of stress. Lots of it. Lots of tears and lots of frustration on my part, lots of understanding and consoling and being fucking amazing on Vega’s. I’m not proud of myself for cracking under the weight of it all, but I suppose everyone has to fall down sometimes. I’m making a conscious effort to make the best of my days to the best of my abilities. Not only is this year almost over (WHERE THE FUCK HAS THE TIME BEEN GOING?!), but the passing of my friend has reminded me once again that life is finite. I’m trying, I really am, and Vega and I have lots of living left to do. So, live I shall – to the absolute fucking fullest extent.

Damn skippy, Effy. I’m not either.

It hasn’t all be stress and bullshit lately, though. I was just saving the best for last! I got my sleeve started yesterday and I have to say, my arm looks fucking spectacular. My tattoo artist is a spectacularly talented chick and she’s truly outdone herself on my piece. Actually, I think she’s rather excited to finish the sleeve herself – I gave her a lot of artistic license and we collaborated on a truly beautiful piece. I sat for four hours, and it really wasn’t too bad. The spot inside my elbow was less than awesome, but the rest of it was mildly uncomfortable at worst.

Watercolour and dandelions and pretty pretty not naked arm! ❤

The entire process was just a pleasant and necessary one for me. Obviously, I was pretty excited about the appointment (haha I only talked about it here for five and a half weeks…imagine poor Vega’s experience…), but the truth is, I didn’t have a fucking clue how truly wonderful it was going to feel being in that chair. There’s the obvious – I’m a masochist and I did enjoy the pain, quite a lot. There’s the even more obvious, being that I now have an absolutely stunning piece of art (roughly 1/3 of my full sleeve, still need to do the top half of my arm and then the backside of the piece). Then, there’s the deeply personal (and thus, intrinsically difficult to explain but I’ll try my hardest). First, the scars that shithead Sunshine put on my arm? Pretty much fully covered. Soon to be fully covered when I go in for my next sitting. TAKE THAT, ASSHOLE.

Gratuitous alternate angle shot of my ink ❤

The whole thing is pretty much my “fuck you” to the world – to everyone who told me that I, everyone who doubted me, who made me feel ugly or stupid or worthless. It’s a testament to how far I’ve come on my own terms, to the good things and the bad things and the ugly things that have made me who I am. It was truly cathartic sitting there (and I sat like a fucking champion, no bitching from this girl) feeling pain that (for once) led me to a beautiful result rather than more bullshit to slog through. I’m sure my mother is shitting a brick at the whole thing, but hell, she’s part of that list of proverbial fuck yous. I did this for ME and I am thrilled. It’s also the most “Mia” possible interpretation of what a sleeve should be – feminine but not girly, colorful but not obnoxious, packed full of meaning but very personally so. Basically, this girl is ready to make her teenage dreams of being covered in ink come true, and I’m glad that I waited as long as I did. From the artist to the execution to the timing of it all, this was serendipitous. I have a smile that can’t be contained on my face and I feel like a badass, more honest version of myself. Honest, because I love tattoos, and I love my tattoo. Vega called me a “very passionate person” the other day, and when I asked him what he thinks I’m the most passionate about, his reply was simply, “art.” He’s right, and down to the watercolor style brushstrokes of this piece, this fucking nailed everything I wanted on the head with a ten ton hammer.

Last one, for now. Isn’t it GORGEOUS???

Lots of catharsis lately, which is a good thing seeing that it’s leading me to more positive frames of mind and allowing me to ditch my mental dead weight. I’ve been drawing a fuckton, too. I feel like I’m finding myself again after a bit of a dry spell. Finished the writing project I’d been working on with Spinnaker’s help (can’t WAIT to see what you have to say, Spinny. Thanks again for being my editor/confidante/friend with a heart of gold), and I’m finally to a point where I feel ready to start seriously writing my book. Seriously as in make time to write every single day, structured thoughts and plot lines and time frames and all. A year almost since Sunshine enacted his rage upon me. Mine and Vega’s anniversary is coming up in January, Los Angeles a few weeks after that, a year  of us being engaged a moth after that! Time has been flying and for once, I’m at the tail end of a year feeling like I really lived this one right. Most years go by and I end up feeling morose at this juncture (y’know, when people start blaring Christmas carols way too early and wishing you politically correct happy holiday seasons); however, this year has been different. Vega and I talk a lot about momentum, and I feel like we’re gaining a lot of it in our lives both as a couple and as individuals. It’s a great feeling to be grappling with – I don’t remember the last  time that I was this overwhelmed positively. I don’t believe in God, but I certainly have a lot of blessings to count. I’m grateful – even for the bullshit – because despite and in spite of it all, I am taking a cue from Thoreau and going confidently in the direction of my dreams; living the life that I have imagined. In fact, this is better than my dreams. This life we’re building together, Vega and I, is something magical and beautiful and awe-inspiring.

The soliloquy that Lester gives at the end of “American Beauty” pretty much sums it up. “And then, I remember to relax, and let it flow through me like rain. And I can’t help but feel grateful for every moment of my stupid little life.”

As for today, I woke up around 10:30, took the dressing off my ink, stared at it for like ten minutes, got dressed and ready, went to Superstore with Mama Vega, loaded up on staples (okay, on everything. Vega and I had not done groceries in a long while), came home, had lunch with Vega, did the laundry, did the dishes, and parked on the couch with some good tunes to type this entry. As far as tunes go, I’ve been rocking a bizarre mix of old school hip hop, radiohead, red hot chili peppers, and that “Royals” song by Lorde or whatever her name is. I’m downloading an old favorite movie of mine for Vega and I to watch tonight (Love, Actually), and I’m gonna bake some cookies after I finish up here. Low key way to spend my “sunday” before a sandwich shift tomorrow morning (I HATE YOU SO MUCH, 5AM). The perk here being that I am finished my shift at 11:30, have a closing shift on Wednesday, and then 2 days off. I think I can handle that without lobotomizing myself or eviscerating anyone else. Just as long as there are no tuna-pocalypse moments when I’m sandwiching tomorrow. Cross them fingers, would y’all? Also, please be kind to baristas this holiday season. If it isn’t Starbucks, don’t order a “Venti,” because I will give you a large. Know your drink order. And for the love of bacon, remember that I am not a goddamn slave, okay? Please?

Don’t piss off the people that make your extra hot extra dry no foam skinny soy sugarfree vanilla pumpkin latte with a drizzle of caramel on top. Just don’t.

On that note, I think it’s about time that I bake some cookies and wrap up this post. I didn’t intend to write this much today but oh well, at least it’s not all swirling around in my head. Have fantastic weeks, readers. I’ll be back with another post lickety split.

Until then,

Gratuitous cute:

b’awwwzzz.

 

For now,

Wallace, out.

 

Pillow Separation Anxiety

Happy Friday to ya, blogosphere.
It’s my Wednesday today-sandwich shift, which means that I woke up at 5:00 am to be here at my bus stop for the 6:05 bus, for which I am now awaiting. Every time I have to get up early for one of these opening shifts, I can’t help but wonder, “the sun isn’t up yet, why the hell am I?”. Then, I remember that both Christmas and my tattoo are upcoming. I suppose that all things considered, having to wake at this hour once or twice a week is nothing compared to when I used to do this six days a week working daycare. I wish I was a morning person – I try, I really do, but until my fourth shot of espresso, I just can’t pretend to be.

Anywhore. I am inordinately excited about my tattoo-a week from Sunday I have my drawing consult, and I am absolutely chomping at the bit for it. I can’t wait to see what she’s come up with based on what I’ve given her, to finally be able to visualize it on my skin with some degree of certainty. Two weeks from Sunday is the actual sitting. Two weeks and it’s a reality, you guys. I am so stoked on this early Christmas prezzy to myself there really aren’t any words for it. Stoked covers it as well as any word can.

I’ve also been getting some good progress underway on this years Christmas gifts-two more pieces of art for the famdamily, then I just have a few more things to acquire before I call it quits on the gift front. If I have time I want to draw a piece for my workplace, but that’s a back burner kind of thing. In fact, if I dot succumb to the nap rays my pillow will inevitably be sending out this afternoon, I’m going to try to get a head start on the grumpy cat piece I have planned for my brother in law. We shall see-I forecast extreme sloth commencing shortly after noon for this gal.

Yaaaaaawn. I need coffee so so badly. I think a quad short Americano might hit the spot nicely this morning. On the bus now which means I am but a quarter of an hour away from sweet caffeine. There are redeeming qualities to working at a coffee shop-this being a major one. All considered though, I’m still looking for something…better. I have a couple of leads but nothing solid yet-best case scenario, something works out ASAP; worst, I stick it out until after Los Angeles in January. Either way, I need bigger and better things to commence. I need set hours and weekends again-I’m getting old, and my capacity to work ridiculous shift hours is waning. Somewhere, my 19 year old self is majorly disappointed.

Sorry for yet another bullshit post. My days off are coming up after the weekend and I promise to post Europe pics and a worthwhile read then. For the time being, I’m at my stop; so,

For now,
Wallace, out.

Happy Monday To Me!

Hello, blogosphere 🙂
Happy hump day to y’all; happy Monday to me! I’m on the bus to my 2:00 shift right now, and I am equal parts exhausted and lacking in caffeine. I see a double Americano in my future. At least it’s a short shift today-I actually feel like I might fall over. Insomnia reared it’s ugly head again last night and as such I am dragging ass well into the afternoon. Balls!

Anyways. Lots of fun things coming up in my life-tattoo drawing appointment is the weekend after next, the tatt itself is a week after that! Yay. So close-and yet, so far. Impatient on this one. Staff Christmas dinner on December 18, a gun excuse to get all gussied up. Christmas. Los Angeles with Vega at the end of January.

All those good things kind of keep me in a good headspace through the minutia and the monotony of being a grownup. I also have a couple of leads on potentially better jobs, so that helps a little too.

Not sure why I decided to post, because I don’t actually have anything too exciting to say!

Halloween tomorrow, I have my beatnik costume all primed and ready to go. Should be a fun shift with us all dressed up for the day. When I went to put it together, I also found the most unbelievably flattering jacket for $4. I love thrifting. Girly win !

Anywhore, I’m at my stop now. I promise something worth a read soon. I also promise that eurotrip pictorial soon!

For now though,
Wallace, out.

Arts and Crafts and Stuff

Happy Almost Weekend, blogosphere!

My day went awesomely once I got into the grind (the coffee grind, that is) – closed with my favorite people and plenty of madness and hilarity was had. I left with a smile in my face (and a quad iced USA in my hands), and that, my friends, is golden. Having a job period is something to be grateful for; having a job that you love, priceless. Got home about half an hour ago, and have since put the laundry on and had a cigarette – this evening (following blogging, natch), I’ll be getting a headstart on the Brothers Grim piece and chilling with Visa and Vega. Nice and relaxed, just the way I like it.

Anywhore, this post is all about art – my art, the other creative outlets (besides writing profusely) that keep me sane. My favorite media being sharpie and ink pens, I’ve undertaken the task of (finally) getting some pieces I’ve been promising for ages done and mailed.

Of the 14 in my queue, I have 2 completed. First off, I did a piece for my friend Cizz that’s a bridge between trad style sugar skulls (a feminine one embellished with flowers and lacy patterns & a masculine one with diamonds for eyes and a ganj nose), and my crazy line work style. Here’s a time lapse progress pictorial for your viewing pleasure:

Started with an outline on the left (feminine) half of the piece.

I like to get the detail work done in chunks, working from the inside of the outline outwards.

From there, I started the border work & sketching in the right (masculine) half of the piece.

Then, filled in the negative centre space with a spiderweb and a spider + aces and poker chips, and outlined the masculine sugar skull.

From there, I outlined and bolded out the background guidelines and detailed the masculine skull with a .05mm pen.

Close-up on feminine sugar skull.

Close-up on masculine sugar skull.

And 14.5 hours later (3 dead sharpies + 2 dead pens, too), the final product.

This was an exceptionally time consuming piece with all of the fine line work and stippling I chose to use; however, it turned out pretty rockin’. Cizz is super happy with it – and to be honest, I am too.

Yesterday, I got a piece finished for my good friend Spinnaker – he requested that I work the phrase, “we the people, on boulevards and blacktops…,” as well as our names, into the piece somewhere – and the rest was up to me. I hemmed and hawed over it for a while and had initially thought about doing a skyline and some graffiti style lettering; however, Vega truly encapsulated what the piece became when he mentioned Anonymous – Guy Fawkes mask? PERFECT.

As always, started with my outline.

Then, used red and black .05mm pens to detail the mask in the style of a caldavera.

Then, lettering (and cursing myself for awkward placement).

Next, sketched in and bolded out the outline for “The Daily Blur.”

Had WAY too much fun “lorem ipsum”-ing, coming up with fake ads, and lettering “The Daily Blur.”

Close-up on classifieds.

 

When I got the “Blur” done, I moved on to outlining the background and bolding it out appropriately.

Background ended up being much more visually pleasing than I’d anticipated it to be, and worked beautifully with the awkward placement of “We The People.” Happy with it!

To make the background a little more interesting (and to keep in theme with the writing on the Blur), the red segments of the background that aren’t bubbles are the chemical compounds and street names of cocaine, methamphetamine, marijuana, MDMA and nicotine. Just a compound close-up.

13.5 hours later, the final product. I’m THRILLED with this one – it pushed me out of my comfort zone, and led to one of my favorite pieces ever. Badass, if I may say so myself (and no sharpies died in the creation of this masterpiece haha)!

Anyways, I have laundry to fold and another piece to get started on; however, expect more from me in the next couple days for sure.

For now,

Wallace, out.

Headaches + Heavy Hearts

Hello, blogoverse.
Happy hump day to y’all! Hope that all of your respective weeks are going well so far–and if they aren’t rest easy in knowing that you’re halfway to the weekend by now.

It’s my Sunday today, then I’m on shift for eight days straight. Not complaining – I love my job and I need the coin; however, being realistic, this is going to be a long, long week. I woke up (slightly) earlier than yesterday, and it was kind of nice to be up before noon haha. That said, I woke up with the same headache I fell asleep with last night. Boo. I’m blaming this one on a combination of pent-up stress and rage. Sigh. I’m trying so hard to just keep on keeping on, to honor my fallen friends by living my life to the fullest, to not allow depression to take a stronghold in my daily life…My heart just feels heavy today. That’s normal, right? It’s not completely batshit crazy to go from being perfectly okay with things one day to feeling like you’re going to burst apart at the seams the next…right?

I suppose I just feel…well, truth is, I don’t  know how to phrase it. It was always there, this sinking feeling of rage/sorrow/confusion/cynicism/et cetera. It was there throughout my childhood, through my dad always working and my mom always nitpicking, through the pre-teen days of razorblades and terrible poetry, through moving out and moving on and moving up in the ranks of the club. It was the background noise soundtrack to my life, the little voices in my head that told me over and over how there was nothing I could do to make it – any of it – easier. That voice faded after I got beaten out, after recovery and re-starting in Oromocto. After Vega came to visit me, the voices became (for the most part) silent, and were replaced with a whisper of good things, good times, a good life to come. Most of the time these days, that whisper is a shout in my mind – a perpetual “FUCK YEAH!” that propels me forward with purpose and pride. In summation, I  suppose that it’s fair to say that I feel like I’m taking steps backwards with how I feel today. I don’t want to revisit my past. At the same time, I can’t escape all of it – my past is, after all, the path that led me here.

Doubling my confusion is the news I got a couple days ago that Sunshine tried (and failed) to kill himself. Apparently, he blames me for a lot of things – ironically, none of the things that I deserve blame for in terms of what our relationship was. I am also torn on how the fuck to feel about this. Part of me wishes that he’d died and my friend would have lived – I know that’s terrible, but it’s the truth. That said, part of me is relieved. Death is too easy an out for Sunshine. He deserves to walk the Earth lonely and broken and hurt for the rest of forever. End of story. A tiny third part of me eschews this conversation altogether, as I hate that I’m sitting here sanctified enough to play judge, jury and executioner with the mortality of another – even if it’s just in my head, it still feels wrong. I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck it is that I wanted to get across with this point.

Moving along. I’m finally starting to feel some relief from my stupid headache. Thank Jeebus for THC and creative glassblowing. I’m nestled up in bed (on Vega’s side, natch) with new Swollen playing in the background and I’m bundled up in Vega’s hoodie and our blankets. I’m freezing today although it’s warm outside – I think my internal thermostat is broken again. I finished a really sweet piece of art for my buddy Cizz yesterday, and I think I’m going to start on Spinnaker’s piece after I finish this post. He wants me to work in the phrase “we the people, on boulevards and blacktops,” and I think I have a few ideas for concept that would work rather nicely. Basically, I’m trying to do everything in my power to stay victorious over the grips of depression.

To circle back to the prior conversation on the conundrum of not knowing how to feel, I feel guilty about feeling depressed, which makes me feel more depressed, which makes me feel guiltier…I hate that I even feel the twinges of depression I’ve been feeling the past few days. I mean, life is amazing right now..I have nothing to feel depressed about in the slightest. And yet…there’s the shadow of my past, kicking me in the teeth every time I smile.

Vega, I’m sorry I’m so broken. I’m trying. I really, really am.

Anywhore. This is getting way depressing, and that’s not really conducive to pulling myself back up. Time for coffee, cannabinoids, and creativity.

For now,

Wallace, out.