“Most people are better in the abstract.”

Hey, blogoverse. Happy early sunday morning to you all!

Insomnia’s found me again. It’s 2:40 in the morning, and I’m wide awake. No surprises there, and it’s not past the point of no return yet so I’m winding down with an episode of “Orange is the New Black,” and hoping that the Advil I just took will help my headache bugger off. Vega is snuggled up in bed, so it’s just Visa and I snuggled up on the couch together. Comfy cosy and warm inside on a grey, rainy evening. Nice and quiet, which is nice.

Vega and I had a good, productive day today. Woke up relatively early and headed to a coffee shop downtown to meet Vega’s coworker, M. M was moving from one place to the next, and we helped (along with a couple of his other friends) M get his furniture over from one place to the next in a couple relatively smooth trips before grabbing some dinner. Ate too much, laughed a bunch, and then M dropped us off at the liquor store at the bottom of the hill from our place. Vega grabbed us a bottle of wine, and we headed home.

Took a shower, doodled a bit while Vega read, then worked on getting my webstore all set up. I’m hoping to debut it in early December, but I have a lot of work to do. Luckily, I’ve also had a few brilliant brainwaves, and if all goes according to plan, might really be game changers for me. But. Can’t count the chickens just yet. Long day today, and I’m faraway in my thoughts. Quiet and grey, just like the weather.

Yesterday was a hard day. Yesterday was the anniversary of the worst fucking night of my whole goddamn life. What’s weird is that I kind of feel like I haven’t processed it yet. I was quiet yesterday, mopey. Had a headache that wouldn’t quit. Vega took me for dinner, and asked me what I was feeling. My answer last night is the same as it is now – I don’t know. I don’t know and it’s bothering me, deeply. Today I’m sad. Deeply, thoroughly sad; and angry, disappointed, melancholic, tired. I’m happy I decided to get up and go help M with Vega today, because I’m honestly getting pretty tired of being depressed. That’s the other weird and unfair thing about depression, even when you want to be over it sometimes, it just clings on to you and holds you down regardless of how much you try to fight it. Much like I did a year ago; and bringing my poorly thought out analogy full circle is the moment of acceptance – where I’m at now with the blues that have been keeping me company lately; that is, I know they’re not going to be 100% gone anytime, so, I’m just finding quiet moments of peace amidst the noisy brain stew. Anyway. I’m deep in my head today, have been all day. I hit a few scary dark corners earlier, but right now, I’m just resting in a quiet, dark nook.

4:35 am now. Nowhere closer to sleeping. That’s the biggest downside of getting lost in my thoughts. I close my eyes and I start to fall asleep and I start to lose control of my thoughts and nightmares come. That scares me enough to make me not want to go through it. Visa is next to me snoring away on the couch next to me; Vega is snuggled up warm in our bed. I’m going to attempt to self-medicate myself to sleep in a few minutes, maybe haul the laptop into the room with me and watch part of another episode. This show is strangely addicting and I’m really quite enjoying it.

I really don’t know what else there is to say. I’m..I don’t know. I’m here. And I think I’d like to be drinking tea and altered, so

for now,

Wallace, out.

Oh my my, oh hell yes.

Hey blogosphere, happy Wednesday to y’all (and happy Friday to me!). I’m mobile blogging on the bus home from work, pardon any typing errors would ya please?

I had a busy, long, frustrating shift today. I’d been scheduled to have a day off today, but switched a coworker her close today for my open on Monday. Winning trade, except for the fact that I had the “pleasure” of closing with my evil manager and a coworker who drives me batty (y’know, the type that’s been to Mexico once upon a time and is thusly a “world traveller”….yeah). So many idiotic comments were made that I literally had to take a smoke break just to convince my brain to turn off. I am starting to think that my problem is actually that I am too effing smart – I find it taxing not only listening to the lunacy but not being able to spew my witty retorts (not that they’d be understood anyways). Regardless, I made it through. And I’ll be spending my “weekend” job hunting. I’ve never missed a desk job so much as I do right now…

Vega has hockey tonight, so it’s just me and visa until about midnight. I think I’m going to spend my mia time art-ing. I need to de-stress before I blow a gasket.

Anyways, my stop is up next. More from me soon, I’m sure.

For now,
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.

 

“Something in the Way, mmmm.”

Howdy blogoverse!

It fills me with unspeakable joy to report that I made it through my sandwich shift without killing anyone or lobotomizing myself. Barely. But I did it.

I’m on the bus home now with an arsenal of new sharpies (figured I’d treat myself and my soul to new art supplies) and a small birthday present for mama Vega. I’ve also acquired a massive and unrelenting headache which I can’t seem to get rid of, but there’s little that can be done about that, unfortunately. The redeeming factor here is that it’s not yet 1:00 and I can go home and spend the rest of my day making art and drinking tea. I may very well buy me and vega some wine for this evening, too. I could stand to drink away the pain of the day!

As for the shift…well. I don’t want to relive it by giving y’all the gnarly details, but the jist of it is that I tried really fucking hard to be in a good mood-in fact, for the first 1/2 of it, I was-but then, the micromanaging and the snide remarks began, and then the neediest customers ever, and then I was on my break choking back tears and fighting against the unrelenting urge to just say, “fuck it, I’m done,” and walk out of that place with my head held high and a pile of tuna still to be made. But, the fact of the matter is that I need the coin, so unless the skies open up and present me with a better option, this is the hand of cards I’ve got to play with. That was a hint, universe. Any fucking time now would be a great one for one of them cosmic breaks.

Seriously, sometimes I want to tell people to remove the rods they have firmly shoved in the assholes and go fuck themselves with them. But I’m a lady, and as such, I save those thoughts for myself and my blog. It’s hard, though. I am running out of fucks to give at an alarming rate.

I’m so so so far past ready and excited for my tattoo appointment. I need to release some steam and I can’t think of a better way to do so than a few hours of pain. I I didn’t feel like such a bag of assholes today I’d be going on a run. I feel like I’m bursting at the seams.

That’s seriously disturbing considering that I work at a coffee shop. When I managed that used car dealership I didn’t even get this stressed. Thank Jeebus for Vega. I don’t know what I’d do without him, and I’m seriously lucky to have him.

Anywhore. I’m at my stop, so for now,
Wallace, out.