I can't pinpoint exactly when it happened - maybe when I lost my job and a little bit of my mind a few years ago, or maybe I just didn't think it was important, but I quit writing. I have spent the past three years ignoring the voice in my head that gives me ideas, that drives me to create. Thinking maybe, if I could just bury it in my heart and get it to shut up, it would stop. The countless agents I sent my first book to thought something was missing, so maybe something was and I never saw it.
one of my favorite live photos,
dan andriano of the alkaline trio.
Many people can't say they were a nationally published magazine journalist at 19 years of age. Truthfully, though, that was me. I went to countless live shows, took hundreds of photos, transcribed ten or twenty interviews, and wrote thousands of words. One day, though, it all just floated away. I had the opportunity to speak to people I never thought I would - members of my favorite bands calling me back three days after an initial interview to ask if they could add something because they forgot and wanted to help my piece. People I thought would be terrifying in real life were some of the sweetest I'd ever met. In a lot of ways, I never realized exactly how much that part of my life means to me, even if it isn't an active part now.
We learn from everything we do, whether consciously or not. Every now and again, I would just feel like shit about a project. The press agent was an idiot, the box office couldn't find my tickets, and I couldn't come up with what I thought were good questions at the right time to make a great piece. But every once in awhile, I would get an e-mail either directly or through an editor, telling me that I was a great writer and hoping to read more of my work. Even now, almost a decade later, I still get those types of e-mails every now and again. People tell me that I inspire them.
I never meant to inspire anybody in this life. Hell, most of the time I'm still trying to figure it out myself. But, in many ways, I try to convince people that I know what I'm doing and exactly what's going on all the time. I just about have myself convinced as well, but I don't. I don't see what other people see in me most of the time - maybe that's why I bask in the light of compliments when I get them.
Recently, that voice I was talking about earlier - the one I've been trying to shut up, my wolf at the table, has been coming back stronger than ever. I feel inspired to write, and don't really know why. I'm finally getting over my aversion to writing via a laptop instead of by hand. I'm letting the words flow out, not thinking about it and just letting it go. And for the first time in a long time, I'm not thinking about everyone else. I am doing it because it makes me feel good, and I need to.
If you've ever been driven to put pen to paper, you know exactly what I feel. the way it feels when my inner voice guides me to write something is not something I could ever describe in words. Growing up, I was totally the kind of kid that spent every free moment of her day jotting down thoughts, cataloguing the 'best years of my life' in a beat up collection of notebooks and journals that sit at the bottom of a cardboard box in my second bedroom as we speak. To this day, I still carry a journal in my purse, though mostly unused - just in case I get the pangs I used to. To be fair, I wish for the day when inspiration once again hits me like a ton of bricks and I can put that notebook to use.
The years since I for all intents and purposes quit writing have been filled with some good things, but some bad - and with the bad, I was left to digest the feelings somehow without ever getting them all the way out. Maybe it's why I feel like I have a wall built inside me. I have been my own self-sabateur in so many things - relationships, creativity and my own potential. Initially that sentence said, "am", but if this long-winded rant means anything, it's that I'm ready to once again make writing a priority, if for no other reason than I need it. I need to get the feelings and negativity out of me so it doesn't breed and erode more of me than it already has. My talent is precious, and I think the few years without writing have made me come back and look it straight in the face. Instead of fighting it, I want to re-learn how to embrace that portion of my personality, and I will, just like everything else.
I’ve had a particular idea for a blog post in the back of my
mind for awhile now, and it comes to the forefront now and again, when I don’t
expect it. When I read about From Mrs. to Mama’s Women Connect writing project
last night, I thought it would be the perfect time to put my thoughts together.
When I started my blog, now almost two years ago, I looked
at a lot of the other, bigger blogs for inspiration. I saw a lot of beautiful
photos, perfect outfits, perfect families and perfect lives. While I knew that
it was very far from the person I was, I decided to throw my hat in the ring
and try my hand at this whole blogging thing, my way. What they don’t tell you
is how frustrating it can be. To look at all of these beautiful things, and
then at your own life and your own home, knowing that that will never be you,
is frustrating. Looking at your own blog every day, seeing the number of
followers is the same as it ever has been and being excited to hit a hundred
views in a day, is a little bit frustrating because you know that it could be
so much better, if you could only figure out how to be as popular as everyone
else.
It all seems easy – write about your life, post photos of
your home, your outfits every day, everything. But it isn’t. Sometimes, it is
so difficult to come up with a good post idea that hasn’t been done a hundred
times before. I have always been someone who plays life close to the chest – I don’t
reveal much of anything to anybody unless they ask. I’m working on it, though. I’m
not a person who puts a whole lot of weight on what I wear every day, so I
haven’t ever made an outfit post and may not ever. That and my clothes don’t
really matter to me. It’s just clothes, nothing else. So when I wear the same
jeans two or three days in a row, the same boots every day in a week, and tops
I have either thrifted or have had for five years, it doesn’t seem exciting
enough to post.
So, to be honest, I am still trying to figure out where I
fit in the blogosphere. I read something kind of funny the other day on
Hipstercrite, relating to ‘throwing her hands up and becoming a fashion blogger’.
And I totally understand where she’s coming from! Every ‘fashion blog’ I have
ever seen is just that. Photos of random girls in outfits with a tagline saying
where all their clothes are from and how much they cost. Perfectly made up,
perfectly put together. It isn’t hard to do, I’m sure; it just feels a little
bit contrived.
When I sit and think of all of the bloggers I’m not, the
list is fairly short.
I am not a fashion blogger.
I do not have a perfect home.
I do not have a perfect husband or children. I’m not sure I
even want children.
And I don’t feel like everyone else.
I’m not blindingly
happy every day of my life, and I don’t think I ever will be.
All I can do is live the best life I can, and write it as I
see fit. Imperfections included.
Sitting in bed with a sleeping cat, ready to go to bed myself, and decided to write a little note to just say that I am still alive. See, I've spent the last few months learning how to live again. As dramatic as that sounds, its' true.
It ended with a text message that read 'you are dead to me'. I knew it was over from there. Packed up, moved out, and I was left with the haunted house. Not haunted, literally, but haunted by the love that once lived between these walls. Haunted by what used to be and what isn't anymore. Instead of staying friends, I decided that for me, for my own sanity, it was better to cut all ties. I didn't want to play games, and I didn't want him to, either.
For everyone that thinks that it's easy to break up with someone you lived with, let me just tell you that it isn't. It sucks. Coming home to what looks like a ransacked living room, that only looks that way because the couch, TV stand, and TV are gone, and all that's left is a pile of cable boxes and the line in the carpet where his couch used to be. I rented a Rug Doctor like an adult - got rid of all the stains, as good as a chalk outline so far as I was concerned. The outline of the death of our relationship.
Before thinking that I'm wallowing in some sort of self-pity over here, let me just say that no, that isn't the case. In the two or so months since this has happened, I've gotten promoted at work, got a new car, and have a moderately successful handmade business. All in two months. I don't have time to wallow - hell, I barely have time to work some days! I'll leave you guys with a few pictures from life these days - and promise that I'm working hard, as my show schedule slows down, to get back to writing. It's not something I like not doing. It feels like something is missing, to me, and I'm more than ready to get back to the way life should be.
An amazing sunrise on my way to work!
A recent show's booth setup.
The crazy waves here in the MKE due to Superstorm Sandy.
Cupcakes I made as a Halloween surprise for the shop - I made a little mess with the frosting, as usual.
My Day of the Dead makeup from hosting trivia on Halloween night!
Once in a great while, you have a conversation that makes you think. It can be with someone you already know or a complete stranger, but it happens, and you can’t get it out of your head for anything. And you don’t want to.
Since I got my first tattoo at age eighteen, I have been viewed differently. Of course, one in three people in the United States have at least one tattoo these days, but there has always been a stereotype leading back to a negative connotation – bikers, drug addicts, and all around bad people. I am, of course, none of those things, and I know it. As I added onto the collection of color on my skin, I noticed more and more that I was being looked at in public, and these days it is not uncommon for a random person to make a comment to me, or reach out to touch my skin. For the most part, I don’t mind it. More times than not, they are respectful interactions.
I was probably 19 or 20 when this photo was taken.
I am not writing this as some sort of sermon about how all people with tattoos aren’t bad people. Individuals who fit into the negative connotation still exist, and they are everywhere. What I am out to say, though, is that I am proud of myself. Proud of what I have been able to do with the life I’ve been given. I have a great full-time job, a home, and a relationship with someone who cares about me. I make enough money to live, and then some. I am supported by friends and family, and they are more protective of me than anything else.
Going with the negative connotation by the general public, though, I still notice things. I am stared at constantly at stores and restaurants, especially when I am with family. I have been followed around at stores in the past since I apparently look like someone that would steal (to the point that I had to get money out to prove I could pay for the things I was carrying). In order to interview for my current job, I wore long sleeves, wore my hair down, and removed the facial piercings that I could, just to not be judged.
And you know what? I got that job. And the one after it. These days, I hide nothing. I am accepted. I work each and every day just like everyone else, tattooed or not. What the general population still sees, though, is my tattoos, not me. And you know what? That’s fine with me.
Being heavily tattooed is wonderful in some aspects and a burden in others. Wonderful in that I have set out, from basically day one, to change people’s minds about heavily tattooed individuals. I do what I can to volunteer with free time to improve the lives of others. I field questions whenever I get them – my favorite is the “didn’t that hurt?” in response to my septum piercing – and just all around attempt to help improve people’s view of someone ‘like me’.
What this all comes down to is the conversation that I had yesterday. I was at a local Michael’s store, buying a bottle of Mod Podge to continue a project I’m working on. I was just about to the checkout, when there was a woman standing there asking the cashier a question. Instead of just walking away, though, she took one look at me and took me aside. “You are one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen.”
Standing there in my thrifted Rod Stewart t-shirt from 2007 and my bright purple corduroy shorts, I didn’t exactly believe her. She looked at my tattoos, made a comment about the Vincent Price portrait on my thigh, and asked to give me a hug. I didn’t exactly know how to take this sudden flow of positivity, but I just went with it. I hugged her and we launched into a conversation about who I am, what I do, and how much I appreciated her amazing comments. So often, someone makes a single comment and doesn’t say anything else.
2010.
She introduced me to her daughter, who, just by looking at her, reminded me a lot of myself in high school. Dark hair, a Joan Jett t-shirt, studded belt. A person I have been. In some aspects, likely outcast for not being the status quo, but also due to the help of her supportive mother, taking life by the horns and doing what she wants to do anyway – looks included. It was refreshing.
I was, and am, lucky to have the parents that I do. I have been fully supported in most every viable decision that I have made to get myself where I am today. The girl’s mother reminded me a lot of my own, and it made me happy to know that someday, maybe at my age, the girl would have the same attitude that I do about life and the world around her.
They told me they are working to put together a project centering on changing people’s minds about the tattooed community, and I was all in. I gave her my information, and we parted ways. She told me that she would call or e-mail me to keep in touch, and I hope she does.
Sometimes, conversations strike you at exactly the right time, and the words are exactly both what you need to hear, and what you need to say.
After reading Danielle’s post about nothing, I felt inspired
to write one of my own.
I feel like I’m at a bit of a strange impasse in my life. A
fork in the road. I am feeling the most extreme pull that I ever have – one
that tells me that I need to make a choice, and soon. A choice to either
continue down the road I’m on, working but dreaming of a life without a job,
truly making my own way in this wide world.
As far as dreams go, I have been dreaming excessively in the
past few years of a life without the necessity of a 40-hour a week paycheck,
creating my own life and making my own way from the ground up. My dream job is
one that involves a whole lot of crafting, writing, and being able to use my
mind and talents to make a great life. Not punching a clock and letting someone
else write my history for me.
That’s a big reason why I started this blog – I love writing. Since I haven’t been
published in magazines in a couple of years, I needed an outlet to get out my
thoughts, ideas, and to put these crazy thoughts of mine down somewhere. I do
everything that I can to lead an honest life, and I hope that it translates
into my blog, as well. That’s why I want to increase my number of posts, as
well – I want to gain readers, and have that feeling of community I feel that I
lack on occasion.
Since I was a kid, I’ve always felt like a bit of an
outcast. I’ve always had strange anxieties about dealing with people, like I’m
always being made fun of, or at the very least, that I’m not part of the crowd.
I want to build a group of friends from all over the place! And every day, with
every post, I hope to continue to build on what I already have.
I just want to have a life that I can feel good about. That
I can be proud of. Not that I am not proud of myself at this point, but I feel
like I could do, and can be, so much more than I am.
It’s so funny to think that this post was supposed to be
something about nothing, but in reality living my best life is one of the
biggest things on my mind every day.
Have you ever felt this way? Like you were meant for more?
What are you doing about it?
Since I've been looking for a way to get motivated to blog more, I decided to take a cue from Kaylah at The Dainty Squid and pick up a calendar to plan out my blog posts, as well as some small Post-Its to move around prospective posts. Last night, I put it together and planned an entire months' worth of posts! I am already incredibly motivated to keep myself to a post per day.
I am a bit of a stickler for a good planner, it took a few trips to different shops to find the perfect one. I went to both Target and OfficeMax, and it took a second Target trip to finally find what I was looking for.
I wanted a planner with calendar squares large enough for Post-It notes, and as an added bonus this one has cute tabs for the months as well as weekly pages, so I can use them for brainstorming! The extra space is great.
Overall, this particular project cost me around $10-12, depending on how much the planner you choose is. With all of the new things going on here at An Epic Liz, I figured now was as good a time as any to get organized!
In the time I've tried to be more serious about blogging, I've come to realize a couple of things: I've been sticking to doing about two different posts, and that's it (those being my Book Club Mondays and How To Tuesdays). That isn't all that I want out of this blog, however, so I came up with some great new ideas that I'm very excited to share with you!
First off, I'm going to continue to do Book Club Mondays every Monday, but am going to take a break from How To Tuesdays every week, and instead going to do them every two. In the meantime, I'm bringing in a new bi-weekly post called How I Blog - filled with motivation and my own ideas to stay motivated, and hopefully help someone else!
Besides all that, I'm bringing back Get Pretty posts of various makeup looks, and also Get Pretty Reviews, where I review some of my new (and old) favorites!
Among all of those new things, there are still others that I want to keep secret. According to my calendar, there will be a post every day for the entire post of July, and I'm going to do everything that I can to stick to that plan!
Un-blog related, but I'm also planning to do something really special with that novel I wrote a couple of years ago... stay tuned for more!
It seems a little bit silly to be writing a post about the fact that my relationship has lasted as long as it has. In certain ways, it shouldn't really matter - if it isn't a year, or two, or six, it doesn't necessarily feel like a huge achievement. But it is definitely one of those milestone things... especially for a girl like me, who usually has a relationship timeline of around three or four months.
Things always happened and former relationships imploded on themselves in a matter of months. Once you start getting to know somebody, you naturally want to get more involve, and if the other person is not at the same place, you wind up at a standstill, and nothing good can come of it. You pick up, dust yourself off, and try again. Trial and error.
From day one, Mike has been incredibly patient. The week we started talking and decided to get into this whirlwind of a relationship was the week I found out about my melanoma... so needless to say, and not to take a page out of Fight Club, but he met me at a very strange time in my life... a la Marla Singer. He has taught me a lot of things, including that it really doesn't matter how much makeup I wear or how bad my breath smells in the morning.. he loves me the same either way. He has taught me that it is okay to just be me, unscripted and unrestrained... and he is okay with that. I love being able to love that way.
So, what I've learned, numbered for your convenience:
Love unconditionally. There are definitely some days when I want to punch a hole in Mike's face. I'm pretty sure that happens in every relationship. I just do the best that I can every day to show him how much I care.
The past is the past. For the longest time, I felt myself being compared to all of his exes thanks to constant conversations about them. It made me feel bad about myself. Eventually, I realized that those issues aren't mine, and isn't my concern.
Never go to bed angry. Getting back to my first point - getting in an argument is bad enough, but if you don't agree to disagree before going to bed, don't think for a second that it won't continue to haunt you. You won't sleep well, and the bad feelings will continue. It's better to apologize and get on with your life.
Don't lose yourself in the relationship. I still fight with this one to this day. I am still learning how to be Liz, and do all of the things I loved to do before meeting Mike, like knitting, writing, and my other hobbies.
Be best friends. If I don't hear from Mike throughout the day, it doesn't feel like it's going to be a good day. Each and every day, I hear from him several times, mostly to ask how my day is going. To ask what I want for dinner or tell me how he did on a test in school. It just makes me feel loved.
Be patient. Everything else is tied to this one, for sure. Learning to love, and forget about the past, and stay together with an open mind is difficult. Every day, it gets easier and easier.
Love is hard work. It's up to us to make the best of it.
First of all, let me apologize for my silence minus a couple of Book Club Mondays! I have had a whole lot going on, and not a lot of time (or will) to write about those things. Let's make it really easy on you:
A lot of cool stuff is coming. I'm going to pick back up with How To Tuesdays and some of my other weekly stuff, as well as doing special posts and even starting some new weekly posts.
I'm going to start reviewing music as well as books (since it is what I've been doing seemingly forever), and even doing posts about bands that have been long broken up that I never want to fade from memory.
I'm sure there's more, but a girl does have to have her secrets, doesn't she?
I've always been a little slow on the uptake when it comes to being on time for things (in certain avenues of my life), so don't be surprised this list isn't showing up until now. I happened to read this list on my friend DJ's blog at http://martiandanceinvasion.blogspot.com, and thought it would be fun to re-count my last year - even though it's a little late.
01.What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?
Fell utterly, completely, head over heels in love.
Mike and I, at our crew Halloween party, where I dressed as Miss Argentina from Beetlejuice and he dressed as Mario.
02.Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I don’t typically have new years’ resolutions, so I can’t say I kept or didn’t keep any. This year, I’d just like to maintain the life I’ve been working so hard to build over the past few, and just stay happy. That’s all I’d really like.
03.Did anyone close to you give birth?
Nope.
04.Did anyone close to you die?
Nope.
05.What countries did you visit?
None. The farthest I traveled for a trip was Green Bay, WI – my homeland, which is a drive of about two hours.
06.What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?
A bigger apartment! And as it turns out, I’m getting one on March 1.
07.What date from 2011 will remain etched in your memory, and why?
There are a few, for sure. For one, the date of the surgery I had in October (10/17/11), and my anniversary date (10/15/11).
08.What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Transferring out of a job I absolutely could not stand in order to start from scratch 100% in an area I knew nothing about, and being incredibly successful at it. I went from being a secretary to working in auto parts in a matter of months, and I’m having an absolute blast.
09.What was your biggest failure?
I don’t believe in failures. I can’t think of one thing I didn’t try my best at all year – and sometimes things just don’t go as planned. But I certainly don’t feel like I ‘failed’ anywhere.
10.Did you suffer illness or injury?
In October, I had surgery to remove a Stage 1 melanoma that I found inside of one of my tattoos. That was one of the scariest moments I’ve had in a long while, for sure.
11.What was the best thing you bought?
I can’t really pinpoint anything specific that I bought for myself. Once and awhile, I like to take extra money and spend a little bit on myself here and there for some new clothes, makeup, or something like that. I also paid a lot of debt back this year, and my credit score is definitely better off for it.
12.Whose behavior merited celebration?
The men and women responsible for the Alford plea that freed the West Memphis Three after nearly 20 years behind bars.
13.Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Scott Walker. As a public employee, I’m living first hand with the changes he’s made, and let me tell you – it sucks.
14.Where did most of your money go?
Bills and paying back old debt. It’s difficult to not have a lot of extra, but when I think about the fact that I’m improving my life, making up for old mistakes, and carving out a future for myself, not having extra money seems pretty alright.
15.What did you get really, really, really excited about?
My new work opportunity, my new relationship… all of the above. I’m finally becoming the person that I’ve always wanted to be, and it’s a wonderful feeling.
16.What song will always remind you of 2011?
I hate questions like this, because I can never think of a single song that encompasses a whole year. This time, though, I can say that The Loved Ones’ “Distracted” got enough listens to merit reminding me of this year.
17.Compared to this time last year, you are:
a.Hotter or colder? Prettymuch the same.
b.Fatter or thinner? See above.
c.More active or lazier? See above.
18.What do you wish you’d done more of?
Being active.
19.What do you wish you’d done less of?
Toward the beginning of the year, drinking – once I curbed that and changed things for the better, I haven’t looked back.
20.How will you be spending/did you spend Christmas?
Mike and I spent Christmas Eve in Green Bay with my family for dinner, and Christmas Day in the morning with my extended family and evening with his. It made for a very long day, but it was good to be able to make the time to see everyone.
21.Did you fall in love in 2011?
That I did.
22.How many one-night stands?
Zero.
23.What was your favorite TV program?
Sons of Anarchy, bar none. I started watching it via renting season 1 from the library early in the year, got hooked, and wound up watching all three existing seasons before season 4 started this past year.
24.Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
Not that I can think of.
25.What was the best book you read?
Currently reading “My Horizontal Life” by Chelsea Handler via Kindle.
26.What was your greatest musical discovery?
In late summer/early fall I really re-discovered punk music, so I’d say that counts. I’ve been staying pretty close to the music I know lately, since new music (especially music on the radio) is absolutely awful. I’ve also taken to unabashedly falling back in love with ridiculous music from the 90’s.
27.What did you want and get?
I’ve wanted a Nintendo Wii for years, but never had the extra money laying around to actually buy one. I told Mike this while we were shopping on Black Friday and opened one up for Christmas!
28.What did you want and not get?
I try not to want for much.
29.What was your favorite film of this year?
Pretty sure it doesn’t count, but The Other Guys was pretty great. I haven’t been to the movies in a long time.
30.What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
Since my birthday was on a Saturday this year, I had a Friday night dinner and bowling with friends in Milwaukee, and spent Saturday night drinking my face off in Green Bay. I turned 26 – or rather it was my 5th annual 21st birthday.
31.What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Thinking about it, I’d say I had a pretty successful, satisfying year.
32.How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?
Jeans, t-shirts, shades of gray and black. I’d say that about covers it.
33.What kept you sane?
Knitting, new friends, and new opportunities. Oh yeah, and my cats.
34.Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
I try not to get too wrapped up in the celebrity world.
35.What was your favorite video game of the year?
It has been such a long time since I’ve played any new video games, I really couldn’t say – after I got my Wii, though, I started playing Cooking Mama again, which is pretty ridiculous in and of itself.
36.Who has made the most cameos in your dreams this year?
To be honest, I don’t dream all that often, and none of them stick out.
37.Who did you miss?
In quitting drinking for the most part, I’m not up in Green Bay as often as I once was, so I miss my friends there and my family, for sure.
38.Who was the best new person you met?
My boyfriend, Mike. By a landslide.
39.Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011:
Drinking isn’t everything, and finding friends to rely on has helped me more than I can explain.
Words have always meant the world to me. They have been my only friend, my solace, and my weapon when I needed one. Being able to write down my thoughts and feelings, even if only for my own eyes, has always brought me peace. In recent years, that peace has been disturbed and replaced with the turmoil of the worst creative block I have ever lived with.
Growing up, I always carried pen and paper with me. If I needed to jot down an idea that came into my head, I would refer to it later. I would refine and mold those ideas into something either spectacular or awful, though I was the only judge, since most of my works didn't reach the eyes of others until many years later.
I grew comfortable writing stories about other people - their struggles, their strife, their accomplishments. Writing someone else's story makes it very easy to forget your own, and unfortunately, I fell victim to that trap. While promoting the works of others, I forgot about myself.
At twenty-five years of age, I am now five years from my last nationally published writing work. Tonight, I broke out my paper portfolio and flipped through the pages, remembering how it felt every time I ran to a bookstore in search of one of my pieces. I would look through the magazine racks in calculation, looking for that fresh, crisp cover. Once I had it in my hands, I would flip through each and every page until reading my name. I didn't care about the editing or how my words may have changed. Seeing my name in something that reached beyond either my computer screen or shelf of notebooks was, and has always been, incredibly surreal. It has given me a sense of accomplishment unmatched by anything before or since. It has been everything to me.
For years, it was my identity. I was hungry to do more and be more, though continued to write humbling album and product reviews and sidebars. I grew complacent. Once in a great while, I would receive e-mail from an editor or reader praising my work, and even asking how I got where I was. It was both refreshing and inspiring, and I have always loved to share my experience with others.
Writing has never been easy for me, especially not emotionally. In recent years, I fell victim to the trap of not feeling good enough, not wanting to put myself out there in fear of ridicule or negativity. I have struggled since my last article was published in 2008 to shut off the part of my personality that has grown to need that validation.
Apparently, that switch is irrevocably broken.
In order to regain my comfort and focus, I opted to start at the beginning of my freelance writing career once again - AMP Magazine, based out of California. I picked up an interview for their upcoming issue, and will be working on that in the week to come. The familiarity of working with someone I grew used to as an editor, and the routine of a magazine I got to know very well makes me feel safe. I know what I'm doing, as I've done the same thing many times prior.
Not long after taking on this project, I sent off an e-mail to a fellow freelancer about taking part in a tattoo-related article she is working on for another publication - an article that has become near to my heart in the past weeks, certainly. Just this evening, I was on the receiving end of interview questions. Once it was finished, we planned upcoming collaborations, as well. Keep your eye on this space, as once I have more information I will be happy to give it.
Even if you give up on your story, your story will never give up on you. Don't get bored. Keep doing what you love, no matter what anyone, and most of all, your head tells you. Life life with head held high. Get rad and stay that way, it's the only way you'll survive.
In case you haven't noticed, I took another brief break from blogging - say that five times fast. In any case, I'll put the long and short of what I've been up to below, and then return to my regularly scheduled blogging in full force - I hope.
Throughout the past month or so, I have...
Dyed my hair bright, candy apple red.
Seen one of my best work friends get married.
Brought my laptop back from the dead (again).
Taken back my job as a part-time bar trivia host.
Finished or worked on a lot of knitting projects.
Drank a lot of beer.
Had one of my favorite people visit me in Milwaukee with her husband.
Fallen in love with music all over again.
Had my favorite weekend of the year - the Milwaukee tattoo convention.
Attempted crafts I never have before.
Rented a Kindle from the Milwaukee Public Library in an attempt to thwart my hatred of e-reading.
And tons of other stuff! I'll see what I can do to cover all of it in short order, so everyone can go back to reading my blog with this look on their faces:
I have always been totally and completely enamored by the stories of others (as I've said). Though it seems like every celebrity and their mother, father, sister in law, and third cousin twice removed are putting out memoirs these days, I decided to try Steve O's Professional Idiot on for size a couple weeks back.
Unsure of what I was expecting, I was a bit surprised by the content. Not by ridiculous stories of getting drunk, high, huffing nitrous and jumping off of stuff, but finding out that the funnyman was born overseas and was a bit of a brat growing up. Brat more meaning that he moved around a lot (his father worked for Pepsi), not that he was basically ADD and got in trouble for fun (which was also true). I loved reading the story of how he found Doc McGhee's hotel room when he was 13 and got to meet Motley Crue, as well as other stories of his youth.
While I was entertained by the brunt of the book, a portion just made me sad. Addiction changes people, never for the better. It is blatantly obvious after reading Professional Idiot that Steve realizes that. I can imagine that writing the book was part of his healing process.
Though most of us know him as a real 'Jackass', the book was (in my mind) a good representation of an underestimated man. While he's made a fortune doing stunts nobody would ever dream of doing and run around like a crazy person for the past ten years, Professional Idiot shows a new side of the 'Jackass' we never knew.
On a daily basis, I read the blogs and Tumblrs of people I've never met. I have always been interested in, and completely enthralled by, life stories, and reading blogs have been a great way for me to get my fix in that department. I've even gotten around to talking to a few bloggers in order to get myself some confidence, bloggers who I idolize in a way (the lovely Erin Dawn has been helpful in ways I can never put into words or thank her enough for).
You may ask why I haven't been able to do it myself. About seventy percent of me sees an ability to do the same, to share the story of my life, the things I love, and what I like to do. Ideas float through my head every day. The other thirty percent has held me back, and has been holding me back, for years. I call that thirty percent 'Margaret White'. You may know her as the mother of Sissy Spacek's "Carrie" in 1976. Hold please, an explanation is coming!
As a heavily tattooed woman, people see me and automatically think that I'm a fearless broad who'd punch you for looking at her sideways. Sometimes, I'm confident enough to feel that way, but most of the time I find myself keeping my feelings so deeply hidden that nobody gets in. Don't try it - it's a really shitty defense mechanism. I have been crippled by my own mind, my own 'what if's' for far too long. I'm ready to get back into life, get out of the dark, and lose the obnoxious fear that has been holding me back for the better part of the last four years, at least.
My fear has a name, and that name is 'Margaret White'. In the original film "Carrie", her mother was a super-Christian, abusive and atrocious woman. In one of the most memorable quotes of the film, she states - "They're all going to laugh at you." Instead of having a positive voice in my head pushing me to do things when I have an idea, or even just to get through the every day, I have had that. My own 'they're all going to laugh at you'. I have had nothing but misgivings about both people I know and strangers, thinking that if I write down what I feel, that I'll be chastised. I'll be made a fool of. That has put a stop to me writing on a more regular basis for at least the past three years.
Another part of it is that about ten years ago, a person I used to hold particularly close to me violated my trust and read very personal writings without permission. Since then, I have been crazy vigilant about being private with my feelings, especially with my writing. Nobody reads it unless I want them to, nobody knows about it unless I want them to, etc. I think it's about time to put that one to bed, too.
It's time for it all to stop. If I think about it, I have nothing to lose. I can't hold myself back or be dishonest about who I am and what I love anymore. It is no way to live, and my heart has been too heavy for too long because of it.
Breathing in, breathing out. I feel better already. Prepare for the entertainment to follow.
When I get off work, I want to run like hell some days. I feel like I spend eight hours a day like a square peg being shoved into a round hole. Most days, I have absolutely dick to do in the time between 8 AM and 4:45 PM - and it's not that there isn't work coming in, but when you type a hundred words a minute there probably isn't an office that can keep you elbow deep in work. At least I know mine can't. My fallback is data entry, and the one day I tried spending the entire eight hours doing it I found myself nearly passing out at my desk all afternoon. Real classy. "Hey, Liz, you got some drool on your chin, there.."
Not that I'm getting all 'Office Space' on the whole thing, but it's getting hard to take anything about this job seriously anymore. I don't make enough money to keep myself afloat, I don't have a real reason to care... I've been told from day one that I'm essentially disposable, so why work my ass off? Some days I just wake up with the best intentions, look over at a drawer of nice dress clothes versus a pair of jeans with studded belt and a sweater, say "fuck it", and wear jeans and tennis shoes on days that aren't Friday. We don't really have a dress code that anybody sticks to - this means you, 55 year old man who wears jeans and various Star Wars, Pink Floyd and Devo t-shirts all the time... hell, he came in in a Sulu yellow Star Trek uniform shirt once. Not even kidding. So the fact that the department's office assistant is a heavily tattooed bitch on wheels isn't a huge problem. Which, in a world where some heavily tattooed individuals take the 'high road' of filing for federal disability so they don't have to work... should feel like an accomplishment, right? Meh.
Definitely did not see myself rotting away in offices as I was growing up. I had fleeting thoughts of how awesome it would be to be a writer, a librarian, or, for chrissakes, a professional wrestler (we aren't all smart in third grade).... and you know what? I sat down at a computer in about fourth grade, got good at it, and now look at me. One of the faceless yes-men trudging into an office every day. Fuck. How did it happen? I did attempt college a few years back - for an Associate's degree in Funeral Service (I figured hell, I like animals more than I like people and I've helped put animals down so hanging with dead people can't be too bad...) until I couldn't pass the simplest damn biology class the school offered. That was the world telling me "Liz! Go back to being a writer, you idiot!" So I attempted 19 credits per semester while working 40 hour work weeks in order to obtain my Associate of Arts. Guess what happened with that? Yep. Burned out. Quit. And not just a little bit - in the 'oh my god, if I go to one more class, get sexually harassed by one more fucking biology teacher, if my boss won't get off my ass about my hours, when's the last time I slept?' gonna-blow-your-brains-out kind of quit. Total shutdown.
After that, I decided work was going to be it, for 'awhile'. I always told myself at about 19 that I would be self-reliant on writing by time I hit 25. Didn't seem too tall an order, things were looking up... yeah, until that whole burnout thing happened, leading to me moving back into my parents' basement and still clawing myself up five years later. No, I've never had a clear-cut idea of what I want. I've never been able to look at my life and say that, definitively, I needed to do anything but write. It's been the only constant. And guess what? I've been ignoring the itch for about two years or so as it stands right now.
Right now, the damn itch has turned into the plague, the 'Pox, whatever you want to call it, and instead of ignoring all the goofy ideas that float into my head every day, I'm opting to put them down, put them on a blog, and make a total jackass of myself for the world to see! Hey, at least it won't just be me feeling like a jackass in my head anymore... right? And maybe, just maybe, it'll get me one step closer to not rotting away in an office for the best years of my life. Summer's coming, after all.
