I've been inked!

Alright, so I know it's a bit redundant to blog two days in a row, but hey...It's not my fault awesome things keep happening to me...For this awesome thing, I must tell you two other things first.
One: I might have mentioned this in the past here on this blog, but too bad. I'm going to tell you again. When I was little, I had to have my immunization shots three times. The first time was the normal shots that every youngster gets. The second time was because my Mum's idiot mother had my records and didn't tell us, and my doctor made me get them again because I wasn't on record. The third time was because my idiot doctor lost the records, and again, I endured yet another butt-load of shots just to prove that I had them. This is the reason that I absolutely hate needles. I literally could not move my arms after the third round, and I was in cheer at the time, so that totally sucked. So let me reiterate: I HATE NEEDLES.

Now to the "other thing" number Two: My 2010 New Year's Resolution was to finish my novel. As of December that same year, I did just that. This year, 2011, my New Year's Resolution was to get published. I have also accomplished that (at the bottom of this post I'll put a plug in for ya, Captain). I have a wonderful friend on Facebook who is helping publish me on Amazon, he even got the art department to do a cover for my novel now. This is simply awesome. Another stipulation to my New Year's Resolution, was that if I happened to get published, I was to get a tattoo.

Now we're getting somewhere, eh?

I've been wanting a tattoo for a while. I wanted a single feather, on my left arm, to symbolize my novel. My novel is one of the most important things to me besides my loved ones, and the feather is a way to imprint that on my body forever, so I would never forget, not even for a second. Last night I conquered my fear of needles, I checked another thing off my Bucket-List, and I did it. I got the tattoo I wanted, and I could not be happier about it. It's bloody brilliant. I took a picture of it this morning, so everyone could see how great it looked, so check it out!

It's positioned on my left arm, just as I had wanted, right below the crook of my elbow. If you want to see more, check out my Facebook Profile.

Alright, so I know there are some controversies concerning tattoos. Some people think that marking your body permanently like that is stupid, that some day you will not feel the same way you did about it when you first got it, and then you would regret it. I don't believe that. I believe that when you care about something so much so that you do want that permanently marked on your body, you will never forget that, and it will always be with you. Upon hearing of my tattoo, a wise friend of mine (holla at the Captain!) said to, "remember that what's inside is really important, too...not just the outside". I completely agree. Who you are is not what you look like. However, I had to add to that, to show that what I did to the outside of my body was for the inside as well. So I replied, "of course! But the outside is a reflection of the inside, like in the case of the tattoo, it was an outward projection of what I was feeling on the inside..." And I completely believe that as well. When someone feels a certain emotion so strongly that they have to project it outwardly so that they --and everyone else-- can see it, that is a strong force indeed. And I have now vowed to live my life to the fullest. I'm gonna ride roller-coasters (may take some warming up to, but it will happen!). I'm gonna sport my ink. I'm gonna say what I want, do what I want, and live for today and tomorrow (very wise words from the Sandman...Hey, Apple!). Life is too short, people! Have fun with it! You know, that three-letter word that starts with F? 'Cause you know what, I'm not dead yet. So why start acting like it?

Blog ya later, Miss Eccentric.

The Captain's Plug:
You will find the publishing company who helped me at Nightfire Publishing. I won't use the Captain's name here, because I don't want a bunch of people to bug him, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind y'all checking out his site. The people there at Nightfire are simply awesome, so if you need help with your publishing needs, please pay them a visit.

The Curse of the Ghostrider

Okay, so anyone who knows me knows that I am like, the biggest chicken when it comes to heights. Therefore, it goes to show that I would also be terrified of roller-coasters. When going to Knott's Berry Farm the biggest thing I'll go on is the Jaguar, and that thing is like, the most tame ride there. Except for the stuff in the kiddie-area, of course. You see, this fear all started when I was about eight years old, and my family talked me into going on the Ghostrider, the big, rickety, wooden dinosaur that those stupid theme-park people have dubbed an "amusement ride". In my family's defense, they had ridden it before and had said that it wasn't that bad. And in a normal circumstance, I believe them to be right. It certainly isn't the worst ride there, and there are a lot of younger children that love the ride. I was not one of them.
We must have waited in line for an hour, I swear. It was a hot Summer afternoon. We got up to the cars finally, and we had decided that I was just barely tall enough to ride. My Mum and I slipped into the car together, because riding with my mom was the most logical decision in order to make me feel more comfortable. Next we had to put our seat-belts on. Now, one thing you must know about Ghostrider seat-belts, is that there is one regular belt for each person, like in a motor vehicle, and then there's a bar that locks down on your lap. One more thing you must know about the Ghostrider seat-belts, is that when I was eight-years-old, that was not the case. When I was eight, there was one single belt restraint that went over both passenger's laps, and it didn't really tighten up that much. So as my Mum and I sat and tried to tighten it enough for me so that it actually touched me, we started to doubt our decision to get on that damn ride. We both knew I wasn't secure, and my Mum, being the responsible, loving parent she is actually tried to inform the Knott's idiots of this restraint error. Unfortunately for her, they did not pay heed to the panicking mother. Instead, they started the ride, and there was nothing more she could do about it. The first hill you climb is the biggest. As you can imagine, the tiny little eight-year-old with no restraints on was not a big fan of that first big drop, and surely I was not a fan of the following drops, twists and turns. I had to sit in the fetal position, holding on to the belt and any bar I could get ahold of. My Mum also had to help by holding her arm around me, as the force of the ride was too much for a wimpy eight-year-old to completely handle by herself. By the time it was over, my Mum's arm was bruised and numb, and I was scarred for life.
Fast-forward eleven years, to a nineteen-year-old me, who is still terrified of roller-coasters, especially that particular one. I nearly died on it as a child, so there is no judging me on this standpoint. When you have a near-death experience on a roller-coaster, then you may tell me whether or not you might have a complex about it. Until then, back off. So there.
Anyway, went off subject a little there...Okay, so there I was, eleven years later, and I had finally worked up the courage to say, "okay, let's go" when my Mum suggests we ride the Ghostrider. I had made up my mind, and there was no changing it. It was just yesterday, in fact, on a Thursday, which surprisingly was a really good day to go, because there was virtually no line. We just walked up to the cars, waited for it to empty out, and got in. As I've said already, the restraints are considerably better than eleven years ago. So Mum and I sat, put our separate belts on tightly, and locked our --also separate-- bars over our laps. It seemed secure, so we were both feeling pretty confident. The ride started, we made it to the first big drop, and then we started climbing. The ride click, click, clicked loudly, but then suddenly, clunk, squeeaak! We stopped in the middle of our climb to the drop. My first thoughts: "Oh my God, I am cursed!"
And I just so happened to say this aloud. The people behind us cussed and said something along the lines of, "I don't want to ride this now". The people in front of us turned around and exclaimed, "oh, so this is your fault?!?" Mum and I explained how I nearly fell to my death when I was eight. They completely blamed me for this second freak accident, because as I had so wisely exclaimed, I was cursed. This was it. It was time for the Ghostrider to exact its revenge on me for surviving the first time. And this time, it was out for blood...
But then, as if a miracle had been sent by God, the ride started, and soon we were plunging down that first big drop. I screamed and closed my eyes. But for some reason, after that, I started laughing and yelling hysterically, as if I had lost too much oxygen and gone completely mad. My Mum tried asking me if I was having fun mid-ride, but all I could do was laugh and shake my head, saying "this is crap, I don't like this...!"
By the end of the ride, I was dizzy from my lack of oxygen, and I was shaking with adrenaline. As we walked off the ride and down the exit lane, I said to my Mum, "that was friggin' crazy. Wanna go again?"

Blog ya later, Miss Eccentric.

"WHATEVER"

The word has many meanings, to say the least. It's used in everyday life, by all kinds of people of different ethnicity's and generations and genders...All in all, I hear it way too often. It's like a filler-word. It's used when no one knows what else to say. For me, this word is used as a, "I don't want to start anything, so I'm gonna just let this go and I won't talk about it again."
I know I am guilty of using this word, but I am trying to stop myself now for future situations. However, to other people, this word takes on a whole new meaning. As mine is simply a way to keep the peace, others have used it in a way that suggests harsh dismissal. Sometimes when it's used in such a manner I imagine that the user of the word simply wants to say something along the lines of, "I don't care what the hell you're saying, I'd really like it if you'd shut up now. If you don't, I'm going to go all homicidal on you and murder you with a straw, then I'm going to do a voodoo dance on your grave to bring you back, just so my gerbil minions can eat you and then burn themselves alive. 'Kay?"
I don't always know why these thoughts go through my head, but it's nothing but the truth. I've always been the type of person who thinks if you have something to say to me, say it. Don't bull$h!t me with your nasty comments to which you try and disguise as a surrender. So you can imagine why I'd really rather know the true meaning behind a word such as "whatever", instead of just taking it as "they have nothing more to say". Because I know from experience that everyone always has more to say. Just in the beginning of this year I read in one of my favorite books that when people want to say something, are about to say something, but then hold themselves back for reasons such as not wanting to say anything socially unexceptionable, holding it on the tip of their tongue for a second and swallowing it...Well, these are called spill-words. I wholeheartedly believe in spill-words, however there are two types in my mind: Type one, the type that almost comes out but again, gets swallowed, and two, the type that comes out in one dismissal-word instead, a word that is loaded with spill-words. I'm more inclined to either just say what I mean, loud and clear, or I will use the type of spill-word that almost comes out but doesn't. This is because I know when to be loud, proud and opinionated, however, I also know when to shut my big fat mouth as to not hurt someone that I love. But be that as it may, I know far more people that use the other type of spill-word, the type that comes out as a nasty, snapped comment that is loaded with the true and crude meaning. Like the word, "whatever". Which brings me to my last point (I think, hehe). Words are just that: Words. People are the ones who put meaning behind them. Now, let me explain this so you don't take it the wrong way. Yes, I am a writer, and therefore find meaning and put meaning into every word I read and write. A story is not a story unless it has meaning. However, a word does not have meaning unless you tether either an emotion to it, or you act on that word, show it more than you say it. Take the word "love", for instance. I have heard this word in several different ways. Depending on who says it, it can either take on a profound meaning, or it can simply mean nothing. But it's not the act of saying the word itself that gives it meaning. It's what you do that counts. I find more meaning in someone silently looking you in the eyes, telling you that they understand you, or gingerly holding your hand, or hugging you when you need it, or making you cry with just one glance...It's the actions that love is truly shown in. When the word is thrown around so much you do not find meaning at the sound of it anymore, you know it's just empty sounds coming from someone's mouth. It's like that saying, "actions speak louder than words". We put meaning into words, and unfortunately they mean nothing unless you can back them up with your actions. And I don't know about you, but I can back up every word I write, and every word I speak. Because I mean each one, and I can prove it with my actions. How about you?

-Miss Eccentric.

P.S. Yes I know that some of that was crazy-rant worthy, and may not make complete sense, but sometimes I need to say what I feel. This was one of those times.