Night 1

So I decided to start a blog. Finally, I suppose. I tried doing this awhile ago, but found that my free time was limited, and it didn't take off. Now, I'm working night audit shifts with all the free time in the world. So much, in fact, that I have to fend on falling asleep out of fear of being fired by the pleasant staff here (no sarcasism intended). I was told by the assistant manager this morning, "I know you feel like you're not doing anything, but that's actually what we need you for, you're getting paid to just be." I'm not complaining by any means. I get to draw more which is awesome and I feel like I've gotten better even in the last few days. I chat with old friends, make some new ones, and eat anything from the kitchen. To top that off, I get paid ten bucks an hour, which is what I was making at my last job for being the banquet supervisor and working the director of sales position. I so win.

My good friend inspired me to write more when she told me that she wanted a place to express her true feelings and a place to vent. I've been craving something similar for awhile now after being disappointed time after time with social networking sites, where most of my friends and family really don't get what I'm actually trying to express. My mother is the worst, making comments about my mental disorder, my medications, me having breakdowns, all at my expense of people finding out things about me they don't know. Frankly, I don't want people to know anymore. I feel that my mother pushes her Bi-Polar and permanent disability life on me in order to validate her failures in areas she secretly desires. I don't think it's intentional, just ignorant sometimes of my feelings when she's seen me go through so much. I guess she doesn't care what people think about her, but I do...sometimes...sometimes too much.

That's actually a current quality about me that I would like to get over. I do care what people think, and stupid people too. I play World of Warcraft somewhat like an addict, and if a group gets on me because one person dies I'll take it personally, like my avatar actually has feelings. She doesn't though, and I don't have them in a lot of areas either, but I am in a shame spiral of feeling inadequite after a few events in the past year and getting upset at myself for not clicking 4 miliseconds faster satiates my self hatred.

When I was 21, I told myself my life goal was to be tattooing by the time I turned 25. I will be turning 26 in January, and the only thing I've done is purchased hundreds of dollars in equipment. It's a step I suppose, and it's one step closer to owning my own parlor, Tattooed Sugar. I have the logo finished, business cards disigned, and the knowledge to do it. Now I just need to get there. I'm frustrated and tired of waiting for the day where my lifelong dream will become a reality, and I long so badly to be praised for my unique style, flair, and my perspectives on how a good tattoo shop should be managed. I want to provide the best, I want to give myself to others out of love and passion for art. I want to be embraced for that. I had a crazy idea in my head that if I can do that, and make my mark on the world and the industry, my problems will instantly disappear and I will be a happier person. Maybe it's not as crazy as I think, but regardless still unrealistic. I've learned that if you want something, you have to bust your ass working to get it. True success can't be luck. If it is, shoot me now because I /random 100 like a nooblet.

Every night audit shift I work there will be a new installment to this blog. Not only does it stimulate my creative side, it will help keep me awake. I get paid to stay awake.