I turned 29 on Wednesday. My 20′s are almost over, boo-hoo. Now people might actually begin to take me seriously! (Naw, who am I kidding?) The good thing about being almost-30 is I’m wiser, smarter, and look better than I did when I was almost-20. Although I have noticed a lot more gray hairs and the beginnings of wrinkles on my forehead. I still get mistaken for being under 21, however maybe now that I’m approaching 30, I should actually learn how to use make-up…

Summer in Nola is hot, y’all. I don’t think I’ve ever sweat this much in my life. A couple of weeks ago, the heat was so intense it actually warped one of the streetcar rail lines.

In an effort to escape the heat, my roommate and I took a trip to Destin, FL. The water was so blue, it reminded me of Hawaii! Everybody knows how much I love the gulf coast, but in case you don’t understand why, feast your eyes on this:

This weekend was the annual New Orleans Red Dress Run. Of course, my “weekend” started with my birthday on Wednesday, then Red Skirt Run on Thursday, and Red Lingerie Run on Friday, before culminating in the main event. Needless to say, my liver has filed for a trial separation and has moved back in with its parents while we seek couples’ counseling.

The concept of a red dress run is not exclusive to New Orleans; Hash Houses in many different cities hold dress runs (some I have attended include Savannah’s Green Dress Run and Red Dress events in Washington DC, Pensacola and Jacksonville, FL). Usually you will only see hashers in attendance. Our red dress run is open to the public, which brings in a lot of tourism during a typically dead season. Profits are donated to local charities, and this year that amount totaled to over $200,000!

Unlike other RDR’s I’ve attended, this one was less of a trail run, and more of a “drink in Washington Square for a few hours, then run amok on Bourbon Street”.

I guess when you live in a region that gets this miserable in summer, the best way to take care of it is drown it with cold beer.

I’ve sorta turned the kitchen’s breakfast nook into my work space, so I’ve actually had room to spread out and paint. Since moving here in March, I’ve managed to actually finish three paintings– that’s an accomplishment for me since I’m notorious for starting a project and then letting it languish in art-limbo for months or even years.

This is the first one I did, shortly after moving here. I had no art for my bedroom walls, and was pretty broke, so I thought I would just create something. The blue and white tiles are on the sidewalks in lots of neighborhoods, and they’re pretty iconic and uniquely New Orleans. Most of them are pretty old and cracked, so I wanted to recreate that– it’s harder than it looks!

I had a bunch of canvases in various shapes and sizes that I brought with me from Atlanta. This painting started with very little pre-sketching and evolved as I went along– sort of refreshing my brain since I hadn’t painted anything in so long. Wayne Thiebaud has been one of my favorite artists ever since I was introduced to his work while I was an undergrad; I love his use of color and the way he interprets light and shadows. He’s been a major influence in my painting style for several years.

This is my most recent piece, obviously inspired by Vincent van Gogh, specifically “The Starry Night”. It’s hard to see in a photograph, but the paint is super thick and there is a lot of texture, which I personally enjoy and find very interesting. I like when paint is so thick it looks like cake frosting. That is easier to do with oils than acrylics, but acrylics are way less messy (a benefit when your “studio” is also the place where you eat food) and don’t take weeks to dry.
(That mango colored wall is in my bedroom– it’s pretty rad.)

As you can see, I enjoy including typography in my paintings. I guess it’s just carrying over from my career as a graphic artist.

All of these are for sale, if anybody is interested! E-mail me for details.

Today I stumbled upon this article on Examiner.com about my chest piece.

Even though I don’t live in Georgia anymore, it was my home for a good quarter century of my life, and I still can’t think of anything else I’d rather have on my chest. Even if I could (painlessly!) wipe my chest clean and do it over, I still wouldn’t want a different design. I do have plans to possibly add on to the design in the space along my collarbones and neck. I just need to make sure my career is secure before I start tattooing highly visible places. ;)

In addition to the ATL tattoo above my elbow, I have plans for one more possible Atlanta-related piece to finish up my “Southern life” sleeve (which is coming along nicely, thanks to Erica Flannes at Eye Candy Tattoo here in New Orleans– pictures soon, I promise!) which is Mr. Fangs.

Who is Mr. Fangs, where did he come from, and is he related to the Pacman ghosts? I surely don’t have the answers, but he is a popular graffiti subject all around Atlanta. He’s even in one of my photos, which I took two years ago in Little 5 Points:

Can you find Mr. Fangs?

While I’m waiting for my current tattoo session to heal so I can provide better photos, here is just one from my sitting on Thursday with Erica:

Now that life has settled down and seems to be staying there for a while (let’s hope I don’t jinx myself) I’m going to start blogging again. It feels easier to write about silly things when I’m not worried about where my next paycheck is coming from. I love my job– even though it’s more responsibility than I’ve had at previous positions and a dramatic change from being unemployed, I actually don’t mind going to the office every day at 8am, and I consider that a blessing if there ever was one.

Since I posted that last entry, things got crazy again. I started a new job at a screen printing shop, and during my second week on the job, the senior designer quit… making me the senior designer. I’m now responsible for the entire art department. I finally feel like my college degree is actually USEFUL!

Beyond that, I’m learning a lot about screen printing– it’s pretty amazing that I have been using Adobe Creative Suite since I was about 16, studied graphic design in college, and still learn new things almost every day. Screen printing is a little bit of a mental shift after working in CMYK (paper) printing for about 5 years, because the processes are completely different. And suffice to say it’s kind of weird having a Big Girl Job (normal business hours, Monday through Friday) again after 2 years of floundering around aimlessly, but my boss and coworkers are all pretty low-maintenance, and there is no dress code so I get to go work in pajama pants and a t-shirt every day. It doesn’t entirely feel like a “real job”, which I appreciate.

To entertain you, here is a picture from my meth lab… I mean office:

This is attached to the printer I use to output the films required for creating screens.
It really does kind of look like some sort of mad scientist setup.

Hey, guess what– I have a blog! Apologies to all my loyal readers, since I have not had much inspiration to post lately. In addition to my life not being all that interesting (who wants to watch a soap opera called The Young and the Unemployed?), one of the unfortunate side effects of being broke, poor, and depressed is not having much inspiration or creativity to speak of. Just as soon as I had resigned myself to calling it quits, moving back in with my parents and taking a job at Walmart– the universe finally threw me a bone.

I had been staying in New Orleans, to look for work and enjoy Mardi Gras season (due to a lack of any real responsibilities in Atlanta and an overall boredom with the city)– lo and behold, a job offer appeared. Much to my surprise and delight, I was hired almost immediately. The only problem was then I had to drive back to Atlanta, pack up the rest of my belongings into my car, and drive back the next day. My friends who follow me on Twitter/Facebook were at least aware that I was moving, but I did not get to personally say farewell to anybody. The last time I announced that I was moving, my friends threw me a “going away” party– but the attempt at moving only resulted in me crawling back with my tail between my legs, and I felt like it made me look flaky. So this time I kind of just sneaked away, and now I feel bad about that too. Well, it’s not as if I don’t plan to go back and visit. (And my new place of residence has plenty of space for guests…*hint hint*)

For those of you who are just catching up, I got laid off from my graphic design job in March of 2009. Aside from the three months I worked at Lush during the holidays, it has been TWO YEARS since I held down any form of employment. I’m honestly thrilled to be working again, and even more thrilled that my job is art-related. I’m teaching painting classes at a franchise that specializes in throwing parties (birthdays, fund raisers, bachelorette parties, baby showers, etc.) where an instructor leads a group through a painting (think Bob Ross style, minus the “happy little trees”) while the students also eat, drink, and socialize. I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks, but so far I love being able to encourage and inspire people who think they have no artistic ability. The other day one of my students sent me home with a half bottle of wine that she and her friends didn’t finish… Yeah, this job has perks.

I’m also unbelievably excited to be living in New Orleans; it’s an amazing city with so much history, beautiful architecture, and awesome food on every corner. The locals have such a genuine sense of pride, and even us transplants seem immediately overwhelmed with a sense of belonging. It took me two years before I really felt “at home” in Atlanta, and I felt at home here instantly. Of course, this is also the Mecca for high-functioning alcoholics. You can’t beat a city with drive-thru Daiquiri shops on every corner (it’s a “closed container” until you put the straw in!), where you can buy liquor and kegs of beer at the grocery store (on Sunday no less!), and pour your drink from a bar into a plastic cup to walk down the street with it.

Not to mention a plethora of parades, tons of festivals, and spontaneous brass bands popping out of nowhere. And they bake babies into cakes!

What’s not to love about that?

Okay so I realize some of this should be common sense, but as y’all know, common sense ain’t that damn common.

Feel free to contribute or add to this if you feel I have forgotten something. ;)

Rules for approaching, talking to, and/or dating tattooed women:

1. I am not a circus sideshow. I’m not here for your amusement. It’s inappropriate to feign interest in me just so you can have something pretty to look at, or show me off to your lame-ass friends.

2. Don’t touch me without my permission. Just don’t. Asking to see a tattoo is fine. When I lift up my shirt/pants/etc. that is NOT AN INVITATION TO TOUCH.

2a. I’ll save you the time and let you know: tattooed skin doesn’t feel any different than “regular” skin.

3. If you’re not comfortable introducing me to your parents/friends because of my appearance, my advice to you is don’t call me until you grow a pair.

4. No, I don’t know “how many” tattoos I have.

5. I don’t care if you “know a guy” who will do a back piece for fifty bucks. I also don’t care if you ARE “that guy”.

6. Eyes up here, chief. I can’t have a conversation with you when you’re making eye contact with my chest piece.

6a. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.

6b. But that does NOT mean you can take a picture without at least letting me know I’m being photographed.

7. Just because I have tattoos doesn’t mean I want to see yours, especially if I don’t know you, and your tattoos were all done in prison.

8. If I’m obviously busy, e.g. at Kroger 5 minutes til midnight on a Saturday– trying to buy beer before they shut down the alcohol sales for Sunday– don’t come up to me and ask me 20 questions about a tattoo.

9. Just because I have tattoos does not mean that I “like pain”, nor does it mean I will automatically sleep with you.

10. This one gets me every time: Just because I have tattoos does not mean that I don’t want a romantic relationship, possibly leading to marriage. I don’t know what part of tattoos = commitment phobic, given that TATTOOS ARE PERMANENT. Following logic, tattooed people should be more likely to commit, not less. But really, how about we just stop making generalizations based on nothing else but a person’s appearance?

11. Stop asking me stupid questions. “Does that tattoo have a story?” is not a stupid question. I’m talking about things like:
- “You do know that’s permanent, right?” HO HO! Thank you, Captain Obvious.
- “What are you going to do when you’re 80?” Be a crazy old tattooed bitch, that’s what.
- “Oooh girl, did that hurt?” Why no, it felt like skipping through a field of daisies on a warm spring morning. OF COURSE IT HURT.

That is all, you may now return to your regularly scheduled internet.

If the other week was the Super Mario Bros ice world, then last week was this:

Atlanta was literally shut down for almost four days. The only fortunate part about UNfortunately being a victim of labor cut backs at my (now former) job is that I was not missing any work due to the road conditions. At one point I walked to the bar next to my house and was struck by how eerie, quiet, and deserted the streets had become. However, I did have a job interview later in the week and was gonna be damned if I had to cancel because of some stupid frozen precipitation. I managed to avoid the piles of cars sliding everywhere, but it was still the first time (and probably will be the only time) I have ever been late to an appointment because I got stuck behind a snow plow.

As you might have figured out by the context of the previous paragraph, I’m jobless again and due to some even more unfortunate circumstances, I’m about to be homeless again too. Never a dull moment. I’m really about to give up, drive to New Orleans, and live in my car by the river.