Trying to Find my Happiness at Christmas

Christmas Jack

I want it, oh, I want it
Oh, I want it for my own
I’ve got to know
I’ve got to know
What is this place that I have found?
What is this?
Christmas Town, hmm…
I’m not a big fan of Christmas anymore. The music is horrid and Roger Darling insists on listening to it from the beginning of November till December 26th. It’s all this sparkly girl can do to keep from cutting herself every time I have to ride in his car with him. If you’ve read me for very long you know I’m passionate about a few things. Okay, I’m passionate about everything. But music is my biggest passion. However movies are another. And of course there’s the lovely Sally and Jack from The Nightmare Before Christmas. Sally is my alter ego. In my heart beats the musings and music of a pretty dead girl. Don’t ask me why. Some things can’t be explained, nor should they be.
I love the movie, the music, and the love story. For someone so loud and shiny, I can be quite morose. This time of year especially. I was trying to think of a song to cheer me up. Then this silly picture of Jack came up in my FB newsfeed. I knew the song I had to post up. What’s This from TNBC. Of course! I watched the video this morning and sang along. Christmas time began to buzz in my skull and I was happy. I do know the reason for the season. But it seems so many others have forgotten. I’m not trying to be sacrilegious with my post. I’m only trying to find my happy place. Of course it would come in the form of Jack and Sally. Now it’s time for this Sparkly Girl to get ready to head to Sis’s place for dinner and a crazy White Elephant gift exchange.
Merry Christmas from my family to yours. Much love to you all. Eat and drink too much and then take a shit ton of Mylanta to settle your stomach. XOXOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXOX

I Like the Pain, the Bite, the Sting

I think the definition of woman should be open wound. – Joey Singleton

I like the pain, the bite, the sting. The piercing of the flesh. The transfer of my dream to reality. My story being told on my canvas. My skin. The buzz of the machine. The feel of the needle. The transfer of color. The sound calms my chaotic mind. Soothes me.

The first time I spoke to Joey, I liked him instantly. His voice was like buttah. I told him my idea for a tattoo. He gave me his cell phone number (big shock). We exchanged a few texts, a few pictures, a few ideas. We made the appointment for the next Saturday. I was anxious, but excited too. I’d been waiting 12 years for my second tattoo.

The next Saturday, I sat in a comfortable chair in the shop. Tried to breathe deeply, calmly. I waited patiently while Joey prepped. He’s very methodical. I looked at the walls around me. They were covered with his artwork. He has a penchant for dead stuff. Zombies. I found that fascinating, really. As we talked, I found him to be fascinating too.  We talked about love, life, family. Religion too. He’s a Buddhist. I’m a Christian. We talked philosophy. All the while my leg twitched, the machined whirred, the needle bit my skin and my beautiful, dead alter ego came to life.

His step-mom asked me why I wanted Sally. I told her even though I was a sparkly, funny blonde girl, I had a sad, dark side. Plus, I love groovy dead chicks. I like her story too. Her song. She loves Jack. She almost doesn’t get him. But in the end he sees her beauty and falls madly in love with her. I’ve never been a typical beauty, so I felt I could identify with her.

We take a break. I look down at my leg. There’s blood everywhere. There’s pain too. I see beautiful scarlet hair. Large, sad eyes. Like mine. Tiny mouth. Scars. Everything I wanted.

We continue. My leg twitches. There’s pain. I know how to deal with it though. Joey calms me with his words. The sound of his voice. His extremely gentle touch. The red hair, that hurts the worst. There’s so much of it. I endure. Listen to Joey. Finally, I look down and we’re finished. He cleans my leg, takes pictures, and posts it on Facebook. The likes and comments start rolling in.

I pay my bill, and get my tattoo care sheet. As I get ready to leave, I hug Joey. Tell him thank you. I try extremely hard not to cry. Even with happy endorphins coursing through my bloodstream, I can cry so easily. I told him I’d call him again. He just smiles and says you’re welcome, my love.

Could it be possible to fall in love with someone that inflicts pain on you? Yes, I think so. No, really I don’t. But I certainly love what he does. His art. His beauty. His talent, is unparalleled. I DID go back to him for another tattoo. And I WILL go back to him again. And again. And again.

If you are interested in finding out more about Joey Singleton, please comment on the post. I will be happy to get you in touch with him. He’s the only artist I will go to. The only one I trust with my canvas. My story being told on it.