gothic revival

And I don't mean architecture.

It's time for a change and I decided to start with my hair. I usually do something different with my locks once a year, so I'm going with a funky emo / goth cut in shiny black. I think I've had my hair every color at one time or another, but never black. I guess I figured I'd look too washed out with my pale skin. Now I keep thinking the contrast would be awesome and it would force me to add a little color to my lips, eyes and cheeks, and stop being lazy!

Here are my inspiration shots....


I found a website for this amazing salon here in Vegas called Curl Up N Dye. Kinda cute, huh? All their stylists are tatted up, pierced, and have really funky hair, so I figure I'll be in good hands.

Other than that I've been trying to re-establish my goth roots with some new clothes and jewelery. I never go overboard with all that, but when done subtly it suits me. Also, there's a Cure concert coming up that I'd like to go to. How cliche is that?

I'll make sure to post some pictures after the hair is "did."

Oh and listen to my playlist song, Black No. 1 to get you in the proper goth mood.

Quote of the Day: Every great writer is a writer of history, let him treat on almost any subject he may. ~Walter Savage Landor, Imaginary Conversation: Diogenes and Plato

infections and condos and workouts, oh my!

It's been a crazy couple of weeks.

After the newness of the tattoo had worn off (and it had gone into scabbing over and drying out phase - the icky part of the process no one really tells you about) I began to focus on two things: 1)Getting out of this crowded house and 2)putting my all-over health plan into effect.

I looked at a couple apartments in the neighborhood of my job and quickly found out that it would be impossible for me to get an apartment of my own. The rents here are from $600 to $800 for a one-bedroom and $900 plus for a two bedroom. The one bedroom is out. I can't afford it. The two bedroom would work with a roommate, but I'm nervous about having someone new live with me. Then, I found out that I couldn't get a two bedroom in my name anyway, because they want you to make some ungodly amount more than the rent. Soooo.....I researched more options. Either move in to an already established household with a room for rent (thus opening up the whole fear of roommates thing again) or buy something.

Now, I am the last person who I know who I would think could buy and own a home. I make very little, have a lot of debt, and have little savings for a down payment. Low and behold, the magic of low income, community programs for people like me. At Station Casinos we have a program that works with HFN (Housing for Nevada) where they help you with the financial obligations (down payment, appliances, etc.) and counsel you with the rest of what goes on with purchasing and owning a home successfully. I got the application and did some more research. For my purposes, this would be my last resort, because it MUST be owner occupied and then when you decide to sell, HFN gets first dibs on buying it back and making it available for other program participants. That's fine but it is unclear if any profit is made when you sell and that scares me, defeating the purpose of investing in property to begin with!

My boyfriend's best friend (who's a realtor) gave me the name of his mortgage guy and I met with him. He told me my debt to income was too high and that he couldn't help me. I wasn't really discouraged because he was honest, but luckily I know there is another option. NACA, Neighborhood Assistance Corp of America, is similar to HFN, but even more involved and, according to a lender friend of mine, one of the best deals around right now. NACA helps you with the down payment, gives you a low fixed mortgage rate, is more "character based" when it comes to your credit score, and has more lenient restrictions when it comes to debt to income ratios. They counsel you throughout the entire time you own your home and encourage you to participate in their program to help other low income people purchase homes. They require you attend a workshop and then one-on-one appointment. I'm kinda excited. If this ends up working out, I could own a condo here in Vegas and have a $400 dollar mortgage payment. Doesn't make a lot of sense to rent, when a mortgage is less expensive and works more to your advantage in your financial future, does it? My workshop is on Saturday. I'll let you know how it goes.

As far as the health plan, I cut out certain foods, bulk up on the healthier foods, eat more often, and have smaller portions. Also, I started working out with weights and doing 25 minutes of cardio a day. Two days of the week I do 45 minutes of cardio. Let me tell you. I was sore, but I found I was sleeping better and wasn't tired throughout the day like I used to be. I had energy and looked forward to coming home from work, working out and taking a hot shower. I'm happy with my results so far.

The last of my news is unfortunate. Friday my tattoo is mega itchy and bright red. I don't think much of it because it's at the tail end of the healing phase. At work, I show it to my boss and she says it doesn't look right and to ask. I ask a woman who has tattoos and she says it doesn't look right, that its infected, and to put ointment on it. I call my tattoo place and they tell me I won't die and it will go away. I'm okay with that until I get home and pull out my trusty laptop. I look up people with infected tattoos and my symptoms are similar. Bright red, the skin is hot to the touch, itchy, and swelling. My ankle below the tat is swelling up too. Online they have mixed pieces of advice. Some say it will go away on its own, others say go to doctor immediately to get antibiotics. I call my insurances 24 hour hotline and the nurse says go to the doctor, even though they are more worried that the tattoo artist wasn't reputable and they gave me Hepatitis or Tetanus. But I watched the artist go through her motions and everything was either brand spanking new out of the bag or heavily sterilized. I was worried that something on my hands or under my nails got into my wound and infected my blood in a bad way. I needed to see a doctor for piece of mind.

I did not want to go to Urgent Care. I didn't want to spend my Friday night waiting around for hours for a doctor to look at it and hand over antibiotics. Urgent Care is for emergencies, not infected tattoos. So even though my insurance didn't cover it, I headed over to the nearest Walgreens Take Care Clinic. I had never been but thought I'd try it, even without them taking my insurance. I'm glad I did. With no one in line, I checked in within 2 minutes on the computer and the nurse took me right in. She asked me some questions, looked at it, and knew exactly what it was, Cellulitis, and how to treat it. She told me what to expect, how to deal and gave me a prescription for antibiotics. My prescription was free and on Wednesday she said to stop by and she'd let me know if I needed to keep taking the antibiotics. $60 was worth the hours I would have waited at Urgent Care. It's getting better, but still looks wicked and I want to scratch it right off sometimes! I love the design sooo much though. Even the doctor commented how cool it was! :-)

Other than that, I lugged my book out to work on the edits. I haven't been doing much on it, but I've been reading. I thought I'd expand my horizons and read a mystery. Sue Grafton's Kinsey Millhone Series, A is for Alibi. So far I'm enjoying it. Very succinct writing, but amazing descriptions. Millhone is a straight-laced, tough-talking detective, yet she knows people so well.
Here's one of her best....

I cleaned my place, did laundry, went to the supermarket, and had a nice visit in the afternoon with my landlord, who was sunning himself in the backyard. For a man of eighty-one, Henry Pitts has an amazing set of legs. He also has a wonderful beaky nose, a thin aristocratic face, shocking white hair, and eyes that are periwinkle blue. The overall effect is very sexy, electric, and the photographs I've seen of him in his youth don't even compare. At twenty and thirty and forty, Henry's face seems too full, too unformed. As the decades pass, the pictures begin to reveal a man growing lean and fierce, until now he seems totally concentrated, like a basic stock boiled down to a rich elixir.

This is what makes me want to write.

Quote of the Day: When a man is in doubt about this or that in his writing, it will often guide him if he asks himself how it will tell a hundred years hence. ~Samuel Butler

sometimes its just funny

the start of a beautiful friendship....

..between me and my tattoo...Though I was a wreck for most of the day leading up to it, barely eating any of my breakfast at Dennys and fighting the urge to run over to 7-11 for some liquid courage, I made it through, and with flying colors..well, red and black colors.

It was definitely the anticipation of what was to come that made me so nervous. Because when it came down to it, it really wasn't that bad. I was there with my boyfriend, my co-worker Angie, and her sis-in-law, Debbie. Debbie went first, getting a heart with her husband of 20 years' name on her arm. She made it look like it was nothing. She almost fell asleep in the chair!

When my turn came, Anji, the tattoo artist, said I'd be fine. She was super nice and told me all about how she got started, including how she met her husband, Ryan, who was the guy doing tattoos in the booth next door. I always want to know how people meet. Anyway, she tested a small line and I was like, "That's it?!" She continued.. and yes, there were parts that hurt more than others, but it wasn't unbearable. As Shae mentioned, it's better than being in the dentist's chair. I kept talking while Anji was working and before I knew it, I was done. The entire process took about 45 mintues.

For those that can't see it too well, it's a black tribal-esque quill with a rose entwined around it. The ink drops that are coming from the tip are red, symbolizing blood..my blood. How every word that comes from my pen is a part of me, like my blood, like my soul.

I can see how people would get addicted to this stuff. I'm already planning what I'm going to get next and when. Luckily, the price keeps me grounded in reality. All in all, it was a great experience. And now it can be slashed from the list. Another resolution resolved!

Quote of the Day: It seems to me that those songs that have been any good, I have nothing much to do with the writing of them. The words have just crawled down my sleeve and come out on the page. ~Joan Baez

got ink?

Saturday I will be able to cross another item off my New Years Resolutions list.

"Get a tattoo."

As I mentioned before, the tat was something I wanted for my 30th birthday. I never got around to it. So when my coworker made an appointment for me (after I went on and on about wanting one) I said, why the hell not? If that's the kick in the pants I needed, than so be it. I found an absolutely awesome design that's not only nice to look at, but really means something to me. You don't think I'd just get something off the cuff. I've been thinking about the design for a while, but when I saw it about a week ago, I knew it was the one.

And so the nervousness begins. I hate pain. See the post concerning my horrid dental experience for proof. I've heard many different things about the pain of getting a tattoo, from it feels like your skin is being ripped off to the irritation of a scratchy sun burn. It all depends on your personal tolerance of pain and where on your body you're getting it. Mine will be on my right calf, down near the ankle, but still in the fleshy part. The more flesh the better, or so I'm told. I'm hoping I'll be able to take it and not look like a wuss. The artist said it would take about an hour. As long as I don't kick anyone I'll be fine. I'll also have my boyfriend, my coworker Angie, and her sister in law (who's also getting her first tattoo) there for support.

Aside from the nervousness, I'm excited! This is a big milestone and I can't wait to show all of you my new tattoo once it's all healed and beautiful.

Pictures to come.... Wish me luck and bravery!

Quote of the Day: Being an author is like being in charge of your own personal insane asylum. ~Graycie Harmon

leaving las vegas......not

Being a grown up really does suck.

Most of you know I planned on moving back East this spring. That's just not going to happen. I was telling my best friend, Ariana, that five years ago I wouldn't have thought twice about it. I would have jumped in my car, made a few phone calls and been across the country in a week setting my life up. But now, I have things to think about.

Where would I work during these tough economic times? Where would I live? Would my car make it? Are there attractive men in New England? ;-)

I have a good job that's fairly secure with health benefits and a 401K. I've finally managed to stay at this place long enough to get vacation time and a skill set. I'm confident in my abilities and I like my boss. That's tough to drop when so much is uncertain. But as I say this, I can't put my heart in it because really, if I had the money, I wouldn't bat an eyelash. I love starting over. I love adventure and exploring places unknown. Most of all I love my best friend and I miss her terribly.

Anyway, I'm planning to try again in a year, hoping the economy will be in a better position. And if I can get a book sold in the meantime, I will definitely be in the right mind set to take flight. That said, I need to get out the boyfriend's place. His ex and daughter are still here and it doesn't look like they are going anywhere soon. I'm looking at apartments closer to my work and will use my tax return to put something down for March. That will be another big change, but I'm ready. It won't be fun making the official break from the boyfriend, but again, I can't keep putting off the inevitable. I need to move forward and it will be better for both of us in the long run.

Stay tuned for a surprise for tomorrow's blog.....

Quote of the Day: Everywhere I go I'm asked if I think the university stifles writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them. There's many a bestseller that could have been prevented by a good teacher. ~Flannery O'Connor

my worse dental experience EVER!

First let me supply a disclaimer: Though my good friend, Shae, was the one who recommended this particular dentist to me, I in no way blame her or have any ill will towards her. This has nothing to do with her!

I made an appointment for X-rays and an exam with Dr. Ponce at Las Vegas Oral Surgery on Thursday morning at 8am. I was really excited and a bit frightened because I haven't been to the dentist in years and now that I am insured I was gung-ho about getting my teeth taken care of.

My boyfriend came with me because I had asked if the dentist did sedation dentistry and the receptionist said yes, so I wasn't sure if anything was to be done that day, and if I'd need a ride home. He doesn't have to be at work until 11:15 so I knew it would be fine.

Thus, the morning began walking into the waiting room, at 7:50, which reeeked of cigarette smoke. My bf made a comment, but I figured the old man who was there may have been a smoker and I'm used to that sort of thing in Vegas. It was kind of odd to have it THAT strong in a nearly deserted medical waiting room that early in the morning, but I thought nothing of it (I had other things on my mind) as I filled out my paperwork.

I was taken back at 8am by a very friendly lady with a Spanish accent, who asked me how I was doing, and I explained how nervous I was and she said not to worry and they were here to help me. Then she took me to get an X-ray, where you stand up in this huge machine and bite on a stick, holding onto these bars. It takes a full picture of all your teeth in one long line. It took a while just to get this done because I wasn't activated on the computer yet and the lady had to wait and wait, until it was done.

Then she took me into my room and I laid down and watched Good Morning America. I never saw the first lady again. About a half hour later, some guy came in and asked me who I was as he checked the computer, and then asked me if I had my x-rays done. I said yes, but then he realized I hadn't gotten ALL of them done and he seemed irritated. He quickly took a bunch, shoving this rubber film in my mouth, until he finished. Then he left. I still have no idea who he was, since he never introduced himself to me.

About 15 minutes later, the same guy came back with an African-American woman dressed in a lab coat. She situated herself behind me, never introducing herself to me, and she stuck that sharp pointy scraper in my mouth testing for cavities. Luckily she didn't hurt me. She was yelling out numbers for each tooth and the guy was recording them on the computer. They finished and the woman told me someone would come in and tell me what they wanted to do and how much it would cost. Then they left.

Another 15 minutes passed when another African American woman came in and (yay!) introduced herself to me. She told me I had six cavities, and the doctor (who I hadn't met yet), wanted to do silver on top, white fillings on the bottom. Fine. I was actually relieved now, because the real doctor (that I had made my appointment with) had looked at my x-rays and was going to be working on me! I then asked about the sedation part, and the woman looked at me like I was crazy. Thanks for making me feel like a big baby. She said I probably wouldn't want to do it because it was $680 per hour, and I'd need someone to drive me home, etc. She then said the entire process of filling the cavities and the cleaning would take a half hour, so it would be pointless. I asked if it would hurt and she said hold on and she went to check. When she came back she said they could give me "laughing gas" and it would be bearable and my entire cost would be $150. I agreed since I wanted to get it over with.

I glanced at the clock when the woman left and it was 9:20am. I laid down and waited for the doctor. They first guy came back a few minutes later and said he was moving me to another room. I used the restroom and he prepped the room.

Time was ticking and no doctor. Finally, at 10am, the first guy and the African-American woman with the lab coat came back. So I'm guessing they are going to be doing the fillings and cleaning, not Dr. Ponce. Interesting. They got situated and the guy gave me oxygen first. It became apparent that he didn't know how much "laughing gas" to give me and the woman had to inform him and quite unprofessionally, right in front of me. Great. My confidence in their experience and abilities was declining.

The woman sat behind me and just started rubbing my gums with numbing gel without telling me what she was doing. Luckily the "laughing gas" took off the fear aspect, but it left me feeling upset that she was going to stab me with the novocain needle and not tell me. She did and repeatedly. The pain wasn't bad, but I was peeved.

Then they left. The clock on the TV read 10:15am. My mouth was completely numb within 5 minutes. As time ticked by panic struck. Again, luckily the "laughing gas" prevented me from jumping up and screaming that they better hurry up because soon I wouldn't be numb anymore. My mind started racing, but I tried to convince myself that these were professionals and they knew how long the novocain would last and not to worry. My eyes teared up with how upset I was when I looked at the clock at it read 11am. I was upset beyond words that my boyfriend was out there not knowing what was going on and was going to have to call in and be late for work. I was even more upset that when the African American woman with the lab coat came back in she didn't apologize. She commented on something on the TV and said she was going to have to do this alone. Great. Just what I wanted to hear.

She drilled my right side, then started on the lower left. She hit a nerve. Thus, the novocain had worn off. Big surprise! She said the lower was done anyway and started to drill the upper left. Another nerve! She gave me yet another poke with a needle. No apology. The other dude appeared and helped her with the fill of the right and lower left. Twice dropping filling material down my throat making me gag and spit up. I said I was swallowing something and all she said was, "oh it's just the material". Is that all?? Then she yelled at me to get my tongue out of the way or she wouldn't be able to finish. But my whole mouth was numb; I had no idea what my tongue was doing and there wasn't any way I could control it! The guy had to hold my tongue back, which is the only humorous part of the story.

They finally finished with the fillings (and now as I run my tongue over my teeth there are some huge divets that I don't believe belong there). After they turn off the light and sit me up, they realize they haven't done a cleaning and look at each other and shrug. I ask them pathetically with my swollen mouth and numb face if I can do the cleaning some other time because my boyfriend has to go to work. The time: 11:30am.

The guy escorts me out to the front desk and I make an appointment for Sat, knowing full well I won't ever be coming back to this horrid place again. I begin to cry as I leave with my boyfriend, horrified by my treatment, how long it took, and how incompetent the people who worked on me were. My boyfriend mentioned that he could tell how unorganized they were just by how the staff handled the people in the waiting room. He said he wouldn't go back either.

So, by noon...my face looks like I've gone three rounds with Layla Ali because of the novocain, and how much I cried. I spent 4 hours at the dentist, for something that should have taken at most, an hour, with substandard treatment and without even a cleaning. Plus, the dentist I made an appointment with didn't even work on me, or even have the decency to introduce herself to me.

I'm sorely disappointed. No wonder people don't go to the dentist. As a new patient, there on a recommendation, which I noted on the paperwork and when I made the appointment, I had a higher expectation of how I should have been treated. For one, as a nervous person, I should have been consulted by the doctor herself. Two, whoever comes into the room to work with me should introduce themselves. Three, the staff should be competant and confidant and FRIENDLY! Four, no matter what the staff performs they should tell me exactly what they are doing and why. Five, they should do it in an appropriate time frame. Four hours for what they did to me is inexcusable.

This has been the worst dental experience of my life, and I've had some doozies. Heck, I had braces, and the pain accompanied with that! But this had nothing to do with pain. It has everything to do with trust and good old-fashioned courteousness. No one cared about me, or what I felt while I was there. No one even asked me! The sad part is, I put my trust in them and my hard earned money. I was ready to spend a lot of money with these people if I liked them. I wanted to get my teeth whitened AND invisalign, which isn't cheap. But now, I didn't even call to cancel the appointment I had with them today. They wasted my time, why not waste a little of theirs.

Now I feel ANY dentist (even Steve Martin from Little Shop of Horrors) would be better than Las Vegas Oral Surgery. I'm also submitting a complaint to the Better Business Bureau and my insurance company. People shouldn't have to go through what I did.

Quote of the Day: Be obscure clearly. ~E.B. White