tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18260771929384128192024-03-13T22:23:06.530-07:00Ruthless KnucklesRuthless Knuckleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02952641592055070913noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826077192938412819.post-45741062600454553982010-04-29T17:37:00.000-07:002010-04-29T17:52:53.771-07:00Yet againI stare at this blank space wishing I knew what to write.<br /><br />It's not like there's nothing on my mind, because there is everything on my mind pretty much at all times. I made a blog to rant, and I really want to, but I feel like sometimes there is stuff I don't want to talk about even to my blog. So this is the current situation:<br /><br />Yays:<br /><br />- Booking Pirate Ship tattoo for June<br />- Getting my car fixed.<br />- Tillie Sparkle<br />- Friday.<br />- Thinking of America.<br />- The new dress I got last weekend.<br />- Saw John Mayer on Tuesday. Rad.<br /><br />Nays:<br /><br />- Constantly thinking about ex bf and his current love and new baby. God, I miss him so much.<br />- Listening to music that encourages thoughts of this, but I like to think it makes me feel better.<br />- Having to spend money to fix my car.<br />- Getting a cold<br />- Being late for work<br />- Meeting guys in bars. Yup, it's a nay.<br />- Money - as always, as is for most people.<br />- Missing Auckland very much<br />- Having offensive stuff posted all over Facebook about me. Super upset about the immaturity of some people tbh.<br />- Feeling like I can't be myself.<br /><br />Concentrating on yays though. Really wish I'd faked a sickie today.<br /><br /><em>I wish there was an over-the-counter test for loneliness, for loneliness like this...</em><br /><em>Cos I can't wait to figure out what's wrong with me so I can say this is the way that I used to be. There's no substitute for time.</em><br />Thanks John Mayer xRuthless Knuckleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02952641592055070913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826077192938412819.post-43065313701360494512010-04-17T20:37:00.000-07:002010-04-17T21:01:40.927-07:00Stop asking "Why?". Start asking "Why Not?"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fotoblog.refocus.de/images/20080406183825_dallas.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://fotoblog.refocus.de/images/20080406183825_dallas.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Tattoos of the beautiful Dallas Green (mmmmmmmmmm)<br /></span><a href="http://fotoblog.refocus.de/images/20080406183825_dallas.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">found here</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#551A8B;"><u><br /></u></span></div><br /><div>My parents are sitting in the lounge, in silence. Dad is on his laptop, Mum is reading the paper. This is a normal thing for a Sunday afternoon in our house, which I think shows my parents' personalities to a tee. They are reserved and quiet but curious, so they seek information from the outside world.</div><div><br /></div><div>I showed my Dad the picture above - describing Dallas's work as "beautiful" - to which Dad snapped:</div><div><br /></div><div>"No, it isn't. It's repulsive and disgusting. In my day, only convicts and bikers had tattoos. No one who matters in society has tattoos."</div><div><br /></div><div>So I don't matter to society, Dad? </div><div><br /></div><div>I normally drop the tattoo conversation as soon as it begins with my parents (more specifically my Dad) as they seem to have strong negative views on this art-form. It makes me really upset because I love tattoos so much.</div><div><br /></div><div>That brings me to beginning the "Why Not?" movement.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>The "Why not?" Excitement list:</b></div><div><br /></div><div>1. Tattoo gun.</div><div><br /></div><div>I saw a tattoo gun on <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.trademe.co.nz">trademe</a> (The local ebay/craigslist for New Zealand). I've been quite curious for a while now, so with a little encouragement from my <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.blogspot.com/shewaitsforwhispers">Natalie</a> (bffl), I decided "Why not?" and purchased. I will update on the situation when my parcel is delivered to my bffl's house and I have a play. There was no way I would be able to get that bad boy delivered to my house. My parent's would FLIP. Oh well, they should start thinking "Why not?" also.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. Nannies Abroad.</div><div><br /></div><div>My beautiful best friend <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.blogspot.com/shewaitsforwhispers">Natalie</a> and I have decided we want to go to the USA as an Au Pair - a nanny. There are soooo many families looking to take on international nannies that it seemed like a logical choice. The ads are attractive so I've started asking my friends who have children if I can babysit their babies to get some more experience. I told my Mum and Dad about it and Dad was quick to tell me all the reasons why I shouldn't go, but Mum informs me it's because Dad doesn't want me to leave. That's sweet, Daddy, but time to realise I'm almost 21 - ready to start an amazing adventure!</div><div><br /></div><div>So, next time you have an important decision to make, take a step back and think "Why not?". I've decided I'm a quality-of-life type of person, wanting to make myself as happy as possible so it's about time I got optimistic and started going for what I want.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes. xo</div>Ruthless Knuckleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02952641592055070913noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826077192938412819.post-61348456890580676092010-03-24T23:21:00.000-07:002010-03-25T01:57:04.302-07:00My Perfect Partner<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZGuA4EtuJSWP85cRiGOwLFPGbEbyXNKKH37NrWwmTC8QWy0EUhrYyZlZIsUKTQtJ38v60qUqLcCOGMafusHJdeqDzImT_h-IFiDjNosPQufJWeU7TFstBVxu4y2dCVCXn_HMp8_9YUIg/s1600/2363069826_ca3683d2a9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZGuA4EtuJSWP85cRiGOwLFPGbEbyXNKKH37NrWwmTC8QWy0EUhrYyZlZIsUKTQtJ38v60qUqLcCOGMafusHJdeqDzImT_h-IFiDjNosPQufJWeU7TFstBVxu4y2dCVCXn_HMp8_9YUIg/s320/2363069826_ca3683d2a9.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452484061998736786" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Credit: </span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/redfrog8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">redheadzo4</span></a></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsmRhWURTDbVFJs2CCc3XJirqx40kPb5begHRN9P0P2I4N9d4qvnUWWbLuwolBhBHx6WfmKO5V5LnixpH46mA53M5ZKvhzAFzGhslZlwGjLqRb673JpjskLGLHJBNzQCXhQ4sSKXVdaCY/s1600/257937032_14920719b3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsmRhWURTDbVFJs2CCc3XJirqx40kPb5begHRN9P0P2I4N9d4qvnUWWbLuwolBhBHx6WfmKO5V5LnixpH46mA53M5ZKvhzAFzGhslZlwGjLqRb673JpjskLGLHJBNzQCXhQ4sSKXVdaCY/s320/257937032_14920719b3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452482908161855730" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Credit: </span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adwriter/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">adwriter</span></a></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrJ7as2aqdgsdsDA3Eo1jN184tyGLTJCgAnB7CTUHGLcgOVLQmDqSWHhYS-6Pu3SOVQAijQF2RUgRlCgLqIhD_yppQyJObJE8lLnrC7RjIsg6fbUvBQR44T-fxK4R1LW_2YU1oZFfwiD4/s1600/hug.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrJ7as2aqdgsdsDA3Eo1jN184tyGLTJCgAnB7CTUHGLcgOVLQmDqSWHhYS-6Pu3SOVQAijQF2RUgRlCgLqIhD_yppQyJObJE8lLnrC7RjIsg6fbUvBQR44T-fxK4R1LW_2YU1oZFfwiD4/s320/hug.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452482904853098114" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Credit: </span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/laura-gommans"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Laura Gommans</span></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>I bought a magazine today. One of my favourite things to do is buy a magazine, a can of diet coke and a delicious sweet snack such as chocolate or an animal shaped jelly candy. So this afternoon I had white chocolate buttons and the latest Cleo.<div><br /></div><div>There was an article that caught my eye about how my generation is becoming obsessed with being a "success story". That is certainly something I'm having to deal with at the moment, however one aspect of that article made me think about another aspect of life - finding the perfect partner.</div><div><br /></div><div>My Dad is the business man. Management accountant, decent pay-cheque, nice house and nice car. I remember my Dad saying to me once that it was more important to be financially secure with assets and savings and I was shocked, I quickly snapped back with something along the lines of having a job or career you enjoy with people you enjoy in your life. I was 17, and nearly four years later I still believe what I said was true.</div><div><br /></div><div>I used to think that people get married purely for the purpose of getting married, getting a mortgage and reproducing however over the past few years my perception has changed. Going from some fun flings to some serious relationships to absolute true love, I have concluded that the mortgage and the reproduction are only somethings that happen down the line. What about the love part? I'm talking some real conversation, some real companionship and some real fun.</div><div><br /></div><div>Am I ridiculous for thinking of the qualities I'm looking for in a partner for the purpose of settling down at 20 years old? I hope not and I doubt it considering I know 18 year olds about have children.</div><div><br /></div><div>So here's my checklist for my future partner. </div><div><br /></div><div><ul><li> <b>A conversationalist<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">My favourite date with a boyfriend consisted of this:<br />Me - "I'm bored. What do you want to do?"<br />Him - "Let's go somewhere."<br />Me - "Lets go to the beach."<br />We sat on the rocks at our local beach. We talked about everything from our exes, to our high school experiences, to people we knew, our families and everything in between. We laughed, he listened and spoke, I listened and spoke. We talked for literally hours, and didn't even notice the time had passed until it began to get darker and for the last hour, we cuddled and watched the sunset.<br />I want to be in a relationship with someone who I can talk to and who I want to talk to for hours on end and will never get bored of them.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk9vwc-TlYfH2THHiaPR6NNnK7WIRzpPVqrdNSR1trTYHvD_vL__hVVaAPBBkGKjmmyjNP9RI43X_5VRrb8PofAX7_gYEqHZWn8zAjc6ZvjJ5vC_TvU7F1MjnYzEUmXZLjZtE1ZOwwa68/s1600/mtmaunganui.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk9vwc-TlYfH2THHiaPR6NNnK7WIRzpPVqrdNSR1trTYHvD_vL__hVVaAPBBkGKjmmyjNP9RI43X_5VRrb8PofAX7_gYEqHZWn8zAjc6ZvjJ5vC_TvU7F1MjnYzEUmXZLjZtE1ZOwwa68/s320/mtmaunganui.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452468656512707090" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Credit: </span><a href="http://shewaitsforwhispers.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Tillie Sparkle</span></a></div><br /></span></b></li><li><b>Shared passions<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">The last guy I was seeing was a tattooist who loved a band that I have such a great love and respect for.<br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">He looked over some tattoo drawings I'd done and he'd give me his honest opinion, telling me how it would work as a tattoo and what I could possibly add. We'd talk about music (which is a great passion of mine) for hours and being in bands.<br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I want a partner who can appreciate my passions, have passions I can appreciate and can even show me some new things I can become passionate about.<br /><br /></span></b></span></b></span></b></span></b></span></b></li><li><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b>A musician or music fan<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Obv. I love music. I would need someone who was either a musician or a music fan. Ideally a guitarist/vocalist but I'm open to bassists, drummers and pianists.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPgbgf4zyYNlvaTZL2q0d3tNJQuH4PiEPnKfO3Om3RD-cCdhPw6vOxTAr-5bv1ykl2rGqjKLcqieUyUkxyKGDSTHd_UBYh3bhBFEm7Br1-foCoq_5ndrMnB-P5HbgTkd-vZifLXr10Yk8/s1600/guitar.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPgbgf4zyYNlvaTZL2q0d3tNJQuH4PiEPnKfO3Om3RD-cCdhPw6vOxTAr-5bv1ykl2rGqjKLcqieUyUkxyKGDSTHd_UBYh3bhBFEm7Br1-foCoq_5ndrMnB-P5HbgTkd-vZifLXr10Yk8/s320/guitar.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452470323576381650" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Credit: </span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jazminmillion"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Jazmin Million</span></a></div><br /></span></b></span></b></span></b></span></b></li><li><b>Must have facial hair<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I have recently decided I like short beards or man stubble. As long as he's comfortable with his facial hair, I will be also.<br /><br /></span></b></li><li><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b>Must have tats<br /></b>Piercings are also a plus.<br /><br /></span></b></li><li><b>Must be smart!<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I really respect someone who has some great world experience or has done some tertiary study. I love mature people (who know when to be serious and when to be silly!) who have really great opinions and are willing to openly discuss them. I love to learn new things so someone who's wise that I can respect will work perfectly.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_f6aREU5a6PPyyVMGz9VDLwxJy_ZeAK1ssb_pw43X378Zi87EVkymV1JmpYVixwwPUg9yWS6fY6wNZhAD7FCNzGquGvHKFr-MNdhEy7OUGx84Nrn1SzKAA2rwTCRN-a5UrcyKSZUExg4/s1600/book.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_f6aREU5a6PPyyVMGz9VDLwxJy_ZeAK1ssb_pw43X378Zi87EVkymV1JmpYVixwwPUg9yWS6fY6wNZhAD7FCNzGquGvHKFr-MNdhEy7OUGx84Nrn1SzKAA2rwTCRN-a5UrcyKSZUExg4/s320/book.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452474857325314162" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Credit: </span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/40033576@N03/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Love is the key</span></a></div><br /></span></b></li><li><b>Strong features<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I'm not shallow, but I'd like a looker. Not even going to beat around the bush. I wanna be able to look at my guy and feel like I'm the luckiest girl in the world and if he has the above features then I'm sure I will anyway.<br /><br /></span></b></li><li><b>Must love animals!<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I want pets. So he must love them too. Especially little dogs along the lines of cairn terriers and tabby cats.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtVuFcE2yV_cJNzf5Iy9r4q641JR-EG1i_vv2L3qQGi56z5OKYT6BqUTWzUg4bi3iH-vbqliBD-ELQo-JnXhA7x_NGtKp4eaD_L3597va3XD6Zjk0mBllzGyFY6lkSM26_OAL9PpTh1N8/s1600/IMG_2200.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtVuFcE2yV_cJNzf5Iy9r4q641JR-EG1i_vv2L3qQGi56z5OKYT6BqUTWzUg4bi3iH-vbqliBD-ELQo-JnXhA7x_NGtKp4eaD_L3597va3XD6Zjk0mBllzGyFY6lkSM26_OAL9PpTh1N8/s320/IMG_2200.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452466825773304530" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">My amazing pets: Jack the Cairn/Aussie Terrier Doggy and Missy the Tabby Cat</span></div><br /></span></b></li><li><b>Mustn't be whipped<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I don't think there's anything worse than a whipped guy. I love guys who have their own lives, want to hang with their friends and have their alone time so I don't feel bad about having time to myself and time with my girls.<br /><br /></span></b></li><li><b>Ambition<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I want a guy who knows what he wants so I can support him. I want him to know what his dream is and to know how to get there if he wants it. I want him to share his ideas with me can to be truly passionate.<br /><br /></span></b></li><li><b>Must be able to be a child<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I get excited over kiddy things. I would love to spend an afternoon making friendship bracelets and I want a disney tattoo. I want us to be able to talk about Pokemon with the same enthusiasm we did when we were 8 years old. I want us to be able to think soft toys are cute and think playing board games isn't lame. I want us to be able to play original playstation and get excited when we complete stages on crash bandicoot. I want us to go to theme parks and go on all the big roller-coasters and I want us to climb trees, go to children's playgrounds and play on the swings.<br />I want him to help me be young at heart because sometimes I need reminding that I'm young.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyL9eUBZzBSeO6J3XA7ou5Cqm-Py1Cm-calA6L9i9E-72JkAakVLmsvl6s-vBgFFEOlbunxzroHGCnpmiqvp0SyY_OAKlzKuwtziV_cASgRBDpussLV5YKa0yKMZLb8YrIoe-i3uqA-yI/s1600/swings.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 312px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyL9eUBZzBSeO6J3XA7ou5Cqm-Py1Cm-calA6L9i9E-72JkAakVLmsvl6s-vBgFFEOlbunxzroHGCnpmiqvp0SyY_OAKlzKuwtziV_cASgRBDpussLV5YKa0yKMZLb8YrIoe-i3uqA-yI/s320/swings.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452476629340012850" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Credit: </span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/cengovit"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">CeNkPhOtO</span></a></div><br /></span></b></li><li><b>Must be able to enjoy each other<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I want us to be able to go out and have a drink, maybe a dance and socialise with friends but at the same time I want to be able to have a lazy rainy Sunday, were laze in bed until midday and listen to the rain falling on the roof, then get up and watch a DVD cuddled on the sofa in our duvet. I want to treasure every moment together.</span></b></li></ul><div><br /></div><div>I just want someone to share my life with. I'm hoping this isn't asking too much?</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjhLlofnS_BQDjoNuQK6UlV6IH4kBgRctRmeHZPR5VMGBIWK-5vAwAUckuCXZPC_D71ohP2rqwbqFPYGiXNVHrhuiZkPUEu7ibMOmppCZYSY-25Y5evs8We7sDBjEmQCwNeKYxbcCwiNg/s1600/2911278938_9565798c64.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 303px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjhLlofnS_BQDjoNuQK6UlV6IH4kBgRctRmeHZPR5VMGBIWK-5vAwAUckuCXZPC_D71ohP2rqwbqFPYGiXNVHrhuiZkPUEu7ibMOmppCZYSY-25Y5evs8We7sDBjEmQCwNeKYxbcCwiNg/s320/2911278938_9565798c64.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452484982360153970" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Credit: </span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/31070945@N05"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">beauty rush x</span></a></div></div></div></div>Ruthless Knuckleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02952641592055070913noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826077192938412819.post-78737103234660499382010-03-23T00:17:00.001-07:002010-03-23T01:06:07.419-07:00I love ink but I'm not an ex-con<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/wethelivingphotography/"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBiVw48Bqkqg2syE_exrWtRaOybm8S_LUcapNgie7lxBoRxBplak5P5YDqi4DLPXCQuhy50j2TKjHwW7WdW_38iuR4-_5yRhAHuJydt6ONh93a5QfjyKOa4Atstyue-1LjFTCa3NJh9c/s1600-h/4423106218_34244552b6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 274px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBiVw48Bqkqg2syE_exrWtRaOybm8S_LUcapNgie7lxBoRxBplak5P5YDqi4DLPXCQuhy50j2TKjHwW7WdW_38iuR4-_5yRhAHuJydt6ONh93a5QfjyKOa4Atstyue-1LjFTCa3NJh9c/s400/4423106218_34244552b6.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451726795672552210" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/wethelivingphotography/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/wethelivingphotography/</a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Currently in crisis mode.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm currently unemployed. I had an an interview today for a receptionist role at an accounting firm. So I dressed myself in my interview clothes, paying great attention to covering my tattoos. This outfit included a shirt (that covered my tiny chest tattoo) a skirt with tights/stockings (which covered my calf tattoo) and a cardigan (that covered my inner arm tattoo).</div><div>Not only did THIS make me feel like I was hiding myself, I also redyed my hair. My amazing, beautiful bright red hair was to be covered with dark brown (to be warn down to cover my wacky ear piercings) to prepare myself to look slightly normal for this interview. However once I'd gotten to the interview, I noticed I still had my black nail varnish on. Whoops.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm having such a dilemma. My parents are very British. When I got my first <i>tiny</i> little ink, my parents flipped. Every time I came home with a new piercing I was proud of, my parents wouldn't be happy at all, even if it made me happy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ever since something really significant happened in my life in 2008, I've had a hard time making decisions. I went to Auckland University of Technology in Auckland, New Zealand to study Event Management because I love live concerts and music events, so I wanted to do those.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Now, a year and a half since this significant event, I'm doubting every ability I've ever had. I just want the space to be myself. I want a job where I can show the ink I've gotten to remember and help heal my pain and to remind myself I can do whatever I set my mind too. I want to stand out from the crowd with stupidly bright hair. I want to pain my nails black and wear eyeliner.</div><div><br /></div><div>I hate the thought of being stuck in a suit for the rest of my life not being able to express myself. </div><div><br /></div><div>I love ink. I love ink so much that looking at beautiful art placed on peoples bodies forever makes me happy. I love piercings. I love piercings so much that when I feel stressed, I know I can get a piercing and feel the release of adrenaline.</div><div><br /></div><div>I love the aftermath of the ink burning and the metal lying in my skin. It makes me feel human.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>So should I deny myself of my human need?</b></div><div><br /></div><div>I have the opportunity to get myself in [more] debt and become a piercer. This could be something that I can do, showing my ink and metal, surrounded by people like myself who are proud to show off their beautiful art and body modifications.</div><div><br /></div><div>Am I silly for continually changing my path? I can't decide. I can never decide.</div><div><br /></div>Ruthless Knuckleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02952641592055070913noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826077192938412819.post-13612138296229359542010-03-21T14:46:00.000-07:002010-03-21T14:59:31.502-07:00Need to dump?Catchy title, I thought.<div><br /></div><div>So whilst listening to my favourite podcast - The Kevin and Bean Show from KROQ - I was informed of this fantastic site.</div><div><br /></div><div>This guy, Bradley, runs a website called <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.idump4u.com">idump4u.com</a>. The dump-er fills in an online form to say why they're wanting to break up with their partner and provide all their details. Bradley then rings the dump-ee, to dump them for the dump-er. Bradley records most of the calls to prove what an asshole either the dump-er is or the dump-ee must be.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I think this is a perfect example. I love this one.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZjumKrNapLA"><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZjumKrNapLA&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZjumKrNapLA&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></a></div><br /><div>Fantastic.</div><div><br /></div><div>So boys and girls if you need someone to dump someone for you, for a small fee, Bradley will do it for you.</div><div><br /></div><div>Since I'm currently job hunting, I wonder if he's hiring...</div>Ruthless Knuckleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02952641592055070913noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826077192938412819.post-44452541855024557862010-03-20T22:14:00.000-07:002010-03-20T23:03:46.745-07:00This is for you.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ysv869aDpD7ITU7t1rfpDnHX8pYuFPEeJVd_y-dhunyQqQ7k_krwB19pPNfZ02g2pYFHTuNw6CRJis-lYXFxBYazXpDYtNJRS0NqiKcP_kzwP47g61MvvfX_oP1t5MXBVAvrMxCMOaY/s1600-h/spaceball.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 1px; height: 1px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ysv869aDpD7ITU7t1rfpDnHX8pYuFPEeJVd_y-dhunyQqQ7k_krwB19pPNfZ02g2pYFHTuNw6CRJis-lYXFxBYazXpDYtNJRS0NqiKcP_kzwP47g61MvvfX_oP1t5MXBVAvrMxCMOaY/s200/spaceball.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450962217439207938" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>This is for you.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=1826077192938412819"><img src="http://l.yimg.com/g/images/spaceball.gif" /></a><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for the times you said you missed me but never came to see me.</div><div style="text-align: center;">And I came to see you.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for time I said I love you.</div><div style="text-align: center;">And you smiled and nodded.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for the times I was sober driver to get you home safely.</div><div style="text-align: center;">While you got drunk and took advantage.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for the money I spent on taking you out.</div><div style="text-align: center;">And when I had no money you were busy.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for the drunken nights we spent.</div><div style="text-align: center;">When I had to sober up to take care of you falling in the gutter.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for the nights you cried.</div><div style="text-align: center;">And I held you and told you life was beautiful.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for the music that reminds me of you</div><div style="text-align: center;">that I can't listen to anymore.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for the day I got called out of class</div><div style="text-align: center;">because you tried to kill yourself and I had to go the hospital with you.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for the times I stayed strong for you.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Then cried myself to sleep as I worried about you.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for the times I stood by you when everyone else walked away.</div><div style="text-align: center;">And the times you walked away from me when I needed you.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for the times we watched movies and ate pizza when you needed a girls night in.</div><div style="text-align: center;">And the times you were busy with your boy when I needed your company.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for the times your boyfriend let you down.</div><div style="text-align: center;">But when everything was ok, I never heard from you.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for your social crimes against me.</div><div style="text-align: center;">And the mistakes you are still to make to those you "love".</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for your "true friends"</div><div style="text-align: center;">Who are yet to be let down by you like I was.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for when you said I did nothing for you</div><div style="text-align: center;">When all of it has been conveniently forgotten.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center; ">This is for my mirror's reflection</div><div style="text-align: center; ">Which is no longer broken by your presence in my life.</div><div style="text-align: center; "><b>I'm finding me again.</b></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for the life I couldn't imagine without you that I'm now discovering.</div><div style="text-align: center;">While you call <b>me</b> selfish because I'm no longer your servant.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center; ">So take your anger and shove it,</div><div style="text-align: center; ">Because I'm past <b>your</b> selfish ways.</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for my tolerance.</div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for my generosity.</div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for my caring.</div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for my love.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for my sadness.</div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for my anxiety.</div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for my panic.</div><div style="text-align: center;">This is for my tears.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Now,</div><div style="text-align: center;">This blog is for me.</div><div style="text-align: center;">This is the one outlet you can't ruin for me.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">~</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(48, 48, 48); "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"If you lost everything in a moment, would you notice?<br />Could you rebuild something so hopeless?<br />Are you hopeless?<br />And when you wake alone, with no one left to hold,<br />You wont need to know all the things I know."</span></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#303030;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Thrones - Alexisonfire</span></span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div>Ruthless Knuckleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02952641592055070913noreply@blogger.com1