April's Getaway: Los Angeles

Back in February, I posted about making quick getaways from San Francisco life (thanks to my friend Jean who encouraged me to make weekend trips at least once a month just to relax and clear my head.) In March, I took a trip to (and blogged about) Santa Cruz.

April's getaway was meant to be a trip to Folsom, CA where I could tour the area and attend its antique festival. The sole purpose was to find The Victrola Man, but since I had already found him and purchased a victrola from him at Alameda Antique Faire, I thought it best to cancel and reroute my trip. I decided to fly down to Los Angeles for the weekend.

Art Deco Airport

During my stay, I visited with my parents. They have the most peaceful house nestled in the hills. The only sounds are the humming birds, the wind chimes and rustling trees dancing in the breeze. We usually wander around in the backyard tending to the plants and chatting about random topics. Those are always my favorite moments with my parents; enjoying the morning with a warm cup of coffee and letting time pass us by. We drove down to Old Town Orange to dine at a Mexican restaurant that was once a church. It had the most beautiful stain glass. Afterward, we walked around Old Town browsing all the antique shops; another one of our favorite past times.

Old Town Orange

I spent Sunday with my brother at his loft in Downtown Los Angeles. My brother has always been the urban nightlife type of person whereas I tend to prefer quieter, peaceful environments (like HMB). Though he lives on the top floor (with spectacular views of DTLA), you can hear urban life quite clearly, especially all the sirens. I just smiled and sighed, "ah life in the big city." My brother sort of laughed to himself. Like San Francisco, DTLA has everything within walking distance. We had dinner at the Los Angeles Brewing Company while watching our L.A. Lakers take game 1 over the Spurs.

Relaxing with my hermanito

Downtown Los Angeles structures

After the game, we dressed up in our 1930s best and walked down to The Cicada Club. Each Sunday they have a weekly swing band and dance. On this particular Sunday, they had a Jive Aces and Satin Dolls collaboration. It was a classic jazz ensemble paired with a chorus girl act reminiscent of the prohibition era. I was pleasantly surprised to see some of my SoCal swing dance friends in attendance. It had been quite awhile since I last danced with them; at least 8 months. But it was like old times; only this time it was in classic Art Deco elegance.

I didn't get to do as much vintage shopping as I'd like. However, I finally got to patronize the Remix Vintage shop. I'm not too fond of buying clothing and shoes online because I prefer to try on an item before purchase. This is why I always stick to antique/vintage fairs for my purchases. I don't purchase reproduction clothing (I've amassed a large collection of vintage threads), but I do make exceptions for shoes especially when they're designed from authentic vintage styles. I've kept my eye on the "It Girl" shoes (a la Clara Bow) and they definitely cost a pretty penny. But they are oh so worth every cent I spent; perfect for collegiate shag dancing. I've strayed from wearing early 1950s attire in favor of 1920s-1940s (that will be another post for later). The It-Girl shoes are the classic 1920s style.

The "It-Girl" shoes.

The one thing I did not get to do was contact my tattoo artist for more work. I found a really great design, but I just didn't have the time to fit it in my ultra short schedule. Perhaps on my next visit (June?).

About the only downer of the trip was my return home to SF. As much as I abhor SoCal (I've become quite the NorCal girl), it does sadden me to leave my family. I have the greatest, most supportive and loving parents a person could have and it always pains me to say goodbye. But I know it's not the last of my visits. Thankfully my preferred airline always has fare sales. 

So that was my getaway for April. May's Getaway is still in the early planning stages. Stay tuned.

My newest (and greatest) vintage acquisition!

Though I'd been updating my previous post (Antique/Vintage Hunting) with my latest vintage finds, today's purchase needed to be a post of its own.

After many years of fawning over old gramophones at various antique flea markets, antique shops, estate sales sold for astronomically high prices, I finally FINALLY purchased one today at Alameda Pointe Antique Faire.

Let's start from the beginning...

I originally came across a seller (whom I nicknamed "The Victrola Man") back in January, but I didn't have the money at the time. He was an older gentleman who restored old gramophones. I asked if he often sold at Alameda.  He said that he lived in Sacramento so he didn't always sell there every month. I told him, "if it's meant to be, I'll find you again." Well, I wanted it to definitely be. For the past three months, I drove to antique fairs in Sacramento, Concord, Santa Cruz, Alameda (again and again), Treasure Island and Cow Palace. I had no luck; not even in his hometown! Even though there were other sellers who had gramophones, the Victrola man would add extra needles and about thirty 78s; all for a relatively low price. Plus, Victrola was (and is) THE brand to own. No knockoffs, Edisons or RCAs for this vintage gal.

This morning, I met my friend for breakfast (Marti's Place has the best darn blueberry pancakes) and he asked, "what are we all looking for today?" I immediately said, "I'm still on the hunt for Victrola Man. I want a Victrola." And of course, I had to stop and visit my vintage clothing seller (Tracy) who always provides me with 1920s-40s clothing and accessories.

I beelined toward Tracy's selling space, but, unfortunately, the 1930s dresses she bought had yet to arrive from Canada. I have to wait a few more weeks. She was sorry not to have any items for me this time around, but I took it all as a positive sign; less money to spend especially if I'd find the Victrola Man. So I walked toward the back of the market (as I always do) to weave around the selling spaces until I reached the front. I walked past five rows before I heard classic jazz music playing not from some satellite radio, but from a gramophone. I turned to my left and there was Mr. Victrola Man. He had five gramophones for sale; three of them were Victrolas. I was relieved to have finally found him and even told him that I had been searching for him for three months. He smiled and said, "well here I am."

One Victrola was marked sold, but he had two others to choose from or I can take the cheaper, some other brand named gramophones. Nope, I wanted the real thing. So I forked over the cash and told him that I'd be back with a cart to roll it away (it's surprisingly heavy). He asked what type of music I wanted. I answered, "anything I can dance to. I'm a swing dancer." He gave me thirty 78s. We shook hands before I departed with my Victrola.

I already had a space cleared for my Victor Talking Machine and I was all too eager to begin playing it. As I was listening to a few 78s, I decided to research its age. I Googled the the model and seriel numbers and learned that it was originally manufactured in 1912. It is 101 years old. Imagine that. Who would have ever thought that back in 1912 as someone was purchasing this machine for their home, it would still be playing music in someone's living room in 2013. Amazing.

Below are images of my newest antique purchase and a sampling of its playing (Toot Toot Tootsie by Al Jolson). 

Enjoy.

Purchased 4/7/13 at Alameda Antique Faire

Definitely a great addition in my living room.

Getting away: Santa Cruz

In a previous post, I described myself as a “renaissance lady”; a college instructor, a linguist, a scholar of literature, a swing dancer, a member of a 20s/30s era chorus girl dance troupe, an artist, a model, and a DJ. That is a lot to pile on my plate, but I enjoy every bit of what I do. However, I often feel that I need to take time out and be away from everything. My week is spent with people; students, colleagues, professors, dancers, and photographers. Once Friday arrives, I want it to be all about me.

My weekends are spent hiking trails along the peninsular coast and antique/vintage hunting at local fairs. After a friend told me about her solo excursions, I decided that a monthly getaway would be good for me. This weekend, I stayed in Santa Cruz.

Santa Cruz had their monthly antique fair this weekend, so I packed a small bag with my hiking gear, a couple of cute outfits, and evening wear. While my purpose was to look for vintage items, I decided to make the drive worthwhile and turn it into a mini getaway. Instead of taking the fastest route, I took my time and drove along Cabrillo Highway.

Driving along Cabrillo Highway

I drove about 55 mph set on cruise control, hooked up my iPad to play 1920s music and took in all the sites. I made several stops along the way just to admire the surroundings and take a few snapshots. Pigeon Point was the loveliest with its historic lighthouse. There were some short trails nearby, and of course, I traversed them.

Once I arrived in Santa Cruz, I noticed that not much has changed. It looks exactly the same as it had when I last visited 17 years ago. That actually made me quite happy. It's nice to see a city retain its original charm. Since I had a few hours before checking in at the hotel, I walked along the boardwalk and the pier. It reminded me very much of New York's Coney Island except without all the circus freaks and hotdogs. I moved north along the cliffs toward the lighthouse. As I was watching the surfers in the ocean, I thought how much I regretted leaving my board at home (next trip). The surf museum was a nice alternative to wading in the water (but it was so tiny). During my walk, I chatted a bit with the locals about swing dancing, dogs (of course Daisy was with me) and Santa Cruz geography. I was told that just outside "The Mystery Spot" there was nice trail that was dog friendly.

After the sunset, I went back to the pier to see the boardwalk lights and then along downtown's main drag. I avoided the big named restaurants and dined instead at an off the beaten path hole in the wall. The evening temps were perfect enough to eat outside and watch passers-by. The Nick was nearby showing Silver Linings Playbook. I'd been wanting to see this film since it co-stars my all time favorite actor Robert De Niro. I stayed for the 9:30 show. (I'll post a review later in the week.)

 

Earlier this morning, I finally did my browsing of the antique fair. Unfortunately, it was a disappointment. Most of the clothing was 90s "vintage" with very few antique items available. It was someone's junk that would eventually become someone else's treasure. On the bright side, I didn't spend too much money (money I can use for next week's Vintage Expo). And I was okay with that. Had it been just a one day trip for the fair, it would've been a waste of gas and time. Instead, it was a pleasant experience where I could take in and admire the local attractions. Most importantly, it was time spent enjoying myself free from the stresses of every day life.

April's getaway: Folsom, CA

Renaissance Lady

Since moving back to San Francisco a few years ago, I'd been thinking a lot about what to do with my future since it took a couple of dramatic turns. Then I asked myself, "do I really have to do just one thing?" There's so much I love doing, and I feel that if I settle on just one type of activity (i.e. career),  I'd have cheated myself on fully enjoying my time on earth. I consider my talents and wonder how I can put them into productive use simultaneously. Of course my career will always remain in education; I love teaching college, and eventually I will teach at the university level. However, I am not JUST a professor and scholar. I am other things; a linguist, a dancer, an artist and model who occasionally dabbles in music supervision.

Language
I've always wanted to be a polyglot and learn as many languages as possible. I speak three languages fluently (English, Spanish, Italian), and I have a basic knowledge of Japanese.  I know some phrases in Korean and Turkish, too, but not enough to have a simple conversation. Part of the requirements for a Ph.D. at Stanford is to complete two foreign language requirements. I could take the easy way out and just use Spanish and Italian, but I love a challenge; perhaps French and Portuguese.

Swing Dancing
I enjoy dancing; it is not only physically healthy, but it is also emotionally healthy. I'm always happiest when I'm dancing. Swing dancing is an umbrella term and most lay people have no idea that there are various styles and techniques: Lindy Hop (Savoy and Hollywood styles), Charleston, Balboa, Bal-swing, Collegiate Shag, East Coast Swing, Jive. I am able to dance all of them, but my favorite is Collegiate Shag. It's high energy and super fun. The problem is, not many people know how or are too intimidated to shag. We're trying to build that community.

Before I left Southern California, I was asked if I'd be interested in being part of a dance troupe. I had already committed myself to starting my life anew in the Bay Area and respectfully declined. I tried to find some troupes and inquired about one. However, one look at my heavily tattooed arms and I knew the answer was no. There were others that had auditions but the locales were too far away to be able to commute between home, work, and graduate school. Then a friend introduced me to a fledgling troupe looking for swing dancers. It's a 1920s-30s chorus girl troupe performing Charleston. I accepted the invitation once I learned their acceptance of tattooed women. I'm about two weeks into my practice with the troupe, and I'm absolutely thrilled.

Ultimately I would love to assist other teachers at various swing dance festivals; I already have the experience having assisted three different leads. I'd also love the opportunity to swing dance around the world. The additional language skills would come in handy here.

Art
Very few people know that I'm an artist. I usually sketch pencil to paper often transforming my friends' pictures into Día de los Muertos themed portraits. What I'd like to do is transfer my sketches to canvas and be able to paint a background with depth. I don't expect to make money off them, but I wouldn't mind having them displayed around local galleries. We'll see.

Portrait of my prima

Music
I don't make music, but I can make a very good compilation. One thing Dem complimented me on was my talent for putting good tunes together. I moonlight as a DJ from time to time, and yes, I've had a paid gig here and there. I'd like to be good enough to DJ larger swing dance festivals just so I can travel and dance for free. Swing dancing is always the main priority. My music library literally has several thousand songs. When you put it all together, it's mind-boggling to see how many songs you know. Most of my compilations consist of various swing dance music, rockabilly (original and modern), psychobilly, and 80s. Perhaps I'll just make several copies and sell them for dirt cheap. I've known some L.A. DJ's who've done the same. Hmm...we'll see.

DJ Rose Red. I need to do another shoot now that I have red hair.

Modeling
My first shoot ever was when I was only 20 years old. I had been living in San Francisco for barely a year when I was approached by two gay men in the Castro. They looked at me and said, "Bettie Page!" They encouraged me to do some modeling since I had "that look" so I figured, "why not?" I used to work at a corsetry shop and the owner often used her employees to model her products. I regret not having asked for those photos. I don't even think the store exists anymore as I've tried looking for it recently. Lesson learned. I occasionally shot photos with a few amateur photographers in the late 90s so they could build a portfolio, but then I stopped in favor of getting a real job. I'd never taken it seriously. In recent years, I was encouraged to go back into modeling and I'm finding that although I am older than the average model, I find that I have more confidence in front of the camera. I guess that comes with age. Once this dance troupe gets underway, I'm pretty sure I'll be doing more current pictures. Although I already have a photographer who wants to shoot me, he's been pretty lax, lately. I need to get his bum in gear.

Life should not be spent doing one thing. We live an average 80 years, and I just find it unfortunate that people spend most of that time doing the same thing day after day. Once retirement kicks in, what is there left except to just deteriorate and die? I've seen it happen to many good people who forget to enjoy life more. When I retire from teaching (which won't be for at least 30 years), I expect to live another 25 years after that. After all, I'm seeing all these original swing dancers living well into their 90s (and still dancing!). And that's what I will continue to do. Utilize all my talents from here on out so that I live a long, healthy, fruitful life.

Cheers!

Antique/Vintage Hunting (UPDATED 4/11/13)

One of my longtime hobbies is antique/vintage hunting. This is thanks to my dad who'd always drag me around antique stores when I was a kid. Eventually, I'd end up dragging him around (though he was all too happy to join). Back in SoCal, we'd always go down to Old Town Orange, Downtown Fullerton, Uptown Whittier, Retro Row, and the antique/vintage swap meets in Pomona, Pasadena and Long Beach. Sometimes we'd drive along highway 99 often stopping at small towns with antique stores; we'd always find good deals. Of course there were days when we didn't buy anything at all. We'll do it for nostalgic purposes and take many trips down memory lane.

My love for antiques and vintage clothing has not waned. When I'm not dancing, gardening or hiking, I'm out antique hunting around the Bay Area's vintage fairs and flea markets. I've amassed a large collection of clothing, shoes and hats from the 1920s, 30s, 40s, and early 50s. I've also found some furniture and appliances; most were actually free.

Part of the fun of antique/vintage hunting is exploring other areas beyond your locale. I've taken short day trips to Petaluma, Concord, Port Costa, and Stockton for their fairs. I also went as far as Sacramento for a daytrip which proved exhausting. So I've decided if the drive is 2+ hours, might as well make a weekend of it and enjoy the area and its antique fair. Next week, I'll be staying in Santa Cruz for their monthly fair. (Warm weather permitting, I may enjoy a morning surf session.)

My current hunt is for a victrola. In fact, I'm looking for "the victrola man" who is selling a pristine condition portable victrola with 78s and multiple needles. I didn't have the money at the time, but I said, "if it's meant to be, I'll find you again."  It's been two months thus far, but he did mention that he only occasionally sells around the bay area. I didn't find him today in Alameda, so here's hoping he'll be in Santa Cruz next weekend.

So what am I to do with all the stuff I accumulate? My dream is to be able to buy an older home (preferably in HMB) and design it to my vintage specifications. When I have visitors, I want them to feel as if they stepped back in time when life was simpler and carefree.

Stay tuned to this post. I'll be adding more pictures of my vintage purchases. Meanwhile, admire the most recent finds below.

A typical day at Alameda Antique Faire

Some of my vintage appliances and furniture

A small selection of my vintage dresses circa 1930s-40s

Today's (3/3/13) finds: 30s oxfords, hat and dress; 40s overalls and blue day dress.

3/16/13 From the SF Vintage Expo 40s on the left 20s on the right

From the Vintage Fashion Faire (3/23/13) Perfect for swing dancing!

1930s dresses for the low, low price of $140 (total!)

A 1920s cabinet purchased from an estate sale.

Green Thumbs

In an earlier post, I wrote about my desire to move to Half Moon Bay. I frequently visit there on a weekly basis often finding different trails to hike and explore. Other times, I drive around gazing out at the farmland. What I love about HMB is this mixture of beach/country culture. It fits my character perfectly; I'm part surfer, part country girl.

I used to spend summers in the San Joaquin Valley at my grandmother's house. SJV is the agricultural capital of the world. I recall walking with my grandmother near the vineyards on our way to church. Other days, were spent at a dairy farm or an egg-producing farm. Some days I would sit in her living room browsing all the picture books she kept readily available. I loved looking at old pictures of my dad's childhood. His family was migrant farm workers often following the season to tend the harvest. No matter how tough the farm working was, he and his parents & siblings always took the time to pause from their work and smile for a picture. These are the images I love most.

Those valley summers were insanely hot; triple digits. Sometimes it was best to spend the day outdoors because it was much cooler than being in a house without air condition. I'd always walk around the house admiring the gardens. My grandmother's backyard was huge! At least it was when I was much younger. As I got older, the yard just seemed to get smaller and smaller (yet still much larger than most suburban homes). The side yard was lined with the most beautiful roses in reds, yellows, oranges and pinks. There was always a sweet, rosy smell in the air. On the far end of the backyard was her vegetable garden from which she made her salsas, beans, and other dishes. God, how I miss her cooking.

That tradition of maintaining a sustainable garden was carried on by my dad. He maintains a huge yard at his home. He raises lemon, orange, pomegranate, and grapefruit trees. He grows tomatoes, jalapeños, bell peppers and various spices such as cilantro and basil. He takes great pride in his urban farm. Every weekend, he awakes at dawn to begin trimming, pruning, cutting and watering.Whenever I visit, I often join my dad; quality father/daughter time. The best part is just sitting on a bench admiring the hard work.  Later, I'll pick through all the tomatoes and peppers to make salsa; just like my grandmother made it.

I, too, am currently maintaining a vegetable garden in my backyard. Since I am a strict vegetarian, it made sense to start growing my own food than relying on the grocery. I try as best as I can to follow the seasons, but San Francisco seems to have only two; spring and winter with the occasional Indian summer.  Regardless, I've been quite successful with growing food from seed. I've grown the following vegetables to abundance: zucchini, tomatoes, baby red potatoes, green onions, garlic and spinach. It was tough keeping up with the zucchini to a point that I invested in a spirooli and learned to make zucchini pasta. I also made zucchini bread as a dessert. The tomatoes, onions, garlic and jalapeños were used for my salsas. It seems to taste so much better prepared within moments of harvesting.

I've also become adept at canning. I currently grow strawberries and rhubarb, and I am looking forward to making jams and fruit spreads from my garden. Usually I purchase strawberries from the local farmers' market to make my jams. Hopefully I'll be able to grow cucumbers this year, too, so that I can make my own pickles.

This season, I've planted the following items: cabbage, romaine lettuce, broccoli, artichoke, brussel sprouts, and onions. Since having a terrible January frost, I've had to restart my spice garden (cilantro, basil, oregano), though the parsley and rosemary have survived and continue to grow.

Like my dad, I often pause to admire my fruitful efforts. I realize that maintaining my garden is not only benefiting my physical health, but it also benefits my emotional health. Rising with the sun and tending to my garden is definitely therapeutic and rewarding. You know that when you produce healthy fruits and vegetables, your self-healing efforts are working.

My garden

Romancing Yourself

[An] important part of recovery is to continue to romance yourself! 

At the end of the day you are the one who knows your heart best 

and you can’t wait on others to fill it. 

               -"TNG"

Sometimes you think that you're the only person in the world with troubles that no one understands, but in truth, everyone goes through some rough patches. Every person walks along different paths, yet the trails always seem to parallel. As you share your stories, you find similarities. You learn from and/or perhaps even influence the other to find healthy ways to heal.

A friend of mine had gone through a similar ordeal with her ex, though I would imagine the loss was much greater and more painful as she had married this individual. I can't imagine going through a dissolution of marriage; ending a long-term relationship is tough enough. As I learned more about this individual either straight from her or others that know him, it is quite apparent the man is a psychopath with little to no regard for other people's feelings. I once thought Dem was, too, based on his dismissive attitude of my feelings, but Dem's problem has more to do with alcohol influencing his bad behavior and poor choices. He can change if he wants to. My friend literally shared her life with a psychologically sick, sick person, and there's no curing a psychopath. However, she has refused to let herself crawl in a corner and hide from the world. She's held her head high and is moving forward. I'm quite sure she's not without personal, emotional turmoil as she, too, often references the need for healing.

Today she shared her blog entry with me, and the quote above struck me most. Romance yourself. I think, as women, we often forget to take care of ourselves. We are so focused on taking care of everyone around us that we often neglect our own needs. We need to be selfish sometimes. We must tell ourselves that we are important, too. But not just saying it; acting on it. That's what my friend does. She throws herself to the wind and lands in the most adventurous places.

Lately, I've considered all the pleasures I enjoy. I love to go out swing dancing. Hiking along various scenic trails brightens my day. I often take in an old film at many of the local historic theatres. I spend most Sundays vintage shopping and antique hunting. I consider my friend's out-of-town ventures, and I think, why not leave town for a weekend and continue my hobbies at a different locale? I've decided that one getaway each month is doable.

My first getaway was a trip to Sacramento last weekend. They had their weekly Midtown Stomp (swing dancing) and the monthly antique faire. It wasn't much of a weekend since I had few dances and I didn't find any antique goods worth buying, but it was a start. I could've done more, but I didn't research well enough to explore other attractions in a short period of time. 

When I returned to San Francisco I immediately began researching more vintage/antique faires. Some places will have monthly, quarterly or biennial faires, so I've decided to create getaways around these events. Much of my "to do" list will definitely consist of patronizing vintage/antique faires but also: hiking local trails, finding a swing dance venue, watching a film at historic theatres, visiting museums. It's an opportunity to do the things that I enjoy; immerse myself in activities I love; remind myself that I am important to me.

March's destination is already set: Santa Cruz for their next vintage faire and some local attractions. And most importantly, time spent romancing myself.

Ink Therapy

When I was little, I used to stare at my dad's tattooed arm, trace my finger along the lines and ask endless questions. Sometimes I tried to rub off the ink, but my dad said that the only way it would come off is if the ink was burned off. I didn't understand the concept of inked skin or even the rationale for it, but all I knew was that I loved gazing at these paintings on a human canvas. I have always been fascinated with tattoos since childhood, and it stems from the fact that had it not been for a tattoo, I wouldn't be alive today. 

My dad was 19 when he got his first tattoo. He went down to The Pike at Long Beach with his brother-in-law.  He chose a rose with a scroll and asked to have his last name inscribed in it. Fast forward 2 years later at Camp Pendleton Marine Corps Base. My dad was at the mess hall retrieving his meal when he saw a tiny Woman Marine (WM) looking at his arm. She pointed at his tattoo and said, "that's my last name!" Long story short: they dated, they married, they live happily ever after; the WM is my mom. I once asked her if she would've noticed him had he not had that tattoo. She said, "No. All I saw was some guy with my last name tattooed on his arm." So naturally I would be drawn to tattoos; it was my destiny. At least that's how I rationalize my own tattoos to my mom.

I have quite a few tattoos myself. I was a bit of a late bloomer when I started getting tattooed; my first one at 24. My cousin and I walked in to a San Francisco tattoo shop on Divisadero. She was there for moral support since she already had hers a few years earlier, and her only regret was going alone and picking a crappy artist. I opted for some cherries with flames on my mid/lower back; nothing special and definitely without much creative thought, but at least the work was done well.

There is just something euphoric about the tattoo process. It all starts with an idea and continues into a collaborative effort between artist and canvas. When I walk into the studio, I just stand and take in the atmosphere. The flash covered walls, the smell of sterile air and cleaning products, the melodic buzzing of the tattoo instruments and, of course, the camaraderie. I get such a rush when I sit at the chair and watch my artist get ready to sling ink to skin. Since I have an incredibly high tolerance to pain, I'm rarely uncomfortable. Sure there are spots that make you go, "oooh!" but for the most part, I find it quite soothing. When it's over, I can't help but stare admirably at my work of art.

The most common questions I get about my artwork is "what does it mean?" or "why did you get that?" The truth is, there are various reasons for getting them. My first one was just because I wanted the experience of getting one, but as I've aged, my tattoos have become more personal; some with deep symbolic meaning and some a reflection of who I am or what I love. I like to think of tattoos as illustrated representations of a person's life. The tattoos below are the ones I cherish most.


The Knock Out

Ms. Knock Out was my 36th birthday gift to myself. She was also the first new tattoo I got in four years. Prior to that, I spent most tattoo sessions touching up or reworking older tattoos. When I found the artwork, I knew I had to have it. She is a likeness of one of my favorite actresses (Clara Bow) as well as a good representation of the constant battles I've fought in recent years. I've taken some hits, but I'm a tough gal, and I manage to overcome the myriad obstacles along my life's journey.


Robert DeNiro

My most recent work (as of February 2013) is that of my all-time favorite actor. Before I decided on this piece, I considered all the people images I currently have. They're all women: Bettie Page, Clara Bow, Ms. Knock Out, and 2 pin-up faces. After I finished Clara, I decided that my next piece would be a man. But not just any man. I wanted an Edwardian gentleman in the likeness of Robert DeNiro. My tattoo artist felt the Vito Corleone character best fit that era, so I went for it. What he represents for me is the perfect man. He's handsome, dark and mysterious. He's a gentleman yet tough when he needs to be.


La Llorona

When I was a little girl, my dad used to tell me the story of La Llorona; the weeping woman in search of her children she murdered. (Hispanic parents don't really believe in the fairy tale, happily ever after bed time stories.) However, It was less a horror story and more of a cautionary tale for women; be cautious of men who make false declarations of love. La Llorona is also a ballad; one that I enjoy singing. My favorite lyric: No dejaré de quererte aunque la vida me cueste. I've listened to and sung this song for years. I never realized how much it mirrors the feelings I have now; quite prophetic.


Casados Muertos

The famous Vegas tattoo. Over the past several years, my Easters were spent at Viva Las Vegas. In 2006, I received a random email from a tattoo artist. He liked my style, my skin and my tattoos. He asked to tattoo me at the next VLV show. Why not? My friend and I (because I wasn't about to go alone) met with him at this super seedy hotel on the old strip...at midnight. We met him at his hotel room where everything was completely legit. He had his traveling tattoo equipment, new needles and a saran wrapped chair. It was definitely a good time shooting the breeze and slinging the ink. One of my best Vegas memories. I always enjoy telling the story about the tattoo more than sharing its meaning. Besides it's pretty self explanatory. El Amor Eterno.

La Maestra

 

I am currently an English instructor at a local college, but I used to be a high school teacher. In 2005, I decided to have Ms. Page tattooed as a teacher to represent my profession and my admiration for her. People often commented that I must be pretty vain to have myself tattooed on my arm, and I feverishly explained that it was Bettie Page. I decided to grow out my bangs to lessen my likeness to her. I've since become a redhead and now I get more comparisons to Rita Hayworth.

The tattoos above are just a few of the many others I have on my body. I also have red roses, sugar skulls, pin-ups, swallows, cherries and hellcats but they're more for my affection of American Traditional art than any deep meaning. The next few sessions will focus more on smaller images and filler art to connect the larger pieces.

I do have another planned project: An American Traditional tattoo of Saint Catherine of Alexandria - the patron saint of women, scholars and educators. She will be depicted in prayer and framed within the breaking wheel. I just need to consider placement. Stay tuned; there is definitely a story and a parallel of our lives; coming some time in late 2013 or early 2014.

Faith restored

I've had my doubts about whether or not to trust the court system because it seems people are granted requests for the most absurd reasons, but after today's events, I now have an increased faith that the justice system can make the right decision.

As written in a previous post, I had received (completely out of the blue) a harassing (borderline stalking) email from an individual with whom I've never had contact; be it personally, virtually, 3rd person, etc. In other words, she was a nobody to me just as I was a nobody to her. At least I should have remained a nobody to her after a bizarre chance encounter over two months ago.

As I reflect on this whole situation, all I can do is laugh, shake my head and say, "all because I bought a bottle of shampoo." This whole thing started because I just wanted high quality hair products since I'm obsessed with my hair. Had she not realized that none of this would've happened had she not sent her harassing email to begin with? I never had contact with or from her before giving her my information for the company's records. Of course I'm going to file a complaint with her employer. But I wasn't going to obsess about it. After reporting it, I went on with my life, but she just couldn't let it go, and it had been a nightmare since.

This girl pretty much demonstrated in open court that she has been obsessed with attacking me any way that she can. I originally thought it was Dem who put her up to this but judging from his demeanor, he obviously did not want to be there. And I will publicly make my apology to him here: I now realize that you weren't behind this ridiculous situation. I was wrong in my assumption that you put her up to this just to get back at me. But that certainly doesn't excuse your abusive behavior during our relationship and in the months immediately following the break-up.

During this hearing, she dragged out information that was never in the original report, and it caught me completely by surprise. The problem was, she had no proof available to back up her claims. They weren't available because they don't exist. I came prepared with my witness and evidence, but they weren't needed. The burden of proof was on her, and she had nothing.

Bottom line, she didn't like the fact that I have a blog. She didn't like the fact that I have written about my experience with an abusive alcoholic. She didn't like the fact that people who have nothing to do with her could be reading about my living with post traumatic stress disorder. She didn't like the fact that I refused to be bullied nor back down from defending myself. Contrary to her delusional belief, this blog does not revolve around her. I write about what I feel in one moment, and I move forward and on to the next thought that encompasses my mind. My life does not revolve around her. I have better things to do. I dance, I hike, I garden, I teach, I go to graduate school, I go antique/vintage hunting, I attend classic film festivals. Add one more thing to my already busy schedule: I'm now a 1930s chorus girl. (I'm finally part of a dance troupe. Yay me!)

I am completely thankful that the judge saw through her. She demonstrated her lack of maturity and made a complete fool of herself, and that was quite apparent with all the laughing I heard from everyone else in the court room. Even my witness and I were withholding bursts of laughter because that was how ridiculous and immature the claims were. And as we were dismissed, I couldn't help quietly laughing and shaking my head as I whispered a parting shot under my breath before sitting tall and taking great satisfaction in watching her angrily leave in her agony of defeat. Let this be a learning experience for her. Hopefully she will now leave me alone because I want nothing to do with her; never had, never will. 

As per the parting shot, it was not meant as a dig at her. It was meant for Dem (and I know he heard me) for allowing himself to get involved with a kid. For allowing himself to take a huge leap backward. For allowing himself to reach way down to scrape the bottom of the barrel; a 40 year old man with a 20-something kid. Dating a woman-child does not make a man look younger. It makes him look older, desperate, and pathetic. And he looked hella old and haggard

Before I end this, there's just one thing I want him to ponder. When we first started dating, he had asked me if I would be strong enough to stand by him should his baby-mama ever bring him to family court. Considering this is the second unsuccessful attempt at using the court system to unjustly punish me, I can say with 100% certainty that yes, I would have been strong enough to handle it, and I will continue to maintain strength. There was never anything to fear but he allowed himself to be influenced by what other people (people who don't know me) posted about me online. Perhaps he should take a better look at what's online and what she posted about her own self. Better yet, he should take a long look in the mirror; only then will he have a legitimate reason to be scared.

*TAKES A MUCH NEEDED DEEP BREATH* Thank You, God, for blessing me with supportive family and friends. And thank You for restoring my faith in justice.

This post brought to you by our favourite band.

You think you've got a hold of it all
You haven't got a hold at all
When you reach the top, get ready to drop
Prepare yourself for the fall, you're gonna fall
It's almost predictable 

           - Depeche Mode

Demian Griffitts

Forever Faithful

Half my life ago, my Niners won SuperBowl XXIX. It has been 18 long years since that win, and in those 18 long years we've come close. However, the last 10 years saw some below .500 win/loss ratios, a string of lousy QBs and horrible coaching. Last year was a heartbreak as the Niners were stopped short of the SuperBowl.

Today, I watched the game among with my fellow 49er Faithfuls. When we were down 17-0, I never let up hope. My die-hard Raider fan Uncle Joe from Hawaii called to tease me. I just said, "the game is not over, and Falcons are known to blow leads. We'll win this game." My fellow Faithfuls and I watched the game with intensity; we whooped and howled; we exchanged high fives. When the game was over, tears streamed down our faces as we gave each other hugs shouting out "18 Long years!!!" Yes, Faithfuls, our Niners are back in top form.

I never let up hope that my 49ers would come back from dismal past seasons. In Harbaugh I trust, and Kaepernick had my 100% support when he was made the starting QB. I was born a 49er Faithful; and I'm a 2nd generation Faithful. I grew up watching Montana, and my young adulthood cheered Young. It had been a long time coming to cheer a new QB, and Kaep is right up there with greatness. I haven't been this hyped over a QB in years. Kaepernick is incredibly athletic, handsome and tattooed!!! But I digress...

49ers were at the bottom for a long time, but I never jumped ship. I proudly showed my 49er support even in the worst of losses. But hard work and determination gets you out of adversity and on to greatness. Never lose hope.

It may be just a sport, but it's also a life lesson. ALWAYS  a 49er Faithful. GO NINERS!

My 49er game face.

Proof of my long time 49er loyalty.
Sporting my 49er shirt at age 6.