Two Years Later…

It’s been over two years since my last post on this blog and to be honest, there have been several times within the past two years that I’ve thought about posting here again, but for whatever reason, I just…didn’t.

For what it’s worth, I kind of want to retire this blog and start all over again. I also want to just wipe this one clean, save for a few posts, and start this specific URL over.

I have such a body of work on here though, that I consistently get views every. single. day. Something I wish I could say for my photography blog. I guess spewing young and naive vitriol about my life and opinions and shopping habits in college draws people in? The last key words that brought someone here were “fuck centipedes”, so, you know…I get it.

This isn’t really a post about anything other than the bittersweet feeling of being here again and being on the fence about what to do with this blog.

I feel like I’ve outgrown it, but at the same time, I feel like I can pick up where I left off.

I do, however, want to make a separate blog (I think) to chronicle my newfound dating life. The flowers in the desert, as I like to call them. Still trying to think of an appropriate/good name for it.

Anyway. That’s it. We’ll see where I land with this.

My Dad’s Reaction to My Piercing is That of a 5 Year Old’s

So as I mentioned last night, I played the “let’s see how long it takes for my family to notice my nose piercing” game.

As it turns out, not too long, but amusingly long enough.

I was sitting down eating my lunch after the gym, my dad was changing the trash, and mid sentence he goes “WHAT IS THAT IN YOUR NOSE?” and I don’t think I got to say anything really, and he said “IS THAT A HOLE? IS THAT A HOLE IN YOUR NOSE? DID YOU PUT A HOLE IN YOU NOSE?” as if asking the same question 3 times made it not real.

I told him yes, to which he kinda got pissed, walked away to change the trash in the bathroom, and came back and said “Do you think you look prettier with that thing in your nose?” and I just stared at him, chewing, and then looked back down at my food. Then he said I have dubious friends, and walked away with the trash.

Since then, he has been giving me the silent treatment/pretending I’m not alive. It’s actually genuinely amusing because like…seriously? I’m pretty grateful that he wasn’t more pissed and demanded I take it out or something ridiculous.

I’m so glad that my first tattoo will not be visible for him to shit bricks over. Cause I’m pretty sure he’d go insane. I mean, you know, god forbid I put a hole through my body – imagine what his 20th century ideals are like about INK UNDER MY SKIN. =O

But listen, at the end of the day, it is my body. It is my choice. It is my money. And I am not forcing anyone else to go through the pain. Don’t like it? Don’t care. I literally don’t give a fuck what you think about what I do to myself. It’s 2013. Get over it. Get over yourself. It is not that serious, honey.

P.S. My mom seems rather unphased by it. While my dad was freaking out asking me if I actually have a hole through my nose, her reaction was at first this face: O_O and then “is that like a little stone in there?” +1000 points for her chill attitude, mega appreciated.