it is ok

Jun. 30th, 2014 09:03 pm
theworldahead: (not ok is ok)
I don't know what I want to do, yet - the sweet pull of living in a home of my very own weighted against the very real possibility of another recession and holy shit what if I lost my job?! - and so I waffle.

My Cap Hill location is shoddy yet affordable (like me!), and I don't know that I'm ready to give up everything the Hill has to offer just yet.

We'll see, we'll see.


Mar. 21st, 2012 11:37 am
theworldahead: (Me)

Good news, everybody!
(If you didn't read that in a Professor Farnsworth voice, get thee to Netflix)

I applied for a job within my department - slightly more hectic, requires more of me, pays $2.50/hr or so better - and I just received confirmation that I got it!

I'm really excited that I'll be able to put more in my savings account and get off work earlier (this shift is 8-4) and be a little more challenged. Huzzah!

theworldahead: (Default)
Ok, so I found the artist who I'd like to have do my chestpiece. Go look at his art here. Go on, I'll wait.


It's got-damn BRILLIANT, innit? And the linework (I die!) is so elegant and spidery, like Victorian-era script.

Of course the problem is I know what elements I want my tattoo to have, but I have no idea how I'd like them arranged. So I'm throwing this out to you, my brilliant and clever artistic friends. Help me!

Project details behind the cut )
EDITED TO ADD: Well pooh, he's booked out through 2012. I'll have to get on his list for next year.
theworldahead: (Me)

Sad to see it go, happy that I will use the money I (eventually) get for it towards a house downpayment.

Anyone want a zippy red car?

theworldahead: (Default)
You do not know what it is like to feel truly helpless.

Helpless is your father sitting you in the front seat (he never does this, why is he doing this), with your mother driving. He gives you a long, hard hug as he ushers you into the seat.

Helplessness is your mother holding your hand at a red light, crying a little even though you can tell she's trying not to. She tells you she has breast cancer.

Helplessness is your father yelling at your mother over breakfast - she's started "what ifs", and she's asking about life insurance, about providing for the terribly possibility. Your father is furious, telling her to stop thinking about it and just concentrate on "getting well". Your mother says she feels fine, and then excuses herself to go cry in the bathroom. You know your father's anger is just another way for him to try to control the fact that he too is helpless.

Helpless is knowing that, although this cancer has an 80 - 95% cure rate, that still means there's a 20 - 5% chance that you'll lose your mother, your best friend.

This is helplessness.


theworldahead: (Default)

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