fireworks are hard to take pictures of

thoughts on G20 from an ignoramus

Sitting here in my house on Vancouver Island...I had no idea what was going on during the G20 protests.

I still don't.

At work the other day we marveled at the crazy photos of the burning police cars. The Toronto natives sighed and wished they had been there to witness the (un?)civil disobedience.

I thought "hey, those guys in black sure look cool, smashing that window"

But then I started reading stuff. And watching little home-video clips on the internet. And you know what? It feels a little scary.

I still don't get it. I have read the protester's side of things. I have read the media's side of things. I've mostly read the uninformed sides of things. I'm confused.

Why did those people get detained for twenty six hours? Why were they fed cheese sandwiches and why were the gays segregated from everyone else?

What's with all the violence?

Why did this happen? (watch from around 50-ish seconds, the first bit is just the national anthem)

Why were the guys in black allowed to burn the police car? And who left police cars unattended with the windows rolled down?

How come I get tears in my eyes when I watch this?


I'm sorry but I just can't grasp it.

What's being sensationalized?
What's real?

How did it get so out of hand?

I thought I could trust you, Canada. Police. You seemed so safe. I don't ... I kind of feel betrayed, I guess. I'm so ignorant because I thought it was safe to be ignorant.
*sigh* guess it's time to quit being so naïve about things.

Really I have nothing to say about it and no way to say it, except I guess I know what it feels like now to be disappointed in my country.

img from here

speaking of my arm...

Last night the very coolest man ever Bryan Turnbull finished my mummy/my little pony/lucky charms/castle/tea party sleeve! All that's left is a little touch-up session, add a teeny bit more background and it's done like dinner, which is actually the very most annoying phrase to ever leave my fingertips and land on my blog.

I'm gonna go ahead and leave it there.

Anyways, I'm in a real show-offy mood about it today. Just ask my facebook friends.

I tried to take some fabulous glamour shots of my own arm, but guess what? It's really hard to do that. So you'll have to settle on terrible lens-flare flash reflecty bathroom shots, very-very-close-ups, bad-lighting, blurry and face-cut-off photos of me. Sorry? But anyway, for those of you who haven't already seen these photos on the facebook, check out my new awesome arm! And those of you that have, feel free to leave me compliments and praise in the comments section.

Ta Daaah!

LOOK AT THAT MUMMY! YES!


Good ol' bathroom mirror shots. Also, side-note, we really need to paint that wall.


Colored-in castle...felt a lot closer to my armpit than it actually is.


Check out my muscle. (Actually my arm's just swollen.)

Check it out. I have a frickin' plaid table cloth in the crook of my elbow. You don't see that every day.

FLASH
I like all the bobby pins in this one. Fancy.


Thumbs up. Also, doesn't my arm look crazy long in this one?


Thanks again to BRYAN. Everybody click that link and see what else the man can do. He's a frickin' tat-wizard. I mean that in a good way.

No, seriously. Go here. Now.

But...how will I ever catch a husband?

Scene: bus stop. Of fucking course.

Me: (just hangin' out after a long day of working, not harming anybody, minding my own business, being awesome. The ususal.)

Random Guy: (Standing beside me, turned to face me sort of, obviously looking at my arm.)



Me: (Trying so hard to keep minding my own business)

Random Guy: (Talking to me, even though I'm turned away from him, body language = CLOSED FOR BUSINESS, listening to my iPod with those ubiquitous white earbuds.)

Me: (Sigh) Pardon me?

RG: Nice ink.

Me: Yeah. I know.

RG: Where'd you get that done? Here in town?

Me: Yeah. (Digs a Tattoo Zoo card out of my bag) Here, take a card.

RG: Mumble mumble full body suit?

Me: What? I'm working on it. (Laugh)

RG: But why the hell would you do that to yourself?

Me: (Puts mental boxing gloves on, because HELL NO) What do you mean?

RG: You know, it's never gonna come off.

Me: Yeah. I know. It's supposed to be like that.

RG: Is that even a real tattoo? (Still talking about my arm)

Me: Yes. (laughs)

RG: You're gonna have that for life, you know?

Me: Yeah.

RG: Why would you do that to yourself, kid?

Me: (WTF, this guy's like ten years older than me tops) Um...because I wanted to?

RG: Yeah well mumble mumble husband mumble mumble it's gonna be hard when you want to get married and get a family.

Me: No. You know what? (Stands up straight, looks him in his ignorant face) I have a family and we are doing just fine, actually.

RG: (Holds hands up in defensive posture) Woah woah woah no need to get angry.

Me: Yeah, well it's awful to be standing here, minding my own business and then some stranger comes up to me and starts saying things like that to me. It's very rude and it's hurtful.

RG: mumble mumble where'd you get that work done anyway? Here in town?

(At this time I realize he's totally drunk and it's useless to even waste my time, even though I had this full speech coming to me about how I was just at my full time job and I have a degree from a University now and what was he doing being drunk in the middle of the day on like a Monday anyway and who is he to judge me...etcetera.)

My bus came.

Me: That's my bus. (walks away with semi-threatening gesture, hoping he takes it as a warning for next time.)

RG: Yeah. (shouts after me) Good luck with all that ink.

Seriously guys. Yeah. I was so sad about it that on the bus I text-messaged my (female, tattooed) boss: D-bag @ the bus stop just basically asked me how i expect to get a man and have a family with all these tattoos.

Her reply?

Awwww fuck that guy in the neck. Did you ask him why he is so mean? Ask him if he's mad at his mom so he had to be mean to other women to compensate for his pencil dick. My standard response to guys like that is to furrow my brow and ask "what's wrong with you? Are you handicap(sic)? Learn some manners." When that fails I tell them to go get fucked. Feel free to use at your leisure. :)

Hahaha thanks Sarah. But seriously guys. LEARN SOME FUCKING MANNERS. I can not believe the sense of entitlement people seem to have, thinking they can just go up to complete strangers and insult their appearance. Tattoos are pretty mean things to insult, as well, because you can't really change them. Keep it to yourself. And remember:



__________________

On a more positive note, CLICK HERE to read people's true life stories by Sarah Von. It's a very interesting (and on-going) project she's been working on for a while now. She basically interviews people with a-typical lifestyles, or who have had something crazy happen in their lives.
And especially check it out on November 29th, because that's when my interview will be up!!

singing

my favorite song to sing along to while sweeping the floor in the mornings at tattoo zoo is Malaguena Salerosa by Chingon...

I was totally busted today by Cody. I was all practicing rolling my R's (which I literally learned from singing along to this song, not from all the school in Spanish, not from the ... seven percent of my life I've spent in Mexico.) RRRRosa.


I just recently found out this is where it's from:



I want to watch this entire movie. It's effing awesome. And this scene reminds me of the one time when I was living in Colima, Mexico...

which is here you ignorant motherfuckers:
I inadvertently saw a serenade taking place. Some guy wanted to ask for a young lady's hand in marriage.
I was at my friend's host-family's house, and the mother ran into his bedroom where we were all hanging out and made us come outside to watch. There were mariachis, and the girl was all out on her balcony in the middle of the night looking super pretty in a dress and sighing dramatically...so was her mother, come to think of it.

It was totally this scene, with the man being all romantic and sort of creepy, except more outside in the night time and more bad-ass because it happened in like two thousand and three, not nineteen thirty two or whatever.

Just imagine me with all those spectators. That's what it was like.

AWESOME.

Two moments from yesterday evening.

Scene: me, waiting at the bus stop, downtown Victoria. (as usual)
Mentally disabled man stands beside me, starts talking.

Me: (taking earbuds out of my ears) Pardon me?

Guy: What your name?

Me: Nova. What's your name?

Guy: Richard

Me: (nods)

Guy, AKA Richard: (extends hand out, as though we were going to shake)

Me: (Does the same to be polite.)

Richard: (Does crazy secret hand-shake kind of thing, complete with fist pounds and some kind of thumb thing with jazz fingers.)

Me: (Tries to keep up with crazy hand-shake.)

Richard: (Goes in for the hug)

Me: (Realizes he has a lot of dried ketchup on the corners of his mouth and on his white shirt.)

Richard: You're a nice lady.

Me: Thanks.

Richard: (Stands there staring for an awkwardly long time staring at me.)

Me: So...did you have a good day today?

Richard: Yeah. (Rolls eyes as though it was a totally lame question.)

Me: Me too.

Richard: What bus you on?

Me: The thirty*.

Richard: Me, twenty eight.

Me: Oh.

Richard: My bus is coming. (points)

Me: Oh, yeah, there it is. Cool.

Richard: See you later. (Even more elaborate hand-shake, followed by hug.)

Me: (Leaning way back, stiff one-arm hug, trying not to encourage any more physical contact) Yup, bye.

Richard: Cute glasses.

Me: Okay. Bye! (Note to self: Never wear glasses at the bus stop again.)

-----later, on my walk home-----

Seeing a bunch of 'free stuff' left over from a garage sale, including books, I wander over to some guy's yard. He's kneeling on the curb, scrubbing it with an old shirt.

"I left a few cans of paint out here and look what they did."

I look...yep, definitely a mess. I wonder who "they" is.

"Hm, that sucks. Hey, is that a full set of encyclopedias?"

Two minutes later I'm on the phone with Ryan asking him to come pick me and 26 books up.