Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Fate Has A Twisted Sense of Humor


“Mia, if you know any of the clients you’re ever assigned here let me know because I’ll have to pull you off that case and assign you another one.” I thought about the two people I knew that were currently in jail. Neither of them were here I assured my supervisor. But fate it seems often has a twisted sense of humor.


She'd just introduced me to my first client and he excitedly exclaimed,“Hey I know you!” My supervisor looked from me to him and waited for my response. “From where?" I asked. He couldn’t remember from where but he was certain he’d met me. “Maybe you met someone that looks like me.” I offered. He shook his head and pointed to my tattoos. "No way it was someone else, I recognize the tattoos. You have a fairy on the back of your neck too." The only way that tattoo is visible is if my hair is up and the fact that he knew about it meant that he was telling the truth.

“Maybe you’ve met a another girl with the same tattoos?” my supervisor asked. “He’s right I do have a tat on the back of my neck.” He seemed familiar to me too but I couldn’t place where I'd met him I told my supervisor. She decided that the fuzzy meeting didn’t warrant me being taken off his case although she did find it kind of funny that I hadn’t been in the prison for half an hour and already one of the inmates had claimed to know me. Meanwhile she’d been working in the system for years and neither she nor the other workers had come across anyone they knew. “The weirdest things always happen to me.” I grumbled as I wracked my brain trying to remember where or when for that matter I’d met the inmate. She laughed as she saw me struggling to remember, “It’s going to drive you crazy you know trying to remember.” She was right, it is driving me nuts. Fate really does have a twisted sense of humor.

Labels: internship, tattoos

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Posted by @ 11:47 PM
3 comment from:  Mia,  Sunny Nites,  Mia,

Friday, August 08, 2008

Nothing says I love and I’m sorry like ink.

My brother Steven did something so totally unexpected I choked up and my little sister straight out bawled. Like my bro and mom she’s highly emotional. To fully understand the significance of the moment I have to layout some background.

For two years my brother was head over heels in love with a girl that my little sister despised. I really didn’t know the girl so I accepted her with no problem. However because they all went to the same high school my sister had more insight into her than I did. Yet it was hard to believe the conniving picture Caity painted of the girl when she came across as so innocent.

My mom sat the three kids down time after time to discuss the animosity between the girls.During these talks the girl would claim she had no problem with Caity and make it seem as if Caity’s problems with her were one sided. At first we thought maybe Caity was a bit jealous after all her and Stevie had always been best friends, always been joined at the hip, and now with this girl in his life he had no time for Caity. My brother naturally took his girlfriend's side.


Soon to be 17 yr old Caitlin has a sweet and bubbly personality and is undeniably pretty.She inherited my mother’s fair skin,porcelain complexion, dad's dark blonde hair and thick dark lashes. Like me she has amber colored eyes except with hers you can see flecks of green in them. She has a beautiful figure, petite an inch taller than me with a tiny waist and generous hips. Caity, thank god is innocent enough not to take advantage of the power she has over teenaged boys and grown men. I have seen Caity literally smile her way out of any trouble she’s gotten into without meaning to. She's also an aspiring designer and creates a lot of her own styles. I took notice of the fact that whenever Caity changed her look a few days later my brother’s girlfriend would show up rocking the same look,hairstyle, or color hair. That made me rethink my jealousy theory or rather who was actually jealous of who.

It started slowly,vile nasty rumors spread about my sister in the school.One of the rumors even had her working as a drug dealer in the local playground. The source of the rumors always seemed to be my brother’s girlfriend and her mini crew of divas. The rumors would always make their way to Caity yet we could get no one to actually admit it to my brother’s face. I guess they feared censure from the popular crowd and a beat down from my brother.

Then the big one hit a myspace page was dedicated to my sister, it was awful. When I saw it I was livid and something in me just snapped. Until that moment I had not realized what Caity was going through because she'd kept it all to herself. My mom contacted myspace and they qicky removed it but just as quick another one popped up. At first we had no idea who had created the pages and my bro was threatening to dismember whoever did it. Caity meanwhile kept insisting that it was his girl doing it. I finally believed it when a picture of Caity popped up on that page was kept on the portable hard drive of the family computer shortly after the girlfriend asked to use it. That’s when I got involved and just let my brother have it when he refused to accept the mounting evidence against his girlfriend and her mini crew. Things even got a little tense between my bro and I when I sided with Caity. The pages suddenly stopped when my mother threatened to involve the girl's mother into the equation. It seems that the girl's mom knew exactly what she had spawned and didn't buy her daughter's innocent act.

Long story short last year was pure hell for my sister. The relationship between her and Steven was strained and she was always on edge. Her grades suffered; sometimes my mom would find her crying in her room. During that time the once ultra independent kid clung to mom and me. My father was highly disappointed in him and told him so often. Finally my mom transferred Caity into a new school and her grades picked up again. The rumors still persisted but my brother began to slowly open his eyes.

Several months ago he and the girl broke up. It turned out everything Caity had told me but refused to tell my bro about the girl turned out to be true. Now he was feeling stupid he was seeing it all for himself first hand. He apologized to Caity and she accepted, she’s never been one to hold a grudge. Their relationship got right on track as if nothing ever happened. I think he finally understood the lecture my parents had given him about his role as a brother to two females and it humbled him.

He came home last Friday with a new tattoo, a Celtic cross embossed with my name and Caity’s name on it. It was his way of apologizing to us and making sure he'd never forget his role as our protector again. As soon as Caity saw the tattoo she jumped into his arms and started crying. He hugged her so tight I thought he was going to crack one of her ribs or something. When he set her back down on the floor his eyes were all teary. My mom had been watching them and now brushed a couple of tears away from her face. He had them add her and dad’s name as well when it was done he said because he realized that his treatment of Caity had affected them as well. He was sorry. Mom and Caity started crying harder. Like I said they’re the emotional ones of the family. I’m the cool one. I looked at the tat and despite the lump in my throat acted casual. “That’s really nice Stevie.” I said and turned away before he could see my eyes tearing up. Nothing says I love you and I’m sorry like ink.

Labels: family, tattoos

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Posted by @ 11:15 AM
7 comment from:  Mia,  christina/ohio,  Anonymous,  Anonymous,  Mia,  Anonymous,  Just Jane,

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

Your Name Here

Years ago the then love of my life wanted us to get each other’s names tattooed on our bodies. I balked at the idea because honestly that’s one hell of a commitment, one which I wasn’t prepared to make. Not because I didn’t love him but because from the moment I’d laid eyes on him my heart knew our relationship would not have a happy ending. It wouldn’t be ink worthy.


A smart female would’ve run away screaming from him but I wasn’t who I am now so instead I ran straight into his arms. He was an education in something my sheltered innocent self had never been exposed to. He brought harshness into my life and I brought gentleness into his. With me he tried to control his cruel nature but wasn’t always successful. I can’t even remember the amount of times he unintentionally broke my heart and like a masochist I’d pick myself up and come back for more if only because I believed everyone deserved a second chance and could be saved.

We worked great as friends but it was never enough for either of us. Whenever the relationship would get too intense for me and I was in danger of losing sight of myself I’d step away from him. Still he never fully released his hold on me. There was never a clean break it was as if we were addicted to each other. On occasion I’d come home from a date to find him scowling in my darkened living room waiting up for me. I’d join him on the sofa and we’d talk until I passed out from exhaustion with his arm around me or his head on my lap. He drew comfort in that he knew me well enough to know that I would never commit to anyone else as long he was a part of my life in one way or another.


The issue of the tattoo had come up shortly after he questioned me about a guy I’d been seeing a lot of. It was during one of our sabbaticals and I was certain that this was it, I was ready to move on and so was he at least I thought so since he was always talking to me about his latest conquests. So when he asked me if the guy had kissed me I responded truthfully. You know I’ve read about people shaking with anger but never really thought that it was actually possible until that moment. His face turned red, his hands started fisting at his sides and he took a step towards me towering over me. He was furious. He caged me with his body against a wall and basically snarled. “You let him kiss you?!” “News flash you and me broke up four months ago.” He just glared at me struggling to gain his composure until he was able to walk away. We didn’t speak to each other for weeks until he showed up at my house late one night with a quart of my favorite ice cream. “I’m sorry” he said I stopped seeing the other guy the very next day.

I knew why he wanted me to get the tattoo it was all about his ego, he wanted to mark me as his. He pulled me into his arms and hugged me tightly “You can put it on a part of your body that’s for my eyes only. No one but me and you will know you’ve got it.” his hand then slid down my back and rested on my butt,“you can put it right here he murmured into my ear as he gave it a light squeeze. “Oh yeah sure thing and where will you get my name?” I asked expecting it to be somewhere hidden like behind his knees. “Right here on my fore arm so everyone can see it or right here over my heart since it belongs to you anyway.” I shook my head no. “How about a compromise?” I joked “I’ll get a label inked on my behind that says ‘your name here’.” He laughed even though he wasn’t happy about it but he knew as stubborn as I am I’d never give in so he dropped the subject.

Months later I woke up one day and realized I didn’t like the person I was becoming. Thanks to him I was becoming hard, untrusting, and bitter, a female version of him. I stepped away and stood away for months growing stronger as time went on. He didn’t give up but no matter how many times he came at me my answer was always the same “No, it’s over.” The last time I saw him he was crying but he had hardened my heart so much I had no sympathy for him. He said I’d broken his heart I didn’t believe him. He said he loved me I didn’t care, he’d change. I knew he never would. As he crushed me to his chestI kept my hands at my side. The urge to soothe and comfort him was gone. I remember thinking that he wasn’t crying over the loss of me he was crying because of his wounded pride. No one had ever walked away from him it was always the other way around. I was the first and I was proud of myself.

The woman in his arms was the one he’d created. He’d taken a soft little girl and made her into a strong woman. I owed him gratitude for that much at least. I hugged him back and tried to joke my way out of the situation, “Aren’t you glad now you didn’t get that tattoo?” He hugged me tighter,” doesn’t matter anyway your name is tattooed all over my heart regardless.” He said before letting go of me and walking out the door crying. I haven’t seen him since although he keeps tabs on me via family members.

I got the news yesterday that he is married now and expecting a baby. I was genuinely happy for him and told the messenger so. “Has he changed?” I asked hoping he’d done so for his wife. “Na he’s still the same” the messenger replied. I shook my head and turned to walk away “Hey Mia he said to give you a message.”” What?” The messenger traced a heart on his chest he said, “Tattoo” I smiled and pointed to my butt, “Tell him I said your name here.”

Labels: Love, tattoos

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Posted by @ 4:03 PM
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Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Angel On The Bus

By nature I am naturally a shy person therefore I can appreciate how hard it is to initiate conversations with a stranger. I would never have the cojones to strike up a conversation like that. That takes courage something I am seriously lacking. For whatever reason maybe it’s my eyes I dunno but it tends to happen to me a lot,strangers starting up conversations with me. Invariably and unintentionally I’ll say something that will make them laugh and next thing you know we’re talking to each other as if we’ve known each other forever.

I took the bus from the Bronx into Manhattan to pick up my significant other from work. Granted it would have been way faster if I’d taken the subway but when it’s nice outside and I have time to kill I prefer to take the bus and enjoy the ride. I was into my music checking out the scenery when my phone rang. I popped out one of my ear buds and lowered the volume on my iPod, it was the BF wanting to know my whereabouts. Just then I happened to look up and noticed a man staring at me. He smiled warmly at me and I returned his smile and went back to my conversation. Every now and then I’d catch him looking at me, specifically the tattoo on my left arm. My conversation over I slid my phone into the front pocket of my messenger bag and was about to put my ear bud back into place when the man approached me and asked about my tattoo. He wanted to know where I had gotten it.

He wanted a tat himself but was unsure as to where to get it from. I gave him the name and address of my regular tat guy and warned him not to be put off by the place. It’s in rough part of the Bronx in the back of a biker bar. My guy Michelangelo (name’s perfect for him) has a couple of rooms in the back of his bar that he and his apprentice work out of a couple times a week in between tending bar. Michelangelo doesn’t ink because he needs the money he inks for the love of the art and his prices are reflective of this. The only catch is you have to go at night after the bar is opened , the later the better Michelangelo doesn’t ink during the day. I also warn him that sometimes there's a long line of people waiting to see Michelangelo so be prepared to break night playing pool or come back another time.

The man asked to take a closer look at my tat and I hike up my short sleeve all the way up to my shoulder so he can examine it thoroughly. He’s amazed by the intricate tat and tells me about the tattoo he wants. He wants to tattoo the images of his wife and three daughters on his back. “Can I just talk to you?” he asks “Sure thing it’s not like I’m going anywhere, looking around the bus, “my stop is no time soon.”One thing leads to another and the next thing you know he is pouring out his story to me. He tells me his wife and kids died in a fire a few years back and he’s having a hard time, he can't seem to move on with his life. He talks for awhile. His grief pouring out like verbal diahrrea. He can't seem to hold anything back. The pain of it all is there on his face and in his words. I listen intently and ask questions about his girls, his wife. Little things. He loosens up a bit and begins to tell me about the little details of his former life. His girls loved french toast with raisin smiley faces on top;his wife had an identicial twin and he could never tell them apart and she'd always tease him about it. Things that back then were taken for granted but that today are treasured. The more he talks about them the more he remembers until he finally confesses what I'd felt all along; he feels guilty for having survived the fire. Finally he seems to be talked out exhausted and falls silent. I tell him that his wife would want him to live and to move on because after all when we love someone truly love someone we want them to be as happy as possible even if we are not a part of the happiness...still just to see them happy gives us joy.

After a couple of silent minutes he confided that he had never spoken to anyone about the way he felt not even his own family. He preferred to suffer in silence with his grief and with his survivor guilt. He said he couldn’t even understand what drew him to me what made him open up to me except that when I had smiled at him it had affected him, my smile he said stirred him. “ Do you realize you have an incredible smile? It has has the power to light up a room. ” "Thanks.I owe it all to my Oral B toothbrush and regular flossing." I reply and he laughed. He then adds that I should really be a shrink because I was so easy to talk to. I smile again and don't bother to tell him about the years of counseling classes or the shiny new psychology degree I recently acquired. Instead I suggested a couple of grief support groups for him to check into. He promised that he would.

We sat in silence for a few minutes and just before his stop came up he stood up kind of bowed to me and kissed my hand then headed for the exit. He looked back at me and just before he stepped off the bus added “ Who knew i'd find an angel here on earth. An angel right on the bus. Thank you.”

After he left I sat back and felt as if I had done something good that day as if all the years of hard work and studying had paid off. I had actually made a difference, I had actually helped someone . This at a time when I was doubting that i'd be able to put my degree to use when I was thinking it was worthless. I can’t put it into words. The feeling that came over me was indescribable and words can not possibly to it justice. He may have thought that I was an angel that day but in reality the angel on the bus was him. He gave me confidence that I was on the right track and that sticking around NY for another couple of years to pick up another degree had been the right thing. I often think about him while on my way to school now and just when the work load at school seems to be a little too much I remember his face and his words and it spurs me on.

Labels: bus stories, grief, tattoos

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Posted by @ 12:18 AM
2 comment from:  Just Jane,  Mia,

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Not nice, not nice at all

It had been nine years since I had seen my paternal grandparents. They finally arrived last week for a visit and as we headed over to the upper west side to see them this past Sunday my siblings teased me “ohhhh Mia wait ‘til grandpa sees your tattoos. You’re in BIG trouble!” Ha! I’m an adult now grandparents don’t strike no fear in this 24 year old heart!

We'd been in the house for an hour and no one had noticed my tattoos. My plan was working. My short sleeves had been long enough to cover the tats. Then it happened… a fly landed on my arm and I shooed it away pushing my sleeve up a little. My little sister seized the opportunity….

Caity: What’s that Mia?
Mia: What’s what?
Caity: That…( pointing at my arm )what’s that?
Mia: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
I tugged on the edge of my sleeve making sure it was covering the tat while my sister let out a diabolical giggle .

My grandma leaned in and raised the edge of my sleeve up with her finger…

GM: What is that?
Mia: Umm a tattoo grandma.

She called my grandfather over. He stared in disbelief at the tattoo. My sister (I’m cutting her out of my will by the way) then added…

Caity: Look at her other arm grandpa!
Mia: Nobody likes a kiss ass Caitlin Nicole!

My grandfather quickly turned and looked at my mother.


GP: Maggie did you see this?
Mom:Yup.It’s what she wanted.

My grandpa began his tattoos are not respectable lecture…Blah blah… In turn I tried to explain to him that my tattoos can not be seen unless I want them to be seen. That at work my clothing covers the tats. Grandpa did not want to hear it….I panicked… forgive me mother for I know not what I do…must save my ass. I pointed to mom…

Mia: She designed them!
He glared at my mother...
Mom: Nobody likes a snitch Mia!

GP :Maggie!
Mom : What? I can't help it if she appreciates my art work. Damn these talented hands of mine to hell!

A few feet away my dad exploded into a fit of laughter.

Ma turned and quickly pointed at my dad.
Mom: By the way her father your son accompanied her to get them and paid for a couple of them too!
Dad : Hey leave me out of this!
Mom: Eh not so funny now is it Mr.Giggles?

My father let out another loud laugh poured himself a glass of water and wisely joined his little brother outside on the balcony.

GP: You’ll never be able to get a respectable job now!
Mom : You know Bill respectable jobs are highly over rated luckily for us she can dance. Know what I’m saying? Her future as a pole dancer is secure!

The woman just can’t help herself can she? That mouth of hers!

He turned and looked at ma slowly and despite trying not to started laughing.
My uncle watching from the balcony came in and put his arm around grandpa and winked at me. Uncle Mike had been at the receiving end of the tattoo lecture years many years ago. “Come on pop give me and Willie a hand with the grill.”and led grandpa out to the balcony where my dad was busy flipping burgers. As he went past me grandpa looked back pointed his finger at me and said, “No more…you hear me?”

Then grandma came over and stood in front of me her hands on her waist like Super Grandma…oh shit…I was in trouble… Grandma never raises her voice, that's grandpa's job she's like a ninja assassin silent but deadly.I looked up at her. Yeah I was in deep trouble.

GM: How many do you have?
I said nothing… I wanted to say I plead the 5th grandma but my grandma didn't look like she was in the mood.

Caity: Five grandma. She has one on her chest grandma and the one on her shoulder blade oh and one on her neck! Oh and she's planning on getting another one.

Yeah definitely that girl is being cut out of my will.

Mia:Caity wipe off that brown spot off your nose!
Caity:Huh? What that means?

Before we could get into it Grandma silenced us with one of her looks…

GM: I saw the one on your neck. Thank God you’re grandfather hasn’t seen it yet.

I reached for my hairclip and let my curls down as she went on…

GM: Mia how many tattoos does your grandfather have?

Was this a trick question? I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to answer this and frankly I was afraid to answer it.

She asked me again… “How many tattoos does your grandpa have?”

Mia: One?

GM: One. He has had one tattoo since he was 17 he is now 65. It’s all faded now and you can barely tell it has my name on it.

wtf was I supposed to say to that?

GM: Do you understand what I am telling you?

No not really grandma….I wanted to say but wisely kept my mouth shut. I wondered if I said no would she strike me?

She repeated her question. Crud this is worse than being on jeopardy! The pressure! Where is a commercial break when I need one?! I decided to fake the funk. I answered “yes” and lowered my eyes as a sign of respect.

She bent down eye level to me raised my sleeve again. She stepped back and looked at my tattoo again…

GM: This is not nice, not nice at all.

The tone in her voice reminded me of the one time she had scolded me as a child. I had failed to go straight home after school and had made my mom worry. Grandma had scolded me in her gentle way and I cried for hours afterwards. My heart felt as if it had been broken. Now here I was years later at the age of 24 experiencing the same feeling all over again. The tone in her voice made my eyes tear up. For a brief second it was as if I were a little kid again.

Labels: grandparents, tattoos

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Posted by @ 7:08 PM
9 comment from:  christina/ohio,  Mia,  don_veto,  Mia,  DannieS72,  Mia,  DannieS72,  Mia,  DannieS72,

Monday, May 07, 2007

Payback

Every time I have a major academic milestone in my life I get a tattoo to commemorate it. I’m up to five now and in a few days will be getting a small tattoo on my wrist to commemorate getting my BA. Just like my other tattoos the new one will be situated so that it can be covered with clothing when I am at work. In this case a wrist watch with a wide band should do the trick.

My paternal grandparents are very old fashioned they’ve never seen my tattoos. I got the first of my tattoos the day I graduated from high school and by that time my grandparents were already living in Florida. My grandpa is of the mind set that tattoos are for bikers, gang bangers and prison inmates. My grandfather by the way has a small tattoo on his arm with my grandmother’s name. I’ll leave it to you to guess which one of the three categories his bad ass self fell into once upon a time back in the ‘50’s.

During dinner last night my father informed me that my grandparents are coming down to New York this summer. In between bites of his salad he started laughing and reminded me that his parents don’t know about my tattoos. I told him that it was no biggie my t-shirt sleeves, and my hair will cover the tattoos up. He then reminded me that at one point during their visit there will be a family reunion at the beach and my tattoos will then be exposed. Then he started laughing like a maniac. My dad was a happy man.

I think that this is his payback for the sleepless nights I caused him as a teenager.

Labels: dad, family, tattoos

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Posted by @ 11:12 AM
10 comment from:  Just Jane,  christina/ohio,  christina/ohio,  Mica,  2 Second Club ®,  DannieS72,  Mia,  Goggles Piasano Ritardo,  Emory Mayne,  Mia,

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

A Chinese man doing yoga on your neck

Have you ever had one of those “special” moments? No I’m not talking about one of those “awwww” moments that brings tears to your eyes. I’m talking about one of those (insert finger quotes here and lower voice to a whisper) “Special” moments. Those moments that leave you feeling like you should be wearing a helmet and riding the short yellow bus to a school that has classrooms with 2 teachers per every 9 students. Yeah man one of those special moments.

After Reina and I took our finals yesterday we bumped into Angela and a couple of her friends and decided to chill together for a little bit. We were walking down the street when all of a sudden Magz said to me,”Mia is that a Chinese man doing yoga on your neck?” I turned to look at the Chinese man she was talking about practically giving myself whiplash; there was no Chinese man there. I was still looking around for the Chinese man doing yoga on the down low when Reina chimed,"your neck she’s talking about your neck.” Then it hit me “ohhh! Doy!” I’d forgotten I have a fairy in a lotus position tattooed on the back of my neck .

I got the yoga fairy while visiting a friend in Michigan and it’s my least favorite tattoo. I'd been told that this tattoo artist was fantastic and his portfolio seemed to support it. He loved my other tatz and my piercings and agreed to fit me in even though I didnt have an appointment. I wore an open shirt with a tube top underneath to give him easy access to the nape of my neck and when I took off the shirt he said I had a beautiful neck and shoulders and immeadiately began massaging my neck and shoulders in order to have me relaxed before he inked me...that should've been a hint for me to bounce right there.


The whole time he was tattooing me he kept telling me what beautiful skin I had and complementing me on my coloring. Hey man what can I say? I was blessed with the melanin that gives me that bronze look. Throughout the entire process my friend had been giggling like a banshee smoking weed. I thought she was just being giddy due to me being there and having someone besides her imaginary friend to talk Spanish to. I was wrong, it turned out Mr. Hottie Gringo Tattoo Dude had a woody, a hard on; his flag was flying full staff the entire time he was doing my neck. I have to admit I thought I felt something poking me in the back but I thought it was his knee. I guess his um “situation” affected his ability to give the tattoo his all because it looks very little the drawing my mother made (my tattoos come from sketches she’s made). When I got home I got it fixed but there’s only so much they can do, and that’s why despite the fact that peeps think my fairy in lotus position tattoo is adorable it remains my least favorite tat which is why I tend to forget I have it until people mention it. That's my excuse for yesterday's "special" moment, that's my story and I'm sticking to it!

Labels: tattoos

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Posted by @ 1:21 PM
6 comment from:  Fouad,  Mr. Khurram,  -tnchick-,  Wendy aka Cheeky,  JenLo,  Mia,