Four Words: Tattoos and Bonsai trees

And that pretty much sums up my weekend. As usual, I didn't want to tell you until the deed was completed, but I've finally got my trumpet tattoo. I know, I know, I've never spoken about my ink and all that but....surprise? I went into the shop just over two weeks ago, in hopes that he'd be able to pencil me in and tattoo me that day. It was two days before my birthday and I really wanted it done, but of course there was other business to attend to, fortunately dude was really nice and the pricing was decent so I figured I'd make an appointment and come in the next time I was able to. Long story short, your boy got inked up and as it turns out, I'm really happy with it. 

I know some people tend to frown upon tattoos and some of the things that the represent, but honestly [and obviously] I like them. I want to be old and wrinkled, I want to have cool stories to tell to my grand kids, I want to have visual representation of my former youth and lifestyle. For me, part of it's nostalgia. God forbid I lose my memory when I'm old and senial, I think it'd just be nice to have something permanently etched onto my body to signify who I am, or at least who I used to be. And honestly, mom, America, I don't do drugs, no one's pregnant, I can't steal because I'd feel too bad, and I've never been to jail. Please just let me have my moment. And if it's any consolation I have a six month rule. That panther eagle holding an American flag suggested to you by the douche bag behind the desk of an overcrowded tattoo parlor might seem like a cool idea at the moment, but as with most tattoo ideas, it was just a fleeting though that never should of been committed to in the first place. Just give it some time, we can wait.

11 years and counting.

My 18th birthday. Every other black kid I know gets Jesus hands or a really cheesy chest piece. I got a robot screaming the nickname that I gave myself. Story of my life.

You might not remember, but over the summer I contemplated beginning a bonsai tree. Unfortunately I was never able to get that idea out of the talking stages so the whole thing sort of went into a dormant stage for a while. Lo and behold, nine months later, I visit my aunt's house and there it is, a ten year old juniper bonsai tree, mine for the taking. THANK YOU BASED GOD.

And now my windowsill garden is complete.