Halloween Is Coming….

Hello All! My favorite time of year is almost upon us! Nestled in my corner of Colorado, I can definitely feel fall in the air, and I am loving it! Soon the leaves will start turning, the sun will set earlier, and Pumpkin Spice will perpetually taint the air no matter where you go. Soon enough, Halloween decorations–or regular everyday decorations in my house–will be displayed all over. And even though it is more than a month away, if you are a DYI-er like myself, it is time to start planning for that Halloween costume!!

And Funky Lollipop should be your go-to for both regular Halloween-Theme and DIY-Costume-Idea earrings!

From Your Funky Stylist….

These red-eyed beauties are one-of-a-kind and are available now online at our FunkyLollipop Etsy Shop! Perfect for a punk/ goth/ dark costume.

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https://www.etsy.com/listing/250948676/halloween-red-eyes-earrings?ref=shop_home_active_35

These hand-painted green eyes are absolutely unique and would be a stellar addition to any collection!

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Product no longer available…

A personal favorite of mine, the skull-bead earrings. This pair would make an excellent addition to any punk-rocker/ biker/ goth style Halloween costume. Or, if you are like me, to everyday-wear!

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https://www.etsy.com/listing/250841979/halloween-skull-bead-earrings?ref=shop_home_active_45

A good autumn addition, the hand-painted black-on-red tree…

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https://www.etsy.com/listing/250149942/hand-painted-autumn-tree-earrings?ref=shop_home_active_46

Another personal favorite: the blue-eyed skulls. I will point out right now that these earrings are on the heavier side, but are still quite the statement piece! Paired with something orange, I use these earrings to support my home-state’s football team, the Denver Broncos. Paired with red, I use them on Independence Day in support of the USA! They are, again, perfect for any punk-rocker/ biker/ goth style Halloween costume, or everyday wear!

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https://www.etsy.com/listing/250148152/halloween-skulls-with-blue-eyes-earrings?ref=shop_home_active_47

My absolute favorite pair of earrings I, Funky, have ever made! I refer to these as clavicle-ticklers, because at almost 7″ long, the little toes do tickle the clavicle bone! Perfect, once again, for any punk/ biker/ goth style Halloween costume, Independence Day, or every concert ever, if you’re me!

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https://www.etsy.com/listing/249177105/halloween-full-skeleton-earrings?ref=shop_home_active_48

From Your Lollipop Stylist…

Are you planning on being a Steampunk Traveler for Halloween this year? Are you planning a trip to the Renaissance Fair soon? Then these Ultimate Steampunk Earrings are a must-have!!

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https://www.etsy.com/listing/238929127/ultimate-steampunk-earrings?ref=shop_home_active_71

These Asian-inspired beauties are perfect for a Geisha or a Renaissance costume! Simple yet elegant; fresh and classic at the same time. These are also great for a unique take on Christmas/ Holiday earrings.

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https://www.etsy.com/listing/555518161/turquoise-and-red-asian-inspired?ref=shop_home_active_1

If you are a Game of Thrones fan, than these exotic dagger earrings would be absolutely perfect for a Dothraki costume!! Or maybe a witch, shaman, or a strong warrior woman! Any way you slice it, these earrings are absolutely badass!!

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https://www.etsy.com/listing/541718768/exotic-dagger-earrings?ref=shop_home_active_2

Are glitter and shimmery wings in your future for Halloween this year? A pair of furry trousers ending with cloven hooves? A woodland nymph? A nature-loving fairy? A Pan-like creature with a crown of flowers and leaves? Then these earrings are perfect for you!!

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https://www.etsy.com/listing/541715760/woodland-charms-earrings?ref=shop_home_active_6

Do you feel as if you were born a few decades too late? Do you long for a dress of fringe to tickle your thighs and an adorable feathered fascinator to grace the top of your head? Are you planning on being a 1920’s Flapper Girl for Halloween this year? If your colors fall in shades of blue, then these earrings are a must-have for you! With a distinctive vintage feel, these earrings will easily add an authentic feel to any vintage-style costume! Contact Lollipop personally, and she can probably make you a fascinator to match!!!

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https://www.etsy.com/listing/541705916/vintage-inspired-aquamarine-earrings?ref=shop_home_active_12

Lastly, one of my personal favorites of my partner’s earrings, the classic vintage skull print earrings! Again, a great addition to any Halloween collection, these unique stunners highlight the classic skull illustration. Great for any steampunk/ punk/ rocker/ badass costume!!

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https://www.etsy.com/listing/499596182/vintage-skull-print-earring?ref=shop_home_active_15

 

I want to note that these earrings are made with standard hooks (which I also wear in my cartilage, in case you were looking for a new look) , but we can be persuaded to alter them for clip-on/ post/ or sensitive skin. I also want to note that most of these earrings are one-of-a-kind and may not be available for re-creation, so grab them quick!

This is the first of several Halloween-Based Blogs that I will be writing this year, but I wanted to get started now. Please stay-tuned for the next installment: Halloween Kitty-Kat! Also, keep an eye on our FunkyLollipop Etsy Shop for new styles and gift-giving ideas!

 

 

Meow Wolf: Sometimes Epic Adventures Involve Cats & Dogs & Itchy-O

 

So readers, your dear Funky went on a pretty darn amazing, life-altering, trip at the end of March. I found another local band to love, and I followed them all the way down to Santa Fe, New Mexico just to see them play in the infamous (in my crowd) Meow Wolf. Looking back at my own stories, I am very surprised to see that I have yet to discuss the band, Itchy-O….SHAME ON ME!!

Itchy-O is an experience. Whether you are trying to just listen to them, or looking them up online, or you are actually there, you will never be really ready for what you are about to encounter. The way that I describe them, is, “They’re a marching band on crack…and acid.” To put it another way, they are like a marching band on steroids, and their vibe is cerebral, to say the least. There are about forty members in the band, and every single one of them wears a mask–complete anonymity. (I happen to now know several members of the band–they have been unmasked–but I am not allowed to publicly mention their names, haha.) The main instruments are drums and computer-generation-manipulation of sounds. Most of the band members invade the crowd, their “instruments” being mobile–some carrying their drums like on-the-front backpacks, others with a “table” strapped to their chests to hold their laptops and giant amplifying speakers on their backs–or just being creepy wraith-esque figures dancing/ crawling/ disturbingly still tucked in a corner to startle you. The only exception to the rule of them all infiltrating the crowd are those with the BIG drums–they are usually on the stage or somewhere where they can be the central focus.

I have been to several Itchy-O concerts….you could say that I am something of a groupie, hahaha! And the show never gets old, honestly. My favorite part? When you suddenly stop being an individual and become part of the whole. It was rather startling the first time! I mean, if you have read any of my blogs, then you know that I am a dark, proud, daring individual; I like being able to stand out from the crowd. But an Itchy-O concert is different…

It really is hard to explain, but the best similarity I can think of is how a crowd feels during a ceremonial practice. I know, I know…there aren’t a lot of those in our mainstream world anymore, so look it up, haha. Check out the Maasai Adumu Ceremony (don’t forget that I work at a museum, hahaha!). Anyway, there comes a moment during an Itchy-O concert where the individual ceases to exist. You form one consciousness, move together as one–feel every soul and molecule of energy converge into one giant seething mass of feel-good unity. It’s breathtaking!

Although no mere words could ever be enough to truly capture the experience that is Itchy-O, lets move on to Meow Wolf…where again, no mere words could ever be enough to adequately describe that experience.

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Meow Wolf is an “art-collective”, nestled in Santa Fe, New Mexico. According to Wikipedia, it was established in 2008 by a collection of artists who desired to provide their city with a unique art house and music venue. But I did not know any of this when I headed down there, so let me attempt to explain the experience in my own words, while still keeping the mystery alive enough that you all will have to venture down there yourselves, without any spoilers…

I will start at the beginning: I woke up the morning I was supposed to leave for my trip, to my brother panicking that he couldn’t get out of the driveway because of snow! What? I admit it, I was stressed TFO! Well not to mention that up until that point, I was dealing with my father’s health issues, I had gotten into that age-old trap of being annoyed and complaining about my job and therefore hating it, and “The One” (see https://funkylollipop.com/2016/08/11/can-i-read-my-book-please/) came back and left twice since November and this last breakup was over the trip to Meow Wolf–so yeah, you could say I was very close to a breakdown, haha! In any case, the panicked wake up call started the day off bad, and then an insensitive text from my brother’s boss to my brother, but recieved on my phone because his phone doesn’t work at our house, sent me over the edge! Basically, I responded rather harshly and then immediately apologized (in a mean way) but my brother’s boss must be an amazing person because he felt that I “seemed stressed”, so he bought me a giant bottle of wine and made my brother promise to make sure I had a great weekend. This, of course, made me bawl like a baby, lbvs! So from that moment on, I promised myself that I was going to do just that–have a great stress free weekend.

By the afternoon the snow had cleared up completely–yay Colorado! So, four people and a dog left Colorado around 10:00 Friday evening, in a nice little rental car, because all of us drive older cars that we do not trust to take out of state, haha! We headed south, (I left my stress and pain at the Colorado State line) and after a few–sometimes questionable–rest stops, we made it to our buddy’s hotel room at around 4:00 am Saturday morning, in Santa Fe, NM. We had a lovely two-bed room, and five people and a Scruffy to sleep in it. I got to share a bed with only one other person (who happened to be a handsome fellow) and the dog, so I was happy.

The next day we went to lunch at a vegan-friendly Mexican restaurant for our newly vegan boy (it was yummy, haha, even though I still had meat.) Then half of us went to peruse the random shops, while the boys and the dog went to sniff out that skate park! (I found an awesome shop called “Mira’s” but it might as well have been named “Rachel’s” it was so perfect.) Around five, we met back at the hotel to greet the three new-comers who would bring our hotel-room occupants total up to eight people and a dog!! Talk about a packed house! Thankfully, these three brought an air mattress for them to share, hahaha!

The best part was that our hotel was within walking distance of Meow Wolf, so I dug into that gifted bottle of wine, before we headed down. We showed up a little bit early, so we could traverse the venue…but little did we know, we could have come as soon as they opened, and still would not have enough time to catch it all.

Built in an old bowling ally, Meow Wolf is vast and full of mystery. Around every corner, in every nook and cranny, through every hidden fireplace and cupboard under the stairs, a new wonder waits to be discovered. Even the bathrooms were a place of fantasy and visual excitement. Several worlds merge into one under the high warehouse-esque ceilings, and stepping over the threshold imbibes in you the sheer joy and innocence of a child on a Wonderland adventure.

Then you add Itchy-O, and you suddenly have a heady mix of mystique and euphoria.

At one point, one of our buddies had a bit too much fun, and we lost him. What could have been a major bummer that we were missing some of the show, ended up being a blessing in disguise, since the hidden recesses of Meow Wolf were abandoned for the Itchy-O show in the center. We discovered rooms that we had missed in our quick inspection before the show. My favorite room, of course, was the Eyeball Room, in which singular orbs of every size and description graced the surface of the rounded cave-like room. But that wasn’t all to see….

The amazing night ended, and we all trooped back to the hotel, and we found our lost friend soon thereafter, so everything was good. After a quick dip in the pool with some fellow Colorado pals and customers at the same hotel, we all went to bed. Eight people and a Scruff, two beds and an air mattress–one big happy family.

After a scattered morning, the eight of us (and a Scruff), left in our respective vehicles, to head home. We stopped for a quick bite at an Indian vegan restaurant (yes, readers, I ate a meal without meat…), then got back on I-25 for the long trip home. This time, I was the one who drove first (I did drive about an hour in the wee hours of Saturday morn), because my car-mates had a little bit more fun than I did, haha, so they all fell asleep, leaving me to enjoy the drive by myself. Which I certainly did, for it had been a very long time since I’d had that much time to think all to myself. Deciding I was happy driving, I drove the whole eight hours, while they mostly slept.

I had several epiphanies on that drive. Again, if you have read any of my blogs, then you know that I am very capable of dark, painful thoughts. I’ve seen some things in my lifetime that have left me sad and fairly broken. But I have also always said, “Everything happens for a reason.” Well, either I believe that theory, or I don’t. If I do–and for sanity’s sake I think I better–then every single bad experience was meant to be, meant for me. Lessons learned, life taught….every death, every bad relationship….was meant for me to make me who I am.

For example, all of the breakups with The One–meant to be. I had buried my heart in anger, after my mom died. He was the one who helped me find it again. (“It does exist!”) I didn’t know how much I actually wasn’t feeling. I mean, I know I love my friends, and I enjoy all the good times that we have–but I wasn’t actually feeling it. It was like a facade, window dressing on an abandoned building. And what would it take to break through my healthy coating of anger? Love and pain, of course! I cannot fault him for anything though. Once I left the pain on the state border, all I was left with is love, and that is what I brought back with me from Santa Fe. Love–love that actually hurts with it’s severity and sincerity–for everyone and everything. Even my anger at “the powers that be” has left me. It also made me realize how scared I actually was. I have been on a lifelong search for love, but it scares the heck out of me, and it always has. For to love, you become vulnerable to that person–the absence of their love can hurt you. Death is an old family friend, and he comes often for a visit. Because this is what I know, my impatience to start living the “happily ever after, ” is expounded! So I have the impatience, but I am terrified of loving someone, so I don’t actually tell them, but then I have ridiculous expectations in which they must live up to. *Sigh* I had no idea I was so confusing, lbvs!

The moral of the story is….sometimes adventures are weird from the get go. Itchy-O = Weird, Meow Wolf = Weird. Itchy-0 + Meow Wolf = Best Weirdness of Your Life!! And sometimes beauty is born out of that weirdness…life-altering beauty.

I had such an amazing trip, and I strongly suggest visiting Meow Wolf and witnessing Itchy-O live. It will be something you cannot forget.

 

These Big Strong Hands

Adagio Teas

Copyright Adagio Teas http://www.adagio.com

 

“They look like big strong hands. Don’t they?” ~Rockbiter from The Neverending Story.

I think of my mother’s hands every time I hear this quote, or any phrase containing the words, “big strong hands.” She had beautiful hands, and they were big and strong. My mother was 5’11”, and every inch of that large frame was pure strength. However, I loved her hands the most. They were the hands that soothed me–their vastness covering my entire head as she played with my hair until I fell asleep. They were the hands that I watched intensely whenever she was teaching me something new, whether it be sewing or cooking or cleaning, whatever. While being a waitress (different times, but that is the term she used proudly), they were the hands I watched handle those giant, food-laden trays, like they were nothing more than pillows. The hands I witnessed her wash, at least fifty times a day (food industry! I am a victim of this habit as well!) The hands with long strong fingers, with which she would thump me if I were getting out of line. Piano hands, they were once called, although she never really learned–despite grandma’s dream of turning her five children into a real life Partridge Family Band. (The youngest got the accordion! But she was an award-winner, so you can’t poke fun.) Strong nails, of which I was so jealous, strong hands, that I thought would be around forever….I miss those hands…

Every woman in my family has beautiful big strong hands…except for me, hahaha! Well, they’re certainly strong–fair warning if I clutch your hand or arm for any reason, I could possibly break it, lbvs–but they are definitely more on the little side. For years I watched my mother, her sisters, and their mother, cut potatoes and the like–in their hands–with ease! I tried this method this past weekend (corned beef and potatoes, duh!) and it certainly didn’t work out the way I wanted it to! I didn’t cut myself or anything, but my quartered potatoes were all different sizes…which doesn’t cut it, according to all this stuff I watch on Food Network, hahaha. But the experience made me think of my mother, and how much I missed her big strong hands….

So here’s to all the women who possess big strong hands. Whether they are used for comfort, for child-rearing, for music, for cooking, for expression, for kneading the tar out of some homemade noodles, or for manual labor–I salute you!

Can I Read MY Book, Please?

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(Hahaha, Philosophy Sunday on a Thursday! Thought I’d shake it up a bit!)

I love reading. I always have. My mom taught me how to read before I went to kindergarten; before I was five years old. She encouraged this passion, and I indulged in it to an almost ridiculous degree. In fact, if and when I did get in trouble, my mother threatened to take away my books, hahaha. That was the trigger, the threat, that I would need to get myself in line.

I have tread the literary waters a bit, but the genre my attention gravitates toward the most is the fantasy/horror/paranormal romance bit (are you surprised?). Dragons, unicorns, fairies, ghosts, vampires, and werewolves–these are the creatures I desire in “my world”–the world in which my imagination thrives. Magic and mayhem, death and eternal life, frightening situations and battles to the death. A world where true love–for forever love–exists, flourishes, and never dies–even if they have to battle through hell itself to save it.

Hmmmm….I wonder why I have such high expectations for my love life….

I love reading. I love books. I love traversing the various paths of the fictional wonderland illustrated in the pages. I escape into my books. I fall in love with the characters, and crave to know the ending of their story. I love how books highlight the necessary information–how the good authors will only tell you something if it is important. Irrelevant information is not included, unless it is simply a tool to take you in the wrong direction to give you a surprise ending. I love that. I love the foreshadowing. I love getting little snippets of one’s past, bestowed like gifts so you may understand the character a little more; fall in love (or hate, for that matter) just a little bit more.

I love relating to the characters. I am currently reading the final book in the White Rabbit Chronicles by Gena Showalter. In the first three books, Alice in ZombielandThrough the Zombie Glass, and Queen of Zombie Hearts, Ali Bell was the star. Written in first person, you literally saw the world through Ali’s point of view. I thought she and I were two peas in a pod….until I started reading the fourth book, A Mad Zombie Party. In this book, the viewpoint changes, and multiplies. Now we are seeing the world through Frosty and Milla’s eyes. Thought to be secondary characters–I mean, Frosty is Ali’s boyfriend’s best friend and her best friend’s boyfriend, and Milla is the rival “gang” leader’s little sister–a gang I wasn’t even aware of really, until the third book–they suddenly take center stage, and I’ll be damned if I don’t relate to those two even more than I did with Ali Bell.

See, with Ali, she had lost her entire family in an accident that she felt was all her fault. Blaming yourself for a loved one’s demise–whether it be literal death, or something just as life-altering–is a gig I have been playing for a long time. I blame myself for my mother’s death, my grandmother’s death, my brother’s addictions, my father’s health… Whether or not any of it is valid is beside the point. That is the way that I feel and it is a heavy burden to carry. So I connected with Ali in that sense. Also, at the time I began this series (about two months ago), I was embarking on a new love affair, and the connection between Ali and violet-eyed Cole seemed to be on par with mine. (I’m sure that this didn’t help during the inevitable end of my love affair. Cole and Ali were “meant to be” in their world. Even when they broke up and eventually got back together (ok, Cole never let her go, and again, awesome books let you know why he did what he did)…part of me is still waiting for the reconciliation in my life, and I find that expectation painful.)

Cut! Bring in the next feature, and you have Milla and Frosty. Milla seriously messed up in the third book. In fact, Queen of the Zombie Hearts, ends with a strong feeling of hatred towards little Miss Milla! And Frosty, a volatile character to begin with, has gone off the deep end by succumbing to his shattered heart. I connect with both of them. Frosty doesn’t want to cheer up, because to him that would be doing the memory of his loss a disservice. To actually live without that person is a gross injustice. It has taken me a long time to realize that that is what I still do with my mother. I will forever be the sad little girl who watched her mother die, if I cannot find the desire to live without her. Truly live. As far as Milla goes, she committed to the horrific plan that was literally the cause of Frosty’s pain, for an excellent reason–in an effort to protect her brother. Of course this resonates with me, since my brother is my “air”–I need him in my life! I’d do anything for him.

Another reason I identify with Milla–guys tend to hit it and quit it. No one ever stays. And although Milla has a decently strong concept of her self-worth–she knows she’s pretty dang awesome, especially with zombie slaying–her self-image is tarnished by these boys’ rejection. Yup…I get that. Can you really be that awesome if people are willing to leave you? It makes you focus on your faults and hold yourself accountable for every wrong deed you have ever committed. (So bad if you’re the type of person who takes the blame for everything!) See, even the universe thinks you deserve nothing but loneliness; punishment for your crimes against humanity!

Which, in my usual roundabout way, brings me to my point. Can I read my story, please? Funky’s Story, The Story of Rachel Campbell? Can I know the important clues, the relevant incidents, that will lead me to my destiny? Which signs am I supposed to follow? What can I do to get what I want, and is what I want actually what I need? What I deserve? Do I not deserve it? What is my life path?

I have been avoiding blogging. First, because I was wrapped up in my new love affair; then because of the violent end of that love affair. I knew I would write about it, and I am, of course, but hopefully I do it in such a way that it doesn’t leave me more broken.

See, with this one, the signs were there. Ok, ok, I can find the signs anywhere, let’s be honest. I can fall in love with someone’s potential loooong before they deserve it, and long before I will even admit to myself that I am in love. If you have read any of my blogs before, then you have a basic idea about “the ex”, “the one who hurt me the most”, “the one who hurt me first”, and the one who is just plain mean. Now there is the recent one, the legend, that I am just having the hardest time getting over.

So earlier this year, as some of you know, I was fed up with the reconciliation with both the mean one and the one who hurt me first. I was also fed up with my self-imposed celibacy, so when I received my invitation for a wedding in another state, I decided then and there that I would be getting some tail. Little did I know it would be the best man, and that I would actually find out he’s amazing.

We meshed right away. Our conversations were good, and we seemed to genuinely enjoy each other’s company. We had similar beliefs, similar experiences, and similar “life goals.” Granted, those goals weren’t the healthiest of ambitions, but we were on the same page nonetheless. I’m not sure what he thought about me, but I just thought he was one of the sexiest men I had ever seen in real life. (I should have realized then that I was already trying to fall.) I had gone into the situation thinking it was a one-time affair (both times that vacation, I thought it was a one-time thing…hahaha), but lo and behold, we actually lived in the same state. In fact, we lived 16 miles away from each other.

Looking at this from an avid reader’s perspective, (and an incurable hopeless romance enthusiast) this was the first really big sign. How do I travel to another state, to find a guy that actually lives near me? And even there, guests at the wedding asked us if we were together, because we “vibed” so well. (I think it was the fact that my hair matched his hat, hahaha!) Maybe if we stayed out there, we could have lasted…because all we did was come back home to the demons we so forcibly left behind…

I didn’t expect him to call when he got back, but you can bet I was waiting with bated breath, hoping that he did. Well, he did. The connections continued. In the stories I read, introducing someone to your friends is a pretty major thing. Well that was the first thing he did, and it was an afternoon of “your girlfriend” jokes, and me being awkward and shy around his people. Then the next call came, and the next. Turns out we also have similar political views, and we have some of the same darkness running through our veins. We could hang.

Then came the BIG signs–the ones that I consciously look for/ recognize: His hometown state is the same one that my uncle was from–the only man my aunt ever loved. Also the state that my BFF is currently residing and where she met her hubby. (You can bet that I imagined us traveling up there together to visit both of our families.) His initials are the same as the actress who plays my all time favorite television star. He is into motorcycles. We both have a degree in video production from the Art Institute, and we both are doing nothing with it. We both also have the same pipe-dream for what we would like to do with that degree. Music, movies…we clicked. He also had the sense to hypothetically worry about his parents possibly dying–something I encourage since I know first hand that it can and will happen, and it sucks. Best to mind those relationships while you can.

And we talked about the big stuff too. Like marriage and children. I’m not sure how long it has been since I have touched on that subject with you all, but I recently have come to the conclusion that I desire neither. My world lost four children this year–two did not have the chance to really grow even inside the womb, but it still hurts. And the other two…one was a three-year-old who drowned, and the other was a month old and passed from SIDS. I had only met one of these kids once, the three-year-old; but their parents are important enough to me that every single one of these deaths hit me like a pile of bricks. If I can’t handle my friend losing their child, then how can I possibly attempt to bring my own into the world? Point being, I won’t. Mr. Legend had the same viewpoint, essentially. No marriage, no kids. I mean, that right there was the real kicker for me, because how are you supposed to tell a man that you desire neither his name nor his seed?

But something went wrong. Somewhere we lost it. But here I was thinking, subconsciously mostly–it really hit me when he broke it off–that I had found the one. Not even two months together, and I have to admit that I honestly had that thought. And the end was violent (not physically, but emotionally. It was meant to wound, to sever) and mean. Not as mean as it could have been, but I was so confused by the ending to begin with, it crushed me. I was seriously angry too.

But it has been a whole month without him. If he missed me, he would contact me, right? Granted, I miss him and I have behaved myself admirably! (Ok, I did send the last three messages, all unanswered. Two at the end of our fight, and one on the day of the only date he ever planned for us, and took away. I couldn’t help it then. I can now, because even my pathetic-ness has limits.) But I can’t stop missing him…

And this is where the desire to read my own book comes in. I want to know what I did wrong. I want to know if I misread the signs. Because this one felt different. Oh, I know, “they always feel different!” I’m not the only woman/man/human to have ever felt like this one is different, that this breakup is wrong…but it just feels sooooo wrong! I know I am also obsessed with wondering why. I have been asking the universe for years why this world works the way that it does. Why people suck so much. Why do I have the life that I do? But I also know that, because I don’t get the answers I crave, I blame the universe–fate–for hating on me! I feel like Perseus in The Clash of the Titans, sometimes. The whole, “God doesn’t give you what you can’t handle,” makes me want to scream, “I am not Superman!!” However, I am beginning to realize that this is a problem as well…how can fate reward me if I don’t have faith in its plan? If I don’t trust it not to screw me over?

So, is it me? Was it my own self-fulfilling prophesy that started the end? Was it him? Did I miss the red flags? Am I ignoring them? Focusing on the good? Yes and no. My scale of bad differs from most, and do really try to focus on the good. Was it the fact that I can’t not find myself attracted to an addict of some flavor? (Again with the signs–and this one Lollipop disagrees with wholeheartedly–I feel like my one is an addict, because that would explain why I have soooo much experience with addicts. Lollipop feels that I don’t have lasting relationships because I only date addicts. But I get addicts, despite my lack of qualifying addictions.) Am I still too hurt from my mom’s passing? How can I expect someone to feel like they can’t live without me, if I want to live without me?

Can I just read the test, so I know what lessons I should be learning? Skip to the ending and just scan it so I know what to look out for? Or can I scan his book so I know how he really felt?

Was it fated to end as such?

Ugh…needless to say, this past month has been rather hard on this old heart. (I turn 32 real soon!!) However, I will say that the entire month and a half long relationship was a good thing. A necessary thing to happen. It has stirred up some stuff in this noggin, and maybe ripped a band-aid off of my heart–I had promised myself that I wouldn’t feel that kind of loss again, after my mom died. It seriously surprised me that I grieved for Legend. It is actually nice to know that I can feel that way for someone who is not my mother, lbvs. It is nice to know that I am capable of falling in love with someone who didn’t know my mother at all. Or even know me when I had my mother.

Just give me a clue to get to the end of this chapter, please…

 

Dissecting Understanding Part X: Lover Not A Fighter

 

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It has been awhile since I have written a Philosophy Sunday post, but a lot of stuff has happened in the meantime…

It seems like an odd topic, considering that it is Independence Day Weekend, and it was nothing but fighting that allowed us to keep this awesome country of ours! I probably should be writing a blog about just how awesome this country is–but with all of the political hullabaloo…I’m just not into it, lbvs! (Laughing but very serious.) So love it is…

I fall in love very easily. And not romantically, either! (Hahaha, you could potentially wait years for me to even admit that to myself!) I fall in love with people easily.

In my heart of hearts, I love people. I know that I jokingly say, “People Suck!” quite frequently–and sometimes they do!!–but overall, people are my favorite hobby. I love how different they are. I love to meet new people, to try and figure them out–why are you the way that you are? I like to find people from all walks of life, just to see what their stories could teach me…

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I’ll own up to a little bit of prejudice in this area, however. The people I really love are the weirdos, the eccentrics, the artists, the musicians, the nerds…and I am a total sucker for darkness. This, of course, can make for an awkward conversation: “So tell me about the worst thing that ever happened to you and how it has affected your life…” Lucky for me, most of “the weirdos” have all seen tragedy, thus making them weird!

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t love every single weirdo I have ever met–I have met some seriously interesting people!! (Most of them at bus stops.) But for the ones who do manage to slip underneath my wall…they tend to be very beautiful–at least in my eyes.

I love a person with an expanded consciousness–someone who can’t actually “think inside the box.” I love a person unafraid to stand up for what they believe in (as long as they’re not an a-hole about it). I love a person unashamed of their art (without being pretentious). I love a person who is unable to hold strong opinions because they are too busy learning new things, and seeing both sides, to really have the ability to commit to a limited point of view. I love people who see beauty in the world around them. People who would rather get lost in a forest than a mall. I love a person who believes in themselves. I love a person who has seen the devil and has lived to tell the tale. I love your scars. I love the messed up people. The people who have tried to drown their sorrows, and the ones that still do.

I love the imperfect people…

I came to the realization that I am not perfect a long time ago, and I never strive to be. I am definitely the type of person who wears my weirdo on the outside, so that you are aware of it’s existence as soon as we meet.

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~Lydia Deetz—Broken, Beaten, and Scarred But Not Giving Up via Facebook

 

We are all imperfect, and we should be unashamedly so!

So here is your challenge: try to love people instead of judging them and fighting them on their beliefs. This doesn’t mean that everyone then becomes a part of your world…no, not that. I just mean that you should take a moment, take a breather, and just appreciate that person for the effed up individual that they are…because everyone is beautiful…

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What’s the Event? Specialized Makeup From Your Favorite Funky Artist

If you don’t already know, then I will say it again, I work at a museum. I love my job! But my favorite thing about it is that they encourage my job-dedication-through-my-face-mantra, meaning that they love how I do my makeup for work. (They may cringe just a little during Halloween, hahaha!) They love the animal prints–especially since we are a wildlife museum! But they also love the special looks that I create to support our special events! Here are just a few:

#1: Dog Sled Race Day

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Of course, Iditarod-themed makeup is not one that I have the chance to practice for all of the time, haha! However, I don’t think that my Siberian Husky and dog-sled are too horrible, and the kiddos seemed to love it!! The first picture is of Lollipop and I with Ghost from the Colorado Wolf Adventures!

#2: Princess Bride

For this one, I simply looked up the cover that I liked best, and tried to replicate it on my face. Yes, it was hard! There is no easy way to make legible letters on your own face using liquid eyeliner and a mirror! The only tip I would give, which may only apply to me, is to not overthink it. Another tool that I used was my silly fascination with writing upside-down and backwards!! (Thankfully for my brother, my upside-down-backwards handwriting looks like his normal handwriting, hahaha!) I never did try to flip the pics to see if it was also legible upside-down, like the actual title is…

#3: The Terminator

The Terminator was actually a super difficult movie for me to get an idea for makeup for!! I may be fairly talented, but even I can’t imagine trying to put the metal monster on my face!! Maybe I will try again, someday… So instead, I tracked down Bill Paxton’s character, and put tire tracks on my face!! This movie is still one of my all time faves, and my number one favorite love story! (Yeah, I don’t know why I am single either!)

#4: The Little Mermaid

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I know that I did a specific blog for this makeup, so I won’t go into too much detail. This one, like all of the Disney Princess looks that I do, started with Google, and finding an image I want to replicate. It is very very difficult to copy an image onto a face–it is not a flat piece of paper! It is especially difficult to copy it from a mirror onto a face, but practice does make perfect!

#5: Aladdin

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Now, the movie Aladdin has many different characters in which to choose from. Part of me wanted to stick with Jasmine, since it was a princess party. Another part of my wanted to do Aladdin, since he is the one for which the movie is named for. But there was also Abu, Iago, and Rajah…I do love the tiger print. In the end, however, I went with the real star of the show, Genie!! Most especially because Robin Williams was one of the greatest actors, comedians, and all around good person! I love him and his is a tragic loss.

#6: Frozen

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I saved this one for the last of the Disney movies, because this one was definitely the most difficult to recreate. Most Disney movies are regular 2D cartoons! Frozen is not. The CG characters have more realistic features, and you cannot imagine how difficult that mouth was! But here is my facial rendition of Elsa! Not the best, but I think that that is okay!

#7: Spring Celebration–Bunny Brunch

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This year, I got an extra treat, because I was asked last minute to be the face-painter for our spring celebration event! Of course, I put a ton of pressure on myself, haha! But I managed it! My first time ever painting someone else’s little face turned out to be a success! Every time I even tried to explain how it was my first time, the person would say, “Well you do your own makeup, right? This should be easy!” Hahaha, it was a blast! Of course, I had to make an example out of my own face, though!!

Famous in a Small Town: Kyle

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If you are a follower of my blogs, then you will know that I have recently fallen in love with my small town again. I have had a love/hate relationship with my town for the entirety of the almost 25 years that I have lived here. Recently, I have discovered that I appreciate the quiet, the open space, the abundance of wildlife, and, in my case, the virtually drama-free state of my little cultisac. I mean, it is already well-known that Colorado is one of the coolest states ever, (that is why so many are flocking here), but there is so much more to the red-state than the majestic Rocky Mountains, our Superbowl 50 Champions: The Broncos, and legalized marijuana! Sometimes it may seem to be hard to find, but nestled away in little pockets all over the state, are these tight-knit small-towners who have known each other for most of their lives and still tend to cluster, still think of each other as family–The Elizabethians!!

Now I am absolutely sure that my small town isn’t the only group of people who still claim their hometown friends, still live with their hometown friends, and who only seem to party with their hometown friends–no matter what city they are in, or whether they intentionally ran that far away just to escape the hometown friends! Despite everything, Elizabethians still tend to travel in packs. We gravitate towards each other, and we cannot seem to escape nor forget. There may be different groups scattered here and there, but when we gather, we GATHER!! And I love it.

Me “loving it,” wasn’t always so. It was another of those love/hate aspects of being an Elizabethian. But, like several other characteristics that I had once loathed about my town, I have very recently come to absolutely adore this quality. How? Where? At one of the most unlikeliest–or at least surprising–of places: A fellow Elizabethian’s funeral.

Exactly one month after I passed the 6-year anniversary of my mother’s death, the Elizabethian community suffered another loss–Kyle. (I will not include his full name, nor his picture, out of respect for the family’s privacy.)

Kyle was honestly the most genuinely joyous people that I had ever met. Witty, outgoing, and a bright engaging goofy smile that you just couldn’t help but return. He was a jokester, and he had a knack for making people laugh despite their best intentions. His own laugh was hilarious all on it’s own–a pure chortle that just invited returned giggles. Even when he was getting into trouble, he’d manage to make the authority figure laugh, or smile, or at the very least, take away their fire so as to make them slightly guilty instead, that they have to punish such a likable guy. In fact, the former in-school-suspension-supervisor was the pastor for his funeral, and there was nothing but love from his lips. Yes, pastors are supposed to only spout love, but knowing this man personally, I could tell that he genuinely liked Kyle. But who didn’t? Kyle was golden. A truly beautiful soul. Obviously not perfect, but just one smile or stupid joke, and he could melt the coldest heart, ease the most bitter pain.

The turn-out was utterly amazing for this guy! It was a sizable church, and we had it packed! A lot of people had to stand. A lot of tears. A lot of familiar faces. But what really surprised me was the generational span of Kyle’s mourners.

Three years separated Kyle and I in age, maybe four in grade, but I was not the oldest of his high-school acquaintances, and Kyle’s age group definitely was not the youngest. If I had to venture a guess, I would say at least twelve years of Elizabethian graduates attended! I mean, I am Class of ’02, and I recognized some of my brother’s class, which is Class of ’10, and even younger. How can a person be loved by that vast of an expanse of ages? Because he was Kyle. And because we are Elizabethians. And this particular faction of alumni, is one of the largest and close-knit. I cannot even begin to comprehend how many hugs I gave and received yesterday. How many, “Oh my gawd! How have you been?” ‘s that I heard. It was beautiful. And I know that there were a few bad feelings for particulars–grudges–that have endured throughout the years for a few of this giant group of people, but it did not matter. None of that mattered, because of Kyle. At least, that is what I think. We were all united in the loss of Kyle, and we were united in remembering Kyle for the type of person he was.

I’ll admit, I was not as close to Kyle as most of the people there (I was on the outskirts of the cool kids until my brother initiated me once he became a cool kid, hahaha!). Kyle and I rode the same bus. However, what got him a permanent place in my heart, was that he never forgot me and never turned on me. Whenever I saw him, I was rewarded with his bright goofy smile, and an embrace that made me feel like I was loved and cherished. Maybe he really did love and cherish me–or maybe he was just that awesome, that he made everyone feel loved and cherished. Which in turn, made people love and cherish him. Never before have I seen such an amicable anything (least of all service), with that diverse of a crowd. Yeah, we all know each other, but still…

So Kyle, you have once again performed an act of beauty–you made me love being able to call myself a part of this particular crowd of Elizabethians. We probably are one of the craziest groups–wild and weird and down for whatever. Thankfully, by putting ourselves in the situations that we have, we are even more connected because we have seen each other at our very worst, and we still have love. Thank you Kyle. You will be sorely missed by so many hearts. To truly know you, was to love you. Just can’t help it.

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