Lets get inked!

  So i have wanted a tattoo for quite some time now. My ideas have changed from time to time but today I found my tattoo. The hallelujah chorus was singing in the background when I laid eyes on it and time stopped (kinda like in those crappy romantic comedies where the estranged lovers first meet and then the light happy guitar or piano music starts playing and you sigh). Anyways, it's a black swallow tattoo.

 Now I know that swallow tattoos are over used and kinda over rated but before you shun me for being a sheep, hear me out. First of all it's black, like a silhouette. Second of all its the size of a penny and it'll be located on my either my forearm or my ribs. I'm personally rooting for the forearm but we'll see.

At one point I wanted a HUGE tattoo sleeve that would flow down my back and just look (in the words of a 14 year old) super duper awesome. But as I said, I was 14, so I had know idea what i wanted or liked. That's really when i was a sheep. Sometimes, when I come across a really brilliant tattoo design that's huge, i want it right away, not weighing in the consequences such as the money it'd cost, or the fact that I'm not always going to be a size 00. And that my mother would chop off my fingers then make me eat them if she found out that i got a tattoo that was that big.

Whats the big deal about tattoos anyways? They are art (granted, the really trashy tramp stamps I do not consider art but you get my point), they are a spectacular display of skill and taste. What better way to show the world your personality then to get a tattoo that means something to you? My employer recently found that a co-workerof mine got a tattoo on her forearm (its a scene from Alice and wonderland designed by herself) and not so kindly asked her to cover it up. Whats up with the hostility?

I'm a junior (cue cringe)

 I am a junior at my high school. In case your wandering why I haven't told you what high school I go to it's because I'm scared sweet less that the one person who manages to read this blog will turn out to be some psychopathic creep and hunt me down and in the dead of night kill me with a butter knife. Yes, a butter knife. However, this is completely irrelevant to my topic of conversation. As I was saying, I'm a junior. I am apart of 7 clubs, am apart of the dance team, and I am a mostly A sometimes B student. I work at a restaurant (which I'm not aloud to talk about because I could be fired for breach of confidentiality which is ridiculous) Friday nights AND Saturday. I also dance and am taking an SAT class. Basically, I have no time to breathe.

  When ever anybody wants to strike up a conversation with me, especially a parent, they always go for either of these four basic conversation points-
 1) What school do you go to
 2) What grade are you in
 3) You look like your mother
 4) I remember you when you were this big (cue obnoxious exaggeration of my previous size when I was ages 2-12)

  The second conversation point is the one that stirs the most...well I don't really have a word for it but its a cross from pity/astonishment/curiosity. I proceed to tell them that I'm a junior. Then cue " The Cringe".
"The Cringe" is that look that people, usually people older then me, get when they hear that I'm a junior. Following "The Cringe" they usually make a sound like "aah" or "ooh" or "eh".They act as if I signed my death warrant and am on a slow and desperate march to the inevitable. Which is more or less true.

 It's the year that counts the most in the eyes of colleges. You'll laugh, you'll probably cry, you'll stare blankly at your homework and wander why the hell you are putting your self through all this torture. And then a little voice inside your head says "because you've got no choice."

  That's right, we, I , and everyone in between have to go through junior year to get our high school diploma. "Have to go" are the key words in that sentence. But what I don't understand is that if the general population understands this, then how come they INSIST on making my life harder?

Take my boss for example. He just recently booked my schedule to work Wednesday, Friday, Saturday AND Sunday. First of all, he doesn't even ask me if that's OK and second of all, he doesn't even have the decency to give me my break that I so badly need/want/deserve. Sundays are the only days when I can actually sit down and rest. Maybe read some Harry Potter or watch a movie at the cinema. And he takes that away from me. Seriously?! 

 So yes, when people ask me what grade I'm in, I do expect some sympathy, but don't sign my death warrant for me.