Tattoos

This blog post is going to be completely off topic in regards to writing or anything that I normally talk about.

First a brief, or not so brief story.

Some of you may know that I lost my dad when I was young. I barely remember him; I was young when he went. What I do know of him was what I got from my mom and the stories that relatives told throughout the years.

My Grandpas were two men that I am happy to have had in my life. I had a different relationship with each of my grandpas. Growing up, it never occurred to me that one day they would be gone; as an adult it was something that lived in the back my mind, that I didn’t want to acknowledge.

My Grandpa Hennig passed away a couple of years ago. He was the mayor of a small city and we talked endlessly about politics and technology; he loved cameras and solar power.

Then two years ago, my wife miscarried our third child. It hurt her more than she let me know. I wanted to help her in anyway that I could. Grace showed me the picture of what she wanted and she got herself a tattoo.

She got one of a bird and some flowers. It is absolutely beautiful and I can’t even begin to do it justice in any description.

Not long after, my Grandpa Pedde passed away. He was an electrician, a farmer, he loved computers. He knew more about computers than I did when I spent a summer earning money helping him out on the farm when I was 18 years old.

All of these events combined together did something. Growing up I suppressed my emotions and hid away weakness. Hiding away did something too. After the loss of my third child I felt I needed to do something as a memorial, for them all. Most of my siblings have gotten memorial tattoos to suit their needs for healing. When my wife had hers done to commemorate our third I obsessed over it.

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Sorry about the multiple pics. The part by my wrist is hard to see all of the writing in one picture.

I have always wanted to get a tattoo, but I never knew what to get. I would always lose interest in it and change my mind. This time I had a rough idea of some of the elements I wanted to include and handed them over to Kat Cleland of I Heart Tattoos and she transformed them into the piece that resides on my right forearm.

To break down the elements in the tattoo:

The little boy. 

The boy represents the child that we lost.

The cowboy boots and hat.

They represents my dad. When I think about him I think about the pictures that I have seen of him in rodeos.

The kite.

The greatest memory of my Grandpa Hennig was that my Grandma told us to go fly a kite when we were being annoying one day. We did. It was cool. I still have the kite. It was made out of a garbage bag.

The skull-kraken

My Grandpa Pedde was an avid fisherman. He was always fishing, or wishing that he wasn’t so busy that he could go fishing. He always had a story about why he didn’t catch the fish.

The quote

Yes it is a quote. Geek points to all who get the quote. “We are all just stories in the end, so just make it a good one”. The quote speaks to me at a personal level, geekery aside, because my life is fueled by the desire to create/tell stories, and is a reminder to live my life to its fullest.

The scene

This was something that was added by the tattoo artist. I had the different elements and the quote. She put it all together into a small story. The little boy with the slingshot in his pocket is letting go of the bright red kite to fight with the monster of his imagination.

I am quite happy with the tattoo and  am currently trying to figure out the next one. Yes I am getting another one. (So it begins hahaha)

But this isn’t just a cool tattoo. There is meaning behind it. Not all tattoo’s need it, but I feel that this one did. The personal meaning behind it made it possible for me to deal with the lifetime commitment a tattoo requires…its part of me now.

 

For anyone intrigued by the tattoo, feel free to visit the link.

Link. https://www.facebook.com/ihearttattoos 

https://www.instagram.com/katclelandart/?hl=en

https://www.instagram.com/reesecleland/?hl=en

 

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New ideas.

So I hate my brain. In the dark, cold recesses of the night. When I should be doing something important like sleeping, my brain is at work.

Some people think about work, or the money troubles that we all seem to be in. But for me, I am thinking about a story idea. Not an old story idea, but it is usually a new story idea.

This time, I thought of a new story centered around the idea of writing a story in the early bronze age.

That was the catalyst of the story. I have talked more about that concept in previous blog posts.

So, then I created a character. Arn. He is a 16 year old son of a tribal Chief. His tribe has been enslaved and killed at the beginning of the story. He is the last of his people and now he must find some way to move forward when all he feels is despair and anger.

The world is a land of mythical beasts, God’s demon’s and demi-gods. They all walk on the earth and meddle in the affairs of the puny mortal humans.

I have created a mythos of the gods. I have created a break down on the land and the different peoples. Magic has been created. I have written the first chapter.

The worst part is that I am excited to write this story. My mind is plotting out the story even now as I type this. I want to write it and get in onto paper.

But I have so many different projects to do.

Why brain? Why!

A short one today.

Until next time.

Rambling: Encouraging others to write.

In many ways I am an enabler. I enjoy having others find enjoyment in things that I find enjoyment in. That I have passion in. I enjoy it so much that I don’t shut up about it.

I have been criticized for obsessing about my passions and my interests.

Is that criticism justified? Warranted?

Probably.

I know that I obsess over things. It is how I am able to write about my books. Fix my house. Go to work or get out of bed. By obsessing over things, I am able to focus on something long enough to see results in that avenue.

Even if I wish that I can hit the snooze button again and go back to sleep.

My obsessions is what gets me into trouble and out of trouble. (Like watching 18 hours of a game on Let’s play and then buying it for way too much money.) I obsess with keeping a roof over my kids heads, which makes me go to work and take Overtime hours. I obsess with my half completed house renovation so that I can keep getting things done in it. Maybe one day I will finish it. I also obsess about my writing.

My writing is my passion in life. They say follow your passion and this is it.

Writing.

Writing novels, writing for my kids, writing for the complete stranger so he gets a kick out of my work. Every day I spend most of the hours thinking about some story. How to fix it, how to make it better, where to go with it. Or a new story idea that will distract me from my current work in progresses.

At the beginning, I said that I am an enabler.

What does that mean? Most people think of it as a bad thing. That I am a bad guy for encouraging someone to do something. And it can be. If I was a drug addict or a drunk.

But I am not. I cannot afford to do those things. I am a writer after all…

I enable people to follow there passions. Follow there enjoyments even if it is just as a hobby and part-time. Even if they only dabble and are not serious about completing it. I do, however, mainly encourage people to write books. Read above about my obsession.

And you may ask why? Why enable people to write books?

The answer to that question is selfish. I do it cause it is lonely over here in writing land by myself. Writing is considered a solitary affair. You sit in a room by yourself writing about make-believe people in make-believe lands doing impossible and crazy things. With no one to talk to but the people in your head…

I just realized how crazy that makes me sound…

Anyways, writing is mostly solitary. But there are times when a writer must talk to other people. Other writers. It gives encouragement and it can make you responsible for getting the work done. (Like trying to explain why your word count hasn’t moved in two weeks, but look at what you have done in that game you play.) It also helps you grow as a writer as you can learn from other people. Learn from there failures as well as there successes.

I encourage people to write as there is a lack of a strong writing community where I live and the only writers that I talk is through a Facebook group. Most are from the U.S. and I will probably never meet in person. I hope that by encouraging people to write that I can build a small writing community of my own.

Or I am a crazy obsessive compulsive who can’t stop shutting up about my make-believe characters in my make-believe world who all live in my head. You decide.