paper moon & apple bits.
ask me anything.
I keep hearing the same sort of complaint from various women in the tattooed/pierced/modded community.
“I got tattooed by a man, and I’m pretty sure he used inking me as an excuse to grope my ass…didn’t really make much sense, since I was getting tattooed on my ankle, but he says it just happens sometimes.”
Unless your tattoo artist is literally tattooing your vagina (and if he is, you’re a straight badass), there is never any reason he should be “accidentally” groping you anywhere uncomfortable. A good artist should have very, very steady hands, and will have thorough knowledge and understanding of where to position them as he’s working. It’s reasonable to expect that you’ll have to take off your pants if you’re getting your inner thigh tattooed, but with the exception of vaginal, nipple or ass tattoos, no artist should ever require you to remove your underwear.
Also, a tattoo artist should never need to “handle” you in any way. If he wants you to turn to the left or straighten your back or whatever, a professional will simply ask you. Long story short, don’t let sleazy artists make excuses for copping a feel while they’re working on you. If you want a tattoo in a private place, you should be going to someone with whom you feel personally comfortable anyway.
Just a quick little PSA for the tattoo newbies out there, from someone who has spent time in more than a few tattoo studios. Stay safe, ladies.
Thoughts from the rig.
Bring on the gore, the broken bones, the spurting blood, the screaming and open gashes and death. But God, there’s nothing worse for me to witness than the loss of human dignity, shame. A patient this morning urinated all over the stretcher, so copiously that it ran over the side and trickled onto the truck floor, and she started to cry and covered her face with her hands and said, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll clean it up before they take me into the hospital, I promise.”
Meanwhile the dark stain is spreading across the crotch area of her muumuu and piss is pooling around my feet and she just cried and cried. I held her hand and told her that it wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last, that it had been an accident and I understood and didn’t mind cleaning it up at all. I told her that our floor needed a good scrub anyway. “I wasn’t always this fat, you know,” she told me, gulping and shuddering on the stretcher. “I used to be so pretty.”
I said, “Hey, you’re still pretty!” and we left her at the ER, and Tyler exhaled a throatful of smoke at the sky outside while I filled out a PCR for her and said, “You’re so sweet and green. I know you’ll lose it eventually, this job will take it from you, but I swear I pray for every student who comes through my truck to hold on to that empathy for as long as they can stand it. “
Things are different now. When I was first certified two years ago, I did my training hours and some volunteer time and that was it. But now I’m working, experiencing this world with all my senses for the first time, and somehow I’m so sad but so grateful to be a part of it. It’s a weird feeling.
This is an old family picture.
My family does not support my being in the LGBTQIA community. They actually are opposed to it. They tell me every day that its disgusting and that it’s sinful and I’ll go to hell for liking women.
I moved out when I was seventeen, and in January I moved back in with them because I couldn’t handle everything that was going on. Every day one of my five siblings tells me to go back to Minnesota. My little brother Charlie (the black baby in the picture) is now 8 and he constantly physically attacks me and tells me that I’m not his sister and to leave. My other siblings make it very obvious and clear that they don’t want me here and my parents tell me constantly that they’re gonna kick me out soon.
I’ve been saving every penny for a bus ticket to Oregon to stay with my best friend and today I found this picture in my sisters’ room ON DISPLAY. Not hidden. On display. They cut my face out of the picture.And that… That was just the last straw.
I don’t care if anyone reblogs this or whatever, I don’t wanna get popular, I just want people to know that this is not what a family looks like. This is not something people should have to go through.This is no life.
It looks like this girl has deleted her blog, anyone know if she’s still around? I’d love to send some money her way to help her get to Oregon, if she’s not already there!
Sometimes we do what we can. I remember a few Christmas and Thanksgiving Dinners like this lol.
LIVING THE LIFE, BROTHERS.
Well, thank you anon! That means a lot to me, it really does. I will tell Tyler, he’s not religious but I’m sure he’ll appreciate the thought. Happy EMS week to you too, if you’re one of the many medics on tumblr with whom I’ve recently become buddies. <3
Today begins EMS week, take a minute to thank someone. This is the most fulfilling things one can do. These people volunteer countless hours away from their families to save lives. These people miss family functions just to respond to the call. These people go a whole day without eating. The countless amounts of sacrifices for their communities should not go unappreciated.
To the team on tumblr, happy EMS week. We fight, we debate and we’re not always kind, but we’re family. I’m proud of all of you.
