If I were to make a bucket list, which I’m not, I crossed one thing off of it this week. Well… I at least made a serious investment toward crossing off something from the imaginary list.

I am not, by any means a diehard U2 fan. I do love them, but this will never be my leg…

My sister is a much bigger fan than I am. If Bono were to run for president or the next messiah, I’m sure she would flood the call lines texting BONO to 3356 from her mobile phone. I got word that tickets were going on pre-sale and I jumped into the cyber line with all of the Joshua Tree inhabitants in America. Several hours and hundreds of dollars later, we’re going to be on the 10^th row in October at the Georgia Dome. Be jealous. J

I would file the U2 concert experience under the “Epic” genre of my non-existent bucket list. Yes, I declared a few months ago that “Epic” is now considered a genre in the Land of eL.

ep•ic (adj):
1. Surpassing the usual or ordinary, particularly in scope or size: 2. Heroic and impressive in quality.

I’m currently waiting for iTunes and the Academy Awards to catch up to speed on this and when they do, I hope they pay royalties where royalties are due.

Braveheart, Gladiator and Troy

The Metallica S & M album

The fireworks over Cinderella’s castle

An armed forces homecoming parade

Do you have a bucket list? What would you add to the “Epic” genre?

I’m not the kind of personality that is content with walking into a tattoo parlor, picking a design off the wall and letting some no-name artist (or skuz-bucket with a gun) brand me for life. All of my ink, with the exception of my first tattoo, involved months of preparation and planning. I start with an idea then research artists and shops, looking at reviews and portfolios before calling and making an appointment. Sometimes this process takes years, but since it’s not one of those things you get to “do over” if you mess it up, the meticulousness of it all is very worthwhile for me.

On Saturday, I had a phoenix forever imprinted on my leg and foot. For those of you who slept during Greek mythology here’s a crash course on this history of this creature. The phoenix is an ancient mythical firebird that ignites into flame when it has reached the end of its lifespan and is reborn from the ashes. Pretty badass huh?

As we’ve discussed, I’ve been through a lot of rebirths in my 27th years on the planet Earth. Whenever my birthday rolls around I can’t help but reminisce and sometime shudder at all I’ve walked through. I’d be lying if I tried to pull the “woe is me” card because most of the crap that has happened to me or around me has been self induced by a lot of poor decision making. Never the less, I’ve always come out on top and hopefully better off than I was before.

But let me tell you, the fire isn’t easy. It’s painful. Even more painful than having the top of your foot tattooed… and take it from me – that HURTS.

During this season of my life I find myself in the fire once again. All of my trips to the inferno have made me realize that it’s best to suck it up and get it over with, sort of like digging out a splinter. Yeah, it hurts, but not as bad as it will once it gets all oozy and infected. I can’t run from the demons that I have picked up along the road of the world. Running away from dealing with things only prolongs the pain and spreads it out on more people around me. So I choose to stand firm, not back down and accept the flames that are refining me.

In my experience, self discovery has always been excruciating. I’ve spent more time on “the couch” than my wallet would like to admit. Recently my therapist has been trying to make me cry because apparently my tear ducts are broken. I think it’s because I have lost my soul sometime over the past few years. My friends tell me that I can’t cry because I crush scorpions, but that’s a whole different blog… and tattoo.