Make it Stop

With a friendly, "Hello" and polite smile, I made contact with a woman in her late twenties accompanied by an adorable young chile. She smiled and rushed her walk, her child smiled also dragged by her hand grip and faced paced walk. She began to glance the wall of shoes and the large selection, taking her attention and had off of the boy. She walked over to the woman's specified selection of shoes and smiled and talked to herself in amazement at the matallic shoes. She paused, looked up and shouted, "GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!" She made eye contact with me and the other girl behind the counter, and walked over to her son and grabbed the material on his shit off of his shoulder, and pulled him beside her and the woman's selection of shoes. He had been amused and mesmerized by the wall of skateboards, and the oak racks that were filled with long-boards bright in color and graphics. He made contact with us as well, but just a quick glance, and then back down to the floor he stared as his mom, picked up a few more Nike, "high-tops." He waited for her to select a pair that kept her attention for more than a few seconds, at which he inched closer and closer to the oak long-board rack just five feet away from his mother. She walked around the clearance rack, looked up and saw where her son was standing and continued to walk around the rack. When she saw nothing that caught her eye, her head magnetically locked on to the location where he son was standing. He had already made eye contact with her, he had been glancing up every few seconds, as if he was waiting for this moment when she would finally realized he was no longer at her side. In three fast long strides, she grabbed the boys ear, twisted it, and slapped his face, "You didn't think I was gonna do it, Huh!? Touch something else again, don't listen to me again! See what happens!" He held back his tears as long as possible, and a few streamed down his face, but not sound, just a read glow overcame his tan skin tone, and the streams from the tears he began to cry. She looked directly at me, and my mouth that was wide open on the counter, and my watering eyes, and at my frozen stance and only my eyes followed them both as she gripped his elbow and quickly walked out of the store.

I covered my mouth, and fashed back to my abuse childhood. I recalled a time when my mother was helping my sister make a pinata for her twelth birthday party. It was in the shape of a football, and had colors and decor to support the Dallas Cowboys. I was on the couch watching along, because my assistance was denied. My sister was warapping the letter, "A" with alluminum foil, she blurtted, "Stupid A," in frustration, because the foil would grip onto the other side and grab ahold of the letter. My mother looked at my sister, with big wide eyes, I rememberd her pupil and iris deseptring compeletly and only revealing the white of her eyes. Her face turned red in anger, she lifter her hand and slapped my sister. My sister Jessica, dropped whatever was in her hands, and backed up to the wall behind her and looked up at my mother. I sat and stared at my mother and my crying sister, I didn't say a word, I was frozen and mute. My sister in quiet words asked why she had been slapped. My mother thought that she had said, "stupid ass" instead of "stupid A." When Jessica spoke up and told my mother what she originally had said, my mother shrugged her shoulders and said, "well good, becasuse you dont swear." She caressed my sisters cheek and noticed that even her nails had scratched her, and sent her to the bathroom to clean up and put something on it. I sat on the couch, and looked away, when eithe of them looked at me. I knew it was either a look and plea for help, or a stern glare, and warning squint, because I knew I could "get it" just as bad. 

It was as if my body locked and returned into the mode of when I was a child, helpless to the strength and knowledge my mother once had used against me. My heart sank, and felt the pain of the child that was hurting. I could see his eyes were screaming for help. Yet my mouth stayed open and body motionless. I had let this woman leave my sight without a word, or at least a simple defense for an innocent child. The fear, that he too would, "get it" worse later, if someone interjected on her discipline held onto my tonge. I was speechless, frustrated, and raging with anger. After years of abuse, how could I let this situation occur in front of me, without a word or moment to process what I had just witnessed. Fear set over my mind and body, about the children that were under that same circumstances. The abuse, physical, mental, sexual or neglect. Whatever abuse, the thought of someone having to endure such a thing, slowley ate my thoughts and the rest of my shift minute by minute. 

Violence has become a vicious cycle in and outside of the home. Constantly escalating and reaching to heights and rates of destruction. This has become a pattern that is repeated into the lives of victims and their families. We as humans of the same race, must intervene when situations like this occur to break the cycle and abusive behavior.

One is at risk to commit abuse of a child if they, themselves have experienced some form of abuse, mental illness, drug and alcohol abuse, low socioeconomic and education status. An unwanted pregnancy can lead to the abuse of a child. Poor impulse control, inability to manage anger, low self-esteem, lack of social support, isolation, unemployment, and single or adolescents are more likely to abuse their children. Premature or colicky infants and children with physical or mental disabilities and chronic medical conditions are at higher risks for physical abuse. Children are also very likely to become the victims of abuse during partner violence.

The Mixx

When I have hours to spare, or feel like playing, "pretend" I will re-route my normal driving patterns to make it passed 12th and Indiana Avenue. On the corner sits a brick warehouse, that looks like its been sitting for years. Where windows should be, large colorful posters of abstract art work, block out light, and that chance to get a glimpse of further inside. Windows twenty feet tall reveal  unique pieces of furniture and art work. They reach out and capture the eyes first, then attack the brain  in attempts to analyze and understand its construction.

Inside the smell of importance and elegance loom over the invisible shields that must protect these rare and delicate pieces of art and valuables. An oil painting on canvas, a three piece set, attracted me with its natural tones and warm feeling. I reach for the  textured paper that hangs from yarn attached to the display.  "THE MIXX" Design Centre" headlines on the front, I open the piece of paper, and inside reads the title of the piece, along with the Artists name, both of which I cannot remember. What I do remember is the bold inviting tag, along with the price, this piece, was valued at $1, 200. I started to follow the same technique, when I moved from exhibit to display, to sectional theme. Many of the items I was in the presence of,  antique collect ables and rare pieces of furniture that cant be duplicated or found elsewhere.

I had fantasies of dressing my future home, or owning this particular couch because of its unique shape or color. I swear I can justify, why every individual piece there, "just has to me mine."  I take time to sit in every chair, and open every box that can be open. I pull open drawers, just to find hidden compartments and more drawers. I open compacts that once belonged to so and so. The baby fresh smell still cant escape my nostrils. I flip open catalogs, inside are head shot and still life images from old Hollywood movies. I gently glaze my fingers of the Piano valued over 11,000. I know it wont grace the presence of my home one day, I've come to terms and accepted it,but  I will however settle for just visiting its, "home". It brings me great satisfaction to be able to tour this massive collection of valuables. To learn its history, enjoy its presence, and expand my collection.

Cream City

Cream City is an indoor skate park located in the friendly neighborhood of Butler right out of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Once a member, your able to shred for six bucks every visit. If your in need of new gear or you snap a deck during your session you can stop right in the shop available at cream city. Along with supplies for a good day of riding, you can snack on munchies and get whatever beverage the guy behind the counter can reach.

The park itself is a welcoming experience. There are riders from all over Milwaukee and surrounding areas. Many skate competitions, are held here at cream where pro skaters hold and jam competitions with local skaters. Its a great way for our locals to build street cred and eventually become seen. I was able to roam about as I wished with the "VIP" card in hand.

I was filming with a Sony HDR Fx 7, as well as capturing images on a Nikon D3000. Either or in hand allows access to any spot in the house. As soon as the red light appeared, I noticed changes that occurred over these dudes and the way they skated. The jokes that are exchanged between friends and strangers provided echos throughout he warehouse. Funny face, shout outs and fueled energy roared my way. The filming, "hyped" them up, and gave them a reason to skate harder, because potential people of interest could one day get a hold of skate videos my friends put together from the footage they collect. Its the way pro riders have become recognized, through videos, that captures tricks, and consistency from a skater,  and hoping for the attention of many.

I see much respect for "seniors" of the club or the "best" skaters that attend the park. Many will stop their trick or get out of the way completely to witness a good trick and give a good skater room to get a good shot or quality time landing tricks on rails or sets around the park. When tricks are not landed and boards go flying, a helpful friend stops it from jetting across the park or from smashing into something else. When someone takes a hard fall, a friend on wheels rushes over to encourage them back up. When a gnarly trick is landed, claps, shouts, screams and high-fives are tossed in the air. Skateboards are tapped on ramps or rails to produce loud noise to encourage and congratulate the skater on their landed trick. You can see guys from across the park, that will take the time to come over and shake a hand of a good skater and ask for tips.

The relationship and friendship throughout the park fuels the energy of others to pump, push and force tricks to the next level, constantly pushing things to the limit. I one of my final glimpses through the lens as I scan the area, i see a warehouse full of men , teenagers and boys with hair dripping with sweat. Their pro-skater logo-ed t-shirts are distinctly lined darker once again from sweat stains. Jeans are tore and dirty, their shoes are worn to the soles and patched with, "shoe-goo," caused from impact during tricks, shes rub against the grip tape causing shoes to shred apart in three skate sessions. Shoe laces are used as belts, and beanies are used as sweat bands or head towels. Smiles and laughs head toward the camera, along with echoes of boards hitting metal coping edges and ply-wood ramps.

Into the wild...

I couldn't help but take advantage of the first bit of sunlight I saw on Saturday. I had been like a caged animal all week, enclosed by walls and rooms that were deficient of natural lighting. I needed to break free, from rushing cars that zoomed past me within the blink of an eye. I needed to escape the screaming pleas of small children begging to be let loose from their strollers and cart and into their designated play ares. I needed to slip the collar and just feel at peace with myself again. I needed to feel natural elements around me.

I headed out for some woods a few miles southwest from Sheboygan, Wisconsin. The wooded area serves as public hunting and fishing grounds and stretches out for 612 acres.

Many wildlife species call home to these lands. White-tailed deer, turkey, woodcocks, cottontail rabbits, gray squirrel, and ring-necked pheasants roam these woods, and keep us company along our hike. Uplands, restored prairies, season grasses and northern hardwoods like maple, basswood and ash can be seen in all many areas throughout or exploration.

We followed familiar trails but often were lead away by an animal, traces of animals or just natural scenery. We headed toward the lowlands, where marsh marigolds were budding and skunk cabbage was crunched beneath every step. I favored the smell of the cabbage, and I tore some from its root, and smelled it as I walked along. Through the swamp we ran into a spring we washed off out boots and listened to the water and natures calls.

Several cold-water seeps and springs, run together to combine and form the North Branch of the Milwaukee river. The creek is a class 1, trout stream were naturally producing brook and brown trout can been seen. Among them, northern white cedars, black ash, tamarack, yellow birch and speckled alder are mainly caught.

I spent a good thirty minutes, sitting in my boyfriends deer stand, imagining and picturing and just fantasizing the thrill of a hunt, or a good catch. Silence was necessary, I was guest in mother natures home, where she always won. I looked up, side to side and all around, glancing in every direction and the slightest noise or chirp of a bird. The chance to only hear wildlife, and my breathing was a moment of solitary my mind had craved for days. To feel the wind through my hair and against my face as it carried me to the next trail was priceless. I just needed a few moments to imagine what life once like as a hunter or gatherer. I needed just a moment into the wild and away from humanity.

The Convention

On Saturday I attended Chicago Illinos 2012 Tattoo Arts Convention at The Crowne Plaza Hotel. The convention was scheduled all weekend long, and I was lucky to be able to attend for the day. We headed out early and set out for Chicago.

The trip there was great. There wasn't to much construction, we didn't get lost, and we didn't have cash to pay the tolls... so I'll just expect something in the mail! Parking was insane. Everywhere we looked, vehicles were being rerouted to new areas. We managed to find parking about two blocks away in a different hotels parking garage. We followed the crowds of people and headed into the convention.

The valet area was overtaken by a mixture of smokers. As I glanced the area I noticed stereotypical subcultures, you know, those with torn, and thrashed jeans, Mohawks, fishnets and boots. I noticed Moms and Dads that threw on their, "Harley Gear" and headed out to the convention with their kids for the day. Pin-up style models and other tattooed models roamed the isles advertising shops. I saw teens and many in their early twenties, getting their bodies started on, "new ink."

We payed twenty dollars and entered the convention. My eyes were up down and all around eventually crossing all together. There were so many forms of art to take in all at once. It was not my first convention, but it easy to not the differences from city to city. Hundreds of people walked the hotel displaying art on their personal bodies. Artists had booths dedicated to their work. Sketch books layed on tables in front of booths, along with t-shirts, stickers and business cards.

As we walked along, I noticed that many of these artists had traveled many miles to attend this convention. Many artists were eager to talk, hear ideas and listen to feedback. Many shared personal stories and even stories of the craziest tattoos they have given. We heard many stories about the previous night after parties and promises of even crazier hours to come. Over the loud speaker, the announcer Called for, " ONLY SINGLE CURVY PIN UP MODELS TO BE USED AS MODELS FOR ARTIST!" We all laughed, continued on.

We had finally ran into, Jason Angst' booth. He was in the process of doing a piece on a mans leg along with another artist that was helping him. Time is so valuable at conventions, many go in hopes of getting dream tattoos by artists they do not have the ability to see often. Many request pieces that require much time from artist and money from the customer as well as energy to sit through long hours.

We came back a little while after while Jason finished up his patient customer who sat six hours for his leg piece. To finish up a half sleeve with specific detail we sat four hours. Many different artists have their own rates. Jason was a friend, and a well-known artist who is generous to those who support his work.

While Justin sat, I talked with Jasons wife, who has piercings anywhere there was skin, and her skin, was an almost full canvas her husband had taken advantage of. All of her pieces were carefully, mastered with many hours of work to support it.

Walking through the booths, I was able to see many tattoo artists in action. Amy Nicoletto from LA Ink was tattooing at the show along with Megan Massacre, and Chris Torres, from New York Ink.

I left super excited, and filled with many ideas to finish up my sleeve. I was very impressed with the work that Jason Angst had done on Justin and am looking forward for him to start on mine.

I most definitely recommend that you people get up, and get influenced by some creative work at conventions. Don't get a tattoo, that's not what m saying, but to experience many different forms of live art is worth the while.

Always an Adventure...

On days off of work, I can't help but consume my minutes and hours with excitement or adventure. Whether indoors or out, I always seemed to find something new to try or see. My patient loved one sits and stares as I ramble and change subject after subject about the possibilities that our day offers. My morning ritual consists of waking up, and really giving a solid twenty minutes to just lye there and brainstorm the possibilities.

The night before, I had watched a preview of the re-release of Titanic. It was specially going to be featured in 3-D and IMAX theaters. I flashed back to my 6th grade field trip to the Milwaukee Museum. I was mesmerized by the exhibits like, "The Old Streets of Milwaukee." Most of all, I was amazed and captivated by, The Humphrey IMAX Dome Theater. "That's it!" Followed by the, "Oh Please Please Can we go?" Yes, like a child, he could see the excitement in my eyes, and of course he couldn't help but gave in to my extreme joy from my childhood memories.

I jumped online to make sure the place existed. The website revealed a new addition to the IMAX Dome Theater, The Daniel M. Soref Planetarium. The Planetarium had a new projection system that creates enhanced 3-D animations, which produce planets, stars that highlight constellations, that can be seen throughout the dome theater. A live tour is even included, which gives an overview of the current night sky.

We loaded up with snacks upon arival and tickets for, "Cleopatras Universe" and "Born to Be Wild." The Dome Theater is lit up with bright blues and greens, and the background of the giant dome is a stary night. Choosing our seats was difficult with a line of people trailing us, the decision needed to be quick. We headed up the steps, and then into a row, just a glance down made me a little dizzy. The seating was specially arranged and designed to give full effect to the dome screen, making all of the rows seem really steep.

All of a sudden, the lighting became dim, and a sun setting took place. A voice took over, Brian our tour guide, explained the evening sky, and moon phase. He pointed out constellations, planets, and added special effects like sounds and shooting stars. It was awesome and much better than the 6th grade.

Cleopatras Universe amazed me every single step of the way into history and into ancient ruins. Her power and intelligence intrigued and fascinated me. Although the loss of battle against Actium lead to her suicide, Cleopatra the last pharaoh of Ancient Egypt was a significant period in history that is still studied today.

As people left after the first showing, we stayed in our seats and awated the next film, "Born to Be Wild." This documantry about orphaned orangutans and elephants really captured my heart. The people that travel to great lengths to protect and raise these endangered animals really touched my heart. The special effects, music and scenery was amazing. In forty five minutes it was as if I traveled to Kenya, Africa and through the jungle. It was as we were along the entire lifetime, from the birth and rescue to the release back into the wild, their home. Watching the heroic rescues of baby elephants being hunted and rehabilitated completely changed the mood from the educational movie before.

My new experience back at, The Milwaukee Museum was well worth it! I really encourage a walk though of the exhibits themselves and an extraordinary movie experience at the Humphrey IMAX Dome Theater and Panitarium.

Murder or Self Defense?

Masses of people gather and hold demonstrations outside of The Department of Justice in Newark, Washington. Many wear a "hoodie" or "hooded sweatshirt" to resemble or depict the ensemble that Trayvon Martin was wearing the evening of February 26, when he was shot and killed by a 28 year old male, who was a resident of a home nearby. George Zimmerman was also a neighborhood watch volunteer, and had called police to report Tryvon as well as his "suspicious" behavior. Trayvon Martin a was a 17 year old African American boy walking home from a convenient store, to the home of his father's fiancee in a gated community.

Police records, police and cellular phone conversations and witness accounts the following brief overview of the evening of February 26.George Zimmerman makes the police phone call to report what he believes is, "suspicious behavior." Trayvon begins to run and is pursued by George Zimmerman, after the dispatcher, he is and has been on the phone with told him, "We don't need you to do that." After losing sight of Trayvon, phone records show that around that time, Martin was on the phone with his girlfriend. Who has made public statements, that she heard someone ask Martin what he was doing and Martin asking why he was being followed. An altercation is occurring and the connection goes dead. Witness' in the area have come forward to say, at one point the man with the "red shirt" was on the ground being attacked. The man in the, "red shirt" is identified as George Zimmerman, later in police reports as well as surveillance. Other stories, from neighbors and people in the area, report hearing Trayvons screams, and calls for help. Neighbors heard a gun shot at which now more phone call pour in to report, gun shots and screams.

When police arrived, the teenager was unarmed and carrying a small about of money, a bag of candy and a beverage. George Zimmerman tells police he shot Trayvon Martin in self-defense. George Zimmerman has not been charged, due to the "stand your ground law, enacted in 2005. The law allows people to use deadly force to defend themselves anywhere they feel reasonable fear of death or serious injury. Currently this case was been turned over to the state attorney.

Many have called Zimmerman a racist, and have formed petition and are gathering and rallying all over the united states to defend the injustice and murder of Trayvon Martin. Although family has come to defend Zimmerman, and states that he is half Hispanic and has a multiracial family. 911 phone calls released portray a different picture, of an aggressive man, who uses racial slurs to describe the individual, and indicates that his attire alone, promoted questionable behavior. George Zimmerman has stated that he was attacked by Trayvon Martin, and that Trayvon attempted to disarm him, when in self defense, he fought back and shot him. Reports say that Zimmerman is bleeding on the back of the head and his nose, and that there is blood on his clothes and visible. Surveillance images show, no signs of blood or an injured or hurt Zimmerman. Sanford Po ice Chief Bill Lee has announced that he will temporarily step down as head of the department after being criticized for the was he has handled the shooting and death of Trayvon Martin.

Everyday it seems my opinion changes on who is at fault for the murder of Trayvon Martin.

I truly believe we all are. The events throughout history have caused immense damage to our people of every race and ethnicity. The advantage we have taken of each other for personal gain in history has shown us gruesome realities of those who suffered as slaves, or prisoners. When it began exactly can I point the situation first began, I cannot. But I can refuse to participate in the bullshit of "today" to continue to influence or produce stereotypes toward human beings as less intelligent, or as criminals or a any characteristic that is degrading or demeaning. I refuse to by the rap CD, that encourages drug use, unprotected sex, violence, murders or death upon anyone or anything. I will not watch movies that help portray criminals in large cities, as, "young, black males in hooded sweatshirts and baggy jeans." I will not, be alarmed or question the behavior of a minority in a "quiet or upscale" neighborhood.

I do however understand the other side of my point of view. I recognize it and respect it. We have all experienced situations or scenarios that have lead us to our current standing opinions. However, he death of Trayvon Martin was Perseid. The Life of Trayvon Martin was taken away by a man who thought to quickly about protecting himself with deadly force out of fear, of an unknown individual who wore a style of dress, that prompted safety concerns.