Roots. Part Eight: Soul Searching and Baby Steps. 2010.

I wish I could say that I'd had my fill of lessons learned with regards to the relationship mentioned in the last Roots entry and that I moved on without a backward glance but, alas, that would be far from the truth. A month after my ex moved out, we got together and went on one of the best dates I've ever been on and certainly the best one we'd ever been on together. We began seeing each other again and remained more or less exclusive for a long while even though we would only get together once a month, I usually had to instigate, he was more often than not three sheets to the wind within hours of arriving or meeting me and he never stayed over for long. I should have broken free at that point but I still loved him very much and since he'd moved out, I'd made great strides in every other area of my life so it was easy to convince myself that this was okay. I'll spare you most of the details because a)they're personal and b)this series is about how the events in my life molded who I am today and why I make the style and career choices I do. 

A couple of things happened with regards to my personal style, as soon as the boy was out the door. Firstly, I had been greatly influenced by him in the sense that, even though he changed styles often in his life, he completely immersed himself in whatever it was he was into at the time. I followed suit while I was with him. We were both rocking kind of emo looks when we started dating. I had gone from goth to rockabilly to emo or "scene", while keeping punk elements throughout. Even though I loved psychobilly music and fashion, he hated all traces of either, since he'd thrown out all of his 'billy clothing and ditched his band. I loved that he was into fashion and always dressed and styled himself immaculately, no matter what the look, but he had strong opinions about what was good-looking on women and, more importantly, on me. You should never dress yourself in any way because your boyfriend says you should but I think it's only natural to avoid things you know he utterly detests. Exactly what these things were were confusing and changed a lot but, as mentioned in the last Roots segment, I was buckled into that roller coaster ride and just went along with it all. No frontal tattoos, no chelsea-influenced haircuts, no animal print of any kind but, if I must, zebra print, please; no pompadours, no shaving of any section of my head, no pastels, no retro underwear and on and on the list of unliked style elements went. Again, he didn't make me wear or not wear anything but I avoided any and all of these to please him so, when he left, I more or less flipped out, stylistically speaking and wore whatever the hell I wanted, when I wanted and styled it all the way I wanted to. I could finally blare psychobilly and punk rock in the apartment again and I started going out to dance for hours on end again. 

I started driving, obtained my licence and hunted down a job in the world of Westmount real estate, where I knew I would thrive. In July, I got my passport, hopped on a red-eye bus to New York City and spent four days there with my two aunts. Although we stayed in New Jersey and commuted to midtown only, I fell in love with NYC and have gone back at least once a year since. I didn't go very far (I live a seven-hour drive away) or experience a culture that is that different from mine but it changed me. I got stopped by random people all the time, whether it was because of my outfit, my hair or my tattoos. The one aunt I did touristy things with couldn't believe how many people I met and was particularly amused when I took her to the MAC store, started selling one of their mineral products to her, was joined by the sales rep (who has been my facebook friend since), who closed the deal and then, a few hours later, after we'd split up for a bit, introduced her to half the staff at The Empire Grill, as we'd all became chummy while I waited for her to see The Empire State Building (I don't do heights and I'm claustrophobic so that's not for me).

Here I am in our hotel suite in Tom's River, New Jersey (making a slight duckface, I'm sad to note):

Penn Station. Newark, NJ. July 18th, 2010.

Central Park. July 19, 2010. (A print of this photo now hangs in my bathroom):

Blues busker in Central Park. July 19, 2010.

Taken from the Circle Line cruise:

Grand Central Station. July 20, 2010:

We spent our last day in NY/NJ on the beach at Seaside Heights. It was during a mad heatwave and my aunt and I swam and relaxed by the ocean, eating crab legs and giant prawns and reading. I had picked up my book of choice at The Met a couple of days before and its pages did a lot to influence me. Reading about F. Scott and Zelda and especially about Lois Long helped set certain wheels in motion. 

Within two months of returning to Montreal, I bought my first car, ditched my job (most real estate agents are crazy people) and became a relocation consultant, began fostering a Great Dane and redecorated my bathroom. As is obvious by all of this, things began to move forward for me and at a fantastic rate!

My daughter took this while we were driving along the water, on the West Island (My daughter named the car El Chupacabra and it stuck):

It was around this time that my mother lost both of her breasts to cancer. I got this tattoo (by Lenny of King Len Tattoos) in her honour and am happy to say that, right now, she is alive and well:

My personal blog at the time boasted entry after entry about desire. The desire to travel more, to design more, to add colour to my wardrobe, to meet new people, to either move forward or have the courage to end it with Johnny, to lose weight, to get more tattoos, to have the strength to stop eating meat, to make more time to sew, and on and on I went. I was hungry for new experiences and for evolution but I couldn't summon the concentration required to focus on any one thing and so I went out and either obtained or achieved as many of these things as time and money would allow me to. Designing and business planning would have to wait just a little bit more. 

I spent New Year's Eve with the ex and we once more talked about remaining exclusive. He babbled on about how he wanted to spend next New Year's Eve with me too and, because he was sober when he said it, I wanted so badly to believe him. and maybe even allowed myself to, if only just a wee bit. It had yet to dawn on me that this had to stop in order for me to started piecing together my next moves. That's a 2011 story, though, and therefore one for the next segment...

Posted in: 2010,car,central park,chupacabra,emo,ink,king len tattoos,mom heart tattoo,montreal,new jersey,new york,nyc,psychobilly,roots,scene,tattoo