Things I Learned on the Open Road.

Sitting in the kitchen of my new place in Arlington, New Jersey. It still hasn't hit me that I just drove 2,786 miles across the country. A drive I've been secretly motivating myself to take for about two years. I do wish the circumstances surrounding my move would have been different, but nevertheless it got me off my ass and on the road. So, while I'm waiting for the shock to settle in (if it even does- I just moved from one stomping ground to another), I figured I should take the time to take note of some things I learned on the open road.
Let me just tell you now, this trip turned out absolutely nothing like I had drawn out in my mind. I met basically two people, neither of which were named Large Marge, and I never got stuck on the side of a deserted highway in a snow storm. In fact, aside from scraping ice off my car windshield a couple mornings, I didn't even hit weather at all. I didn't go to any small town diners with no menus, happened to go to all the dinosaur museums on the days they were closed, and there sure as hell wasn't any mysterious handsome strangers in my journey. I didn't even "learn a lot about myself" like you're apparently supposed to when you spend so much time on your own. The only thing I learned about myself was that I can't sing, unless I'm doing my David Bowie impression. But I digress. Here are some things I've learned on my trip.

The self-timer on your camera is your co-pilot.
The moment I wanted a photo of myself in front of something (which was about 5 minutes into the trip), I realized I had a problem. Self timer became my best friend. I named it Wilson.




You don't have to stop driving to get a cup of coffee.
Stick a water bottle between a blanket and heater floor vent in the car. Put the heater on high and drive 10 miles going 70 mph. Open the water bottle, pour in one of those Starbucks Via travel packs, and shake it up. You can take the girl out of the ghetto....



You don't really get your kicks on Route 66.
Quite the contrary, Bobby Troup. There is nothing for the majority of the highway, apart from a few slaughter houses, abandoned barns and crappy rest areas.




Sometimes sleeping in your car is the best option.
My $50 motel room on the outskirts of Columbus, Ohio was probably one of the worst ideas I've ever had. Oh, Motel 6. You usually leave the light on for us, but this time I left the light on. All night. Sitting up in a chair, watching my car (& the drug deal next door), packing heat.




The atmosphere changes once you hit the New Mexico/Texas line.
Everyone is a lot nicer, with less teeth.

Big rigs are a lot less frightening after 500 miles.
It is a little embarassing when you see a giant truck whizzing past your "sports car", though.



You can make anywhere feel like home.
Well...at least I can.




Reading a map becomes second nature.
I hated looking at maps. Either it's all the easily accessible technology nowadays, or I'm just really stupid. I never wanted to touch one, much less own one. I now have 9 maps in my car, and I plan on keeping them there until they tow that piece of crap away.




Familiar faces are key to sanity.
Staying with family for a week in Missouri was incredibly important. Not just because I haven't seen them in a long time, but because driving for hours and stopping in unfamiliar places without seeing someone you recognize makes you feel like you're slipping away from society. Luckily, my family is more than enough sanity for me...




Tattooing customs are different everywhere.
In Missouri, two bottles of wine and a singalong to "Sweet Caroline" in the kitchen makes getting a tattoo a family event. The Griffins were an awesome family to hang out with, obviously.



There's a lot more I learned, recurring dreams that I analyzed and figured out, grudges I let go of by screaming off of cliffs. I tattooed new people along the way, that I look forward to tattooing again.
Well, it still hasn't set in that I now live in New Jersey again. I say give it another week. I'm only giving the accent 2 days to come back, though.

See you in hell. xo

Good Tattoos aren't Cheap and Cheap Tattoos are on Craigslist.

There are a large amount of people who will agree with me when I say I suck at self-promotion. Not that I don’t talk to enough people, or that I don’t pass out enough of my cards (which, by the way, don’t even say I’m a tattoo artist either). I mean I honestly don’t tell anyone. I can bet money there will even be people who read this and say “Wait…Cara tattoos?” It’s terrible for business, actually. The promotion and concern for my clientele comes from...my clientele. They’re my walking canvases, and refer anyone who comments on their tattoos to me. Even though this isn’t the most effective means of networking, I prefer it much more than the disreputable advertising that's going on on Craigslist.

I get it. We’re in economic hardships, and we all feel we have to retreat back to the Renaissance way of living- to exhaust yourself with as many different skills as you can fit onto your paper plates in the hopes that they will help you live a financially stable life. In some ways, we absolutely should be more Renaissance in the way we live right now. Learn a new skill, sure. Find something rewarding in your spare time that might make you a little extra cash. But in no way, shape or form does this mean you should pick up a tattoo machine and go to town on the first person to give you 25 dollars.

Because this is what happens:

It almost feels like your eyes are playing tricks on you, but that's as clear as it gets. And yet- it makes no sense. This girl went to get a lighter tattoo underneath it covered up, and found a tattoo artist on Craigslist that charged her $40 an hour for....this. She knew immediately that he was messing up, and he threw her empty promises that the blotch of ink would "fade and look better". Last time I checked, when a tattoo fades it doesn't necessarily look "better". It looks, well, faded. Also, koi fish don't usually have a giant tumor attached to the left side of their lip. Just saying.

So yes, she absolutely admits to wanting to get a cheap tattoo, like so many people do. Do you want to know how much she actually spent on this affordable tattoo?

$3,120.

120 for the three hours this guy in Anaheim spent butchering her arm, and $3,000 more for the laser surgery treatments that left her arm scarred and felt a lot like what I think Freddy Krueger's face would feel like. She spent 3 years in long sleeves, hiding it and considering amputation (that's not a fact, sorry. But wouldn't you?).

I found her on Craigslist (surprise!) looking for another tattoo artist (I said the same thing) to cover up this one. I pulled her off of there and got the entire story, and here we are. I spent 6 and a half hours on her today, working on two different cover ups that she had botched. It was a semi-emotional parting, but I sent her off with a scolding for using Craigslist, and one session done:

I wonder if the people who post on Craigslist understand the consequence of turning on that homemade tattoo gun and pressing it into someone’s skin. “Good tattoos aren’t cheap and cheap tattoos aren’t good”. God, I can’t even begin to explain how perfect this saying sums everything up that I’m trying to say. If you honestly want to be a good tattoo artist, you have to put so much time, effort and money into it. Actually, you put time, effort and money into every tattoo you do. From sterilizing to cleaning, down to needles and inks and machine parts. It’s costly keeping your work clean. I’m not sorry that tattoos are expensive.

If you really have a problem with the price of getting a tattoo, I have two options for you: A) don’t get one or B) pop on over to Craigslist and check out which one of your neighbors rigged himself a tattoo machine and have him mark your body on his kitchen table.

See you in hell. xo