Valentine's Day Advice

In our effort to educate, we here in Howktown like to share life experiences in hopes of helping others make choices that they won't regret.

The other day the Queeen of Howktown decided to get a much deserved massage for herself. She had spent many hours that week massaging other people and now it was her turn.

So she went to the gal down the road with whom she had an appointment and said "Give me all you got!"

An hour later she was massaged and squeezed and poked and she was relaxed and little sore. She wanted nothing more than to go home and enjoy this just massaged feeling, snuggled up with her true love.

As she arrived home and looked lovingly upon her darling man, he said "WHAT happened to your hair?"

You see, She looked like this:

Not very sexy.

"Just close your eyes, sweetie, I just got a massage" she said as she snuggled up to him. 

"Oh my God! What kind of oil did she use!  You smell like "STINKOR"!"

"STINKOR?" she asked. 

"Yes, from HeMan, the guy that smells like a skunk. You smell just like the action figure!"

So, Ladies. This Valentine's Day, if you decide to get a massage before the big night.... don't. Wait until after. You don't know what crazy comic book villian you will look or smell like afterwards.

What did you want to be when you grew up?

Ever since I was 4 years old, I'd been telling people that I wanted to be an artist. I don't know how much was Howk Stubbornness and how much knowing your calling and sticking it out.

My mom would mention (somewhat vehemently at times), that she only had three choices for a career when she was growing up. Teacher, Nurse, or Secretary. She chose nurse. It's funny how kids can tell how you really feel about things sometimes. I immediately picked up on the fact that my mom didn't like that she felt she didn't have the choices available to her to do something else.

Being an artist was so exotic and vague that it left open opportunities that I wouldn't even have to define, even when I made it to art school. Oh, they would try to get you to write an artist statement, but they were pathetic.

Ironically, this vagueness is what deterred my art making abilities. Oh, I had the skills, naturally and learned. My four year old self was onto my inner being. After graduation, I worked as a photographer, graphic designer, photo re-toucher, and in web design. I was all over the place, had no direction, and pretty much hated every hipster, Jetta driving, art-snob I encountered, even though I was right in there with them.

One day, when I was stressed out after flowing copy into another credit card application letter, I felt the urge for Guidance.

"Almighty Google! Index of the Might Internets! Tell me what I want to know!"

::SEARCH: MOST RELAXING JOB

And Google answered me with a list of the top 5 most relaxing jobs. Massage therapy was on the list. That part of me that knew that I was an artist also knew that I needed to pursue this further. For those of you that believe in the law of attraction, 2 months later by no conscious planning on my part, I had been given the 'opportunity' (industry talk for being fired) and found a massage school in my new neighborhood. Sign me up.

5 years later I'm happier than I've ever been in my career and my art flourishes in unexpected ways. Like face painting, and fashion choices, and snap shots taken with my phone, cause I'm too lazy to replace the camera I lost last year.

I'm of the opinion that you don't have to paint a painting to be an artist. You just need to be a vessel of creation and interpretation of the world around you.

I'll stop there, before Trey gives me the stink eye for not being funny.

Which Reminds Me:

Next Time:
Our Little Friend, Stinkeye

Howktown Approves:
Face Painting
Relaxation