Tattoo Update

I was looking back over old posts, and I realized I haven't blogged about my tattoo plans for a while. Since then, my plans have become a little more concrete, so I thought I'd go over them again.

First of all, I wrote that I wanted to end up with a tribal piece on one upper arm and kanji on the other. I've decided against the kanji - I've read too much about people who were tattooed with words that didn't mean what they thought they meant, and I certainly don't read Japanese myself. I told myself I would get kanji if I could learn to read Japanese, but I don't think that's going to happen. Instead, I came up with another beautiful design: a thin tribal spiral, reminiscent of DNA, surrounded by a wider spiral and swirling dots, meant to be cosmically reminiscent, and butterflies fluttering around the whole thing, to represent metamorphosis, fragility, and the cycle of life. Altogether, the whole thing symbolizes the unity of the universe for me. I've been working on the design for months, perfecting it, and I've picked the left arm for it.

On the other arm, I have indeed decided on a tribal piece, as I wrote before; but more specifically, on a tribal wyvern that I want my mother to design. I don't know if I can get her to do it. A wyvern is a cousin of the dragon; dragons have four legs and two wings, wyverns have two legs, and their wings are clawed and derived from their forelimbs (like the wings of bats are). I chose a wyvern partly because I like their shape more for a tattoo, and partly because my dad always liked to say his sign was the dragon, and I sort of think of him like that. I guess I think that would make me a wyvern somehow. Both creatures represent strength, ferocity, independence, and cunning. This tattoo will be on my upper right arm.

The symbolism of these two arm tattoos must seem to be somewhat at odds, but the way I see it, the former is endowed with feminine energy and the latter with masculine energy, so I think they balance each other out perfectly in a yin-yang way. I've even chosen which arms they go on with this system; I associate the left side with a more creative path and the right with a more analytical one. They do say that left-handed people are supposed to be more creative, and right-handed ones more analytical.

On my back, I am still planning wings with the phrase "contra mundum". Before, I wrote that I wanted "abstract" wings; I'm not sure what I meant by abstract, but probably not what I want anymore. I'm not entirely sure what kind of wings I want, but I'm thinking I want fey-esque wings, tri-sectioned, laying at rest, black, somewhat ragged, with skulls subtly blended in as pale spots. I thought I was unsure, but after typing all that detail, it just became apparent to me that I'm pretty sure what I want. Anywhoodle. I want fey wings because they are neutral - they do not represent either good or evil, as almost any other type of wing does. I want them tri-sectioned because traditionally three pairs of wings represent glory, honor, and dignity (and I also don't want to look too much like a butterfly). The raggedness and subtle skulls are to counteract the "sweetness" of the fey wings, because things that seem sweet and innocent are not always so. Sometimes they are jaded and worn down, but strong. And I want them black just because I love black.

Onward, to the phrase "contra mundum". I'm going to have this phrase tattooed vertically down the back of my neck, downward until it meets the wings. It is Latin, meaning "against society" "against the world" or "against everybody". I've also seen "against all organized beliefs". I know it's not my native language, but I've decided I want it anyway. It's a simple phrase, and I've never heard of any confusion about its meaning, and all the sources I've found agree on its interpretation. I know it could be interpreted negatively - people might think I hate everybody - but to me it's always stood for a certain independence of thought. That's why I'm pairing it with the wings to represent my independent spirit and mental androgyny. I bring mental androgyny into this to tie it to the two previous tattoos and their meanings. I said that one was feminine and the other masculine, so it makes sense that the one in the middle would be neutral. The one in the middle is where the yin-yang occurs, the plan where the anima and the animus are perfectly balanced. All in all, the first tattoo is my body/heart, the second one is my mind, and the third one is my spirit.

As you can see, I've put a lot of thought into this, and there's a complete system of personal symbolism involved in these tattoos, and if I ever make any changes in my plans, I will definitely incorporate more symbolism.

Soren's Speech

I love Star Trek. I've probably said this before; I don't really remember, but right now it's not important. I love it because the characters are good people and funny characters who get along like a family, it's a dependable show (I don't mind predictability), and weird stuff happens. It's also got a message - not an obvious message. Most episodes are simply stories, but quite a few of them have morals or are metaphors.

I just watched one that addressed an issue that is very important to me, and I wish to everyone else as well. It's in season five, and the title of the episode is "The Outcast". Here's the story: Riker is working with a member of an androgynous race (I'll call it a "she") called Soren. She is very curious about genders, and eventually reveals that she prefers to identify as female and is attracted to Riker, but there's a problem: Among her people, the idea of gender is considered wrong. This is because her race used to have genders, but they evolved out of it. Still, sometimes there are people in her race who are born preferring one of the genders. They have to hide this preferrence all their lives, because if they are discovered, they are taken away and given treatments. During the episode, Soren is discovered and put on trial. Riker tries to save her by claiming he was the one attracted to her, but Soren tells the counsel the truth. Then she delivers a moving dialogue. I love it. It's obviously a metaphor for being gay/bi/transgender/different in any way. Here it is:

"I am tired of lies.
"I am female.
"I was born that way. I have had those feelings, those longings, all of my life. It is not unnatural. I am not sick because I feel this way. I do not need to be helped. I do not need to be cured. What I need, and what all of those who are like me need, is your understanding and your compassion.
"We have not injured you in any way, and yet we are scorned and attacked, and all because we are different. What we do is no different from what you do. We talk and laugh, we complain about work, and we wonder about growing old. We talk about our families and we worry about the future. And we cry with each other when things seem hopeless. All of the loving things that you do with each other - that is what we do. And for that we are called misfits and deviants and criminals! What right do you have to punish us? What right do you have to change us? What makes you think you can dictate how people love each other?"

I strongly suggest you watch the episode, if not just for the message, then to find out what happened afterwards.

What is the Question?

Every person's path in life is defined by a question that they have. They spend their lives seeking the answer to this question, and through the search, define their lives. Great artists live seeking the answer to "what is art?" Great musicians ask "what is music?" Novelists want to know what a novel is. Poets ask the identity of a poem.

I ask for identity. I want to know who I am. I want to know who we are as humans. I aim to see the core in each and every individual, and it frustrates me that so many people hide their core selves. I don't know what this makes me besides perplexed.

Fish on a Hook

14 September 2011. This is a day to remember. This is the day I GOT MY LIP PIERCED!!!!

I have of course been wanting a lip piercing for a few years, ever since I was fifteen. Maybe sixteen. Since I turned eighteen I've beel legally able to get one without my parents, and since I still wanted one, I figured I'd wanted one long enough that I wasn't going to regret it. It wasn't a rash decision.

So I started looking for places to get it done in Peoria. My problem was transportation. I don't have a car, and I don't know anyone nearby with one that I would want to go with me. There weren't many tattoo parlors within walking distance, and the city bus didn't got near any of them either. I also wanted to find one with good ratings. In the end, I probably wasn't as careful choosing one as I should have been.

I called a small tattoo parlor two streets over, purely because it was within easy walking distance. I'd researched it, and it didn't have any ratings and appeared to be a new shop. So anyway, I called, They guy on the phone was friendly and very willing to answer my questions (unlike that guy from that other place...) so I went over and looked at the shop.

It was small, largely undecorated, and had crappy carpet. There were only two people in there, and they both worked there. Lip piercing was only $30, which was a bit of a red flag, since, as a general rule, you get what you pay for in this industry. Still, I'd been wanting a lip piercing for a long time, and this was the only shop nearby. I told them I wanted my lip pierced and he said the piercer wasn't there at the moment, as he had a family emergency. I made an appointment (although they take walk-ins) for the following day.
The following day I went over. There were more people there this time: a guy at the counter, two in the back room (one was my piercer, one was a tattoo artist), a guy discussing a tattoo he wanted, and another guy who was getting a tattoo. I did the paperwork, proved I was old enough, and then went into the back room.
It was a pretty quick procedure. I think I was expecting it to take more time. He put a dot on my lower lip with a sharpie, we made sure it was centered and where I wanted it, and then I sat down on a chair. He pulled out the needle and the clamp and asked me if I was ready.
I'd been doing fine up until this point. Really. I was like "oh yes, I'm such a bamf, I'm getting my lip pierced all on my own and I'm not even nervous, sunshine and daisies, lalala..." But when he pulled out the needle I suddenly inhaled like a vaccuum and said, "um...can you give me a moment? I'm freaking out." He reassured me that I could take all the time I needed and told me it hurts a shitload. Oddly, that was more reassuring than if he had told me it doesn't hurt that much. When people say it doesn't hurt that much, I always think they're downplaying it. Anyway, while I was working on not freaking out, I asked him a few questions, and then I was ready.

I needn't have freaked out. It just felt like my lip was being pinched. I can't even remember if it hurt or not - I think it did for a second, but it was so trivial that now I can't really remember. I mean, I remember thinking that there was pain, but I don't remember feeling pain. He put the clamp on my lip, pushed the needle through (I confess...I had my eyes closed during this part), and then he worked the hoop through the hole.

So then I had a hoop in my lip, but he still needed to put the bead on it. This was the hard part. He spent several minutes tugging at my lip trying to get the bead on the hoop. He couldn't. He had the other guy try, the tattoo artist, and he couldn't get it either, so then he asked the guy at the front counter and he put it on in like, two seconds. Even while they were tugging at my lip, it didn't really hurt. The piercer wiped the marker of my lip, made me use mouthwash, and then I went up front and paid. And then I walked out feeling like a bamf. I went to CVS feeling like a bamf. And then I came back to my dorm feeling like a bamf.
Altogether, it was a good experience. I'm really happy with my piercing. It bled a little bit at first, but now you can't even tell it's fresh. There's no swelling, bleeding, crusting, or bruising. I give the shop 4 stars out of five.
My piercing is still healing. I'll come back later and add updates to this post as it heals up.
 
Update: Day Four - the skin around the piercing is a little swollen and pinkish. It still doesn't hurt, it's only a little sore when I try to eat something like a bagel, where I have to bite down on it.

I've Got a Few Wires Loose

Dry, somber brown leaf
Trapped on the branch alone
Why do you not change your colors?
How do you bear watching your peers
as they shed their old selves to take on the new;
as they go on with the flow of life
ever changing?

It's been a while since I did anything social with somebody who was not "like me". In other words, I haven't hung out with normal people for a while, and as usually happens, I have forgotten what it is like, this ebb and flow of energy that they are constantly experiencing. How do they handle it? I just can't. I can't fit in with them. Their so-loud music grates on my ears; their unwillingness to think about the future even a moment sets me on edge; their repetative humor and inside jokes confuse me; the way they nudge each other and give each other facial expressions leaves me completely lost and muddled in the middle of conversations.

Through the Doors

I'm over the high school nostalgia. Way over it - didn't take me long, either. I have thrown myself into the aforementioned summer activities: cleaning out my old life, getting reading for college, and preparing to reinvent myself. This includes morning runs, not drinking soda, and making leather jewelry (I'm making a leather wrist cuff. It's gonna have gun metal studs and it's gonna be awesome). I have a new vision of myself - a lean, muscly, tattooed, and rebellious vision.

Doors

Last night, I graduated high school. I didn't attribute it much significance at the time (being more given to making snarky commentary and focusing on not messing up my salutatorian speech), but now I feel... something. I don't usually feel things, so I can't tell what it is. I can taste it though; it's bittersweet and surprising, like dark chocolate when you were expecting sugar-coated peeps. It's less colorful than I wanted. Now I have all summer to clean out my old life, get ready for college, and prepare to reinvent myself. I should be gearing up for fresh independence and power. And yet, I keep remembering all my old classmates and teachers, how much fun they all were, how accepting they all were of me as a person and a student. Also, they were quite a lot of fun.

For our senior trip, we ended having a picnic at our principle's house and playing Do You Love Your Neighbor. We sat in a big circle, and the person in the middle had to pick someone. If they loved their neighbors, the people sitting on either side of them had to switch places while the person in the middle had to try to grab one of their places. If they didn't love their neighbors, they had to love everyone with a certain trait (like wearing white socks), and everyone with that trait had to find a new spot. Of course, someone always ended up in the middle. Kathy "loved" everyone who had ever cut a class. All the students except three moved.

Last summer, three other girls and I went skinny dipping in a park at night and were caught my the sherriff. When he pulled up, we all dove underwater and hoped he wouldn't be able to see us with his headlights  reflecting off the surface of the lake. The problem with being underwater is that there's no way to breathe unless you have special equipment, and we did not have special equipment. Also, it's hard to figure out what's going on when you're struggling to breathe and be underwater at the same time. Only one of us realized that the sherriff had already seen our clothes and us when we came up for air, and she was calmly pretending that we hadn't realized we weren't supposed to be here while the rest of us kept floundering around and gasping. Once the sherriff told us we needed to leave and drove away, we got out, got dressed, and walked back home. On the way home, we were pulled over and picked up by another guy in a sherriff's car. While he talked on his little radio about us (apparently the mother of the girl whose house we were staying at had called the police because we were so long gone on our "walk"), one of us suddenly whispered,"Oh crap! It's the guy from the lake." And then we all got a very awkward ride home after the sherriff casually asked us if we were the girls from the lake.

There were only thirty people in my senior class, and I've had many more adventures like this one with them (maybe not as intimate as this one, though). I may never see most of these people again. Where do I go from here? I have to make a new life for myself, starting this summer. A door has closed on my high school experience, and I can only hope a few more doors have opened that I just can't see now.