Monday, June 22, 2009
A new addition
About a month ago, I sated my creative side. No, I didn't actually get my hair dyed blue or purple as I had originally planned. What I did do was get a new tattoo. It's a decent sized Scorpio symbol above a decent sized Scorpio constellation. They are both done really well in a lovely shade of purple. I think it suits me, and I don't regret it, as I don't regret any of my tattoos. A few people in my life have a problem with the fact that it's on the inside of my left forearm. Visible sometimes, bigger than I had originally planned. I decided at my age not to hide it from my family or friends. I went to show VonParents one night. That night I was pleasantly surprised by their lack of reaction. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't hoping for a reaction, I was just expecting one. About a week later I had the unfortunate experience of hearing their (mostly VonMom's I think) opinions on the new ink. Some gems: "It's stupid" "It's huge" "You don't even like it" - Hm....this one confused me. Apparently VonMom thinks she knows me better than I know myself, because I'm pretty sure I love it..... "To date, probably your worst life decision" "What does it even mean?" "It's not like you to do this" This last statement has been coming back to the top of my mind. This statement defines the problem between my mother and me. This statement made me really think about what IS like me. I realized that if I were truly being me, and not worrying so much about what my family would think and have come to expect, I would probably have at least ONE arm tattooed with a full sleeve. I would have more holes in my ears than I do (currently triple-pierced). I would wear a lot more black a lot more often. I would do less on schedules and more on whims. I would probably have never gone to college at all, and might have run off to the circus, or to follow the Dead. I might have eloped once, and at the ripe old age of 20. I've come to love my life, but I'm not 100% sure that it's the life I would have loved. I know that when I broke my leg I lost my daredevil edge. Sometime after that, I lost a lot more of my edges. So, while my mom chews on the fact that I do these Horrible things that she cannot understand, I sit home on Sunday night planning out my outfits, paying my bills, balancing my check book, straightening my fridge - instead of out running around, drinking too much, staying out too late. I don't know if it's in the cards for me to actually be the person I might have been. I don't think that the person I should have been at 20 (the age of my first tattoo) is still the person that I should be now. I just know that every now and then I get these Time-for-a-big-change urges, and they do not go away. I'm starting to think that if I had following my urges,whims, and instincts more and longer that I would be more settled with myself. On a better note was CB's reaction - and it was her's that I had feared the most - she admitted that I am "free-spirited" and that she knew this about me. She said that she would get used to it. Which is pretty much how I ended the conversation with VonMom. My final statement to her: "Well, it IS a tattoo - so you have only one option, which is to get used to it."