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the box above my head has changed its mind
2006-10-04, 1:39 a.m.

I wasn't able to get online on Tuesday because at College (tm), apparently the Internet is a privilege, NOT a right. My computer was arbitrarily disconnected from the system and eventually had to reapply for connectivity using Katie's computer.

In any case, though, I am back, with unfortunately not much to report.

School and life in general keeps me pretty busy but unless you'd like me to recount the main points of the essay I wrote on the significance of the use of rhetorical questions in early slave narratives, I think I'll keep the school-news to myself.

And most of my general life-news is pretty bland, as well. Like, today after my 2 PM class I got roped into stopping at the Library Cafe with a couple people and had to let this guy Brian like, pay for my food and then endure sitting outside on this gorgeous day to talk about our Brit Lit professor and South Park and Legends of the Hidden Temple and I got to feel like, semi-funny for the first time in a month, God, don't you hate it when THAT happens? :o)

See, though? Those little things are exciting for me right now but they are common occurence for everyone else. So it's a little hard to tell that story because it seems sort of pathetic that it's the big story for the day.

In current news, I am roommate-less for the night because Roommate went to the So You Think You Can Dance? concert and I stayed here, eating Sunchips and watching Miami Ink.

Which, by the way, is a really good show. It like, sucks you in. The stories behind some of their clients' tattoos are just plain remarkable, and it gets me thinking, do I have a remarkable story to tell? I started to think, in the past year or so, that if I could bring myself to commit to permanantly drawing something on my body, something so essential to my being that I would be willing to make it an unremovable part of my person, I would unquestionably do it.

This could have been an easy way to say "There's nothing I'd ever be able to find that I would want irreversibly marked into my skin, so I'll never have to worry about getting a tattoo." But I started soul-searching then. I still am.


Three years ago the tattoo would have undeniably been music-related. In my mind, I was, among many things, a Musician, forever. And while I still feel a passion for making music that will never dissipate, I'm seeing how quickly one part of my life can fade into the background, how fleeting our mere interests are.

I contemplated an Alice In Wonderland related tattoo, but that idea was scrapped when I came to terms with the fact that I'd have a seven-year-old Victorian fantasy character staring at me for the rest of my life.

I supposed, and I still believe, that I should incorporate a Catholic artifact, like a crucifix or the Virgin Mary, into my options. I am continually shaken into speechlessness by the empowering nature of faith. I rarely feel comfortable discussing my religious convictions with anyone, even my family, because I understand it on a very complicated, personal level. So maybe an appropriate way to assert my commitment to my spirituality would be through a bodily tribute. But a crucifix? I've seen examples, and they tend to be more graphic than tasteful. A plain cross? It's not individualized enough. And at this point in my life I wouldn't know how to alter a cross to make it meaningful.

I had this idea that I though would be really simple and powerful: rosary beads strung around my ankle. But then I found out Nicole Ritchie has that exact same tattoo, and swear I almost cried. It changed the whole connotation for me. I figured I probably didn't even think of that idea myself, that I had somehow seen Nicole Ritchie's ankle in a magazine and subconsciously filed it in my brain without my realizing.

Then I started to get all Psych 101 on myself and I was like, scared of what I was thinking. Because for much of my life I always said I would never, ever get a tattoo, because it's so trashy and stupid and PERMANENT. It started to frighten me how much we change, how much we eat our own words, how once I'd say "I'll never touch a drop of coffee" and then in one trip to Starbucks I was throwing down Caramel Macchiatos like it was my job. It made me uncomfortable to think of how unstable our convictions really are, how much they are based on age and society and other bullshit.

But then I started to become proud of myself for opening up to a world of gray, a place where there isn't just "tattoos are stupid" or "tattoos are fine," a place that transcends extremes.

Then, today, I found this website that talks about the traditions of tattooing in the Philippines. I don't necessarily want a tribal tattoo, since I'm aware of the fact that I'm not descended from those places. But the information encouraged me that my somewhat uncharacteristic eagnerness to needle my skin multiple times and permanently re-pigment the cells was maybe founded in something, in this age-old thing that's bigger than me and the world I'm living in.

So I guess what I'm getting at is this: I think I want a tattoo one day. But first I have to find it.

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