Saturday, 27 December 2008

I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo. I’ve been thinking about it for several years now, but that’s as far as it ever gets. It sounds like a good idea in my head, and I truly envy some of the great artwork that other people have, yet I never get it done.

The first one I’d get would be a very particular thing. There’s this band I like. I take vacation time and travel to see them several days in a row. They have a glyph, their logo, of sorts, that I’d have done just below the crook of my elbow. Now, the band isn’t instantly recognizable, so the glyph is somewhat obscure, but I’ve seen other fans with the same tattoo… in the same place. Do I want to risk turning into a super-fan?

Part of my desire, and my hesitation, is that I want to be unique. However, so many people have tattoos, how unique can it be? It seems like a silly thing to get permanently attached.

My Aunt has a couple tattoos. One cluster is a set of, I think, violets. One for her mom, one for her daughter, and one for her grand-daughter. It makes perfect sense and seems like the perfect reason to me. But to me, personally, I can’t imagine doing it. While I love my mother dearly, and she means a lot to me, I don’t know that I’d want her with me 100% of the time. I’m sure the feeling is mutual.

I think that’s the main reason I don’t get a tattoo. There isn’t anything in my life that I feel so strongly about that I want it with me forever.

Sure, I know they’re not totally permanent. Tattoos can be removed if you have the money and the pain threshold. But who goes into it thinking they’ll just wipe it away when it becomes inconvenient? You go into it thinking it will be with you forever.

It’s not fear, it’s not the expense either. I can deal with both of those. So does it really just come down to ambivalence? If it’s just for the right, the high, why not sky dive, drive fast, or even just stand on the edge of a cliff?

What does that say about my life? Is it good that I don’t go into anything until I’m sure? Or is it just sad? Sad that there’s nothing I’m so passionate about that I want it etched into my body so as to declare it unto the world?

Everybody has their reason: love, lust, loss, lunacy; I’ve yet to learn mine.