When ink becomes a part of you
I might as well get it over with. Here, above, is my new tattoo. I was inked this afternoon. Let me tell you how fun it was.
1. I have a fairly large tattoo on my right shoulder. It is of a “voided” cross and celtic trinity. It was irritating, but not painful. My forearm, on the other hand (pun intended) was wince-inducing. Actually, I was distracted to silence and tattoo bed squeezing by the pain at least a couple of times. I’ll remember that for another day.
2. I had a fully religious conversation with Miranda, the tattoo artist. She grew up in a fully atheist house, whereas I grew up in a Christian home. She had questions, so we chatted. When I wasn’t gobsmacked by the twinges in my forearm, that is.
3. The text is from a poem by Emily Dickinson. The first line is: “If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain.” It is one of my favorite lines by my favorite poet. It also sums up how I feel about my existence. If I can make a difference in one person’s life for the better, I shall not live in vain. It is also a good reminder for me, approval oriented as I am, that doing things for others is its own reward and that vanity projects are useless and often don’t accomplish the stroke to the ego that they’re intended to accomplish.
4. There is some twinging of nerve endings in my arm right now as I right this. Ouch. It feels like I was burned. This was non sequitur.
5. I love it. All of the minor and temporary pain is nothing in comparison to the happiness I currently feel about this little project on my left forearm. In fact, I think I liked the pain. Pain is good. It reminds me that I’m still alive.
There you go.
P.S. Mom and Dad – I hope you like it. If not, I can’t wash it off anyway.