I don't have many scars, however, so I really have to rely on my tattoos in many ways. And, since I've been known to hack a yarn or two, the tattoos, I'm thinking, are the way to go.
Today's writing challenge is talk about my tattoos.
So I guess the one who started this challenge is a millennials. I remember in the 70s, my babysitter got a tattoo and it was something of a scandal. Now? When I'm at the gym and there's men in various states of undress, I've noticed a specific pause when I DON'T see a tattoo. I have to ponder. Is he a mere youth? Is it something who a fitness model? Are they just broke?
Cause tattoos, being unregulated, are fucking expensive.
I actually like to think I was ahead of the curve. I remember discussing, over coffee at Paris on the Platte coffeehouse the kinds of tattoos and where they would best. Now, understand, I have severe body image issues. I always have. And, experience has shown me that many who are obsessed with tattoos tend to. Not in a negative way, either. I find that those who are obsessed, you know, the "big"-oerexics that proliferate at the gyms, also seem to be obsessed with body modifications. The fifteen or so people I have known as transgendered? Inked to the point that Bic ballpoints could call them for spare color should they run low on inventory. Bodybuilders? They keep bronzer companies employed with the amount of Trump tanner they have to rub over themselves before each competition.
This is insulting, what I'm saying. But this is my observation.
The worst part? I love tattoos. And when anyone has one, I want to lean over and ask, "what's the reason for this one? That one?"
And no, I'm not staring at you because you are buff. I'm staring at you because you have poor choices in clothing and without sleeves, I see a tattoo with a radio microphone and penis and I'm dying to know why you elected to wear that in front of the middle schoolers here after class!
You? Dear reader, you are lucky. I'm going to cut out your ponderances and just say outright....I have tattoos and here's what they mean.
I am not including actual photos, however. Mine? They are mine, alone. Besides, given my profession, there are too many people asking questions. So they will remain hidden until otherwise stated.
I knew I was of Celtic blood as a child, mother unit informed me so. So I began to read about them on my weekly trips to the library, how they drove the Romans mad and the English as well. They inked themselves, their faces, they skins, everything. Like the Polynesians, they saw it as instruments of power and fear and used it against the organizations at large.
Yes, much like the millennials.
Keeping that in mind, I designed my first.
Japanese kanji. I doubt it says, "soy sauce," but it might.
From my understanding from the library, it is the title of a Japanese tale.
"In the Water, the Fish Shall Dream."
Thing is? I've not found the tale again, since, well, then. The gist was I read it and it had components that rang deep in my soul. It had dreams. I had fish, and I'm a Pisces.
I know, I should have gotten an image of a fish, dreaming, right?
I was young. Forgive me. On my right shoulder blade, I pay homage to that story. In it, a fish become so pious with his prayers and meditations, keeping the ancestors venerated, so much so, that it catches the eyes of the seven immortals. The fish? his heart wishes that he may walk among men. So they descend to the side of the pond and tell the fish that his faith is to be rewarded. Seeing his dreams about to come true, the fish stops.
"But, then, what will I dream of?"
The immortals are unable to answer. The looked to each other, failing in every aspect of their power, other than to provide.
Dreaming, it seemed, is the purpose for faith and belief. Like the yin and yang, they cannot exist without both aspects.
An aspect, as it were, of the Tao. The story stuck with me in my youth (I had to read something between the LGBT books I was reading in the back of the stacks...) and I knew I wanted to keep it with me. And, at 22, as a celebration of getting my first career job, boom. My first tattoo on my right shoulder blade.
With a yin and yang, of course, the symbol of my chosen faith.
Then, in 2009, I left that job. I felt it vital to celebrate this profound transition in my life. Now, I've long adopted the Irish Bear as my symbol. I'm big and round, and, physically, most people, including my husOtter, have compared me more to the grand mountain gorilla. Makes sense. Barrel chested and arms that drag on the floor, always hunched over. But the bear? that's also part of the LGBT community and I found it something I really agreed with. Bears are large and furry men, approachable and accepting of race and, yes, flexible body image. Even if I wasn't in the dating pool any more, I found that this grouping was something I supported.
I needed the bear, like the fish, to become my totem in some way. So? That first week at my new job, I tattooed a Celtic knot to my shoulder, another link to my past, but also, to the bear-as it is a bear claw.
And as complicated as I like to think I am.
Last?
I knew, when I got to Florida, I wanted to celebrate by getting another permanent marker. What to do? What could cover the depth I choose? I kept with the Celtic faith, but I also expanded it. The older flag of Ireland (and was on their dollars for a short time) is the harp. There's a reason Irish writers are so celebrated. They have the gift of the bard, the gift of storytellers. I mean, when your entire island is constantly invaded, yet idyllic, you get sense of poetry. Opposites play upon the souls of the Irish. The symbol of the Irish, other than probably the whiskey bottle, is the harp. The song of angels comes from it, but the lowly bard, traveling from town to town to herald the news and tales of the day, could bring bad news in the form of song and cheer. This is a skill of the artists of all kinds. This is the symbol of storyteller, truly, and I really connected that.
The location was vital for this tattoo had to be on a nexus. I figured on the breaking point of nerves from my skull to my hands was very important, for with my hands I talk (sign language) and tell tales (as I type). So, there, between my shoulder blades, stands the famed harp.
Oh fuck, it's on the Guinness bottles too.
Yeah, cool, I don't mind.
So, there. Three tattoos and three stories.
And it's time for a forth. I need another fish, because Pisces is, in the end, a pair. A shark or a ray. Perhaps a dragon. My love of Disney? Maybe some ears? Whatever it will be, it will have a story.
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