it was his first tattoo. his girlfriend sat by for support. he didn't flinch. i'm happy not to be a man who feels he shouldn't flinch when in pain. scratch that--if i were a man, i'd still flinch. it doesn't really matter that i can't remember his name, he simply represents the excitement, nerves and awkward energy you feel when you get your first tattoo. 
we pick up marks as we move through life. some are imposed by others: our names. some are imposed by fate, some by ourselves. each tells a story, serves to remind us of our circumstances, our desires, our visions of ourselves, our accomplishments, our struggles, and sometimes our accidents, as in the case of scars. sometimes we bare our scars as badges of courage. maybe something appears to have been an accident, but for whatever reason, we put ourselves in the position to carry that scar away, and we are reminded of it. so, lucho, to you, i say: life's short, don't worry too much about the permanence of ink versus our fickle natures. you make a decision to ski down that hill, you live with the scar. you make the decision to get inked and you will definitely change from the person who sat and cringed in pain, but no matter the transformation, there will be a part of your skin not shed that is elementally you. as it should be. tattoo.
3 comments:
Crying here. Beautifully written and nice tattoo. Your speech makes me wish I could come up with a good idea for one. And, so true, life IS short...I see it every time my girls wake up in the morning and look like they grew another inch, or when I realize how many years have passed since I last made it to NYC to visit you. xoxo
In that first shot, the rag on his tattoo looks like the head of a snake! :)
Gorgeous post, Kitty -- great one to leave us with as you head off on your St. Paddy's Day journey. You're so right on so many fronts here...and I'm so grateful for all my scars -- the ones I've chosen, as well as the ones that have chosen me. I wouldn't be me without them. Thanks for the most wonderful of reminders.
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