What Not to Blog

I keep catching myself in situations where I exclaim, "If only I could blog about this!" Crazy things keep happening to me (or I do crazy things), but for various reasons I'm reluctant to put them out into the great wide internet. Like the juicy details about the aforementioned inappropriate crushes & flirtations. Or making out with my cousin (distant cousin, I promise - but still, how does that happen?!).

It's good material. I'm tempted to share, but wondering where to draw the line. What is fun and/or helpful to write about? What privacy am I willing to sacrifice for the sake of therapeutic catharsis or just good comedy? What if someone I write about reads it? What if my parents are shocked and appalled by my antics? Who reads this anyway?! (Although, there is a link on my Facebook page, so I try to be careful.)

I've considered starting a top secret, invitation only, "High Security High Five". But it gets cumbersome to manage multiple blogs. And probably not necessary. So some tales will remain unblogged. Sorry, we must protect the innocent. Or at least half-heartedly try to preserve our own reputation.

So for now, just use your imagination.

Change

November 4, 2008. The whole day was electric with energy. People were a-buzz. Parties were brewing. I wasn't up to the big shindig downtown on a school night, so I took the invitation to watch election results at my friend the school librarian's house (and perhaps meet the young single nephew she's always talking about). I was optimistically buying champagne on the way, and the checkers said they were selling it like it was New Years. I think we could feel it happening.

When the official results came in, the choir director/composer in the group jumped on the piano and lead us in a rousing version of God Bless America and a few other patriotic standards. It was probably the first time I ever momentarily let go of the shame I usually feel about the awful things our nation has done and how we continue to treat the people around us.

As you may know, I had been leaning towards Hilary when this all started and thought Obama could use a few more years of experience at the national level. But my heart sang as if I'd known he was the one all along. Especially since the stock market crashed and everything seems grim... we need hope. We need a leader we can look to for wisdom, with natural charisma and magnetism - like what we saw during first speech at the DNC four years ago.

I though his acceptance speech was beautiful and perfect. Greatness happening in front of us. I drank in every word. And the feeling of victory was thick in the air, like we all just won the world series. I heard stories of people flooding the streets downtown so cars couldn't move, but drivers just got out and started hugging people. Amazing.

Justice. Finally someone other than a rich gray-haired white guy prevailed. And though I would never want to undervalue the great struggle that lead to this historic victory, what I love about the election of the first black man to this office is that often I don't even remember that he is black. Maybe that is another luxury of being a member of the dominant culture, but I feel like one of the victories here is that everyone is talking excitedly about Him, his words, his actions, his ideas... our admiration of him is transcending race and identity. It makes me hopeful that there really is a shift happening - towards our differences not being bigger than what we have in common and what we can do for one another.

(Then, of course, my buzz was completely killed the next morning by the news that things like Prop 8 passed... and I was ready to hurl judgment and hatred at people I don't understand all over again.)

What will happen? What can be done, really? Even by this amazing person, in this historic context. Our country is polarized and completely overextended. We need to reel our over-consuming selves way back in. Think small again. Focus on what is tangible. Create and exchange products and services on a local level. Focus on the people right in front of us; notice what they need. Share the burden, while being responsible for our own actions. Agree to disagree on a few things. Decide that getting our way is less important than getting things done. The only hope is if we can all be bigger, more emotionally generous people, right when we are feeling nothing but scarcity around us.

Change has come. It's exciting. But we forget that change is also really hard. Even good change comes with confusion and loss that are really easy to get lost in. Even I let my anger re-cloud my vision the very next morning.

I'm bracing myself.

I'm just glad that I'm moving someplace with a paid-off mortgage and space to grow some of my own food in the backyard. Just in case.

To Tattoo or Not To Tattoo

I always assumed that a tattoo was a youthful whim that you usually regretted later. And I never thought there was an object or symbol which I identified with enough to live for the rest of my life. Then a few years ago, the art teacher at my school got a tattoo for her 50th birthday. She had survived cancer, diabetes, divorce... and designed a branch with turning leaves symbolizing this new phase of her life. And the wheels started turning.

I started thinking about my own bumpy life experience. Thinking that perhaps tattoo could be a creative expression of self knowledge and self trust. I began to get excited about the idea of decorating/adorning the body which has carried so much pain. Reclaiming. Declaring its beauty. And a way to stay rooted in not allowing myself to be limited by conventional society.

As this idea began to brew, it hit me that my attraction to spiral designs and their symbolism of growth and contemplation - something between old Celtic designs and the wrought iron things I'd been collecting - might be perfect for tattooing. So I started doodling on myself...


Once my tattoo radar went up, I happened to see a TV character (Carmen on the L Word, yum) who had a tattoo curving along each hip, and I started thinking about designs fitting in with the curvature and lines of the body rather than a graphic just being stamp on somewhere. But where? I decided it would need to be somewhere on my body that could be hidden when I wanted but visible when I wanted to out. I got excited about the idea of the inside arch of my foot or on the inside heal...


Then I learned that most places wouldn't do those parts of the foot because the ink fades unevenly. I was really attached to that idea, so the excitement faded for a while. But it has slowly built up again and a new idea has emerged. I'm thinking a slightly larger scale (if you're gonna do it, do it!) design riding the womanly curve on the side of my right back/hip, with at least an an end that peaks up on my belt line (I love it when you are surprised by a glimpse of someone's tattoo on their back when their shirt lifts up a little). And a friend recommended an amazing artist whose style might be perfect to make it happen.


But still, fear of making a decision I might regret is holding me back. Once when I asked someone if they ever thought they might regret their tattoos when they are old and saggy, they told me they far more expected that they would regret not having done it. I think I agree. There are too many ways I have held myself back out of fear. But I'm giving myself time. Thinking maybe it could be a reward when I get out of debt.

Or it might never happen - it might just be just something fun to dream about. And look for meaning through. I draw on myself with sharpie and then test every situation I'm in as I go through the day, asking would I be glad I had it right now? Right now, YES!