I am planning to get a tattoo. A big one. All over my left arm. It’s actually not “a tattoo” but a sleeve. I went to the studio a few weeks back and booked time for it in September. I’ll take one day off of work and sit there, get inked as much as possible, pay whatever it costs and then I’ll be happy for a while, until it’s time to make another one on some other part of my body. I have a few tattoos already so I know I am hooked for life. The pain, the way I get to express myself and show the world what I think is really me. I like it.
I want a tattoo that says it all. Who I am, what I dream of, what my hopes are, what I stand for. But here’s the hard part. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what I enjoy. I have dreams, sure, and I know my values in life, but those are more difficult to portray, I think.
I used to be a teacher. That was my life and what I identified as. “I am a teacher”, I said. Now I “work in customs”. “I” am not “customs” . That is one third of my day that is not me. And I sleep for eight hours (which I love doing, don’t get me wrong), but is “sleep” really “me”? And then there’s the other eight hours per day. I have no idea what I am doing during those hours, but those are the hours that should define “me”, the hours that should build the tattoo.
So this tattoo that I will be making in four months has made me questioning my life. Am I doing the most with it? Am I doing anything with it?! I think I am having some existential crises, which I wasn’t prepared of at all. Who am I?
I tried to write down words yesterday of things that are important to me. I will continue that list and then try and collect images that will represent those words, and in the long run, me.
My goal is to keep my life simple, but this tattoo will be anything but that.