Control

by theobfuscatedone

I have been informed that there are even more readers of my blogthing (Side note: remind me to explain “blogthing” to you guys at some point.) with whom I share a good bit of DNA.  I feel that my blogthing has become a sort of family affair.  I have struggled with this fact.  I love my family.  There are some things, however, that I wonder if I should censor, for the good of keeping my well meaning and loving family blissfully ignorant.  As much as I want to spare them the shock, I also have an honesty policy that overrides even my best intentions. Family is a thorny beast.  You love them dearly but can’t live with them.  They lift your spirits when nothing else can and they drive you batshit crazy when nothing else can.  In the spirit of honesty that pilots this blogthing, here goes the unvarnished truth.

This week has been shite.  There have been a few bright spots but the sheer amount of craptasticness has overwhelmed them.  I did a reckoning of the good and bad of this week and the bad just about made the paper it was written on curl into the fetal position and cry uncle.  The biggest good thing was my plan for tonight, Friday.  I made these plans last weekend.  Though I didn’t know it at the time, my plans for fun were surprisingly prescient. Without tonight, this week would have been a total loss.

What were my plans, you ask?  Go into the city (that’s San Francisco for all you less-than-pretentious readers) with T and have dinner followed by at least one piercing.  The for sure piercing was in the cartilage on my right ear.  The maybe piercing was a companion hole for the 11 year old hole already in my nose.  As I sit here writing this, both my nose and ear are a bit sore.  It was wonderful to spend time with T and engage in mutual venting and hating.  He’s one of the few people in this world that I trust, actively seek out, and enjoy spending time with.  After we left the piercing shop he said to me that he really had wanted to see more of the actual needle-through-my-flesh but restrained himself so that the piercer could do her job.  (What does it say about me that I think that’s a really nice thing to say to someone?)

It just occurred to me that this is maybe not the best way to tell my family and that they will be finding out at the same time as any strangers who somehow stumbled onto this blogthing.  Not very nice of me.  In my defense, most of my family (the more senior members) are all either asleep or in bed heading towards sleep.  None of them would be pleased if I called right now to tell them that I got new piercings.  They probably wouldn’t even pick up the phone.  I think that’s enough justification (lord help me.)

Back to the piercings.  Obviously, I already have some piercings.  My nose has been pierced for 11 years.  The six holes in my ears have been there for a while, not sure how long.  I also have several tattoos.  They’re simple and fairly small, but they’re still tattoos.  I had my septum pierced for a while but took it out a few months ago.  That’s my entire “body modification” history, folks, recorded here for posterity and potential familial blacklisting.

Piercings and tattoos are a complicated decision.  There’s the desire to be able to make your own decisions countered by the fear that these decisions might affect your job prospects.  There’s the belief that piercings and tattoos are no big deal countered by the knowledge that for others, they are a huge deal.  Even for myself, a pierced and tattooed person, there are some piercings that I hate.  Anyone who has a tongue piercing and plays with it, clicks it against their teeth, or generally puts it on display automatically loses points with me.  I don’t like eyebrow piercings.  Surface piercings are totally creepy and make my skin crawl.  Those are my feelings and I recognize that what other people do with their bodies is none of my business or concern.  So other than slight disdain for the people who constantly play with their tongue piercings and an involuntary shiver/lip-curled-in-disgust when I see surface piercings, I don’t give a flying fuck what you do with your body.  If you ask my opinion I will give you my honest, uncensored one.  After that, we can still be friends (except for the tongue piercing players- knock that shit off!  It’s gross, distracting, and shows an astonishing lack of self control/awareness.  Any professional piercer will tell you you should not play with any piercing.  Stop.  Especially if you want me to be your friend.)

With the addition of two more artificial holes in my already artificially hole-y face, the week ended fairly well.  I did something I wanted to do without having to consider others.  It was something I had control over, in a week where very little was in my control.  Perhaps paying people to shove needles through your body is a less than ideal way to cope with stress but they aren’t necessarily permanent.  Considering that other, less healthy/smart options include but are not limited to: recreational drug use, vandalism, overeating, self harm, and more permanent types of body modification (like scarification and tongue splitting), my choice is much less drastic and includes the option of removal and returning to my slightly less hole-y self.

In the end, I will make a point not to censor myself here, no matter how much I want to spare and/or hide from my family.  It’s the least I can do since I don’t censor myself in real life and go about my daily life with my piercings and tattoos in full view.  They would find out eventually; I can’t and don’t want to avoid them indefinitely.  Ok, it’s time for me to follow my family’s example and start the nighttime routine.  I’m so exhausted after this week from hell.  I can’t even work up an appetite for the candy I treated myself to (Trader Joe’s peanut butter cups and dark chocolate covered orange sticks.)  Goodnight.  (Can someone please make my cat understand that when it gets dark it’s time to relax- not run laps around the apartment at a speed that makes me think he’s being chased by the hounds of hell?)

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