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Thursday, August 28, 2014

How Fair & Crazy

Today was extremely different from the yester, and not just because I skipped school for the local fair. Yesterday was beautiful and vibrant and sunny, and today is humid and rainy and pallid. I wouldn't mind the rain so much, I really think I love rain more than sun, with the smell of lilac and petrichor, but the price of this rain is a 10 degree temp drop.
This will likely be my last Alaska State Fair for a few years, since I'm going down to Texas next summer. If I'm lucky I won't have to go until late August, but I can only hope. 
So this was my simple yet badass state fair getup. I was wearing at least two sweaters under the leather coat and I still about froze my testicles off. I wish I'd had gloves or something, but the entirety of my belongings (short of clothes) is in storage. 
I was about ready to buy a Salty Dog Lucky 13 tee but I had limited money and was afraid of regretting it. I don't regret not getting it, but it would have been cool.
My only actual decoration was the hairpieces and the excess of clip-on piercings. Makeup free. I didn't even touch up my eyebrows. I tell ya, people look at my ears like 'whoa' and some people in condescension--it appears as though I have a dozen piercings. But I only have two sets of lobe piercings. Every other piercing on my body is a clip on or magnetic, tapers and gages included. I really like the way I look, I love my skin and hair, so it makes it hard to mutilate myself permanently for the sake of beauty. 
My mom actually gave me permission to get tats, if I wanted, which is amazing considering she won't give my older brothers (both several years old than me) her blessing to get ink. Then again, for as evidently disappointed as she is with how I turned out, she does have a lot more faith in my big-time decision making than she does them, who actually have more worldly experience than I do at this point--she agreed to a motorcycle when I was 16, after all, and she still isn't entirely comfortable with them getting one.
But though she's given consent for me to get tats, I find now that I'm not sure I want to do it yet. I might go in for a consultation first, to get a feel for it. I just want to get a brown Star of David, which I know I shall never regret because of my religion. There's no other image or phrase that means so much to me that I must see it on my skin every day. But I love the idea of my skin being pure, without blemishes. Honestly, though it's weird to admit, I want to be pure for my first... uh, lover. Is that silly? It's part of why I don't want to dye my hair (though my hair is too delicate for chemicals anyway) or other such things. In my mind, it's like saving myself, which is ironic since I have no serious reservations when it comes to sexual celibacy. 
And I have no idea what part of my body I really want the star on. Around my navel, maybe? Or behind my ear? I don't want it on my arm or leg, or my back or shoulder or chest. When I look at my skin, and the coloring and feel its softness and smoothness, I just can't stand the thought of ruining it. That's probably why I stopped cutting. 
I just don't know. Tattoos once stood for toughness, commitment, individuality, and now they stand for none of those things. 
Maybe I'll wait for a few years. 

Here's a German metaphorical vid called "Balance."

I was sitting in a coffee shop today, to get better bandwidth for some internet surfing I needed to do, when I was writing this post. So I heard Gnarls Barkley playing on the intercom and that's why I chose "Crazy," his hit single. 


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