under Single Life
My first post ever on this blog was titled, Apologizing. I don’t really remember what my purpose in writing it was. I think it was something about how you’re not supposed to be defensive all the time, as I often was/am. The piece, written about two years ago, was about my state of being four years before that, which wasn’t good. While I wrote it, I thought that I was in a much better place. Compared to today, I wasn’t. At this rate of accelerating returns, in exactly two years, I will be President, and that will make no sense, as we will be nowhere near an election year, and I will not be 35 years old, and I’m not totally sure that I wasn’t born in Kenya.
However, this is a good indication that my life is still heading in an upward trajectory. That original post was about the fact that I apologize too much, and I’m sure that is directly tied to self-esteem. I apologized so much that I got a tattoo that says, ‘i’m sorry.’ As I eventually lost weight and gained confidence, my apologizing frequency gradually decreased. However, the stupidest tattoo of all time has remained permanently plastered to my arm, serving as an arm-reminder of how horribly stupid I can be a lot of the time. I once called my work phone at work from my cell phone and my dad’s number showed up on the Caller ID because I’m under his plan and then I said out loud, ‘Yay my dad is calling!’. That exact thing happened four weeks ago.
So, as I progress and grow as a human being, I still have an inane tattoo on my upper-right arm telling everybody, ‘Hey, I may seem moderately well-adjusted, but for the love of God, keep your eyes away from my arm, and for that matter, my belly button, and for that matter, why are you watching me change?’
under Online Dating
A few (four) years ago, I was not in a good place. I was living in Austin, TX, and doing badly in school. After one of my obligatory sleep sessions, where I slept anywhere between ten and forty hours at a time, my friend came in and asked if I wanted a tattoo. Of course I didn’t want a tattoo. Who deliberately wants a tattoo? Seriously, even people with tattoos don’t want a tattoo. But back then I wasn’t myself, so I answered, “Absolutely!” We got to the tattoo parlor before I woke up completely. In fact, I didn’t fully wake until I felt a hot needle piercing my skin, and saw blood running down my arm. Apparently I was in the middle of getting a tattoo; one of many life mistakes that I have made.
The tattoo design that I decided on while half asleep and fully medicated was the sentence, “i’m sorry”. That’s right. I didn’t even have the decency to capitalize the first letter or properly end it with a period. At the time, I had a tendency to say “I’m sorry” a lot. My self-consciousness was high, and I often felt guilty for things that were nowhere near my fault. The obvious remedy for this was a tattoo. Any psychiatrist or licensed tattoo artist can tell you that.
My friends decided that anytime I felt the urge to say “I’m sorry” I should lift up my sleeve and show the other party my tattoo. While this method is sound in theory, in practice it is marred by two obstacles. First, in any environment with dark lighting, or no lighting, the second party would not be able to read my arm. Second, I didn’t think about the amount of hair that I would have accumulated on my upper arm by age twenty six. Today, the tattoo looks no different than any other ridiculously hairy arm.
Self-consciousness can easily be detected by women. This has always been a big problem for me. Aside from my inclination to apologize for everything, G-d has also conveniently given me overactive sweat glands and an overdose of misplaced guilt. In addition, I have given myself a ridiculous tattoo that is now covered in years of hair.