The C-Word

I've realized something recently. All the things that make my life the hardest are called cancers.

It's extremely appropriate, I think, that people born between June 21 and July 22 are Cancers. Every boy in my entire life that has cause me large amounts of trouble, with the exception of one, was a Cancer. They stick on you like that, too. In a lot of ways they never go away entirely. You might stop seeing them and you might stop hearing about them, but you start acting differently because of them. You probably never stop thinking about them.

And if my tattoo is any suggestion, I'm more than a little shaken up about my dad's illness. Like Steve Irwin, you keep seeing him do crazy shit and you think "that dude is gonna get killed!" and then when he finally dies you're shocked because, really, how can someone who has to frequently defied death actually die? After seeing someone dodge it so many times, you start to believe it can't even happen. Unlike Steve Irwin, my dad will not go out in a way that's appropriately absurd. He will gradually decline and we'll see it coming, and we'll try to stop it but eventually it will come back and that will just be that.

I've heard before that it used to be that you didn't talk about cancer. It was the c-word, something you didn't want to talk about. Something you only brought up in trusted, intimate company. In some ways, this is still true about the disease. For me, this is also true of all kinds of cancer men. I don't talk about what's happening with my dad to most people. I don't talk about what's happening with my boyfriends to most people. Because it makes people uncomfortable, and it exposes something about yourself that you don't always want to expose.

Unless you're me and you prick it directly into your skin so everyone can see, and then you don't really have to explain.

Updates On Inking, Pain

I got the tattoo and it came out better than I could have hoped, which is about the last good thing that's happened in the last two months here. I got it on October 16th and we've been pretty much all downhill from there. I haven't really been updating because I know no one wants to hear about how I hate everyone sometimes. Yes, everyone. ESPECIALLY YOU.

Anyway, to continue what I was talking about way back then, the hair and the tattoo. I went back and had my hair re-done and it's red now, but I'm still not entirely happy. It's red and people call it red and all, but I know natural redheads whose hair is WAY more red. Anyway, right after I get it done it looks something like this but eventually it fades considerably. People still call it red but I don't feel like it really is. It still looks better than my natural color, though, so I'm keeping it. And the lady who colors my hair seems incapable of going any more red (I keep asking and it keeps not happening) so I guess it's going to stay this way until I feel like undergoing the grueling task of finding a new stylist-- which I don't plan on doing anytime soon.

The tattoo is pretty cool. I know its one wing looks all mushed up in that photo, but it's 'cause I was holding my arm back. That was right after it was done and it was really sore if I had my arm anywhere other than pinned directly at my side. Anyway, it's all healed now, so I think it's time for another one.

You know how if you ask someone if their tattoo/piercing hurt a lot, they always tell you it doesn't hurt? Same for waxing/threading and stuff like that. "Oh Brazilian waxes? Those don't hurt AT ALL, just go for it!"

All of these statements are lies. All of those things hurt. The thing is that they hurt, but it's tolerable, and its manageable. I think we come to assume that pain is something we can't reasonably have-- the reason why people get angry at me for not taking aspirin when I have a headache even though it doesn't affect them. To most of us most of the time, pain of any amount is something to be avoided at all costs, and to cause any amount of pain is abhorrent. If you and your friends are slinging rubber bands at each other and someone goes "OW, dude that one HURT!" then the game is over. You apologize. Why any of you assumed that getting hit with rubber bands WOULDN'T hurt is questionable. What's solid is that, if you sling a rubber band and it hits someone and it stings, you're an asshole.

So when you encounter pain that is manageable, you don't really know how to categorize it. Furthermore, since you actually sought out and paid to have this pain, you feel like you can't reasonably say it was painful. Why would you go out and pay someone to hurt you? So you end up saying it doesn't hurt, because that's the only category we have that accurately describes your relationship with the pain you experienced.

Just before my tattoo I suddenly panicked. What if the pain was more than I could handle? I was there with my then-boyfriend who had a massive tattoo all the way down one arm. If I couldn't take it I would have to concede that he was tougher than me, something I will never ever do otherwise. He told me he ended up watching TV and cranking up his headphones at full volume because it hurt so bad, and the sound of the machine made it worse. What if I couldn't take it?

Not only did I take it just fine, I didn't have any distractions. I just kind of starred off into space for two hours, occasionally chatting with then-boyfriend, mostly scanning the titles of the books on the shelves in front of me. I think this annoyed him because he kept offering me my iPod or phone and I kept declining, and finally he got cranky and decided to go get a soda from the store across the street so he wouldn't have to watch me be way tougher than him.