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.

Update, Re: Hope

My optimism has waned considerably after three tries and vaguely-red-and-not-even-the-right-red hair. Why is it so easy to shake up my world views? I think all anthropologists are like this. If we weren't, there's no way we could use Warcraft to write on the creation of identity and the nature of human interaction. And certainly no one would give you tenure for it*.

If anything, the cognitive dissonance and guilt related to having to tell your perky stylist they messed up is just further proof that I am never going to change. And, more importantly, if I think dying my hair will make me change, I am dumb but probably also a fantastic ethnographer. Because in medical anthropology EVERYTHING MEANS EVERYTHING and no extrapolation is too generous. Take the last article I read, for example: People sharing food with each other in Fiji means that your body is communally owned and you are not your own individual person, nor do you have control over your own physicality.

So my excitement over the tattoo is combined now with a deep-seated fear of permanent disfigurement and a compulsion do just freaking do it anyway because like, come on. Really.

Though I guess it's not fair to say I'll never change, since I haven't turned in my last two weekly assignments in Ethnobotany and I don't even really care. Normally this would cause me to panic but these things are like, what, half a percent of the whole semester? And when I have a paper, presentation, project, or midterm nearly every day for three solid weeks, watching videos and giving trite summaries is just gonna have to go on the back burner. The fact that I'm okay with that is pretty interesting.



*If this does NOT make you want to quit your job and become an anthropologist, you better be a professional chocolates-massages-and-wine-at-the-same-time critic because I cannot imagine anything sweeter than getting paid to screw around in Warcraft and then tell people how to think about it.

How Dying My Hair Brown Made Me Fear The Future, Part II

My god. What if the tattoo ends up like the hair? Good looking to everyone but me? Just far enough from what I wanted that every time someone points it out, I get even more disappointed? If I can't even pick who to color my hair and cope with five days of off color, how could I possibly pick a tattoo artist? What would I do if THAT didn't come out right? If the wrong hair color makes me feel like I'm looking at a different person in the mirror, A) how much of a sissy am I and B) what the hell kind of reaction would I have to the wrong tattoo?

Suddenly the insecurities came back. Maybe these are superficial changes and aren't really enough to make them go away. Even if I get the right red, even if I get the right tattoo, even if I didn't need grad school-- am I really going to feel different? I had imagined embodying the kind of person I wanted to be would make me that person. In all likelihood, I will not change. And when I imagine me in that body, it suddenly doesn't seem to appealing. Maybe I won't be vibrant and self-assured. Maybe I will still be worried and difficult, just with red hair and a tattoo and a lower education level.

While on the one hand I feel like I should know that getting body mods and new hair styles doesn't make a person change. But in my work to change thoughts and behavior, I felt like I needed to look different to really be regarded as different-- even just to myself. I remembered back when I wore whatever I wanted and had ridiculous hair, when I had friends and people thought I was tough. I was more obviously an individual, and because of that I feel now that the expectations of me were very different.

If I obviously looked how I wanted without much regard for how stupid that was, it sent three messages: 1) That I was stupid, 2) that I wasn't about to change anything I did for you, and 3) that I was stupid and wasn't about to change anything I did for you. Somehow, those three not entirely desirable judgments made me a more likable person. Back then no one ever told me "You know what your problem is?" or "You ALWAYS do this!" Back then anything I did to rub my friends the wrong way was met with a shrug and a write off-- well, that's Blossom. That's why we like her, she's kind of a jerk. It's funny.

Maybe I thought that if I started looking how I imagined would be awesome without concern for how weird it was, I could get that pass again. The imperfections would turn back into quirks. The quirks would build character, not a character flaw. In some ways, I would rather be the ranga with freckles and temper than anyone else.

So I'm going tomorrow to get the red, and ten days after that I'm getting that tattoo. I'm still not going to grad school and I don't plan on taking the GRE "just in case." I'll keep going to my unpaid internship, crossing my fingers that something I learn or someone I meet will prevent me from having to move back in with my parents next year. I will make that Rocky Horror joke in my medical anthropology lecture when we discuss the formation of the transsexual identity through surgical practice. I guess because hope springs eternal and even though the future is just as scary as ever, I'm not going to let that stop me from going there anymore.

How Dying My Hair Brown Made Me Fear The Future, Part I

Apparently some people were actually reading this and were disappointed when I stopped updating. Traveling this summer and moving back into the dorms, coupled with an internship and a full 18 credit semester, has left me with little time to bitch and pontificate. Time passed and shit happened. More on this later. For now, I would like to explain how dying my hair brown last Saturday made me extremely fearful of the future.

I've wanted to be a redhead since I was a kid. I always talked about coloring my hair but never did it because I used to grow out & donate my hair to nonprofits that make wigs out of them. Don't judge my hobbies-- it beats model trains and fantasy football. Some sick kids out there now have 12-17 inches of my flexible head growths. Anyway, I finally decided to just cave and color my hair. Originally I was gonna do it in a salon, then I got talked into doing it at home, then I got talked into doing it in a salon again. Last Saturday I came with the photos I've been pining over for the last few years (my tastes in shades of red have changed since the teenygoth days of yesteryear) and went to the lady who usually makes my hair look so damn good.

I left with brown hair.

Not intentionally-- and, mind, it was a different shade of brown. Somewhere a wire had been crossed that turned copper red to a not at all red kind of brown. The roots were reddish and, only seeing that, I left without realizing that all the hair behind my head was only about one shade off. It wasn't until I got home and inspected it in the mirror and normal, non-trendy salon lighting that I realized it was not at all red on 90% of my head.

People complimented it every day since, since it's still a nice shade of brown, but it's not red. It's not RED so it's not what I wanted, and no amount of being a nice shade of brown has yet been able to quell my disappointment. It's like finally getting the courage to jump out of the plane with your parachute to find you're only ten feet off the ground. You land on your feet and everyone claps a little, but it is just not the same damn thing as terminal velocity.

I rescheduled for tomorrow to have it re-done, but now I'm plagued by insecurities. This red was one of the first steps in my transition from a stressed student to someone who I was determined would be more relaxed, more accepting of her situation. I was going to stop fearing the what-ifs, stop sweating the extra efforts, and start doing the things that made me feel good. I started eating better, packing lunches and snacks so I didn't go hungry all day during class (a bad habit I've had since middle school). I stopped impulse shopping. I threw out much of my lazy clothes. I decided not to go to grad school right now, not to take the GREs. I convinced myself not to panic when I ran out of time and couldn't complete an assignment. I made the appointments to dye my hair red and get that tattoo.

The most immediate of these things has gone wrong. And not horribly wrong, because it's fixable, but many of these others are not. If dying my hair was a mistake, what else was a mistake? What about all the things I threw away? What about grad school? What about a freaking tattoo?

I am a consumer whore

My quest for Korean and Japanese cosmetics may be dashed. One of the girls asked the TAs if there was a touristy section of the island, which is exactly where I wanted to go to find that stuff. The overwhelming majority of tourists to Guam are Japanese, so much so that many of the hotels and shopping centers' websites are only in Japanese. Because of this, I've heard that you can find Asia-exclusive products and brands in Guam. The TAs told her that there is, but it's lame and boring so they wouldn't want to take us there. D'aww :( Dior did an Asia-only re-release of the Iridescent Leather quint* and I might not get my hands on it. I am a sad panda.

So today we went and saw all the sites we'll be working on and, despite layering on a bunch of physical-blocking sunscreen, my arms and shoulders are burned to a crisp. I guess reapplied SPF60 isn't good enough, so I'm going to go get some 85 as soon as possible even though it'll have to be a chemical block in that case. I've never seen a physical one over SPF65.

But since I'm already burned, I'll also need some aloe and antioxidant products (both of which I own but didn't bring) and some long-sleeved shirts which I also didn't bring with me. Why do the solutions to all my problems always involve buying things?

* Christian Dior is famous for their eyeshadow quints, a small palette with five sparkly shadows in it. They're probably one of the most popular cosmetic products in the world. For the holidays a few years ago they sold a quint called Iridescent Leather, which was full of cool brown neutrals-- a set of shades that are surprisingly hard to find in high-end makeup. It was a smash hit and sold out everywhere. Now it's one of the most sought-after and hard to find items for makeup enthusiasts like myself. Though the quints usually retail for $50, this one can be sold on Ebay for... Well, let's just say substantially more. If you put an IL quint up for swap (a deal through Makeup Alley where users trade makeup/skincare products they don't want, probably the best way to get discontinued/hard to find products) you could probably get whatever you wanted for it.

Shu Uemura Discontinues US Sales

I'm not sure how many of you care about this, but beloved cosmetics brand Shu Uemura is going to stop selling their products in the US sometime in the near future. No exact dates or explanations have been given, but this sucks. Dong.

You win again, LVHM

Okay so after I bought almost all of the nail polishes I want (still need China Glaze's Wizard of Oz and new spring stuff, plus OPI Alice in Wonderland and then I'll be set, so I think I'm still like 7 polishes short of having everything I want) I moved on to wanting millions upon millions of lipsticks. I think it started when YSL had their first ever sale and the lipstick I wanted sold out before I got it so I started looking at all the other colors to see if there was another one I could use. It got worse when Sephora decided to stop carrying Cargo and their Plant Love Evangeline lipstick disappeared forever before I managed to snag a tube. Somewhere in there I was shown, by my boyfriend's roommate of all people, this video. Ignore the pandering of "CHEMICAL FREE" makeup (which makes me want to punch unicorns) and just watch her put on that lipstick. Yes.

So now I want lots and lots of lipstick in pretty orange and peach and whatnots. So much so that last night I had a dream. I dreamed that I went through my closet and it was filled with EVERY LIPSTICK EVER and they all looked good on me and I was so happy. Then in my dream I "woke up" and had no makeup so I went to the store but all they had were eyeshadow palettes and I haaate eyeshadow palettes. What more all the glitter was rubbing off onto everything and it was a big mess and uhggg it was horrible. That's my version of a bad dream. Really.

Oh wait I just realized I also want the LA Girl Rockstar polish set and a few from China Glaze's Rodeo Diva set, so I'm more like 15 polishes short of having all the ones I want. Kay.

See there are lots of people with weird makeup obsessions on Makeupalley, and they make me feel better about this because they are all much, much worse. For starters I don't own near as much of ANYTHING as they do and I actually use all the makeup I own. Here are some of the things that were posted today that made me feel like I can buy as much as I want and still not have a real problem... You might need to be a member to view these links but I recommend making an account so you can search the reviews there, they do reviews of bath/skincare/makeup and it's a really good way to find out of something is good before you buy it.

Anyway, this person bought more eyeshadows in one single internet order than I own at all. They're NYX so they're all only a couple of dollars each, but sheesh. This is a post of someone's lip product stash that honestly makes me very jealous. I had more than that in my dream, but still that's awesome. This stash is JUST eyeshadow palettes and nothing else. Every single one of those containers has 4-10 eyeshadows in them. This is like the sad part of my dream, actually-- they were all in a black cabinet like that and I couldn't tell what was in any of them. Psssh, palettes. You're so boring.

I told them about my dream and one girl said this week she dreamed she applied false eyelashes perfectly, something she's still trying to do in real life. I'm not alone :D

Where's my freaking medal

I want to get a BA in anthropology, an MPH with a focus on preventative medicine, and then I want to get hired by a nonprofit. I want them to ship me out to the Middle Of Freaking Nowhere, Asia-Pacific, where I want to work on sanitation and public health programs that will help prevent people from contracting diseases like hepatitis A and keep children from dying of preventable conditions like diarrhea. I want to make infant mortality and malnutrition drop off, and I want to be rid of illnesses like tuberculosis. I want to help make childbirth safe and sanitary so that no babies or mothers have to die because they didn't have access to clean facilities. I want to do this in areas that are hours away from hospitals, where political instability can prevent people from traveling for help. I don't care if the nonprofit I work for to have a freaking sign that says "NO VIOLENT INCIDENTS IN _________ WEEKS."

What I also want is to know why everyone seems to think this is a stupid idea. Everyone that's heard about this so far has tried to talk me out of it, not just because of the danger I may be in personally but because many of them seem to think that this is somehow unimportant. At least they've convinced me of one thing-- I can't do anything that could kill me because no one would take my place doing that kind of work if I died.

I want my pat on the back damn it :| Are there really so few people who think health is important? I can get botulism injected into my face to prevent wrinkles any day I feel like it but there are still places in the world where leprosy is a common problem-- Am I really the only one who finds that to be more than a little messed up?

In summary: Wah wah no one will tell me how awesome I am, I want a hamburger and french fries and a milkshake.

(If this was snarked on sf_drama the title of the post would be "Would someone give Blossom her freaking pony already?")

But then some days I'm stamping my nails and I suddenly realize, holy crap, I could go to beauty school and do nails for a living. Every day I could be going to work and painting nails and drilling acrylics and gluing on rhinestones. And it would be awesome. No really, how sweet would that be? Herp derp I'm going to work, gotta go paint some nails with pretty designs for six hours. You're essentially getting paid to doodle on people, and you get to sit the whole time. Sure you gotta touch some gnarly feet every once and a while, but that's not bad at all.

I guess there's no demand for professional nail technicians in impoverished rural areas, but maybe I could start my own nonprofit using my Konad kit. Save the Nails? Stamps for Subalterns? Poverty Pedicures? Hey leprosy survivors! You've only got seven fingers left, you better make the best of it! Your family's not going to take you back with dry cuticles!

Wait. That's not funny.