When did I stop being a freak?
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It was quite a stunning revelation this morning when I came to the conclusion that I am normal. I don't know exactly when this happened, but it has turned out to be quite the shock. To explain things a little bit here, I'm pierced (not overly so, but still sporting the hardware), tattooed and a Witch. I know, quite sexy 
. I never wore all black unless I was doing it for a reason (like wanting to dress up or something) and I've never been garish, but I had grown quite accustomed to having people stare at me, ask questions ("Did that piercing hurt?" is a question I heard a million times, along with the same question about my tattoos) or just treat me differently. I just realized after having been here for almost 4 months that people don't give me the strange looks or ask me questions. They just see me as an extension of normal, or whatever can be considered normal for a college town.
Now don't get me wrong. I have never done any of the body modifications for shock value. I always think long and hard before inking or piercing because I don't want to be ashamed of a choice I made when I was in my 20's for the rest of my life. I always thought the only really normal thing I had ever done was get my tounge pierced and even then I didn't do it for the reason that most peope would assume. Now, honestly... when you see a girl with her tounge pierced you probably snap to some judgement of her being a slut or a spoiled brat. For me, it was about marking the end of who I used to be and the beginning of who I was trying to become. I also did it to help end a relationship.
(Long story short... I spent six years in a really bad relationship. I had wanted my tounge pierced before I began the relationship, but couldn't do it because I was too young. Once I was finally old enough I couldn't do it because the man I was involved with told me if I did it then he would leave me. Fast forward six miserable years and I kick him out. Next day I went and got my tounge pierced, partially with the hopes that he would get the very loud "fuck you" that was embedded in my action. It kind of worked believe it or not.)
So, in other words, my tattoos and piercings have always been about what messages I am trying to send. I don't send messages just because I like to hear my own screams, but because I either want to mark something so that I don't forget what I have gone through or because I want to show my inner self to the outer world. But now, my primal communications have become lost in the din of the screams of those around me.
I find myself now wondering how to get that voice back. Do I have to get more tattoos, be more extreme with my piercings and wear more outlandish clothes? I think at that point I would become just as bad as those around me. I would cease being as unique as I have always been and end up being part of the crowd, which is what this was all about avoiding in the first place. I certainly don't want to end up going the lets wear print dresses and be conservative and deny my personality as a method of standing out, because although that would work, it would completely sublimate who I am and have fought to become. Counter-productive. I like sitting here at the library knowing under my fuzzy comfy sweatshirt lies a dolphin tattoo. I love the reassurance of having that part of me in reserve and the comfort that the symbol brings, as well as the memories of home. But I somehow feel uncomfortable when it's not on display, like I'm somehow not being open and honest.
The moment I decided to ink my body a part of it began to belong to the world. Energy was infused into my being by the melding of ink and skin, creativity and flesh and my overwhelming desire to join with the images and become part of them forever. This was a statement I made to the world for my own reasons. I displayed part of my soul out in the open, without regard to how people would react and I find now that it's become unnerving not having that reaction there.
But, when I come up against it, I think maybe my message is being heard much louder than I ever thought possible. People here realize something that means all the difference. For me, it's real. I'm not doing what I do for any reason other than it's who I have become, not something in between on the way to something different. This isn't a phase or a knee jerk reaction to suddenly being on my own and responsible for my own decisions. The moment my life and the decisions I make became a real and coherent process, when I achieved self-validity is when I ceased being a freak.
When did I stop being a freak? The day I grew up.
. I never wore all black unless I was doing it for a reason (like wanting to dress up or something) and I've never been garish, but I had grown quite accustomed to having people stare at me, ask questions ("Did that piercing hurt?" is a question I heard a million times, along with the same question about my tattoos) or just treat me differently. I just realized after having been here for almost 4 months that people don't give me the strange looks or ask me questions. They just see me as an extension of normal, or whatever can be considered normal for a college town. Now don't get me wrong. I have never done any of the body modifications for shock value. I always think long and hard before inking or piercing because I don't want to be ashamed of a choice I made when I was in my 20's for the rest of my life. I always thought the only really normal thing I had ever done was get my tounge pierced and even then I didn't do it for the reason that most peope would assume. Now, honestly... when you see a girl with her tounge pierced you probably snap to some judgement of her being a slut or a spoiled brat. For me, it was about marking the end of who I used to be and the beginning of who I was trying to become. I also did it to help end a relationship.
(Long story short... I spent six years in a really bad relationship. I had wanted my tounge pierced before I began the relationship, but couldn't do it because I was too young. Once I was finally old enough I couldn't do it because the man I was involved with told me if I did it then he would leave me. Fast forward six miserable years and I kick him out. Next day I went and got my tounge pierced, partially with the hopes that he would get the very loud "fuck you" that was embedded in my action. It kind of worked believe it or not.)
So, in other words, my tattoos and piercings have always been about what messages I am trying to send. I don't send messages just because I like to hear my own screams, but because I either want to mark something so that I don't forget what I have gone through or because I want to show my inner self to the outer world. But now, my primal communications have become lost in the din of the screams of those around me.
I find myself now wondering how to get that voice back. Do I have to get more tattoos, be more extreme with my piercings and wear more outlandish clothes? I think at that point I would become just as bad as those around me. I would cease being as unique as I have always been and end up being part of the crowd, which is what this was all about avoiding in the first place. I certainly don't want to end up going the lets wear print dresses and be conservative and deny my personality as a method of standing out, because although that would work, it would completely sublimate who I am and have fought to become. Counter-productive. I like sitting here at the library knowing under my fuzzy comfy sweatshirt lies a dolphin tattoo. I love the reassurance of having that part of me in reserve and the comfort that the symbol brings, as well as the memories of home. But I somehow feel uncomfortable when it's not on display, like I'm somehow not being open and honest.
The moment I decided to ink my body a part of it began to belong to the world. Energy was infused into my being by the melding of ink and skin, creativity and flesh and my overwhelming desire to join with the images and become part of them forever. This was a statement I made to the world for my own reasons. I displayed part of my soul out in the open, without regard to how people would react and I find now that it's become unnerving not having that reaction there.
But, when I come up against it, I think maybe my message is being heard much louder than I ever thought possible. People here realize something that means all the difference. For me, it's real. I'm not doing what I do for any reason other than it's who I have become, not something in between on the way to something different. This isn't a phase or a knee jerk reaction to suddenly being on my own and responsible for my own decisions. The moment my life and the decisions I make became a real and coherent process, when I achieved self-validity is when I ceased being a freak.
When did I stop being a freak? The day I grew up.
