Perspective

I sometimes wonder if when I’m 35 I’ll look back on this decision and think of it as a mistake, or some silly college phase. Granted I understood when I got a tattoo that it was permanent, but how well does any 19-year-old (or anybody for that matter) conceptualize the idea “forever.”

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t regret the decision at all. Getting a tattoo, especially under the circumstances I got mine, was a truly moving experience. Some background for those that might not know how the tattoo came to be. I decided when I was in my early teenage years that I was going to get a tattoo upon turning 18, not necessarily immediately as proof my rebellion (I’m not the rebel child of my family by any stretch of the imagination, but that is a different subject entirely), but I knew it was something I wanted to experience. Deciding on a design was much harder than I thought it would be. There always seemed to be some discomfort about what I really wanted, which clearly meant (to me) that I was not ready.

Eventually I reached my decision and to my complete shock, my dad expressed desire to get a tattoo as well. At 55 years old my dad was about to get his first tattoo, and I was getting mine right along with him. He decided to get a memorial tattoo to my grandfather, who passed away in 2002. We were lucky enough to have an artist, Kyle, who took incredibly good care of us. He designed my dad’s tattoo and it was obvious that he put serious thought and effort into its execution. On the night of our appointment, my dad decided to go first and seeing the tattoo develop over the two hours that he sat in the chair literally brought tears to my eyes.

And yet, two years after this, part of me wonders if I rushed into this decision. The difficult part about tattoos is that everybody views them differently. Some people expect them be representative of their personality for the rest of their life, while others use them to showcase a snapshot of time. I guess I think it’s a little of both. I got the Dalí clock to remind me about perspective, and how the “right” way of seeing something doesn’t really exist.

I think this is a lesson that I will need to be reminded of at 35 and many years beyond that.