The merits of getting a tattoo

I spent last night in NYC visiting a few friends. I am now sitting on a hot Bolt Bus with no A/C relief in sight or touch. If I expire mid-post, it's been a great ride (buh-dut-CHING - I'll be here all night).

I write today to consider the merits of getting a tattoo, if not more than one. I spent last night with a friend who has one, whose roommate has even more, and whose boyfriend has even more. I, being inkless, felt oh-so out of place. So, as I schlepped from Chinatown to the Garden today, I kept my eyes peeled for others in the permanent design camp. To my astonishment, I'd estimate that more than half of folks between the ages of college to forty were sporting some sort of insignia. Is NYC simply over-saturated when it comes to such representation? Maybe the route I took provided an inadequate or unrepresentative sample size. Regardless of the answer, it got me thinking.

I feel like I've read or seen somewhere that tattoos have been en vogue for like 5,000 years. I think that's actually really impressive considering the current life span of people or things deemed "cool" (is Andre3000 still cool? Perhaps more importantly, does anyone still care?). Using its historical pedigree as a wide lens, my closer cut with a scalpel is this: I would never get a tat because I cannot think of a single thing that I like at 27 that I would 100%-definitely still like and think is attractive in 20-30 years. So, even though the universal popularity of tattoos has remained unchanged since King Tut, my biggest fear, individually speaking, is that my prospective stamp would not and could not be attractive even as my life progresses. Why do so many other people clearly think otherwise?

Maybe I am going about this the wrong way. Is it possible that most folks are simply looking for a quick fix/sudden burst of change and excitement via an avenue of Chinese symbols or barbed wire? Is it possible that folks who are inherently more likely to get a tattoo also more likely to not think about (or at least worry about) such finality? Or are folks just that much more confident than me that what they choose to ink will in fact still be cool to them far down the road?

My hunch about tattoos is similar to my theory about the immediacy of embarrassment spawned by the rise of social media, namely, that a lot of people are very interested in both viewing themselves as well as having others view and approve of them. Generally, someone with a tattoo is proud to show it to you (with the obvious exception of more intimate locales) and explain its significance. That, in turn, is commonly a good conversation starter about that person's history, family, or prior experiences that culminated in a trip to South St. Frankly, I think that is a meritorious exercise. In fact, maybe that's why folks get them in the first place. To have that icebreaker constantly in their holster so as to meet people and swap stories. If that is the case with you, I'd love to talk. If I have this all wrong and it is I, in fact, who is not cool because I cannot figure out and sign onto what is cool now and will be in 2039, then the joke is on me.

The voice of reason: Michael Irvin?

If you know me, you know that gay marriage is one of my absolute hot-button socio-political issues. Nothing is more fundamental to one's privacy, individuality, and place within oneself and community than choosing who you love and how to love them. I believe that marriage should have substantially similar parameters as the act of sexual intercourse:

-Consenting adult (and within this category is the objective standard of the requisite ability to consent, i.e., much greater care must be exercised when a marriage/sex act would occur between a mentally retarded or developmentally delayed individual and one of objectively average capacity);

-Over the age of 18 (preferred, not mandatory);

-Human being (I don't really know what to make of bestiality other than it seems like animals, biologically speaking, would be at least confused and probably not down with the whole plan).

That's pretty much my list. Just as Loving vs. Virginia announced a fundamental right to marry an individual of another race a generation ago, I eagerly await the Supreme Court to do the same when the question of gay marriage is presented to them in the next year or so by (of course you guessed it!) Ted Olson. (Remember, Justice Kennedy, the constant swing vote, generally has liberal leanings on social issues.) Among these exciting times, however, raises the obvious question: who should support such a change?

If you've seen some news recently, it seems as though at least Michael Irvin is on board. And not only is he trumpeting his personal belief in the institution, he has called out all African-Americans to join this rally. Yes, this is the same Michael Irvin who, for about the past 25 years, has lived in America's spotlight as a loudmouthed, uber-talented wide receiver at the University of Miami and later with the Dallas Cowboys, winning rings, flagrantly womanizing, and blazing through enough cocaine to make Lindsey Lohan blush. Though I doubt that he is gay (I really have no idea, nor does it matter), his argument is as apt as it is simple: African-Americans have been struggling for equality in America since its inception, and that not supporting gay marriage would be the equivalent to denying similarly and historically disadvantaged individuals akin to what Strom Thurmond and the other filibuster-ers did during the Kennedy and Johnson presidencies. Strong words from an interesting man.

I certainly agree with Mike. But really, I'd like to generate my own little rant. Traditionally, gay sex and gay marriage has not been accepted by conventional custom because, it seems to me, conventional custom can't seem to separate love from sex. Imagine the following hypo: Steve (a homophobe) and his wife go sightseeing with Bill and Jay (gay partners). Steve does not know that they are gay nor that they enjoy an active sex life. They hit the Liberty Bell, Independence Mall, the whole nine. Afterwards, everyone heads home. Do think Steve is freaked out or concerned? Of course not. So, why is the knowledge of their relationship and its characteristics the issue? My argument is that it is conventional custom/Steve's inability to not think about the actual act of Bill and Jay making love. And the thing that frustrates me the most is that I am pretty sure not a lot of folks (family, friends, co-workers, whatever) spend a lot of time or lose a lot of sleep over what Steve and his wife do in the bedroom. So, how hypocritical and non-sensical is it for conventional custom to penalize Bill and Jay from enjoying a healthy and officially recognized (yes, the tax breaks, estate issues, everything) because of its obsession with the way they express themselves physically when no one has ever placed such a scarlet letter on their breast?

Looking at it from another angle, how many times have you known someone- gay or straight- who gets involved in a relationship with someone you don't like or approve of? (Every time we go out to dinner from here on out, you are going to bring HIM along?!?!). While we may utter our breath, I doubt that too many of us actually raise a big stink during the whole "speak now or forever hold your peace" schpiel when the time comes. Who on earth are we to simply not allow one of our friends or family members find that special place with their special person?

To conclude my rant, let me just reiterate the point that it is neither right nor fair to mandate who those closest to you may or may not love. In my experience, it's not really a choice, anyway. How many times have you heard, "I just CANNOT believe I am going back to her," only to have an ill-fated love rekindled above your objections. Love is an intrinsic, uncoachable, often inescapable rapture that can't be molded to whim. With that said, how many homosexual individuals do you think would, if able, snap their fingers, become straight, and just marry someone of the opposite gender because of the convenience derived from societal approval? Not all, of course, but I am sure some. But, like love, sexual orientation cannot be simply be chosen or turned on or off like a light switch. With that indisputable truth, who are we to deny it?

Balance

I steadfastly believe that life is about balance. Work vs. play. Talking vs. listening. Doing vs. watching. I write today worrying that many people I both know and see (myself included) easily fall into lives that are too one dimensional to create and sustain that elusive harmony between being content with yourself while being an active and productive citizen in a civilized society. It is my belief that of the folks whom I'll describe as one-dimensioners ("OD's"), it is the ones who give too much of themselves to others who are the workaholics and bad spouses while those who lose their way and give and give only to themselves are the ones we see who are truly the most troubled.

You see OD's everywhere. They angrily work long hours only to cut you off (and possibly even flip you off) on their ride home. They are the ones looking for quarters and food scraps in Suburban Station. They are that friend who is incapable of feeling sympathy or how to talk about anything other than themselves. My questions are, how did they get there, how do they get out, and are we all victims of such an imbalance in one way shape or form?

OD's who lose sight of themselves and replace their personal well-being for the sake of others (from their family, to their clients, to visitors to a soup kitchen where they volunteer seven days a week) seem to me to be attempting to find themselves through their own consistent and dominating extroverted characteristics. Young doctors in residency or energetic widows who sit on board after board might fall into this category. So too, as noted above, are the workaholics who put a deal or a conference in Tucson above her own weekend getaway to unwind and recharge. While they oftentimes make those around them happier, they do it at the expense of their own well being in the long run. In turn, I wonder if this personal depreciation manifests itself in a long term downgrade in those outward relationships that these OD's define themselves by or at least seem to live for.

OD's who place themselves and their self-perceived needs over others seem to be the more destructive of the group. By spurning relationships of a larger group in favor of a personal vice (gambling, let's say) in an effort to achieve personal happiness and satisfaction, this group manages to shut off much of their role as a productive member of society. I do not mean that all addicts uniformly fall into and wholly comprise this category. But I do ask that you think about that lazy or unambitious acquaintance who is simply more of a nail than a tire, thinking her utility is to fasten 2x4s when, in reality, she simply scuttles the progress of the journey of others.

OK. So how do we enter and reside in that hard-to-find place where our stars align? I think it's quite obvious: that place is different for each individual, but we all must take care to look for those signs both within us and our family and peers that can serve as guideposts along our way there. If you are a sculptor, be sure to mold the clay once a week. If you love skydiving, be sure to do that, too, if perhaps less frequently than once a week because it's just quite dangerous. If you can do what makes you happy while also helping your fellow man do anything from listen during his divorce to helping any older couple hail a cab and do those things on a consistent enough basis that you can sleep well at night and wake up with the energy to do it all over again in the morning, you not only are on the right path, but you're farther along than many.

The Immediacy of Embarrassment

While I am tempted to welcome you to my new blog, the author of A Concerned Philadelphian worries that he/she will be its only viewer for the foreseeable future. So, just as I don't smile and wave at my solitary mirrored image, I'll hold off on such formalities for now.

I will not, however, gloss over the context of this blog's creation. I am a native Philadelphian who has recently been blessed with time to think, consider, persuade, vent and write. I will attempt to write and post a substantive piece every day for the next two weeks. I hope that these entries will serve more as a cathartic exercise for me than as party favors for guests. Coming full circle, party favors which are to be distributed at a party of one reminds me of the old adage of a tree falling with no one to hear such evidence. Nonetheless, if on the off chance that someone does find this Concerned Philadelphian, I hope they enjoy the posts.

The subject of this first post is, what I'd call, "the immediacy of embarrassment" made possible by the now unending web of easily transferable and downloadable digital information. Initially, I thought this entry would lean primarily on the peculiar trend of parents or friends using sites such as Facebook and MySpace to offer nearly unfettered access to the public to those less-than-noble moments of their family and friends ("Baby Joey picking his nose" or "Melissa drunkenly making out with Tom at the bar") captured and quickly uploaded by a Blackberry and how this has changed (at least my) self-perception. The more I thought about it, though, the more I think that the immediacy of embarrassment is brought on by individual choices that actually reinforce personal independence, as opposed to the unflattering posts made by folks in your viewable vicinity which I initially thought robbed individuals of some sort of intangible liberty that was wholly off limits even ten years ago before the age of BlueTooth and the Cloud. This is the see-saw in my head. Allow me to explain both.

I am of the age where the documentation of my formative years is preserved either by the memories of the folks who I was with at the time or by printed film pictures which rest comfortably in albums or frames. All of these mementos are appreciated (for better or worse) in a rather contained universe- my immediate family, cousins/aunts/uncles, grandparents. The fact that I wore an embarrassing jean jacket to my middle school graduation may be the source of playful jibes while we discuss yesteryear after Thanksgiving dinner, but such taunts generally end not long after the last piece of pumpkin pie has been consumed. The memory itself is extracted from its collective familial archive, examined over laughs and flushed cheeks, and ultimately refiled, all within the confines of a familiar living room and crowd of loved ones. My hunch is that if you have successfully managed to access and read this blog, you know quite well that those days are gone, never to return.

Events deemed recently newsworthy have recently produced headlines like "unborn fetus accepts two hundredth Facebook friend invitation." Obviously, baby John or Jane is not personally clicking the "Accept" button for such offers, offers which undoubtedly include their parents' co-workers, friends of friends, and, even more tangentially related, theretofore unknown fans of unborn fetuses who can accept Facebook friend invitations. In this action lies the transition that moved me to write: the tight confines- both real and psychological- of a post-Thanksgiving ribbing session have given way to a world in which with two depressions of a thumb, individual autonomy of likeness and reputation is almost totally decentralized. While that clearly seems to be an unattractive byproduct of the digital age, I do not think it'd be fair to overzealous picture snapping friends or, perhaps, fans of unborn fetuses who can accept Facebook friend invitations, to end the story there.

It is my contention that the powerful emergence of social media has been driven by a weird intersection of shortened attention spans and an individual desire to be seen, judged, and approved of by friends and strangers alike. Most interpersonal websites- Match.com, Facebook, whatever- seem to me to be simply vehicles selected by folks who, at least upon signing up, desire the sunglasses-on, top-down journey far more than the destination, whatever and wherever it may be. (Pay no attention to me writing an unedited, unsolicited blog accessible by anyone.) By signing up and opening yourself to a secondary world that feels more and more primary by the day (and advertisement and Tweet and Gchat "boing"), users not only give tacit approval to be pictured doing the reverse worm on a sticky club floor, they enjoy and even crave it. If they did not, they would shut their account down and the LinkedIn millionaires would be back at another angel investor conference as opposed to their recently purchased vacation homes in Maui. This, to me, is the ultimate juxtaposition: the cost benefit analysis of the potential to be immediately embarrassed versus an insatiable desire to be seen by the masses trumping the intimacy of the post-Thanksgiving living room and opting to leave that once pristine scene forever. Is this unattractive? Unwanted? Inevitable?

I guess it just depends on how much you like pumpkin pie.