It’s here! My semicolon is now permanently inked to the inside of my left wrist.
I’ve attached the video I took of the whole process. I had the opportunity to share the story of The Semicolon Project while he tattoo’d my arm, so I’ll let it tell its own story. Aron from “Gothic Realm” does an excellent job,of both tattoos and listening!
My Tattoo (This is the link to the video)
Please read back over my blogs to see the rest of the story and feel free to share.
As always,
Veritas – Eski!
Here are my final 4 options for the tattoo I will have by this time in 7 days:
1
2
3
4
See HERE for more details on why I’m choosing a semicolon at all.
I’d love to know your preference. Comment below with your favourite number and tell me why if you’d like to.
Veritas, Eski
In just over a week, I am going to a tattoo parlour with three of my friends to be inked with my first tattoo.
Since writing this post, “Permanent Ink,” I have found, once again, that people need someone to talk to. Sharing such a tiny part of my story has opened the gates for friends and acquaintances to ‘feel ok’ to talk about their own emotional story.
So, for those of you who still aren’t sure why I would choose to get a tattoo; I, who change my mind about what I like more often than others change knickers; I, who have a needle phobia; I, who do not have a style and if I did, it wouldn’t be a tattoo that was the symbol of it; here’s why.
Today, I read this article and last fortnight I read this blog post and in between I’ve read about The Semicolon Project.
I want to start a conversation with those who need it; I want to let people (including me) know that it’s ok to not be ok and that you are loved; I want to remind people (including me) to “pause and keep going.”
And that’s why, next week, I will be voluntarily extending my hand for permanent ink.
Thanks to Grace, of “Practical Creative Writing” we used this exercise today:
There are ten exercises below and each one comprises a simple set of three questions. Each one should be answered as quickly as you can. Remember, there are no right or wrong answers – only ideas. It is up to you to decide whether the ideas appeal to you enough to make you want to develop them further. I suggest trying them all and see what happens.
One
1. Who is coming round the corner?
It is Lilly. Her green dress flaps wetly around her legs. There are flicks of mud stuck to her stockings at the back that show she has walked swiftly through the rain for sometime. She is hurrying and takes no notice of where she has headed. Fortunately for both of us, I do.
2. What is their secret? 3. What are they carrying?
Lilly is huddles over. She has her arms wrapped protectively about her chest. At first glance it appears that she is trying to keep warm, but her thick wooden cardigan belies the action. The day is not so cold. She is rushed and flushed, her cheeks unnaturally bright in the greyness of the dim twilight. She does not notice me, but, trained as I am to observe, I notice the gasp as I catch her shoulders to avoid knocking her into the street. I notice the gasp and the clutch of her hands to her midsection. Lilly is pregnant and I don’t think that it is what she wants.
Two
1. Why did Peter lose his temper with Joanna?
Joanna laughed smugly, knowing that this time the tables had turned. Peter would be the one to leave their home today instead of her. She sat back comfortably on the white leather couch, watching as he scrabbled for his keys and wallet in the African earthenware dish they’d fought over early in their marriage. She knew it was the right thing to have by the door; he felt it was worth the yearly income of the small African village it had ostensibly come from. Just like today. She knew that selling their home was a bad idea; he believed that they needed to downsize. Phhht! Downsize was only a word she wanted to hear in relation to her wardrobe or her waistline.
2. Where did he go after he stormed out?
Peter headed to the late night cafe only two blocks away. He knew he was in no fit state to drive. This latest argument with Joanna had left him in no doubt of the state of their relationship; it was over. A fact he should have known any number of years ago. He and Joanna had been at loggerheads even before they married. As he drank his mildly bitter, styrofoam infused beverage, he knew that they were best described in terms of the fashion houses Jo was so fond of. She was Dolce and Gabbana and he was Dollars and Sense. It was ill fated from the start.
3. What happened to him when he got there?
An hour and a half and three lukewarm cups of coffee later, Peter knew the showdown that he’d been expecting wasn’t going to happen. Wearily, he walked the now quiet streets back to the atrocious and ostentatious villa. It too was quiet. He turned his key in the lock and made his way to the crisp perfection of the spare room.
3) Write a setting based on the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen.
Tasmania. Dove Lake. Snow capped mountains rise, blurry in the distance, around a gorgeous blue green lake. The air exits my mouth in cloudy puffs, drifting slowly in the calm air. The rough cut planks of the walk way form one of few human scars amidst the clumps of prickly heather. Heather is one of those mysterious plants that look round and soft and even a little fluffy from a distance. Up close, I notice the rough stems and gaps in the semi spherical blobs on the rocky ground. Dove Lake lies a few kilometres hence, glassy in the quiet of the mid afternoon. It’s enticing waters are as alluring as a siren’s song, and just as dangerous. Despite the smooth beauty of the surface, this way lies a swift and glacial freeze.
Write a letter to an agent, telling her how wonderful you are.
Dear Ms Stomar,
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to give you the opportunity to represent ME!
I’m awesome. I’m honest to a fault and definitely the sort of person you’ll be keen to represent. I describe myself as an outspoken, honest, drama queen.
I’ve heard of your excellent work and am keen to discuss possibilities for furthering my career with you.
Instead of writing the above, I’ve been distracted by the noise outside:
The excessive testosterone could be measured in the gruff notes of verandah karaoke and the vibrations of the floorboards beneath my feet. Assassins Creed references flew through the air, as did the impromptu parkour efforts; and failures. Occasionally, the roar dimmed to a murmur of one upmanship with spikes of attention grabbing falsetto. Despite both obvious and subtle attempts to the contrary, the girls present remained unimpressed and left without falling for the somewhat dubious charms of their male peers. Slowly, the racket subsided to a rumble, punctuated by growls and grunts whose use in communication seemed apparent only to the participants.
Write a 20 line poem about a memorable moment of your life.
I was born, I know that much
But the event itself, well, I’m out of touch.
I am sure I felt; I believe I’d cried
But I don’t remember being inside.
My mother does, at least somewhat
She was the one who was “on the spot”
As it were, when she had me
And because, as you know, I’m the first of three
The experience can’t have been ALL bad
For with my mum or my dad.
Since then I remember many things
Chasing butterflies; twisting on swings.
I remember the birth of my own babies, four
I remember deciding not to have any more.
I remember the pain of unnecessary death.
I remember the first time really noticing breath.
I remember the joy of finding direction
The smarting sting of all correction.
I even remember things I’ve been taught;
But of my birth, I remember naught.
Just for a little fun this afternoon, I have used this highly official name generator on our family. Henceforth, I shall known as, Professor Josephine Wraithwaddle.
My husband is: Lord Roderick Wraithhold
Eldest son (and heir to all our debts) carries the dubious title of Lord Wilfred Roth stone.
My daughter, my princess: Chief Inspector Henrietta Supperwaddle.
The two younger children have clearly tested our ingenuity as they clash on several points of unoriginality:
Earl Archibald Clankingfield and Earl Archibald Clankingchild.
Our visiting guest goes by Chief Inspector Percival Knightchild.
Clearly the steampunk community are only original when it comes to style of dress, not naming conventions; in our household at least.
Comment with your new Monicker!
A) I should not stay up til 2 am watching ‘romantic’ movies.
B) Said movies should not call themselves such if the plot involves two people who have been best friends since childhood and have avoided sharing their true feelings for one another almost as long.
C) There are 3 minutes of screen time left and they’re both still teary and un-together. This had better get better fast!
D) Stupid bloody fools! 12 years wasted.
E) Be honest.
F) For goodness sake, get some sleep!
G) Last 14 seconds of movie is kissing; prefaced by the words, “Better late than never.”
H) No.
I) Well, technically, yes. But why?!
J) Am going to watch something more honest, predictable and believable.
K) Like Jumanji.
I have never considered getting a tattoo before. This has been for two main reasons:
1) Apart from God and my family, I’ve never stuck to one thing long enough to warrant contemplating having it inked permanently onto my person.
2) I have a relatively severe needle phobia. This is self-explanatory.
This afternoon, I came upon this blog post:
And I felt a blast of decision. I will do this. I will tattoo a semicolon on my inner wrist to:
1) Remind me to take a pause and keep going. When I struggle with my depression, I need this. Life throws all manner of things at us and we all need to pause and keep going.
2) Start conversations. When I’ve shared my experiences of depression on Facebook, I’ve been whelmed by the conversations that are ignited. People vent and share and feel they’re not alone. I’ve had some people say that they’ve been on the verge of taking their own lives and, having seen my posts, have felt less alone and kept going.
One woman, hearing me describe my decade at a ladies’ conference, came up to me afterwards and said that her grown up daughter felt the same way as me and they’d never understood each other. She was going home that day to apologise and help her seek help. I’ve seen her since and apparently all is going much better.
During times like this, when I feel like my depression is somewhat sorted and under my control, I often forget to share and the world sees me as ‘normal’ me. I’d like to remind others and myself that depression is often ongoing and the need to support each other is also ongoing.
If experiencing some little pain will help even one person, it’s enough. I’ve been through much better and much worse than an hour or so of needle pricks; I can do this.
I will do this. Who would like to join me?
Create a character with personality traits of someone you love but the physical characteristics of someone you don’t care for.
I’ve chosen to use my mum (whom I love dearly) and a man I knew when I was about 13.
Renee is tall and wiry. She has is muscular to the point of thick, ropy cords of muscle rippling under her leathery skin. She looks old. Her skin is far to tanned and is beginning to look dehydrated. Her hair is also wiry and the white grey of the not-quite-old. She is decidedly unattractive in a conventional sense, but when you know and love her like I do, looks are no longer important.
Renee is generous to a fault. She is sometimes so concerned about the feelings of others that she apologises for doing something nice for them. Renee will do anything for her friends and family. Sometimes, this has backfired and she has been hurt, but family always wins out in the end. She seems incapable of being still for very long, finding jobs and activities to keep her hands busy and help others.Renee enjoys nice things like clothes and food, but mostly she enjoys sharing these things with others. She has been blessed with a reasonable wealth and is now intent on bestowing that blessing on others. She is love in action.
Eski Caterpillar! 