hello oh my god i am so irrationally angry today what is up
I am irrationally angry that there is nothing cool left that I can do to be counterculture. Tattoos and piercings are rapidly being made acceptable by The Masses; you can wear pretty much any ridiculous thing and be grouped with a commonly known in-crowd of punks or goth kids or hipsters or nerdy gamers; the only way to really go against the grain is to Have Opinions, and I have those in spades but there is no way to make myself look like an intelligent person (especially if one has a penchant for vegan combat boots and/or five inch pinup girl heels. I don't exactly scream "credible" here). I am most frustrated by the tattoo thing. On one hand, I don't want to limit anyone's choices or personal decisions. If you like stars, great, go get some over your ass. But on the other hand, I really hate people who get a tattoo just for the sake of having one. You know who I am talking about: the giggly tourist who goes into the tattoo shop with her friend and picks a butterfly out of a big book to put on her ankle*. I don't understand that point of view. I have a lot of tattoo ideas, but they are all designs that I really, really love and would like to put on my body forever. What makes you want something so insignificant to you, permanently engraved on your skin? Hi, this is my prejudiced bitchface. How are you today. I do not care because I am angry.
I guess I obsess too much over my own appearance, but god damn it, I have spent far too much time hating my body to not want to put Pretty Things on it. I like it when people pay attention to me, I like being noticed. But I would rather spend my time in a burlap sack with a paper bag over my head than be written off as Just Another [insert subculture group here] Kid, or (even worse) be grouped in with Everybody Else. I guess the last frontier is belligerently worded t-shirts and the T. Smith patented ugly oversized flannel. Sigh. And I so liked looking purty. I guess I'll go dig out the flannel.
Edited to add: Okay, I think I have figured out the seriously fucked up reason for my irrational anger. I think I want the world to be as disturbed by me as I am by it. I want suburban housewives and Wall St traders and office cubicle workers to look at me and say, jesus christ that girl must have some issues. That is not normal. That girl must not be like us at all. I want the overarching ideals of Job and Family and Society to say to me, YOU DO NOT FIT HERE, because I do not feel as though I fit there and I do not WANT to fit there. I am basically just a belligerent teenager at heart. I want to lash out at the world and say DO NOT WANT because I don't want to be part of most of it, and most days I would rather kill myself than graduate from school and get a job and pay rent and go food shopping after work and fall asleep watching TV.
* Also, that bitch made me have to wait two hours to get my ODI and AMO tattoos. Fuck you, tourist! Did you NEED to see one of the best lettering specialists in NYC? No, no you did not.
I guess I obsess too much over my own appearance, but god damn it, I have spent far too much time hating my body to not want to put Pretty Things on it. I like it when people pay attention to me, I like being noticed. But I would rather spend my time in a burlap sack with a paper bag over my head than be written off as Just Another [insert subculture group here] Kid, or (even worse) be grouped in with Everybody Else. I guess the last frontier is belligerently worded t-shirts and the T. Smith patented ugly oversized flannel. Sigh. And I so liked looking purty. I guess I'll go dig out the flannel.
Edited to add: Okay, I think I have figured out the seriously fucked up reason for my irrational anger. I think I want the world to be as disturbed by me as I am by it. I want suburban housewives and Wall St traders and office cubicle workers to look at me and say, jesus christ that girl must have some issues. That is not normal. That girl must not be like us at all. I want the overarching ideals of Job and Family and Society to say to me, YOU DO NOT FIT HERE, because I do not feel as though I fit there and I do not WANT to fit there. I am basically just a belligerent teenager at heart. I want to lash out at the world and say DO NOT WANT because I don't want to be part of most of it, and most days I would rather kill myself than graduate from school and get a job and pay rent and go food shopping after work and fall asleep watching TV.
* Also, that bitch made me have to wait two hours to get my ODI and AMO tattoos. Fuck you, tourist! Did you NEED to see one of the best lettering specialists in NYC? No, no you did not.