Obsession
I don’t know when it started exactly. Surely, Hank Moody’s (or rather: David Duchovny’s) ring finger tattoo appealed to me very much. But there were also those two stupid pricks at the bus. One of them talked about how he had plenty of ideas for tattoos. Funny enough, when he actually shared them, they were just some two stupid mediocre banalities. But it got me thinking. What it would be like to get one myself?
It was two days ago that I imagined my favourite number on the inner side of the right ring finger. It just came to my mind from nowhere. From thoughts to action, I drew an 11 with a pen. I liked it immediately. The day after I refined it by using bigger, hollow numbers. The shaded outline made it look even better. And it also created a nice impression when viewed from top, slightly obscured by joined middle finger. It’s just like two sharp, parallel blades from this angle. It’s going to be seen so often: when I drink, smoke, shake hands, and most prominently: when bridging while playing pool.
So here I am today, for the third day in a row tattooing myself with a pen. I try to get used to the idea, see whether I could live with that. And boy, it’s so exciting to have it. Probably I will have been bored with it after a couple of days or weeks, but I don’t think I’ll ever regret that. Really, really exciting :)
I’m gonna get this done for my birthday, period.
The Reason
Things are getting sore recently. I’m losing interest in every single activity I once enjoyed (yes, including billiards). I thought I should have something to let me survive this dull period, like I always had. After paying off all the taxes, I finally reached equilibrium. It’s super hard to stay in balance without That Next Thing™ to fight for and to look forward to. It occurred to me not that long ago, that once I’m here, I no longer have to do anything. After months of searches and struggles, I finally have a steady stream of cash flowing. Who needs the kitchen? I managed almost a year without; it cannot be the TNT. Tattoo is a far better idea. But what after that? I once thought it should be getting enough savings to be able to cruise for a year. Unfortunately, it’s not something immediate and tangible. Maybe it should be that finishing of the house redecoration?
There is a couple of things I wanted to get done (apart from the kitchen). Terrace, bathroom, new TV and probably some other toys. Well, those I removed from my wish-list quite willingly. I also grew up to the idea of not getting a Mac in near future. I just cannot afford it, and I won’t beg for that. Simple as that; done and dusted. Upgrading my current gear with an SSD may be enough. Heck, even with this setup I’m doing OK, or more than that—I got pretty fond of my workflows.
About a Girl
B. once said that you’d eventually miss the warmth of other body, occasional hugs and kisses; that it’s hard to go by just by yourself. I’m sort of willing to agree with this. Sadly, I’m getting those feelings from time to time. And there’s no one that could satiate them. This 11 tattoo is supposed to mean—amongst other things— Forever Alone.
It must be Californication that got me thinking about it again. I mean, about a relationship with a woman. It is my pet-peeve to think I’m special in the same way the characters from my favourite shows are. So obviously I was getting this message in my head, that me, like Hank Moody, just cannot keep it simple; that I must create mess around me when it comes to being with others. My avoiding nature wants to keep myself from making any mistakes and from making anyone’s life miserable. But what if I applied my stoic stance and say that it’s not entirely my responsibility how others feel? Do I want to try again? Maybe. Do I want to get serious? Hell, no! Hank-Karen-like relationship? That’s acceptable, I guess.
Another Couple of Reasons
Shite, I’m questioning everything nowadays. The reasons, I mean, the reasons for doing almost anything. Why would I involve in that again? Why do I want to make that silly tattoo? To impress others? To show off? Why do I enjoy my work? Being able to do things no one else can (I think I wrote something like this in one of my cover letters). Just like a minute ago, when I posted a possible reasoning for some strange behaviour. Gosh, that endorphins flow after you get acknowledged… Do I always have to prove I’m better than anyone? Or better than what? Than it appears to be? To manipulate what others think of me?
Why do I play pool? That is: why do I compete? I could be done with playing casually with JJ in Pik. What is it then, that I need more? Do I want to be the best? Or better than some people I loath? Like that fucktard S., who’s never gonna win a tournament and yet wants everyone else to adjust to his will and stupid regulation ideas. I do wonder how it feels to lift a trophy, but now I realised this paradox: you cannot get it unless you detach emotionally and just play one shot at a time. How would that be different then than doing a practice routine? I guess it’s only visible in the hindsight and can only please us in the retrospective after certain events.
The points don’t matter either, they also are just a consequence, not a goal itself. I stopped caring about them probably the moment I realised that there is no more competition at Europool’s Amateur Tournament. Everyone of us, regular attendees will get through to the Masters. It is a bit disappointing though. What’s the reason to do it then?
How about this one: why the fuck do I care about writing this blog? It’s clear to me now, that there’s many benefits to expressive writing; I’ve experienced them when I was writing my secret diary. So why not just stick to keeping it undisclosed? I must say, I get a mixed sense of feelings when the idea of making anything public crosses my mind. I can’t just write anything. Some sentences could get me into jail I suppose ;)
Publishing something into the everlasting internet resembles… getting a tattoo! Anyone will be able to see it, they will judge it, mock it, despise it, and it stays for the lifetime (more-or-less)… Some might even like it, but the question is again: why would I want to show it to anyone? Maybe I don’t. Maybe I just do it for the sake of romancing with the idea of being vulnerable for a moment? Perhaps I don’t want anyone to see it, but the fact that it’s possible makes me adjust. Hmm… That doesn’t sound right. Do I want to be a conformist? I thought I don’t care what others think, but obviously I do to some degree.
The Ultimate Reason
This final question is getting me sleepless nights recently: why do I stay here, in this city? What keeps me here? Why did I want to get an apartment exactly here? It could be anywhere now, my job’s remote. But what about billiards then? Well, is this the only place with a pool club in the whole world? What about music? I’m proud of myself that I finally picked up bass again after months of not even plugging in. Do I still want it? Get other instruments? Play? Create? If yes, do I have to do all of it here?
Ah, “wherever you go, there you are”. There’s no point in looking for greener pastures. If I’m not content with myself, I will not find contentment anywhere in the universe…
Posted in: uncategorized
Tags: