Rabbit, Run

So I have this tattoo on my right upper arm. I got it back in the summer of 2003. At the time I had moved back home with my parents, was single, unsuccessfully looking for a teaching job, waiting tables part-time, and staying up until 3 in the morning on an average weekday. What better way to celebrate these great achievements then by rewarding myself with a tattoo.

The tattoo is this logo thing that I carefully designed using my initials, which for better or worst just happen to be B.S. The tattoo itself is blotchy; it's not as filled in as it could be. That's because the day I got it I had the bright idea that to lessen the pain normally associated with getting a tattoo I would take a few shots of rum. However, alcohol causes your blood to thin, so as the needle is going in and out of your arm, you bleed more, making it harder to ensure that the intended area is covered. So I ended up with a less than stellar tattoo.

But at the time I convinced myself that regardless of its appearance this tattoo was more than just ink strategically placed under the skin, it was a statement, a statement of uniqueness, like a trademarked symbol. Think The Artist Formerly Known As Prince. It's completely ridiculous thinking behind this completely ego-centered image, that I will wear for the rest of my life.

It's not that I'm now against tattoos, it's just that tattoos on me don't seem right. Like going to McDonald's and finding salmon tar-tar on the value menu, ink on me is confusing, humorous, and more than slightly disturbing.

As time has past I've come to confess the errors made in many of my choices. Like when my 2 year old son asks me why I have a sticker on my arm, I admit to myself that this tattoo was a mistake. I regret getting it. People say you shouldn't regret things in life. I don't understand that. Having regrets doesn't mean you didn't learn something valuable, it just means you identify your wrong doings. Show me someone who has no regrets and I'll show you someone who either has never made a mistake or more likely is too embarrassed/delusional/arrogant to admit them.

I've come realize that I am my worst enemy, and the same probably holds true for most people. No one has lied to you more than yourself. The person who has talked you into making all those horrible decisions is the person you see in the mirror each day. We tend to either trust ourselves way too much (learning to twist our reasoning until anything is justifiable) or not at all (by knowing our flaws and continually use them against us).

The author John Updike died back in January of this year. I had never read any of his work and since this celebrated writer is from the state I call home, Pennsylvania, I felt compelled to read one of his more well-known books. That and Conan O'Brien recommended him in an issue of Entertainment Weekly.

Never have I hated a main character more than I have in Rabbit, Run , so much so that I repeatedly wanted to toss the book aside and it took much longer to read than it should have. The character doesn't know what he wants, only what he wants right at that moment. He's an anti-hero, and his super power would be the ability to justify running away from all the responsibility in his life. At no point did he get any sweet tattoos but his actions and attitudes just happen to be total B.S.