Why I Got A Tattoo

I did the thing. I went to a tattoo parlor and got the words of C.S. Lewis permanently etched into my skin. Now, why would I do such a thing? Sure, I love C.S. Lewis to death, and going on the C.S. Lewis tour in Northern Ireland heightened my love for him, but that was not the main reason. Sure, my friends and I dressed as the Pevensie children freshman year, and yes I was Lucy, but that's not entirely it either.

The truth is sometimes life is extremely difficult. Sometimes I am weighed down by what life has to offer, and staying in bed all day sounds quite nice indeed, and what do I even have to get up for anyway. I was the person in high school who drew smiley faces on the calendar if I had a good day, because most days I needed the reminder that I could have a good one.

In C. S. Lewis' novel, "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader," There is a passage where Lucy is on Caspian's boat near an island where all your dreams come true.This sounds nice at first, until they all realized all the nightmares they had had, and how those are the kinds of dreams coming true. This is what it's like to be struggling. All the nightmares you could imagine are starting to creep onto the boat, their scratches inching closer in the darkness. During this time of terror, Lucy asks for Aslan to save them, that if he ever loved them wouldn't he please save them? That's when a great albatross crosses the sky and says to Lucy, "Courage, dear heart." And at once Lucy knew it was Aslan, and the sky went from black, to gray, to blue. She was safe, and the darkness was gone.

This is why I have my tattoo. It is a permanent reminder that yes, life can suck and be the most terrifying thing, but that I am not alone. My God loves me, and I can take comfort in that. True, it may be very hard sometimes to see that I am not alone, or that continuing on is for the best, but this is why it's etched into me. I never want to forget the love of my God, or how he saves.

If anything, my tattoo may as well be a dare. When things get dark and intimidating, I dare myself to take on courage and keep going. I know a lot of others struggle with depression and anxiety. My heart goes out to you all, as a person who has had a panic attack in a Walmart parking lot, I know these things are hard and inconvenient. Even so, perhaps take up this challenge with me; tattoo optional. Just take a few moments and will yourself to be courageous, and maybe we can get through this crazy life together if you like.

Feel free to send me questions, my life should be an open book.
I love you all,
Alisha

Open Mic Night

It was the weirdest experience I've had in a long while, and I have had some pretty weird ones. I went for a night out on the town, which in Tulsa on a Tuesday night means going to a local coffee house's open mic night. I had no idea what to expect, but I followed my friend inside a dimly lit coffee house (mood lighting for good feelings), and nearly every table and couch was filled with interesting characters all here to share their thoughts and songs, supporting the arts. So, without knowing how this was going to go down, I got myself a mocha and a cinnamon crumb cupcake and sat down with my friend at the only available table, spitting distance from the mic itself.

Things then started, beginning with a boy who wrote a poem about love and the sadness of losing the girl. Touching, but it seemed a little extreme. Maybe it reminded me of my angst-filled poems from high school about unrequited love, which we all know was not love at all. Then there were several musicians, some pitchy, some playing weird instruments that they really didn't seem to know how to play, and it ranged from a young man trying to be Elvis, to a country artist, to a guy who seemed to be going for an old school rocker, but really was just singing in a gravely voice way too loudly (while his guitar skills were fairly impressive to say the least).

So what is this supposed to mean? I recently finished a novel by John Green called An Abundance of Kathrines, which all you need to know is that the main character, Collin, just wants to matter. Collin was a child prodigy, but fears he won't grow up to become a genius now that he's graduated high school. I feel perhaps I have this same fear. I am by no means a prodigy at anything, but I just want to find some way to matter. I have this constant fear that I am simply mediocre at everything, and will never be wonderful at anything. I fear I am nothing but average.

Then I go to this open mic night, and have to hide a few laughs at what was sometimes being performed, and I thought, with the wretchedness that is humanity, that at least I am not that. But even the fact that these people, while maybe not close at all to being prodigies in music or comedy or poetry, are at least trying. They put themselves out there in a way that strikes me with so much fear. I am the person who will literally strive to be second at something, vice-president of a club or class instead of president, doing backstage work instead of being onstage during shows.

Maybe I can learn a lesson from the kid with dreadlocks and a weird, green, metal thing that looked like a ufo, but he called a drum. I had no idea what he was talking about, and his poems reminded me of a version of myself from ninth grade, who was trying to figure out who I was in this new pool in life known a high school. Even he, who baffled me so much, was a traveller and lover of things, and was doing exactly what he loves, and sharing it with people who were very receptive of that kind of love. This guy, one of the most outrageous, was at least working towards something I would be too afraid of doing. In John Green's novel, Collin believes he was a prodigy, but also admits that it is only through handwork that he is able to do the things he is able to do.

So what all of this means is not to be obsoletely crazy, but at the same time fear should not be so crippling. If you want to do something, then what the heck, go for it. Be Troy Bolton from High School Musical, and sing at karaoke night, and then get the lead for the musical (or, you know, be ambitious enough to at least try to get it). We live in a world that is so concerned with safety and social expectations that we are losing the drive to be more. Even the Beatles were rejected and had to work for an extremely long time, singing in local bars and what not, before they were even recognized as being something more than just a band of guys with a hopeful wish. So, be the kid with dreadlocks, or Troy Bolton,  or The Beatles. Just pick something you love and just do it (after all, if Nike says it it must have some worth to it). If you are going to matter to the world, or anyone at all, you have to first matter to yourself. Take the time and energy to make an investment in what you can do and what you will do. Maybe writing poetry full of angst is the first step to writing poetry like Frost. Only time will tell, and only if you put your time into it.