I got my second tattoo on Wednesday, June 2nd
I wrote about my first tattoo story for Emily Gould’s collection. The story behind the tiger tattoo (my second, probably final one) is under the jump.
About a year ago, I took a job as a paid intern at the Chicago Board Options Exchange, the worst job I have ever had. After three weeks I quit, crying, because my coworkers were throwing garbage (scrap paper) at each other. My supervisor hit me in the face with a piece of paper and didn’t apologize. He was in his early 30s.
On the train home one day, I took a look at all the exhausted commuters. There were, and are, thousands of ways to earn a hard dollar. In college, I could do what made my heart happy, but afterward, I would have to do what kept my heart beating.
In the spring of that year, I had taken a class for which I drank little cappuccinos and listened to Björk’s “Isobel” while reading “Bestiario,” a short story by Julio Cortázar. In it, a character named Isabel visits her aunt and uncle in the country, who have a tiger living in their house, but are more threatened by an abusive housemate who keeps them from feeling joy. Isabel, because she is inventive and smart and innocent, frees them.
I thought of the story on the train. I loved it, it’s still my favorite. I knew that literature and music have me the strength and inspiration that crappy jobs (and crappier coworkers) depleted. And I just wanted this thing to be a part of me forever, to dwell in the feeling of finding a story or song that envelops you. I thought of a tiger, like the one in the story, so I could keep it close to me. Specifically, (oh god here it comes) I could keep it close to my heart.
There is such a thing as a soul. It might not be material or religious, it is probably imaginary, but it’s there. A soul needs to be kept intact. It is a living thing that can ail, thrive, or die.
