Tattoo

So, in about two hours, I'm getting my first tattoo. I've wanted one for at least 6 years, but I either never had the money to get the one I designed, which I wanted to get first, or I didn't have a place to go to get it. But I remember deciding years ago that I was going to get it when I finished my BFA - which was nearly 3 years ago. This is getting ridiculous, I've just gotten my MA, I'll get one of the smaller ones I want. It's cheap enough that I can afford it, and the bigger one can wait until I have a job.

I never have just one reason for doing anything, because I am one of those people who sits down and thinks through every single pro and con before deciding to do something, so I can't tell you exactly why I have been so hellbent on getting tattooed. And this was a relatively impulsive decision for me - I mean, the tattoo I'm getting is one of the ones I've wanted for years (all my tattoo ideas are based on books that were important to me, but that is a ridiculously long post for when I don't have to leave in an hour and a half) but about a week ago I said, "You know, this is getting absurd, and I should just get one priced and see what I can do about that." And I did so.

The major reason, I guess, is that as time drags on and I can't find anywhere to work, I have to face the possibility that I can't, in fact, pull this off, and I will have to give everything up and leave England. The idea makes me sick, but I think it would help, just a little, if I got tattooed here before I get hauled back to the States. So there's that.

Obviously, pictures will go on the other blog - but only after it heals, because ew. So give that a week or so. I'm getting the Latin word "et" in insular script on my shoulder. Basically, I'm getting a trendy ampersand tattoo, even though that's not what I set out to do. Feel free to judge me.

Easter

My last IM update to my parents went something like this:

*update on jobs I have applied for*
*update on museum association application*
*update on organizations I'm planning to send letters of intent to*
*pathetic plea for jellybeans*

I can't buy jellybeans here. No one will sell them to me. The thing is, I didn't even particularly like jellybeans before I came here, except for the black ones, because I have some sort of terrible licorice addiction. But it's my second Easter here, and I'm beginning to miss jellybeans, even the ones I never particularly liked, like the pink ones and the white ones. All I can find here is chocolate. I can't even find Peeps, which I don't care about, but get back to me next year if I'm still here. Last summer NephthysWrath, who knows I have issues with black jellybeans, brought me two bags of black jellybeans when she came to visit. That was awesome. But now I am so desperate for jellybeans that I think I might even be okay with my parents sending me a bag of white ones.

I can't even speak of the Almond Joys.

"Your children are where?"

What? It's only been a month. I think I was planning to talk about what my family thinks of me staying here, so, here we go.

Sending your kid to school in Europe makes you look really good, especially if it's grad school. When I was still in school, people would ask my parents what their kids were doing, and they would say "Oh, one's in school in California and the other's in school in England," and people would find that interesting and tell them how lucky they were to have ambitious, hard-working kids.

It seems, however, that once you finish school in Europe, you're supposed to say "Well, thank goodness I can go back to the States now; I certainly miss fountain sodas and Wal-Mart and my extended family," and go home without any argument. Apparently, you aren't supposed to say "No! I'm not going back! I like it better here! You can't make me leave!" and begin applying for residence permits. Now, it seems, people ask my parents what I'm doing, and they say "She's decided to stay in England and look for jobs," and people totally look at them funny.

It gets worse for them when you add in David, who's staying in California for another year to do a Master's. Now they have to say, "Well, our son is in school in California and our daughter lives in England," and people start eyeballing them, as though they had said "We kept our children chained in our basement for 18 years, and one day we accidentally left the door open, and they fled in opposite directions and we haven't been able to recapture them." I'm no longer increasing their social status, I'm making people think they're weird. I have to admit, David and I find all this hilarious, which is probably not nice of us.

The other thing is, my mother suddenly has empty-nest syndrome. It's just peculiar. When I moved back home for a year so I could work on scamming an archaeology program into admitting me, she was very displeased. Then, when I got accepted, she did most of my immigration paperwork so she could be sure I was actually leaving. I'm not saying there was actually a foot on my ass at that point, but she had at least metaphorically tossed my suitcases onto the sidewalk. And I clearly remember that when David and I were both at USC she was really happy about us having finally moved the hell out. And then I get home two months ago and she's started scrapbooking, and keeps trying to talk me into considering moving back to the States, without saying anything directly (for example, I'll ask if they can bring me Almond Joys the next time they visit, and she'll say "so you miss those! But not enough to move back?"). I don't know what happened. A few weeks ago she actually said, "Maybe I should have had a third child! Maybe that one would have stayed with me!" as though she wouldn't have run out of patience and shipped the hypothetical third child off to college in Australia by now.

So, to summarize - I've stopped making my parents look good, and now they just look weird, and also, they miss me. To their credit, they've been amazing about the whole thing. I certainly gave them plenty of warning, but I don't think they believed I really meant to do this until I started that struggle with my latest visa application that lasted for several weeks. They miss me, but they still visit all the UK job sites and send me job leads, and fund my Museum Association membership, and edit my CV for me so I can find a job and stay here and continue to cause them to get looked at funny. They rule.