October 18, 2022

One of my earliest tattoo ideas was an homage to Loreena McKennitt’s rendition of the English folksong “The Bonny Swans.” I couldn’t quite envision the swan-that’s-also-a-harp but when I won a gift card to Earth Altar Studio, Vickie Chiang was able to bring it to life. Vickie is still my dream artist; if I ever decide I want a full color floral tattoo, I’m booking her.

There isn’t much of a deeper meaning behind this piece other than the fact that I really like the song and I’ve written before about my love for Loreena McKennitt.

This tattoo took about three hours, almost as long as my blackberry, and since it was on my ribcage, I’m not including a photo. But it looks very cool.

July 4, 2024

What I remember most about the weeks following my dad’s death is the heat wave. For days and days, Southeastern Pennsylvania was shrink-wrapped with an oppressive heat and humidity. It hurt to breathe. Walking felt Herculean. I sought refuge in the air-conditioned house and air-conditioned restaurants. I allowed myself the grace of distraction with Phillies games and probably too much retail therapy. One day in Phoenixville, I spontaneously decided to walk in to Seven Stars Tattoo and get something in memory of my dad.

My father was an electrical engineer at Honeywell for over forty-five years, and during that time, he was the named inventor on several patents, including one for a multi-channel process control. I asked him a few times what exactly that meant but could never quite make the technical knowledge stick in my brain. Because my phone’s camera roll was already filled with pictures of artifacts from my dad’s life that had been displayed at his funeral, I had this photo of the plaque commemorating his patent:

It was just me and an artist named Greg in the shop, which had just opened for the day. It had only been four weeks since my dad died. I wanted to tell everyone I saw. Greg’s father had passed away from ALS years earlier. We talked about grief for the twenty minutes it took to etch a piece of my dad’s scientific accomplishments onto my inner left wrist.

March 9, 2026

After almost two years of mucking through a grief that felt, and honestly still feels, purgatorial, I wanted body art that could be described as more celebratory, more outward-facing. I also wanted to observe my 43rd birthday that way. I had told myself that I didn’t want your typical shoulder or bicep tattoo until I got back into shape and gained some muscle definition. By March of this year, I’d been going to strength class more or less regularly and my arms had graduated from spaghetti to slightly toned. Close enough.

On a sunny late winter day, I headed to SuperSweet, a tattoos and coffee shop in Echo Park, where an artist named Amy drew a wild nasturtium on my outer right bicep. Why nasturtiums? They’re abundant and bright and they’ll add a peppery kick to your salads. They represent strength.

Pain ratings of tattoo placements

Ankle: Pretty manageable. Felt kind of like a cat scratch.
Inner bicep: Very painful in a stinging way
Inner forearm/wrist: See above
Ribcage: Kill me now. Halfway through she added a numbing spray?? Which I didn’t even know was possible??
Outer bicep: Reader, I could not even feel it. Seriously, I could have fallen asleep.