Eva Batalla-Mann | Valuable Delusions
Published: Thursday, February 20, 2014
Updated: Thursday, February 20, 2014 08:02
“I completely disagree with it and think it’s wrong…but you’re an adult and you can do what you want.” I wasn’t surprised that this was coming out of my mom’s mouth, because this was the phrase I had told my friends she would use if I ever broached the subject of getting a tattoo. It’s curious how the subject of getting “tatted up” surfaced in the conversation, considering I’m not even thinking about getting one. Since we’ve had that conversation, however, I’ve taken the “What Kind of Tattoo Should You Get?” quiz on BuzzFeed and it has been determined that I should get a tattoo sleeve, because apparently I am a “wild child with an addiction to adrenaline”.
I was home in California last weekend, where I was able to catch up on some of those parental moments you miss out on when you’re at school all the time. This whole concept of technically being an adult still throws me. My parents always use this as a way to technically counteract whatever strong advice they have given me. Just like with the tattoos, they tell me that they are completely opposed to something that is ultimately my decision. Unfortunately, I trust them and value their opinion so I just can’t win. This is something that maybe one day I will understand and be able to grapple with, just like white-rimmed sunglasses or curling in the winter Olympics.
Being home last weekend, I think I saw everyone that has been integral in my upbringing. It was like a real life list of all the people I’m going to thank when I win my Oscar. And I managed to cram all of my favorite home activities into about two short days. I spent an afternoon at the farmers market, an evening at a local art gallery with a show consisting primarily of oil paintings of Barbie dolls, and of course, I stopped by an after-hours taco truck. I went home for a wedding, which was a perfect and breathtakingly beautiful celebration. It started off with the couple’s dog (who of course was part of the ceremony) darting toward the street only to have the groom run after him and grab him. Luckily he did, because I can pretty much guarantee that a doggy death would have put a damper on their special day.
In college, people always tell us that our future spouse is probably the person sitting next to you in your feminist poetry class, or the person that sells you your midnight coffee before cramming for a midterm. Not only does that inspire unnecessary anxiety, it’s not necessarily true. Sitting there during the ceremony I saw a group of people that all met each other at different points in their life -- some in high school, some in college and some after. I also saw a line of groomsmen in cuffed khakis and flip flops -- welcome to southern California. I started to realize that even if you don’t marry someone you meet in college, many of the friends you meet during this time will be there for all your important life events -- a scary thought, but also an extremely heartening one.
Getting back to campus early on Monday morning after taking the redeye from Los Angeles, I immediately crawled into bed. After about a six-hour nap, I woke up surrounded by a winter wonderland and all these beautiful, funny, kind, ridiculous people that I call my friends. And just like that tattoo that my mom doesn’t want me to get (but I’m an adult so I can make the decision for myself), they are going to be around for a while.