Featuring my nose ring

My rebellious stage came (not surprisingly) in college, when I was away from the 'rents and old enough to do ridiculous things to myself in the name of originality. Fortunately, I feel I am level-headed enough not to have done anything I regret too much -- although dying my hair black and then trying to bleach it back to a light brown was a very, very hard lesson to learn.

My first act of rebellion came during spring break of my freshman year. Oddly enough, I was back at home when I decided I would finally go through what I had been telling myself for ages I would do -- pierce my nose.

Amber, one of my good friends, and I set out for the piercing parlor on a sunny, March afternoon. She was getting her lip pierced, I was determined to pierce my nose. I got it done and went back home, feeling like a badass. (I often wonder where that ballsy, badass Marcy went nowadays. I feel like such a chicken.) It was a few hours before my parents realized that no, it wasn't a big zit I had on my nose. It was an emerald green stone that was in my nose through the hole I'd had made in it.

In any case, fast forward to four years later, when I'm trying to become a productive, working member of society. While no one I've ever worked for has ever complained or said a thing about my nose ring, I'm starting to wonder if it's something I should keep. I really, really like it -- in spite of my many piercings, it's still one of my favorites. But I wonder how parents and professional sources see it. To the naysayers that dislike me and think I'm incompetent, is the nose ring a symbol of my youth and inexperience? I know I look young and that my hair, makeup and wardrobe don't help much, but is the nose ring the final hammer in the "professional Marcy" coffin?

I've opted to try and find the tiniest nose ring possible, but I wonder if maybe it's just time for me to say goodbye to it as well as my originality. Maybe it's time to give in to the looming, cookie-cutter image I'm destined to become because of my job but avoided for so long.

I hate business attire and the corporate world. Colored, full-sleeve dragon tattoos and lip rings for everyone, I say!

Moving

So after a full month and two weeks of commuting two hours a day, I've finally moved in and started to settle into a little, blue, 19th century home across the street from Fort Collins' largest park. It's a three-bed, one bath house with a huge lawn and its in the older part of town, which means it's far from everything except large oak trees and lots of grass. I must admit, I like it.

I'm currently living with one of the paper's newest photographers, and the two of us sleep in the upstairs rooms, which have a "converted attic" feel. The ceilings are low and slanted, the doors are small and the hardwood floors have that older look and feel to them. There's even a loose floorboard near my closet!

Having moved in on Thursday, I realized that I really don't have a lot of stuff, and I am not at all planning on getting tons more of it. After seeing how much effort my roommate has put into making the rest of the house, including her room, look so awesome and cozy, I have settled for my bed, a blue and brown carpet and two plastic drawers I bought at Target. The weird thing is, I have no desire to really go all out and make my room look kickass. My mom tried convincing me to get a real dresser and a bedside table, but I refused. It's not necessary, I kept repeating.

After realizing I was making my roomie do all the decorating work, I got to thinking about how I don't care about making my home look and feel homey because I haven't been in one steady place for longer than 9 months in the past five years. After living like a crab, carrying everything on my back, I no longer have the ganas to try and get furniture that I'll have to move around, or to collect stuff that I will ultimately have to get rid of. It happened in Evanston, it happened in Madrid, and I can't shake off the feeling that it will happen here.

Even though I foresee myself sticking around Fort Collins for a while (at least two years, I'm telling myself, in spite of my developed city-ADD), I can't seem to see how it's worthwhile to put so much effort into a place that I am not entire sold on. Especially since I know that I'll be down at my parents' house on the weekends.

I can't figure out if I should try to convince myself to try and get settled here and really put some effort into my room and home, or if I should just maintain my blasse attitude. Time will tell...