Not your average choir girl

Last Thursday evening (not last night, a week ago) I went along to Lukas Zpira's Scarification workshop for Uber, for the third year in a row, and he added to my branding again. The first year he started with my upper arm, last year we extended it up over my shoulder, and this year we extended it down onto my forearm. I do so love the process of being branded, and I do so love the now annual treat of being branded by Lukas (yes yes, man-crush continues unabated). I love the way my stomach drops with fear and excitement and anticipation as soon as I hear the blowtorch fire up with a loud whooosh. I love the prettiness of shiny silver turning to glowing orange. I love the intensity of the pain, that exquisite consuming moment of bright red, like a solar flare exploding across my senses... it takes a moment longer to register the sound of sizzle, the smell of burning flesh, the sight of smoke drifting up from my skin. I love seeing Lukas grinning behind his mask as he presses burning metal into my skin and I erupt into giggles interspersed with ouchy noises. After the branding was done, class over, everyone moving away and talking amongst each other, Lukas examined his handiwork again, tracing his finger lightly over last year and the year befores scars, he said that next year he could use me for the cutting demonstration, and work a cutting around the branding, he thinks that would look very nice. In spite of my twitterpated, endorphin-bombed state, I think I managed to answer reasonably coherently that "oh, yeeeah, that'd be great!"... so huzzah, that's something to look forward to!

Given that the branding is now on my forearm, the upper part of my forearm only, but still forearm, it's a lot more visible and noticeable than previous ones. This has raised lots of comments at work, and I have spent teh past week fielding many many questions. Or rather, the same questions repeated over and over. Wednesday I was summoned for a "confidential chat" by my "manager"... apparently someone had gone to her with their concern that my arm was "septic". I find it incredibly bizarre that (1) anyone working in a health service would confuse normal, healthily healing scabbed wounds for "septic" wounds, and (2) that they would take that concern to my "manager" rather than speak directly to me. I managed to not roll my eyes too overtly, let her look for herself that it wasn't "septic" and explained the whole scarification thing to her, because her other concern was that I was "having some troubles emotionally". No, I am not harming myself, any more than I was when I got my tattoos. Of course, the ironic thing is that after all that I woke up this morning and one section is now a bit manky ... I think she jinxed me :( Antiseptic cream has been applied, dressing has been stuck on, all will be fine. Generally though it is healing really well... and itching like CRAZY! I'd forgotten how much they itch.

There will be pics, but for some reason LJ won't let me upload them at the moment.