I’m sitting here about to get my next tattoo at a popular tattoo shop in downtown Atlanta. This next tattoo is the one with the most meaning. It’s maktub. Maktub is Arabic for ‘it was written’. A strong, spiritual sentiment that eludes many to think of faith and destiny, all heavy religious concepts automatically once the denotation is learned. I picked up the phrase from one of my favorite books, The Alchemist. But I’m getting it tattooed on me. So, a religious thought is becoming a fashionable trivial decoration on my body. This trend is not rare in our society. I’m participating in seemingly the bastardization of a sacred world. Making things that are of God be also in vogue, no matter what the eventual results may be. Even when those results are most commonly breaking the sacred and holy.

The needle is drilling into my flesh, the blood drips on to my skin, running down. The pain of this tattoo is a right of passage. The more pain, the more you can later gloat about how you overcame it and got a cool piece of art on your skin. The needle drills harder, blood runs faster. The outlining is becoming almost complete. The thought that is going through my mind is a common one; when the fuck will this be over? The thought that followed isn’t as common. I thought to myself; is this how Jesus felt? His body being in pain, but his mind knowing the end result because was all-knowing. That fine balance of knowledge that it will all be okay, despite your body being put through torture by someone else’s hands.

No, I’m not Jesus but perhaps subconsciously I want to be? Of course, most Christians want to be Christ-like, but are we jealous of Jesus also? The perfect one? God’s son? The attention he gained, the magic he made, the lives he changed, the followers he garnered. Jesus was the first pop star and it seems like we’re all trying desperately to catch up in our own ways to prove that we can compete with his celebrity. Michael Jackson might have moonwalked, but Jesus walked on water. Wiz Khalifah and Kanye might have had Amber Rose. Jesus, however, was the first to turn a hoe into a megastar with Mary Magdalene.

Picture your favorite performer on stage. Her hair is flowing, the lights are glowing, and she’s probably levitating on stage like some holy angel or resurrecting from underneath the ground like some born-again holy crusader. Beyonce in her angelic, glowing silver dress singing about halos or Lady Gaga birthing a universe through her kaleidoscope of a uterus and singing about how Judas betrayed her. Are these just findings of a conspiracy theorist gone mad with too many ‘People’ magazines? Or are these ladies highlighting what’s in all of us? We all want to be closer to God, but how scary is the thought that we are actively envious of our savior, as well?

We’re a generation of bosses, superstars, leaders, and iconoclasts. We try our best to make it seem like we’re alphas of whatever endeavor we’re getting into. How many of us want to be the alpha and omega, though? How many of us won’t be satisfied with any level of success because the true control and attention we need and desire is ungodly (for a lack of better words). Jay-Z has millions of albums sold, prestige in most creative circles, and a type of fame that is almost tangible and sticks to your fingertips like dried-up glue. Is it really surprising that a man who desired to achieve that level of notoriety would refer to himself as God? Is it really surprising that our pop stars have formed religions around their brands that go beyond fans? We’re living in a world full of monsters, barbies, and love muffins. We use to live in a world full of Christians, Muslims, and Jews.

Sure, I might be crazy or do too many drugs and listen to too much Pink Floyd while reading Alice Walker books (try it!), but it’s a discussion that needs to be ignited in order to really find out the motivation behind today’s pop culture that usually reveals the motivation behind the people consuming it which is you, me, and them. Why are people falling so easily for these false idols that are ideally American? I have a theory. Hope was killed in 2010 and faith hasn’t been exciting since Ricki Lake has aired. We’re living in a society thirsty for something to believe in, something to praise, and something to pray to. But this time we’re choosing our own God. The Ancient Greeks did it. Our Gods just have catchier choruses, fake eyelashes, and expensive wigs. More important than that, our new Gods are tangible. We can see, feel, and hear them for a fee which is proving to be a better alternative than the blind faith we’ve been settling for free. It’s a scary thought, but it is a mentality that is encompassing the world like the sun above.

The blood from my drilled flesh is wiped with a stark white cloth and ‘maktub’ is being wrapped in regular, tattoo fashion to avoid infection. My tattoo is done. The pain is over and like I knew from the beginning, the end result is something beautiful. I made an appointment for my own personal crucifixion that was perfectly packaged, timed, and made for mass consumption. Nothing is holy.

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