| |
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | Debts. How come Oprah Winfrey feels the need to educate the American population about how evil debts are? Why does she tell everyone that they are evil to begin with? Is it such a shame that you still have 3k riding on your VISA card, or that you have a mortgage higher than Oprah's cholesterol level? I've got debt, and I don't lose any bit of sleep over it. Most countries have debt, and they don't lose any sleep over it. All multi-national corporations - supposedly run by very intelligent individuals - are in debt, and don't lose any sleep over it. Why should we?
Admittedly, I wouldn't mind paying off my debt, but only so I can go out and create more debt. I am liquid, so the bank, and my credit card company, know that the chance that I'll pay them back is fairly high. I pay them a nice interest rate in order to be in debt, to have access to their money for a little while, so it's all good. Of course, you'll have to be careful not to go overboard and create so much debt that you can't cough up the monthly payments any longer, but if you don't, then I don't see the problem.
My father once told me; "When I die, make sure you don't accept the inheritance because I'm not leaving you anything but debt. You better believe I'm going to spend all my hard-earned money before I die. And son,...if you find out that you've still got money in the bank the moment you're on your death bed, then you are a moron and you've worked too hard and spent too little. You haven't enjoyed your hard-earned money to the fullest."
I love my father.
|
|
| Online Communities | 2002-03-08 00:12:30 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | I had a nice, refreshing, long phone-conversation with Eva last night, and suddenly I found myself confronted by a story that some people from the Bulldrek Online Community, people that I've met on occassion, had a very negative view of me. Aparently, when this came out, Eva lost her temper and defended me by saying that my online persona should not be taken as an indicator of how I am in real life. And that the brief moments of real-world interaction with me should not be taken as anything more than just a short snap-shot of reality.
When I heard this, I was a little shocked. Some of the people involved are people I considered to be on a friendly level with. I never considered them friends, however. I don't know them well enough for that. Incidences like this reitterate the fact that these people are not my friends.
It's like having loose contacts with a person you see on the bus every day, or a co-worker. You talk to them, you discuss things, but you can bet your ass they'll sell you out if needs be. They'll talk behind your back, they'll stab the knife. But there's one difference; distance. It's easier to distance yourself from someone you don't have to look in the eye the next day on the bus.
We live and learn.
|
|
| Link of the...ehm...whatever. | 2002-03-07 06:32:04 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | I don't normally put up links in my journal...but this is too funny to pass up.
|
|
| A Magnificent Car Moment | 2002-03-02 00:19:47 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | Today I met a woman on the highway. She was beautiful, young and driving an Alfa Romeo 156 3.0 litre V6. She was probably around 25 or 26 years old, and she had an arrogant streak that I enjoyed. For the last 20 minutes of my journey to work I was speeding pretty heavily, and so was she.
At a certain point I found her matching my speed, probably about 160 kph, and she was driving behind me, smiling. We were zooming in and out of traffic, switching lanes, having fun, and we kept sporadic eye contact. She kept pushing me to go faster and faster. My car maxed out at around 185 kph because I drive on an LPG tank, she kept matching me, trying to get me to go faster.
I had a lot of fun going to work, too bad I lost her when I had to take the exit ramp.
|
|
| Pain is Temporary | 2002-03-01 03:33:20 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | I'm in pain.
This morning, I had four cavities filled. It's my own fault, I hadn't been taking good enough care of my teeth for a while, and something had to be done about it.
The dentist I go to is very good at what he does. At least, he makes me feel comfortable enough to keep coming back, which is something that, from what I hear from others, isn't always the case with most dentists. He doens't have much of a sense of humour, but then again, that's not what he's paid for. He does his work well.
Today, after 45 minutes of drillin'-n-fillin' he told me that I was a good patient. I accept that I have to go through a procedure that is widely regarded as painful, and I do it without bitching, moaning, threatening or becoming violent, which aparently is a novelty in the world of dental care.
I can understand someone becoming violent or threatening the dentist, though. I mean, I have a fairly high pain tolerance level and I always keep in mind that the pain is only temporary, and that my being there and undergoing that, is an investment. But sometimes it's a really uncomfortable feeling, one that invokes really primal aggressive feelings. Certain people come in and tell the dentist "Hurt me and I'll break your fucking legs." which I can again understand, on a very basic level, but if you are going through the procedure, let the man do his job and accept the consequences of your decision.
One of the things I cannot stand is when pain seems to be a permanent thing. I don't have permanent pain, but at times certain things have seemed like they would never go away, and when I feel that, then I'm inconsolable. I have always been able to trust my body, and I'm very happy with it, it has hardly ever let me down. I say hardly because I have some failures, like my cluster-headaches. But God forbid I should ever get permanent back problems or something similarly inescapable.
I once saw a documentary about a radical new treatment of back problems where a small sliver of metal would be implanted close to a nerve-point near the spine and manipulated using magnets. The sliver would press up against, and thereby cancelling out, certain nerve-points and thus relieving the pain. There was a man that went in for the new treatment who was successful in business, had a wife and two children that loved him, was in good shape, but he said that if this treatment didn't work for him, that he would commit suicide because he simply couldn't live with the permanent pain.
Permanent pain. No relief.
I'm in pain...but the pain is termporary.
|
|
| Colorgenics | 2002-02-20 12:21:07 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | Normally I don't believe much in this stuff, but my results were depressingly accurate.
|
|
| Todo List | 2002-02-17 10:28:11 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | Going on the Wonder Wheel on Coney Island. Standing on the Great Wall overlooking the plain of Tsan-Pa. Rafting the wild rivers of the Amazon. Standing underneath the waterfalls in northern Thailand. Walking the jungles of Borneo. Surfing the cold surfs of South Africa. Eating at a bistro in Bologna. Standing on Ayers Rock in Australia. Skydiving above the coast of California. Running through the great forests of Canada. Seeing the warzone in Beirut. Cheering at a K1 match in the Tokyo Dome. Skiing down the slopes of the Alps. Walking on the Red Square outside the Kremlin. Treading the halls of the Forbidden Palace. Exploring the jungles of India. Lazing in the sun on the Fiji islands. Dancing in the nightclubs of Kyoto. Shopping down in Kowloon. Bicycling along the Black Sea. Enjoying the Carnival in Rio de Janeiro. Providing aid to children in Colombia. Watching the apes in the jungles of Sudan. Feel the vibrant nature of Madagascar. Trek across the plains of Antarctica. Walk the grassy fields of New Zealand. Marvel at the geisers of Iceland. Cheering on the huski's on Greenland. Checking out the Icepalace in Norway. Drinking a cocktail on Bora Bora. Seeing the dragonboat races in Hong Kong. Trekking along Nepal's Annapurna trail.
Let's start today.
|
|
| Noodles | 2002-02-04 01:53:13 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | Last night I was starving, but since I had been a total slacker, I didn't do any grocery shopping which left me with few choices but to scrounge up all the odd little things I still had in my cupboard and fridge. I ended up making the most disgusting hamburger in the world and eating some instant noodles.
This morning, as I woke up, I was talking to Moulsari on the phone and my stomach started growling again. I went to scrounge again and I came across a french bread that you needed to bake in the oven. As I did so I managed to charcoal this thing into tasting like ass. I threw it out and went on another scrounge. I found some fried noodles [indonesian bami] in my freezer that my mother had given to me about two weeks back. I warmed it up and it was heavenly.
I was reminded of the time when Claus and I went to see Erik and Eva in California during last spring. When there we were subjected to the horrible American cuisine which involved much of the greaseness. Being a big health nut, Claus had, by the 8th day, reached his limit and for the remainder of the stay insisted on salads and such.
When we returned home Claus stayed in the Netherlands for a bit and one evening we went over to my mother's to eat. She had made the fried noodles and I saw Claus eat like there was no tomorrow, he loved it.
A fond memory. :)
|
|
| On the Run | 2002-02-02 11:40:54 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | I have often said that my life is like a badly written comic book. Complete with explosions, intrigue, death, excitement and kryptonite, it seems like I'm going from one incredible episode to another. While my life has shown me many of the facets that life has to offer, allowing me to learn from them, some of those facets have slapped me in face like a rough-handed pimp.
Some people call it experience while others call it baggage. Either way, your fucked.
Recently I've had the great pleasure of talking to a wonderful woman who not only is wonderful to talk to, but she is very intelligent and incredibly understanding. With her help I realized that in the last 14 years or so, there hasn't been a time where things were simple and serene. I was always caught up in conflict, intrigue, helping people out, making things happen or just working my arse off for college.
I can remember two moments, both not to long ago, where I didn't have anything on my mind. Mind you, there was plenty going on in my life that required my attention, but I just didn't think about them.
The first was when Eva and I had first met, and her parents were on holiday and I used to sleep over. She'd go to work, while I stayed behind, playing Mahjong on her little Apple II while I could hear the birds chirping outside and the sun was shining on my back through the open window.
The second time I can remember was when Eva and I were roaming through Paris and we stumbled across the Eiffel tower. Underneath the Eiffel tower are many lawns of freshly cut grass where people sit and enjoy an afternoon in the sun. Eva and I sat down for a bit and were just lying there, completely content in watching the people.
I'm sure there were more moments where I was carefree, however I can't remember them.
Now, people say that step one is always recognizing that there's a problem. Step two is defining the problem. Step three is changing things in order to solve the problem or to make sure that the problem doesn't occur again. I think I, with the help of my friend, did step 1 and 2. However, I've been thinking about step three, and I don't like what it entails.
I'm beginning to wonder if I want to lead a life where everything is calm and serene. It would be nice to have a few moments in a year where I could simply sit there and worry about nothing. Have someone special close to you, or just go out dancing with friends.
That's probably what I dislike most; one time, when Eva and I were first dating eachother, I was out with her and Marco in Amsterdam, we were walking down one of the canals at night, it was a summer's night, we all had a really good time and I got called by a "friend" of my father that was looking for him. Marco knew what was going on, so he immediately took Eva and started walking a bit faster, while I lagged behind to talk.
Christus, I'm ranting...I had a point here somewhere and I think it was that I should find some points of rest here and there. I need a little less explosions, intrigue, death, excitement and kryptonite every once in a while.
Anyway, thank you, Elle.
|
|
| Lifelessly v3.0 | 2002-01-30 12:06:10 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | | Quote: | In this grey alley,
white shirt, golden tie, stained red
with my own blue blood,
solely surrounded
by acrid smelling garbage
and bitter concrete,
I feel exhausted,
as my head hangs lifelessly.
I can't outrun him.
"I'll get you small one.
My fav'rite prey you'll become."
Indubitably.
In this neon light,
we will end this endless fight,
Credit-card defense.
A dumpster provides
support and solid comfort.
I rise to my feet.
Cold steel in my hand,
the semi-automatic
somehow comforts me.
My vision wavers.
One last kiss before it fades.
A tall man in black.
"And you want it all.
I will give you something more!"
One last kiss before
it all fades away.
I offer a silent scream,
and see the unseen.
I fall to my knees.
The smell of the garbage fades.
Death will always win. |
|
|
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | Okay, this pisses me off; Elle has been so kind as to direct my attention towards a band called The Tea Party and I'm really enjoying their stuff. Here's the deal though, they're about as unreliable as, for instance, Radiohead in the sense that their songs don't always appeal to me. For instance, Juno Reactor always follows through and appeals to my tastes, but sadly The Tea Party doesn't.
*sigh*
Damn me and my pickiness. Oh well, rant over.
|
|
| Dispelling the Angst | 2002-01-23 05:53:54 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | I noticed that my journal were becoming a bit of an angst and anger fest, so I just wanted to share a little story with you that makes me laugh each time I think back to it.
It's saturday night, south London [Clapham High Street, to be exact], in a nightclub called the Inferno, a shite 70's revival club. We were one of the first people in the club as it was still rather early, and we managed to get a booth at the side of the dance area.
These booths were a nice setup. Semi-circular, with high, padded-leather backrests that went up to the ceiling. It had those buttons on them making the padding all bumpy, it was nice and comfy. There was a round table in the middle which had a loose table-top. We had all agreed not to lean on the table's edge so that the table wouldn't shift or fall over.
One of the girls that was going with us was Esther, a girlfriend/roommate of Moulsari. She's a 2 feet high, Korean girl that could hardly do anything wrong in my eyes since was just the prettiest thing. She arrived a little later, and I had [out of boredom] ordered some cocktails and shots at the cocktail bar.
The cocktail bartender was a guy called David that was very happy to see me since I didn't order one drink but ordered them fuckloads at a time, also I paid with creditcard. This was my initial order;
3 Harvey Wallbangers
4 Long Island Iced Teas
7 Brain Haemorrhages [shots]
This totalled 50 pounds or so, and the guy sent me off hoping I'd come back for more. When Esther had arrived I asked her if she'd want a drink. She told me that she was very asian about her alcohol consumption [i.e. she doesn't handle her alcohol well *wink*at*Wai*] and I shrugged and put a Long Island Iced Tea in front of her. She didn't seem to mind and drank it.
When she stood up to walk over to the bathroom, she put her hands on the table and literally launched a Wallbanger, 2 LIITs and 3 or 4 Haemorrhages across the table and into the padded leather backrest behind her. Surprisingly, she was spotless.
A goddess.
|
|
| Migration Urge | 2002-01-22 05:30:54 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | After spending a splendid, though slightly hectic weekend in London, I come home to find a bunch of people at the airport waiting for a bus to bring them to the long-term parking area. As soon as the bus shows up people start flocking towards the doors, all wanting to be the first to get in so they wouldn't miss out on the money they were giving away for free inside.
Having spent many time during my college years in public transport, constantly being assaulted by the pushy, rude and mostly pathetic behavior of my country-men to start piling onto eachother when trying to get in or out of trains, busses, trams or some such. They act like they are somehow missing out on something.
Example; When a train comes into the station, there are most likely going to be people that will want to come out. What you don't do, is surround the exists and start ramming yourself into the train regardless if there are people trying to get out or not. What you do do, is what I always did...stand back...watch the idiots flap about...and go in when everyone's gone. I could always find a seat. I am always left wondering what it is that they think they will miss out on.
Anyway, coming back from a country where people know how to make a queue and don't mind waiting for three seconds, I was shocked. As I get into the bus, which is a normal bus where they have removed some of the seats to create room for luggage, I find a bunch of people standing in the spot where the luggage should be stored. Most of them didn't want to sit down because the drive would only be three or four minutes.
I politely asked for them to make room, and explained the function of that gap in between the seats. Some of them moved and I could put Samantha's fucking large suitcase down. As I was trying to make my way to the back to find a seat, I saw a guy standing in front of my holding on to a [really] large bag containing, according to him, kites. Next to him there was a man blocking the way. I kindly asked if I could pass and he turns around and says the follwing;
"Why?"
"Well, because I'd like to sit down." I replied.
"It's only a two minute drive, you know?" he said with an arrogant look on his face, like I'm the asshole.
How fucking rude is that? For one, why the hell should I provide him with a reason? And second, why doesn't he just move aside in light of my answer? I can't believe this country and the rude behavior I stumble across every now and again. It makes me want to scream.
For the so manieth time this month I am contemplating a change of scenery. I hear Australia has some nice weather this time of year.
|
|
| Definition of Racism | 2002-01-17 00:03:11 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | "Am I a racist?" That's what I asked myself yesterday evening. It was one of those late-night contemplations that never seem to amount to anything, so I decided to save this introspection to the drive to work the next morning. So today, I stepped in my car and drove to work contemplating if I am or am not a racist.
I guess in essence, everyone is a racist, but that has to do with some very primal instincts that humanity is slowly trying to shed. People have an inherent fear for that which they don't understand. Things that look different must also think differently and are therefor, by definition, something to fear, or be distrustful of.
But in modern day's society people are slowly getting over those fears as we slowly integrate to form what I like to call a "grey mass." However, according to Eva, studies have shown that people will tend to sit next to someone of their own skin colour in the subway, rather than not. I asked myself that exact same question; do I often find myself next to my own kin, rather than others on the subway. And I could really find a pattern - not that means anything, my memory is totally shit - and I would like to believe that I am not that shallow.
I needed a better definition of racism, and this is the first thing I came up with; making judgement based on appearance.
Now this isn't really fair since I am a terribly judgemental person and I make judgements based on appearance all the time, and not just racial appearance. I needed a more precise definition of racism, the following definition is what I came up with next; racism is making judgements based on race.
Okay, now we're getting somewhere. However, making judgements based on someones racial heritage doesn't constitute as racism, however. At least, it doesn't to me. It just makes you prejudice since you have set pre-conceptions of a person based on his race. Pre-conceptions are relatively harmless unless turned into something that will influence your actions. So as soon as your pre-conceptions based on race leads to a change in behavior does your prejudice turn into racism.
But that would mean that there is no difference in positive or negative racism. Well, personally I don't think there is, stricly speaking. Racism just has some really negative connotations to it, and rightly so since there are a lot more identifiable instances of racism that carry that negativity with them. Keyword; "identifiable."
Merriam - Webster's says; "a belief that race is the primary determinant of human traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race."
Conclusion; I still have no clue if I'm a racist. And I still don't have a clue what racism is. I'll just use the following definition; "Racism bad, m'kay?"
|
|
| Let's go all the way. | 2002-01-16 01:52:24 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | | Quote: | Let's go all the way.
Life; more like monday morning
than like saturday night.
Rafting wild rivers,
and evenings on village squares.
Let's go all the way.
Let's go all the way.
Shopping in Hong Kong,
and dinners in New York City.
Let's swing from Kudzu vines,
curl up the jungle like twine.
Let's go all the way.
Let's go all the way.
Visiting Musée D'Orsay.
Surfing San Fran Bay.
I just want to be
free with you and you with me.
Let's go all the way. |
|
|
| Friendships | 2002-01-13 10:57:11 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | Nothing is static. Everything is falling apart.
|
|
| A Lost Quality | 2002-01-12 00:56:13 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | I'm not a saint, and this is not a saintly journal entry. This is just me venting a few of my frustrations.
I am eternally grateful when people decide that they'd like to do me a favor, and I won't thank them enough if they lift the weight of work and worry off my shoulders, or just go out of their way to make me a little happier. I like it when I ask someone for a favor and they decide to do it for me, I love it when they offer it themselves.
When someone tell me that they'll do something for me, or when they agree to do something on request, I see that as an equivalent to promising me to do something.
"Oh sure, I'll do that for you." to me, is the same as "I promise you that I will do that for you."
Lately, in the past year or so, I've come across a lot of people that will tell me that they will do something for me, and end up falling through on me. Usually these are people that are very close to me. Usually they'll tell me that they won't be able to do that particular favor right before I'm not able to arrange something myself. Usually, I'm able - with some heavy crisis management, trouble shooting and backroom dealings - get done what I wanted to get done in the first place. Usually I want to cave in their skulls with a brick.
If you are not sure if you can help me out, then don't offer. Understand that when I accept your help, that I'll rely on you to do the things you told me you would. I put my trust in you to do whatever it is you said you'd do.
If you don't offer, I'll find another way to take care of it. Don't wait until the last minute to tell me you can't help me, then I won't have enough time to comfortably review my alternate options.
|
|
| A Dream | 2002-01-11 01:07:27 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | I'm going from memory, as it's been a few weeks since I had this dream and it's all quickly fading away. This dream has been bothering me for a bit since I don't know what it's supposed to mean.
***
I'm sitting in front of a computer screen in a hotel room. The double bed behind has my suitcase on it, unopened. I think it's my first night here. It's completely silent except for raindrops beating against the window to my left. I look outside, I'm about twenty-five stories up, and look out of Kowloon Bay, Hong Kong. It's night time and the streetlights run like veins through the city. I think I'm staying at the Regal.
I sit back for a while staring at my own reflection in the window. I'm not sure what I'm thinking off. I get up out of the chair and slowly walk towards the bathroom near the front door of the room, meanwhile unbuttoning my shirt and taking off my clothing. I step into the bathroom and notice that it's a small affair with a bathtube, a shower that's integrated with the bathtub, a small sink with a mirror above it and a toilet. I take my complimentary soap, towels and robe and put them on top of the toilet and I step inside the bathtub and turn on the shower. Hot. Steam starts filling up the small room. I step into the shower and wash my hair. When I'm done I reach around the white shower curtain towards the sink and try to find my toothbrush and toothpaste. I can't find it so I pull back the shower curtain, letting water drip out onto the floor. I notice that the mirror hasn't fogged up, and I look up expecting to see my own reflection...
...and then I see her standing there, on the opposite side of the mirror. She's smiling at me, a friendly smile. She is holding a square, low whiskey glass in one hand and she has her other casually folded over the other. I smile back at her, as if it's normal and I find my toothbrush and paste. I decide to keep the shower curtain open as I continue my shower. Every now and again I look over and find her still standing there, in that mirror world, looking at me, sipping her whiskey. She seems to enjoy it.
I get out of the tub and start to dry myself off a bit. I put the towel around my waist and get the other towel to dry my hair. I walk out of the bathroom and into the small hallway. There are a few shitty paintings on the walls, small posters really, framed and I can see her in their reflection, looking back at me. I walk towards my bed, and I can see her in every reflecting surface, walking with me. It's comfortable to know that she's there.
I look up to the full-length windows, and the sliding door that leads out onto the small balcony and I can see her standing there, in mid-air, past the railing of the balcony, floating above Kowloon Bay. She's beautiful. With the towel still around my waist I walk over to the door, slide it open and step out onto the balcony. As I stepped out I noticed that there were no city sounds around me, and I saw the balcony "stretch" out, elongate and shoot out away from me. She was no floating above the balcony floor. Still calm and smiling, still holding her glass.
I walked up to her, my feet on the cold stone tiles, and she settled down on the floor. I stood opposite from her and I smiled. She unfolded her arms and held out her free hand. And then jammed her index finger in my left pectoral, just above my nipple. The sounds of the city washed over me like a tidal wave as I tried to draw breath. The pain was so intense that I lost my footing and fell down to my knees. She walked a few steps back to admire what was happening.
The burning pain in my chest moved to my stomach and I double over. Now the viewpoint shifts. Slowly the viewpoints starts rising up and I'm looking down on the scene from about twenty-five feet up. I can see myself in pain and I can see her standing there. The city sounds suddenly stop and I see myself looking up into the air, arms out wide, shouting in pain. My eyes are bleeding. Blood dripping down my cheeks like running mascara. In the background I hear Samuel Barber's Agnus Dei playing. I hear laughter through my own shouting, and I look over to see her laughing at me. Laughing at my pain. Mocking me.
I look back and I see myself still kneeled down, still looking up into the sky, arms wide and suddenly I see myself rise up, as if picked up by an invisible thread attached to my chest. My head and arms hanging back, my legs hanging slack. The music reach a crescendo as I hang about twenty feet up in the air, fighting against the force that holds me, my eyes still bleeding her laughter still in the background and then all goes black.
I wake up.
|
|
| Making Friends On The Highway | 2002-01-09 02:48:57 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | I was driving along at a 160 kph, and I saw a Honda Prelude loom up in the distance. It was red [which is a bit of a shame], but the tires were about as broad as mine, so it was probably a nutcase like me. Now, I drive a Honda Civic, a substantially smaller Honda...but with those tires it looks absolutely mutated. Also, I have golden logo's on my car, which is a clear indication to any Honda fan that I am a total Honda drooler. So I drive up, he's in the middle lane, I'm in the left lane. I notice that he has golden logo's as well, so I slow down to match his speed and look over to his car, and then to who is in the driver's seat. It's a guy, about 22 years old, looking mighty proud of himself. I give him an appreciative nod and I switch back to third gear and blast off. I switch lanes and go and drive in front of him. I can see from my rearview mirror that he sees my logo's and I decide to race off. I'm zooming in and out of traffic and all of a sudden I see his car [way much faster and more powerful than mine] drive up, two lanes away from me. The road comes to a splitsing. He veers off to the left, I to the right. He looks at me and nods appreciatively and gives me the thumbs up. My morning is good. :)
|
|
| Tattoo | 2002-01-05 01:02:21 |
|
|---|
DV8
Joined: 2003-11-10 12:00:00
Location: Amsterdam | I want a tattoo. I've wanted to have one done for about a year now. I know which one I want too. I want my social security number tattooed somewhere on my body in barcode form. "Somewhere" is not defined yet, I can't decide.
I want the barcode to be "streetlegal". It has to be able to be read by a scanner. Personally I'm very fond of the UPC-A, which is the UCC american retail standard, but that doesn't incorporate an international country code like the EAN-13 standard does. Also, the EAN-13 standard is the world-wide retail standard, while the UPC-A is United States only. The only problem with EAN-13 is that it has several checksums to which my social security number will never hold up. And then there's always the Code 39 and Code 128 standards if you want to incorporate alpha numeric as well as numeric digits.
There's only one problem...
...there's always a problem, isn't there? Yes, there is, and this is it :: The ink of tattoo's will slowly fade and spread over the years, the capilary veins in your skin will make the ink slowly spread and a straight, fine line will slowly blur. If you would simply tattoo a barcode on your skin, you'll have one big black ugly mass a few years later as the thin lines will merge together. Also, the thinnest lines of a standard barcode can't be reproduced with normal tattoo's.
The solution :: Make the barcode bigger. But in making it bigger, it will become humonguous and therefor ugly. Also, I could opt for removing some of the lines from the barcode, but that would kind of defeat the purpose of having a real barcode on your body. I might as well just think up something that likes kinda cool.
I'm contemplating finding a permanent make-up visagist in order to see if they have special tools that will be able to create the lines I desire.
Also, I should wait a little while since it will look totally tacky if I, in the wake of the computer game Hitman - Codename and the television series Dark Angel, get a tattoo of a barcode now.
And yes, I have considered it well. I've considered the social implications and the reactions of everyone from my mother on to jewish holocaust victims that were locked up in concentration camps during WWII.
|
|
| | August 2010 |
|---|
| M | T | W | T | F | S | S | | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | | 29 | 30 | 31 | | | | | | | | | | | | |
| September 2010 |
|---|
| M | T | W | T | F | S | S | | | | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | | | | | | | | | | | |
| October 2010 |
|---|
| M | T | W | T | F | S | S | | | | | | 1 | 2 | 3 | | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | | | | | | | | |
|
