*** eddyg wouldn’t want to antagonise FalconFour and be on the same continent – he’s the sort to come knocking on your door with an AK47 and a few support questions of his own.
I lol’d. Googling myself on the #handbrake IRC logs is proving to be quite entertaining. source
That song’s really painfully cheesy… but that lyric stuck.
So, at least 3 years coming, I finally got that tattoo I’ve been dreaming of.
Please excuse the emo mirror photo. At first I couldn’t think of a good way to get a photo of a tattoo on my arm (with the other? timer?), then I thought of the mirror. Cool deal. So here it is, at least in line form. Not quite finished yet, but it’s already as beautiful as I imagined it. I’m so damn happy…
Okay, a little back story (and/or more reasons to believe I’m insane) is in order. See, I don’t lie, and I’m not your average joe 12-year-old furry – I really believe I am a falcon at heart, stuck in a body I don’t respect, that doesn’t respect me. I’m unusually robotic at a lot of things, avoiding social situations and preferring to stay home perusing Wikipedia or absorbing other knowledge. Hell, the love of my life is arguably a “robot” itself. F-16s don’t have a perceivable conscience, nor would any person other than myself really put an emotional label on them. Something’s different about me. I never felt like I belonged in the body I was given. If anything, I should be a fighter pilot – but if there’s anything my body doesn’t want me to be… it’s a fighter pilot. I’ve got to give it respect for being really immune to motion-sickness, though 😉
So, the tattoo. Like a lot of F-16s have a falcon on the side of them, giving them their name (and, arguably, their personality, liveliness, or “soul”), I wanted the same on me. Maybe I am just a soul deposited into a random body. I really now need something to make it mine. Then, I can actually see the body as “myself”, and perhaps treat myself with a lot more respect than I had in the past…
Perhaps it would also reflect in the work I do outside of my weekend clothes. So often, I use clothes to present a better outward appearance than the shit I’m forced to wear Monday through Friday. Nobody else can see that falcon on my arm, but I still know it’s there. I now remember, I now know who I am, no matter what ridiculous outfit I put on. Rather quite the change from the generic human I’d been before. I’m still the same flesh and blood, but I finally have something permanently engrained in my skin to signify exactly what this body means to me.
And it changes everything.
tl;dr: I got a fucking tattoo, bitches. I’m badass.
If I had a clone, and we worked together, the secrets of the universe would be unlocked, ReactOS would be complete, PC repair shops would become corporations (plural), and dear god, don’t even get me started on the bedroom. *cough*
This is a phenomenon explained thus:
I am lazy.
I accept constructive criticism.
I give constructive criticism. Often, a little too much for most people.
I’m the only person I don’t think is a total tool in most areas. (note both implications there)
I speak my mind, often with an excess of verbosity.
I’m really quite good at organizing a team and dividing tasks.
Therefore, if I had a clone, my weaknesses and strengths would complement each other in an infinitely motivating way. I could take a large task, divide it up evenly, and not only would I agree with myself, I wouldn’t have a problem with trading sub-tasks back and forth, collaborating on ideas, etc.
Just brain candy for the night. Because damnit, I am the proud owner of a flight suit tonight. All that’s left is to dream of if there were another of me that would appreciate it.
I dunno if I’ll make this a daily thing, maybe a “at least once a week” thing, or what… but it’d sure be nice to actually give a shit about posting things.
So, today was relatively uneventful. At work I diagnosed a laptop (Gateway something) with a backlight that was glowing red (wtf?), and opened up a (Dell Inspiron 700m) laptop to find that some power components had literally exploded off the board (with nothing but charcoal left behind). Easy diagnosis: bad backlight, bad motherboard. Woohoo, next.
I dunno, work’s been slow lately. Not many viruses going around right now, which is fucking awesome in my opinion. Less bullshit to fight with, less number of times I need to cross my fingers that ComboFix won’t lock up. Less nukes. I fucking hate nukes. Our shop does such a crap job of nukes. Default everything, practically left up for interpretation. Almost all the systems we “nuke” are XP systems, and XP needs so many “crutches” (third party programs, tweaks, etc) to be useful… yet we really can’t install any of them. I built an uber-ultimate auto-nuke CD that installs any of 5 flavors of Windows on one CD-R with all known sound/video/wlan/storage drivers, as well as updates, .NET, Java, etc…Â and I catch flak for changing the name of the bullshit “Documents and Settings” folder to “Users”. How douche?
At school I finished off Tropic Thunder. Cool movie. The “real Four Leaf” reminds me of myself if just in what later became revealed (trying not to spoil anything). You’ll have to see it to understand. 😛 Oh, and yeah, “at school”… tech classes today. So boring I turned on a movie. Yeah. You know how I get the assignments done? I copy one of the guys that wants me to “grade” his assignment. 😛
FalconFour's Perpetual Musings 