Perception is reality

God, I'm such a bad ass...
OH! Hello again, it's been a while since I've seen you all... good to be home.
Now you might perceive by the way I started off this blog that I'm going to be ranting about how much I kick ass and how I am knock down, drag out, scare the shit out of you hardcore. For you that think that... I'm sorry to disappoint.
I like to think that I'm a bad ass at times, but the truth is that I'm that guy who turns down his hardcore gangster rap and locks the door whenever someone that is actually "hard" comes by my car, not unlike Michael Bolton in Office Space... Yeah, I'm that cool.
My half ranting comes from what's been happening to me late... and the treatment that I've been receiving makes me wish I were an actual bad ass... not the kind that plays one on television.
As most of you already know, my right arm is clad with tattoos from top to bottom, the "sleeve" type is what it's called in some circles... and I got all "inked up" from a monk in Thailand while I traveled there... pretty bad ass right? I like to think so... then, this past Sunday, my girlfriend and I went and pierced our septum's... (the middle cartilage in your nose).
All I need now is a cut off leather jacket vest thingy and some chains, and I can hang on the corner throwing dice with my rag tag gangster friends. (circa 1953)
I say all this because of how I'm treated regardless of anything else I do.
Perception is in fact, reality.
While I transit around, sometimes I'm required to depend on public transportation, which is where I run into most of my problems... mothers guarding their children while flashing me dirty looks as if I'm a confirmed pedophile... please lady, your kid isn't my type... I like darker hair... kidding
I knew that stuff like this would happen but I never expected to be this caddy.
Oh well I guess.
The only thing I have to say about is... I wish I was as much of a bad ass as people are making me out to be... I wish I was "hard" just because of my tattoos and nose piercing.
If that was the case I'd break bottles of jack daniels over my face just to prove a point at my local hells angles hangout... then flex on 'em all...
"What son? I ride a ducati... got a problem with that? Why you got to be blowin' up my spot like that?"
Man, if only...
I guess all of this is sort of true... of you follow one of my favorite quotes...

"You are not who you think you are... you are not who you think others think you are... you are who you think others think you are."

Which is a very true statement...
That being said... aside from the hells angel brawls and busting bottles on my face... I'm a grade A bad ass...
well not grade A... like grade B... minus...
Where's a printer when you really need to take out all of your aggression... huh?