I don't remember what movie it was in but there was a scene from a war movie that I saw probably twenty years ago that has stayed with me more than anything else from the movie - including the title of the movie itself. And most likely I have the details of the scene wrong but here's the gist. A couple of soldiers were somewhere and one of them noticed something odd along the trail. The other, more experienced, soldier looked up and noticed some sort of booby trap. The experienced soldier went on to explain that their enemies were adept at placing booby traps and would place something along the trail to get your attention drawn to it rather than the trap. So if there was something odd below, look up. I remember thinking that that was good advice and that maybe it would pay off down the road.

Distractions can take many forms. They can be placed by anyone. They can be happenstance. They can be downright devious. They can be fun. Necessary. Timely. Distractions can be part of a political strategy that spans generations, continents, idealogies. A master of public relations can create them or take advantage of current ones or dredge up old ones. If you're in power you know all about them and will get greater mileage out of them than those out of power.

One of the distractions that has been around forever is the sideways nature of our disputes with our neighbors. We have a self preservation gene somewhere in our code. As part of that instinct, we naturally keep track of resources. We know what we need to survive. When it is near us, we take inventory without really realizing it. One of the things that I inventory is personal space. I need a certain amount and I really don't want you in it without an invitation. I once drew a line in the dirt while showing a new guy something on the job - he just would not give me space. So I drew a line and told him to stay on his side.

So I think we all just know that resources are limited. Some are more limited than others. Some are limited by nature and some are limited by design. And, of course, it is all relative. The condition of survival is relative to the point of comedy. What we feel we need just to make it through the day is wildly unimagineable to people just two generations ago. And future generations will look back and wonder just how in the world we ever got by. Now look sideways. What are others getting by on? What are they taking from you? Why don't you have enough? And if you have just enough, how long will it last? I'm getting by with this much, why do they want more? Maybe if they looked more like us, they'd fit in better and get more. I've got mine, why should I have to give some up for them? And besides, noone helped me. I'm a self-made superstar.

Where do these thoughts originate? Maybe it's survival instinct from our caveman days. Maybe Grog needed a better cave than Zorg and began to horde and became more successful at mating and passed more of those genes along than Zorg. Maybe. But when those in power are outright blaming one group over another for your troubles and your lack of stuff, look out. There's a booby trap somewhere.

The Beginning

So about 18 years ago I got my first tattoo. It was delightfully spontaneous in that I changed my mind even as we walked back to the room. I saw a cool dragon on the wall and asked to have that emblazoned on my arm for life instead of whatever it was I had picked out before. Two other tattoos followed. While I certainly liked the artwork, there was not a whole lot of meaning behind them. Fast forward 7 years to when I began dating Erin - who turned out to be the love of my life and mother of my amazing son 7 years after we began dating. Through deep cultural investigations of the Chinese zodiac at a Chinese restaurant, we realized that Erin was born in the Year of the Dragon. And since there are no coincidences in life, the choice for my first tattoo became retroactively prophetic. It was nice to have meaning ascribed to my dragon.

So 18 years after getting my first tattoo and 16 years since the most recent, I am about to get another one. This time, however, I searched for a symbol with meaning first. It only makes sense to have something in honor of our son, now four. He was born in the Year of the Dog. I was born in the Year of the Rabbit. Dogs are much cooler than rabbits. Dog it is. Or maybe a combo dragon, dog, rabbit...nah. I've chosen a Celtic dog design. I have the artist picked out. And I have the money. Just need to schedule. Then Erin tells me I really need to start writing. We've talked about writing many times over the years. I agree and will get around to it sooner or later. But Erin knows me, if I don't start writing, the tattoo money will be absorbed by the household finance section of the budget. Exactly the impetus I need. So here goes. A blanketyblankblog.