THE LAST & THE FIRST
Serial-position effect is what I'm talking about, guys. Wikipedia, the superreliable source, defines it as: "... the tendency of a person to recall the first and last items in a series best, and the middle items worst." (Thank you, Wiki.)
I am not really sure I remember many of my "firsts". I can remember my last noodle soup, last good joke, last girlfriend, last pizza, last cute gift. Having a hard time remembering any first ones of the things mentioned. I remember my "bests" above anything else. The best sweater (my dad's heritage and it literally fell apart on me). The best drink (authentic home made Indian chai- flavour overload). The best trip (my first visit to the States). The best restaurant (OMG that crazy Ethiopian restaurant in Toronto). The best people in my life (and some of the worst ones).
I'll start with the last... altough it's hard to talk about the last one (I'm not even entirely sure such a thing exsists #addicted) when it comes to tattoos, but the last one poked on my skin (@ Brink) is my favourite so far. It's a sister tattoo and it's the best/cutest/awesomenest thing ever (as are my two lovely sisters). It took us about seven years to choose a design all three of us agreed to. Setting the date and time was no less of a nigthmare.
But here they are in all of their magic.
I am not really sure I remember many of my "firsts". I can remember my last noodle soup, last good joke, last girlfriend, last pizza, last cute gift. Having a hard time remembering any first ones of the things mentioned. I remember my "bests" above anything else. The best sweater (my dad's heritage and it literally fell apart on me). The best drink (authentic home made Indian chai- flavour overload). The best trip (my first visit to the States). The best restaurant (OMG that crazy Ethiopian restaurant in Toronto). The best people in my life (and some of the worst ones).
I'll start with the last... altough it's hard to talk about the last one (I'm not even entirely sure such a thing exsists #addicted) when it comes to tattoos, but the last one poked on my skin (@ Brink) is my favourite so far. It's a sister tattoo and it's the best/cutest/awesomenest thing ever (as are my two lovely sisters). It took us about seven years to choose a design all three of us agreed to. Setting the date and time was no less of a nigthmare.
But here they are in all of their magic.
My first tattoo is a completely different story. I was young (sweet sixteen), original and resourceful, so I decided I should hand poke (the immortal tale of needle, thread and ink) the outline of a glowing star we all had glued to our ceiling as teenagers on my right thigh. According to some tattoo artists, I did helluva good job. No joke.
See for yourself.
Adding to my bucket list: learn how to hand poke tattoos.
(Right after: buy a Polaroid camera, visit New Zaeland and cuddle a kiwibird, learn how to play piano and speak Russian. I might not have enough time and resources in this life.)
Buh-bye for now.
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