Bear with me for a moment while I side track a bit Todd and英文资料.pdfVIP

Tattoos, Ralph Willsey Fancy scars. Theyre just fancy scars filled with ink. Some folks get them because they look cool. Some because they want to count coup. I do it to tell a story. They important parts of my life are scribed on my body in the most indelible of inks. The friends Ill see on the other side. The things I want to remember. The demons I must never forget. Probably the best place to start is at the beginning. I decided to get a tattoo sometime in junior high. The ideas changed with the years, until I finally settled on my family crest in my senior year. My dad had found it in a book on the Wiltze family: a puffin and a Moors head on an orange shield with a wreath. My ancestors were some bad people. They were one of the few Barbarian tribes to actually defeat the Roman legions in combat—repeatedly. Later, during the Crusades, they kept the Moors from moving through the Pyrenees mountains in to France. At some point between those eras, a portion of them immigrated to Ireland. My sister paid for my first ritual scarring. A very permanent graduation present, I think. The second came from a discussion with my friend, Tony. We were going over Chinese philosophy and martial arts while working out. He told me about the Chinese belief that the sword is a demon to be contained. To that end, the swordsmiths would engrave the hilt and scabbard of each sword with the Yin and Yang, along with the eight walls of protection. I pondered that for a time, thinking about the good and evil in man, that sort of thing. After a while I decided it would make a nifty piece of artwork for my shoulder. I came home on leave, wrangled up my dad and my buddy Duncan, and headed to Erie Boulevard. I cant remember the name of the shop, sadly. Their work wasnt stellar by any stretch of the imagination. Despite that, Dad and Duncan walked out with their first tattoos, and I with my second. I have used the physical reminder to keep my temper i