Barcode

Most people who know me, or even those that only fleetingly enter my life and just as fast are gone again, know that I wear tattoos. Most of these aren't on show in every day life, and only a couple of them have any meaning.
The two that do hold meaning are the ones that people generally see, as they're on my forearms. On my left arm I wear script. Two words. Temet Nosce. Very few people in my life know what this means, and I like it that way. If you do, then either you're very close to me or you've taken the initiative to find out. In either case, it should tell you something about me. And on my right arm there sits a barcode.

Most people that see it question why. Why would I do such a thing as to scar a barcode upon my skin? Am I thug? A gang member? Or just an idiot? I would suggest none of these, although most would think the latter.

In truth it's symbolic. I don't expect everyone to get it, and I won't explain it to everyone that asks. It's been there for several years, and while it looked pretty crisp when it was first done, the constant abuse my wrist has taken from being scraped to and fro across a workstation for 8 or more hours per day, due to me using a mouse for my work during the entirety of my adult life, has taken it's toll. Nonetheless, it's still there, albeit a little more worse for wear than it once was.

So what does it mean?

I believe we live our lives upon somewhat of a production line. We have set paths we all must follow up to a point. We're all born, we all learn to crawl, walk, talk, count, spell, do math, progress through a school we didn't choose, become educated in things we care nothing about and we're spat out the other end into our adolescent years to contend with the world.
We then face, for the first real time in our fledgling lives, a choice. We can choose to get a job and make an honest living from the get-go, or we can choose to continue along the path of education. Although we think we're given this choice, society will generally dictate which we choose. In truth it's really not a choice at all, we're still rolling around the production line.

We face small decisions every day, what to have for breakfast, when to leave for work, what we'll do that evening, and who we will surround ourselves with, but ultimately our lives are shaped by other people. Other people decide what's best for you, support you, fix you, love you, give you a job, and pay your wages. This is something that will change for very few people before their inevitable demise in later life.
But you chose your job, you made that choice, right? Not really. You made the decision to apply, but someone else made the decision to give you the job. Although you had some influence over that decision, ultimately it still wasn't you that made it. The person that operates the machine that is your job made it for you. They needed a new cog for their machine and you just happened to be the best one available.

So you see, we're all products of a social hierarchy, even if we don't realise it. My barcode serves to remind me of the fact that sometimes, I'm just not the one in control of my life. It reminds me that although I don't directly believe in fate, I don't think we're in complete control of our own lives either. The production line is somewhere in between, meandering between fate and control, from one to the other, both at once and never at all.
This is what my barcode represents