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Not many people know that I have a tattoo. It's in a very concealed place. Since a few people have seen it and I want to keep it that way, I've decided to show you all a rough drawing of what the tattoo looks like. It's a chaos star. There are many versions of the chaos star, but it's generally a set of arrows pointing in every direction.

It symbolizes the chaos theory, which is a topic that fascinates me very much. While the theory stems from a mathematical/biological background, it pertains to everyday life. The chaos theory, also known as the butterfly effect, explains that every single occurrence in our lives is the direct or indirect result of something smaller, which is the result of something smaller, and so on. A famous example is a butterfly flapping its wings in Australia may eventually cause a hurricane in Florida.

Right now, I am sitting on my kitchen chair, typing this on my laptop. A million events brought me here: my parents meeting, my mother giving birth to me, me deciding to stay in Chicago during college, me being introduced to blipfoto, me buying a camera off of Craigslist to replace my broken one, this apartment becoming available around the time I needed one, me deciding to skip yoga class today, and a multitude of other occurrences.

I exist because my grandparents made eye contact in Sicily over fifty years ago. If they had never brought their family to America, my dad would never have met my mom and I wouldn't be here today. It is difficult to pinpoint where everything all began, but every single thought, action, occurrence, breath, placement, sight, smell, and sound is the direct and indirect result of countless other thoughts, actions, occurrences, breaths, placements, sights, smells, and sounds. You feel your chronic back pain today because you lifted a dresser 10 years ago and pulled a muscle, which was a result of you not stretching because you were distracted by your favorite T.V. show, which you never would've heard of if it hadn't been for your friend, whom you knew from soccer, a sport you grew to love because your uncle taught you how to play that week you visited him in Michigan, a vacation your mother had planned for you because she won a free plane ticket from a raffle at the town carnival, which took place mainly due to the profits generated from the local school's bake sale, where a sweet old lady named Mrs. O'Leary sold her famous cherry pies, which she learned to bake from a recipe she obtained from a neighbor for 25 cents when she was a young lady in 1941. In a nutshell, your back hurts today because a woman gave her neighbor a quarter seventy years ago.

I was told that when you're on a motorcycle, you have to stay at least two seconds behind the car in front of you. I've been religiously following that rule. I even count the seconds sometimes. The road I take home from work has recently been redone, so there are patches of new pavement scattered along the road for a couple of miles. So there I was today, riding about three seconds behind an old Toyota sedan at about 45 miles per hour. Out of the blue, the driver of the Toyota slammed on his brakes for no apparent reason, which caused me to slam on mine as well. Normally, I would have come to a sudden stop, but since I was on new pavement, my motorcycle fishtailed and it leaned to the right, about to topple over. At this point, I was at maybe 25 miles per hour. My dad once told me to never, ever panic while on a motorcycle, so I tried my best to remain focused. Out of reflex, I put my right foot down and pushed the motorcycle back up along with my weight and within a few seconds my bike was straight again. The incident shook me up so much that I pulled over at a gas station to recompose myself.

What if I hadn't put my foot down? What if I was two seconds behind the car instead of three? What if the car's brake lights were broken? What if I panicked and turned my handlebars? What if, instead of stopping, I moved to another lane without looking? Had one little thing happened or didn't happen, I probably wouldn't be alive right now.

The reason I woke up one day in Los Angeles when I was 19 and decided to get a tattoo at the Venice Beach was because I wanted to remind myself that I am the only one who can control my own life. Every decision I make affects my future, as well as other people's futures. It also reminds me that every single person and living thing in the world is connected to each other one way or another. I wanted to keep in mind that I am never trapped anywhere because there is always a way around everything.

Ultimately, the tattoo is there to remind me to live, breathe, love, laugh, ponder, and have adventures, because your life can come to an end in the blink of an eye.