American in Amsterdam
You know the college Eurotrip…go country hopping and get into trouble. Someone that stuck with me and now Europe is my nomad home for the past 8 years. Now, I’m pimping my granny bike in Amsterdam
Play Time
We’re made to play. We’re not made work ourselves to death. We’re not made to unconsciously follow rules like robots. We’re made to compete and to find ways to survive. And for me that only comes in one form, to play.
Skills in Training
Ruby on Rails
Twitter bootstrap
Location independent living
Salsa
Pasta making
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Isn’t it weird? Having to pay everything you call customer support?
Seriously, have you ever thought about this? I’m just going to throw this out there as this is something I experience more and more here in The Netherlands. So whenever I have a problem with my toys or have to call the insurance company, I have to call customer support.
And every time I get the same melody:
DUDE, I AM NOT MEXICAN.
And speaking of that, I ain’t Indian, never was a Latino salsa sensation and definitely not a terrorist…or so I won’t publicly admit. (Hopefully I didn’t just black list myself)
Raised in America, the land where there’s a fascination to define people based on skin color, people were confused the hell out of me.
I’m not white.
I’m not black.
What the hell? Brown?
Oh he must be Mexican
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