Semana passada aconteceu comigo um episódio que há dias estou pra relatar aqui, mas resolvi esperar pra esfriar a cabeça e escrever da maneira mais clara e lúcida possível.
Pois bem, eu odeio essa maldita classe média alta (ou só alta) fodida de Porto Alegre.
Era perto do meio-dia e fazia um tempo ótimo, com muito sol - calor mas sem exagero e eu ia a pé levar minha pequena filha para a escolinha, no que já estava se tornando uma certa rotina. Eu, cantando e brincando com a pequena, seguia totalmente distraído até ser surpreendido por gritos histéricos de 3 ou 4 cornos filhos de uma puta rica dentro de um carro importado cuja marca não soube identificar. Gritavam "E aí otário, da próxima vez usa camisinha" ou "Palhaço, vai levar a nenêm pra escolinha, trouxa" ou "Aí otário, tomou o golpe hein?" e outros xingamentos do estilo.
Fiquei completamente sem reação, a não ser levantar meu dedo do meio. E só.
Passei o dia me sentindo mal por não ter esboçado uma reação sequer. Pensei que bom que a Felícia não consegue entender essas coisas, pois tive medo de que ela se sentisse uma criança indesejada nesse mundo. Passei o dia pensando que merdinhas como esses não têm mais o que fazer, a não ser dirigir o carrão ao meio-dia e queimar indios no banco da praça. Como a música do playboy que tira onda de mendigo.
E então lembrei do meu medo juvenil de ser algum dia na vida confundido com um playboy. Lembrei da minha resistência em fazer amigos no ambiente da escola particular. E lembrei de muito ódio que guardei por uma opção mais saudável e tranquila de viver.
E apenas por um breve momento, me arrependi amargamente de tê-lo guardado.
You watch the superbowl just for the commercials
You can spot bad typography from 100 yds away
You are pro-facebook because 95% of the myspace accounts burn your retinas
You can name more than 200 fonts in under five minutes
You are completely immune to subliminal advertising
You look upon a well-designed project with either:
sympathy OR extreme jealousy
Your hand is permanently stuck in the shape of a mouse
You tell stories of exacto-knife inflicted wounds with grizzled sort of pride
You practically take caffeine intravenously
You have an appreciation for everything unique
You’ve been spending three days non-stop on a project and it still looks like shit. You find yourself overcome by Deathlust.
“You find your pulse increase at the sight of a lovely ligature, glasses steam up when an unusually elegant arm, leg, or tail comes in view, and a well-kerned paragraph is apt to make you break into a sweat with excitement.”
“You know you’re a Graphic Designer when… you buy a CD or DVD for the artwork, even if you have no idea what the actual music or film is like”.
(even worse, you don’t actually watch or listen to it, just stare at it for hours and hug it in adoration)
“You know you’re a Graphic Designer when… you look at the clock and see it’s about midnight and think ‘I’ll go to bed now’… and you actually go to bed about 2-3am”.
“You know you’re a Graphic Designer when… you need someone else to point out that you’re sitting in a room in front of the computer with all the lights off, and haven’t noticed”
“…when you know what “kerning” is and you really, really like it.”
“… when you wear two [ke] [rn] pins on your bag, and only you know what the mean. To others its probably a band of sorts..”
Forget the boy-wonder and the man of steel; your heroes have names like ‘Tibor Kalman’, ‘Stefan Sagmeister’, ‘Paul Rand’, and ‘Paula Scher’.
You don’t wear black to look cool, you wear it to hide the gauche.
You have a thing for chairs. You don’t know why.
You giggle whenever you use the colors F0CCED, EFF0FF and 44DDDD
You’re in the sun and you look around for a Drop Shadow to sit under.
You give your relatives a lecture about color spaces and profiles when you email them your vacation photos.
Seeing someone use Lens Flare or Comic Sans adversely affects your blood-pressure
You maintain a grid system for your refrigerator magnets.
You organize your CD collection according to the Pantone chart.
You sit at work for eight hours straight just looking at your monitor, waiting for a spark of inspiration that doesn’t come.
You’re up ’til 5am because you came up with the best idea ever while brushing your teeth.
The hottest dream you ever had was “Trace contour… Find Edges… Pinch… Extrude… Smudge Stick… Motion Blur…. Sprayed Strokes…”
You know Lorem Ipsum by heart.
Your kid knows Lorem Ipsum by heart.
The preschool teacher complains your child won’t color inside or outside the lines – only indicate colors on a separate sheet.
Activating your entire font collection makes your computer crash
You deliberately butcher your perfectly cross browser compatible site in IE by placing a “Too Cool for IE” banner on it.
You prefer a Layer Style of 50% Opacity (or less) on your wife’s Satin.
You spend $200 on a font for your personal website because “it’s the only one where the lower-case g is just right…”
Looking at a menu make you go “hmmm, ITC Baskerville italic” rather than “mmmm, lunch!”
And when you finally order, you go for Layer Based Slices with Grain Texture…
You use words about fonts you dislike that other normal people reserve for fascist dictators and serial killers.
Apple+Z is the first thing that goes through your mind if you drop and break something.
You refer to colleagues as Strict, Transitional, Loose and the Future Unemployed.
You refer to your privates as “the Magic Wand”.
You know that rivers are more than just water.
Your best friends are all employees at the local print shop
The only people who seem to know what you do for a living are other Graphic Designers (ex: Graphic Design? What’s that? You’ll never be able to make a living being an
artist!)
Kerning and leading on your shopping list actually matters to you, and you don’t see a problem with that.
Several South American economies suffer noticeably any time you try to give up coffee, or even cut your consumption of it by half.
You know that “bleeding” doesn’t hurt.
when your significant other/ friends have threatened to never speak to you again if you point out one more font to them.
when you know the difference between fuchsia, magenta, and maroon.
If you could go back in time you wouldn’t go back to see the rise and fall of civilizations, you’d go back in time to destroy comic sans and papyrus.
You can understand everything on this list.
(Fonte: http://nheerdesign.wordpress.com/)
