I got “The Creation of Adam” done on my forearm in a developer version. Because apparently, the classic Renaissance just wasn’t complicated enough for me. Michelangelo had the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. I have a forearm. He had paints, I have a tattoo machine. He spent years creating a masterpiece, and now I have to make sure I don’t scratch myself for a few days like a man possessed by an allergy demon. The motif is simple: the divine hand represented as a 3D digital mesh, and my completely analog hand on the other side. So, on one side, a perfect project, and on the other, a production version with bugs. And that’s probably the most honest representation of a human I’ve ever seen. The upper hand looks perfect. Geometric, precise, everything checks out. Zero random elements. My arm, on the other hand, has everything a product released to the market too early should have: imperfections, hair, weird design decisions, and features nobody asked for. Between them remains that famous gap.

Only I see it a bit differently. It’s no longer just a divine spark. It’s the moment when heaven tries to send me an update, and I have automatic downloads turned off.

That’s why I treat this tattoo a bit like an instruction manual for myself. I have a reminder on my arm that I’m simultaneously the project, the product, and the end user. And the administrator, of course. Which is the worst possible combination. Because who’s going to stop me from making changes in production at 2 AM? Nobody. And that’s exactly why I often have to do a rollback in the morning.