Identity Crisis

My brain is mushy. I do not like it when I have a mushy brain. It feels like peas squished on the back of a fork like my headmaster used to do in prep school when he'd sit with the students and tell us off for eating peas with a spoon. Mushy pea brain. That is me.

The mushy brain is a product of many things, lack of sleep and exhaustion being the primary reason. Every night's been a late one, I've still got loads of mixing to do for the Y2k album, scenes to shoot for the movie (and only two weeks to edit before the submission deadline), I've got a gig coming up this Saturday (like you'll come... pah...) at Hartamas Square as part of some New Years Eve celebration and trying to organize rehearsals for both my bands around my already packed schedule is insanity by itself, the little wrist injury I got from shooting the action sequence is still acting up, my left arm is completely fucked and has been since my last gig (I'm not sure why. I think I tore my bicep. Even pulling the handbrake is sheer agony) and my parents have been giving me early morning shit-storms on a daily basis because I stillhaven't done my MyKad IC.

Yes. I still haven't done my IC.

For those across the pond, Malaysia has Identification Cards. Every Malaysian has one. And they've been trying to renew it to this new, fancy, electronic card. The cards have a chip in it, just like ATM cards, and they can store all kinds of wonderfully personal information about you in these tiny chips.

Yes, it is very Orwellian. We all have numbers. I have a number. And soon I'll have a chip too. Police will be able to scan my card and instantly know everything they want to know about me.

Electronic identification cards and yet we still don't have the flying car. Science fiction lied to us.

What I find interesting is the difference in opinion between those that have been brought up all their life with the idea of identification cards and those that haven't. Most (if not all) my friends in England reacted very negatively when they saw I had an identification card. Totalitarian, they called it. 1984.

My friends in Malaysia, on the other hand, think the English are stupid for not taking up the identification card. "How will people know who you are?" they ask, "how do you prove your identity?"

My common reply is usually, "why should you have to prove your identity?"

And when you think of it, the West isn't much different. America has an equivalent hidden under another name: 'Social Security Number'. Even in England you have a number: 'National Insurance Number'. How much or how little information is stored behind these numbers, I don't know. But then again, even if you forget the number, there's also your driving license. Your picture's on it, together with your name, date of birth, address, etc.

We all have numbers. We all have a piece of paper laminated with a passport sized portrait photo and our particulars. It's only a matter of time before those eye-scanners from Minority Report become a reality. The keyboard-free computer interface fetured in the movie not only already exists but is being used by advertising companies around the world (I know this because the suppliers came over and showed it to us. It really is quite cool). The fear of government in this country is very real, but maybe because their actions are much more transparent. I sincerely believe that it's no better in the West, they just have better spin doctors (for the ignorant, no, I'm not talking about the band).

Look around you. Orwell was right. Every item you own has a barcode, a number, a reference tag. Your name is just one of the millions floating through cyberspace under e-mails, receipts, bank transactions, chat rooms, registrations, etc. Face facts. Wake up and smell the coffee. In the words of Mr. Lebowski, "Condolences! The bums LOST!"

Phew.

That went completely off tangent. First coffee of the day. Not much sleep.

Brain not so mushy now, though.