I was speaking with a coworker today who was telling me about a recent trip she had taken to her home town. She visited with a few of her old friends but found many more were unwilling or simply uninterested in meeting up with her. In her mind friends remain friends regardless of the number of years or miles that separate them, and she was upset to find so many people with whom she once shared a close bond now granted her no more affection than a drifter blowing through town.
"How could this be?" she wondered aloud. "Why would they choose to ignore me and not recognize our friendship?"
I immediately responded, "Because to them you're a ghost."
She looked at me quizzically, so I explained, " You were their friend in a former life, and when the path you walked together diverged and distance obscured you from view you became, in essence, ethereal, intangible, a simple wisp of memory. To see you again would be, for them, as if the ground opened up and the dead stood before them."
This was, quite understandably, much too depressing a thought for her, so our conversation ended there. She left for the break room and I sat at my desk pondering what I had just said.
I think most people live many lives, although we often mistake them for one. No part of ourselves stays the same forever; our thoughts, our passions, even our memories continuously bend, twist, shift and transform as time progresses. Our cells divide, grow old, die and are reborn again every several years. Our appearance changes as our bones grow, shrink, break and heal and as our skin is stretched, wrinkled and scarred. We will call many places home. Our families on Earth will grow with each new birth and marriage and shrink with every death and divorce. Some friendships may last but many more will fade away with time or be replaced with others.
Our current and future lives will always be in some ways tethered to our old, and our hearts will sometimes ache for friends and moments that have passed beyond our reach. Still time flows forward unfettered, and we are inevitably moved by it.
***
I'm about to be laid off from a job I never really liked, that I only stayed in as long as I did in order to take care of my family. I'm not bad at my job, but I'm not particularly suited for it either. My passion has always been in studying and discussing the evolution of human thought and culture, and I've known for years I should be in a field that would provide me opportunities to not only learn but also share the knowledge I've gained. Peggy and I decided that my impending job loss would be the impetus that would push me toward this goal. There are things I'll miss - job security and a steady paycheck, primarily - but there's no use in pining for things that are currently beyond my grasp. My new life lies in scholastic pursuits, and I am optimistic that this will provide me with greater opportunities than a life in warehousing.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Having Sex With Dead People is Wrong
8/04/08
Necrophilia, the desire to perform pleasurable gyrations upon frigid slabs of once-human meat, is immoral and creepy. Once a person has died, when their heart ceases to palpitate, depriving their body of much-needed oxygen thereby causing brain death, they should not, under any circumstances, be considered viable sexual partners – even in the unlikely event that said person is reanimated by means of magic, witchcraft, devilry, possession by a malevolent spirit, toxic waste, electrical storm, cybernetic manipulation, parasites and so on. In other words, all undead creatures – zombies, mummies, Frankenstein's monster, flesh golems, liches, ghouls and vampires
Blog Dated 9/12/07
9/12/07
For years now I have been a huge proponent of the idea that we humans are not terribly special. Sure, we have these gigantic brains that are capable of both rational and abstract thought and we are perhaps the only truly self-aware creatures on the planet. And sure, we are the wizards of invention and have quite literally built mountains, lakes and rivers. We are also just a scant few years away of creating human-shaped golems of plastic and metal. And let me not forget bipedal-ism! We are the kings of walking on two legs. But as mind-bogglingly cool as all of this is, we are still primarily driven by the same urges as the wee rabbits in the fields. We are slaves to our appetites for food, power and sex.
Initially, our drive toward creative thought and invention - whether we evolved these traits over the course of millions of years or were endowed with them by a benevolent creator or whether these came by some other means or a mixture of several, it is the same - was a tool meant to keep us unified and, more importantly, alive. Our ancestors studied the world in which they lived and sought to understand it, principally by correlating the behavior of plants, animals and natural phenomena to human thought and action. By doing this they not only discovered ways of coexisting with their physical surroundings but also began to understand how they could utilize and exploit them. Thus the domestication of livestock developed, as well as agriculture, and from there soon cities sprang up. As cities grew larger and more populous job specialization occurred. Certain men found more time on their hands to sit down, think and create, and from there art and religion became more complex and varied. Other men came into positions of leadership and authority, and with this came a certain degree of impunity. They could eat, drink, make love to, and kill whoever and/or whatever they pleased. Without a sense of impending judgment for their excesses and abuses, they in large measure resorted back to those most basic and primal of urges.
Flash forward to today. As scientific thought has led more and more people to reject the concept of religious piety to a deity of exponential power and wisdom, an as they have been given more and more freedoms through both governmental and technological invention, the trend of humanity has been inevitably back toward our animalistic roots. We eat far more than we need simply because it's available. Society's interest in sex and sexuality has moved beyond even Roman proportions. I'll refrain from going on a diatribe about the popular resurgence of potty humor, but it is worth mentioning.
As a species, we have accomplished things no other has come even remotely close to, and our capacity to learn and understand will continue to be unrivaled for millions of years. Yet we are not nearly as superior as we think we are. I'll speak more on this later and on how I think we can prove ourselves more worthy of distinction. Right now, though, I'm tired of writing, and I don't think there's a way of saving these blogs without posting them, so I'll leave it as it is. (FYI, it's nearly two years later, and I never bothered to finish this thought. I doubt I'll get back to it.)
Initially, our drive toward creative thought and invention - whether we evolved these traits over the course of millions of years or were endowed with them by a benevolent creator or whether these came by some other means or a mixture of several, it is the same - was a tool meant to keep us unified and, more importantly, alive. Our ancestors studied the world in which they lived and sought to understand it, principally by correlating the behavior of plants, animals and natural phenomena to human thought and action. By doing this they not only discovered ways of coexisting with their physical surroundings but also began to understand how they could utilize and exploit them. Thus the domestication of livestock developed, as well as agriculture, and from there soon cities sprang up. As cities grew larger and more populous job specialization occurred. Certain men found more time on their hands to sit down, think and create, and from there art and religion became more complex and varied. Other men came into positions of leadership and authority, and with this came a certain degree of impunity. They could eat, drink, make love to, and kill whoever and/or whatever they pleased. Without a sense of impending judgment for their excesses and abuses, they in large measure resorted back to those most basic and primal of urges.
Flash forward to today. As scientific thought has led more and more people to reject the concept of religious piety to a deity of exponential power and wisdom, an as they have been given more and more freedoms through both governmental and technological invention, the trend of humanity has been inevitably back toward our animalistic roots. We eat far more than we need simply because it's available. Society's interest in sex and sexuality has moved beyond even Roman proportions. I'll refrain from going on a diatribe about the popular resurgence of potty humor, but it is worth mentioning.
As a species, we have accomplished things no other has come even remotely close to, and our capacity to learn and understand will continue to be unrivaled for millions of years. Yet we are not nearly as superior as we think we are. I'll speak more on this later and on how I think we can prove ourselves more worthy of distinction. Right now, though, I'm tired of writing, and I don't think there's a way of saving these blogs without posting them, so I'll leave it as it is. (FYI, it's nearly two years later, and I never bothered to finish this thought. I doubt I'll get back to it.)
On the Subject of Forbidden Body Parts...
10/25/07
My wife and I attended a small family get-together a few nights ago. As things were wrapping up, I overheard a brief exchange between a relative and his pregnant wife. He was helping her out of her seat, and while he did so she commented to him that her - ahem - "boobs" were aching. This statement offended his staunchly conservative Christian ears, and he retorted with a quiet yet sternly spoken reprimand: "That isn't an appropriate thing to say in mixed company." They left just a moment later.
This interplay bewildered me; what was so inappropriate about her statement? Did he find the word "boobs" morally reprehensible or was it perhaps the subject matter entirely that offended his clean and chaste ears? I would venture to guess that it was probably both a matter of wording and content that bothered him. What is so wrong, though, about saying that a part of you is sore? If I was to say that my shoulders ached no one would be bothered. What is it about those eye-catching geminated protuberances that make the mere mention of their existence taboo?
The breasts, especially around the nipple, are erogenous zones, i.e. parts of the body capable of arousing sexual interest. In a sense, then, they are sexual objects, and to a chaste and prudent person such a subject must be handled delicately if it is to be handled at all (Please forgive the pun). Both men and women may derive pleasure from "chestal" stimulation; however, it's only the female's torso ornamentation that must remain unspoken of in all but the more private conversations. One may conclude, then, that it is not the sexual nature of the organ itself that causes the mouths of decent folk to be firmly sealed on the subject. Besides, breasts are really multi-functional, and frankly, titillation is not what they were primarily designed for. The fact is – and this is a fact that all teenage boys and most grown men would rather ignore – boobs are chiefly purposed for the feeding of those adorable humanesque leeches we call babies. On a side note, how interesting is it that the average American is more grossed out by the idea of a breast leaking milk (a.k.a. lactating) than they are with the concept of jamming a thin piece of metal through the nipple?
Incidentally, breasts also act as great temperature gauges.
My suspicion is that the taboo derives not from the nature of breasts themselves but instead from the tendency of certain members of our population (straight men and religious fundamentalists, mainly) to categorize anything that may cause sensual stimulation as a sexual object. They may do this for a variety of reasons, from the desire to just keep their lives simple and uncomplicated to the fear of the puissance of this basic primal force that smolders within them which causes them to feel the need to eschew anything even remotely related to sex from their lives to a million-billion other options. There is real merit in dissecting the plethora of motives, but that'll be for another day, because I have neither time nor the patience to discuss it now.
I believe that, for whatever reason, it is the over-generalized categorization of the female boob as a sex organ that keeps it out of casual public conversation, at least in mixed company. The assumption seems to be that any mention of breasts within earshot of a man, however innocent or un-sexual the comment, will be taken out of context and the woman herself will be objectified and therefore victimized, in a manner of speaking. This may in large measure be true, if for no other reason than the social conditioning of the male mind, and so it may seem the logical solution to remove boobs from the Tome of Acceptable Subjects. There is a flaw in this, however, and thus it is: men sexualize literally everything, to varying degrees. We're hard-wired to do that. We could be looking at a woman's chest, her toe, a tree or a bowl of plastic fruit – it doesn't matter. It's nothing personal, at least for the most part, but it still happens. Try as we might to ignore it, the fact yet remains that we are animals and one of the most basic urges of all life is to procreate. Our giant wrinkled brains may have greatly complicated the process, but we are still compelled by this instinct. On the bright side, for as much as a man's thoughts may revert to sex we are usually able to push past this and continue about our lives uninterrupted.
Perhaps, then, our focus as a society should be less on the potential or overt sexuality of a person or a thing and more on the multifarious and wondrous aspects that said person or thing possesses. I love breasts. I love almost everything about them. They are beautiful, soft, curvy, womanly, sexy, fascinating, ever-changing and they are an absolutely integral part of our humanity. And I ask: If breasts are so complex, wondrous and valuable, why should we not openly discuss and celebrate them?
My wife and I attended a small family get-together a few nights ago. As things were wrapping up, I overheard a brief exchange between a relative and his pregnant wife. He was helping her out of her seat, and while he did so she commented to him that her - ahem - "boobs" were aching. This statement offended his staunchly conservative Christian ears, and he retorted with a quiet yet sternly spoken reprimand: "That isn't an appropriate thing to say in mixed company." They left just a moment later.
This interplay bewildered me; what was so inappropriate about her statement? Did he find the word "boobs" morally reprehensible or was it perhaps the subject matter entirely that offended his clean and chaste ears? I would venture to guess that it was probably both a matter of wording and content that bothered him. What is so wrong, though, about saying that a part of you is sore? If I was to say that my shoulders ached no one would be bothered. What is it about those eye-catching geminated protuberances that make the mere mention of their existence taboo?
The breasts, especially around the nipple, are erogenous zones, i.e. parts of the body capable of arousing sexual interest. In a sense, then, they are sexual objects, and to a chaste and prudent person such a subject must be handled delicately if it is to be handled at all (Please forgive the pun). Both men and women may derive pleasure from "chestal" stimulation; however, it's only the female's torso ornamentation that must remain unspoken of in all but the more private conversations. One may conclude, then, that it is not the sexual nature of the organ itself that causes the mouths of decent folk to be firmly sealed on the subject. Besides, breasts are really multi-functional, and frankly, titillation is not what they were primarily designed for. The fact is – and this is a fact that all teenage boys and most grown men would rather ignore – boobs are chiefly purposed for the feeding of those adorable humanesque leeches we call babies. On a side note, how interesting is it that the average American is more grossed out by the idea of a breast leaking milk (a.k.a. lactating) than they are with the concept of jamming a thin piece of metal through the nipple?
Incidentally, breasts also act as great temperature gauges.
My suspicion is that the taboo derives not from the nature of breasts themselves but instead from the tendency of certain members of our population (straight men and religious fundamentalists, mainly) to categorize anything that may cause sensual stimulation as a sexual object. They may do this for a variety of reasons, from the desire to just keep their lives simple and uncomplicated to the fear of the puissance of this basic primal force that smolders within them which causes them to feel the need to eschew anything even remotely related to sex from their lives to a million-billion other options. There is real merit in dissecting the plethora of motives, but that'll be for another day, because I have neither time nor the patience to discuss it now.
I believe that, for whatever reason, it is the over-generalized categorization of the female boob as a sex organ that keeps it out of casual public conversation, at least in mixed company. The assumption seems to be that any mention of breasts within earshot of a man, however innocent or un-sexual the comment, will be taken out of context and the woman herself will be objectified and therefore victimized, in a manner of speaking. This may in large measure be true, if for no other reason than the social conditioning of the male mind, and so it may seem the logical solution to remove boobs from the Tome of Acceptable Subjects. There is a flaw in this, however, and thus it is: men sexualize literally everything, to varying degrees. We're hard-wired to do that. We could be looking at a woman's chest, her toe, a tree or a bowl of plastic fruit – it doesn't matter. It's nothing personal, at least for the most part, but it still happens. Try as we might to ignore it, the fact yet remains that we are animals and one of the most basic urges of all life is to procreate. Our giant wrinkled brains may have greatly complicated the process, but we are still compelled by this instinct. On the bright side, for as much as a man's thoughts may revert to sex we are usually able to push past this and continue about our lives uninterrupted.
Perhaps, then, our focus as a society should be less on the potential or overt sexuality of a person or a thing and more on the multifarious and wondrous aspects that said person or thing possesses. I love breasts. I love almost everything about them. They are beautiful, soft, curvy, womanly, sexy, fascinating, ever-changing and they are an absolutely integral part of our humanity. And I ask: If breasts are so complex, wondrous and valuable, why should we not openly discuss and celebrate them?
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