Blogs Are Stupid

Doesn't anyone believe in Dear Diary anymore? What happened to the joy of putting actual pen to paper? And why does every ordinary Jane and John think they can write well enough to burden the world with their scribblings? It’s a mystery that badly needs solving. My first entry contains my thoughts about blogging and will set your expectations. The rest will probably be stream of consciousness garbage, much like you’ll find on any other blog. Perhaps we will both come away enlightened.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

File this under "Warp 5 Mr. Sulu"

Because that's how fast my life is moving lately.

My week is spinning wildly out of control due to some interesting developments at Husband's job, which has necessitated that he work pretty much around the clock, leaving me to wrangle the plethora of domestic details myself. Which is okay. I can handle it. But I'm a planner and this whole thing was sprung on us quite unexpectedly. Flying by the seat of my pants is not a situation that I'm happy or comfortable with.

Throw into that mix baseball practices and games for two kids, a frantic round of last minute doctor and dentist appointments before our insurance expires on March 31st, and battling with the elementary school Administration over the upcoming CRCT testing, and the result is one frazzled and somewhat verklempt B.A.

I have a multitude of issues (why healthcare and capitialism make for not only strange, but wholly unsuitable bedfellows would top that list at the moment) that I would like to post about rambling around in my head, but currently lack the mental energy or cohesiveness to articlulate my thoughts in an intelligible fashion.

So, I'm going to pluck an obscure piece from my archives and hope that not too many of you have read it. If you have, please don't strike me from your blogroll in disgust. I'll be back to writing original material as soon as I have solved the health care crisis in America, figured out a way to abolish this re-fucking-diculous No Child Left Behind nonsense, and engineered a machine that will zap nutritionally balanced meals into existence at the push of a button.

Tomorrow work for you? Good, that should give me just enough time. In the interim, I give you...

The Peforation Generation

I don't know what moniker the media Gods have chosen to bestow upon the latest crop of twenty something up and comers, but I have a few suggestions I'd like to throw out there.

Tat-us Quo
Perforated Youth
The Perforation Generation
The Tat Pack
BodMod Squad


So, anyway. Far be if from me to criticize the pursuit of a trend. My teenage years were spent right smack dab in the middle of the 80's, and I doubt there has been any era before or since with such abundant opportunity for embarassing ourselves. And since my interest in trends waned significantly when keeping a distressingly diminutive human being from consuming the contents of a diaper or toddling into a well became the focus of my days, its no surprise that I am woefully unhip.

But never have I seen such a collection of inked and skewered flesh as I have encountered in the stylized and largely uncapitalized blogs of these young whippersnappers. They lead me to wonder when being trendy become so painful. And dangerous. As far as I know, fashion trends in the 80's were non-lethal, unless you count the risk of asphyxiation from aerosol fumes. And though we often let our common sense be overruled by our desire to be Like A Virgin, I don't think anybody ever contracted Hepatitis C or a raging bacterial infection from parachute pants, though I suppose a yeast infection or two could be blamed on that unfortunate fashion choice.

At the risk of sounding squarer than a saltine cracker...I simply don't get this trend. Primarily because it has got to hurt like hell. I'd say pushing pointy objects through my nipples would rank right up there with pube waxing, natural childbirth, and colorectal anything on my list of things to avoid.

I nursed my children, and I nursed them long enough to demonstrate my somewhat militant opposition to outmoded and puritanical childrearing practices. The unfortunate result of this was that my nurslings sprouted teeth. As newly betoothed babies are wont to do, they would periodically bite down with force roughly equal to that of a steel bear trap and steadfastly refuse to let go, fascinated and delighted by the inhuman shrieks of agony from the Mommy person.

The degree of pain was such that I fully expected to look down and see my nipple completely severed and nestled between the lips of my bloodthirsty cherub like a grisly pacifier. Surprisingly, both nipples are still intact, and in fact, never sustained any serious injury. But the memory of that pain haunts me, and I can't for the life of me understand why someone would choose to inflict such torturous pain upon such a lovely and obliging part of the female anatomy.

As for the defilement of the little man in the boat...I simply refuse to acknowledge that such a travesty would take place, as the mere thought of such makes me want to put my thumb in my mouth and go to my happy place for a very long time.

But even that pales in comparison to some of the body modifications found here. Be forewarned, these images are extreme and disturbing. Among the most shocking is something called a "genital bisection".

Nature, in her infinite wisdom, has broken copulation down into a process so simplistic that pretty much any man or beast can manage to reproduce. Its beautifully basic...insert tab A into slot B. It works every time. And yet, someone, somewhere, ostensibly under the influence of massive quantities of alchohol or mind altering drugs, decided that perhaps they could improve upon nature's delivery system by splitting it in two.

Yes. I'm serious.

Aside from the disturbing implications regarding the mental health of someone who would mutilate themselves in such a way, and the obvious procedural difficulties that might ensue, I surmise that the result of this would be much like placing one's thumb over the end of a garden hose, and I am hard pressed to see the appeal of going through life having to hold one's winkie together to avoid spraying bodily fluids hither and yon. Truly and profoundly perplexing.

Tattoos, though markedly less shocking, are for me, equally confusing. Perhaps because I find that the human body is already a thing of singular beauty, grace and artistry. In my opinion, marking the human flesh with ink is akin to spray painting graffiti on all the trees in Walden's Woods. Some would argue that tattooing and graffiti alike are valid contemporary art forms. That's highly debateable, but both, even when beautifully rendered, obscure and cheapen the natural beauty of what lies beneath. At a time in my life when I am struggling to maintain epidermal integrity, and still deluding myself about the efficacy of the alphahydroxyretinoidsalycilicsoyextractmicropeelabrasion compounds that I slather on it daily...I am mystified by the apparent dissatisfaction with the dewy splendour of young unsullied skin.

Well, perhaps it is just as well. Stretchmarks and varicose veins do not an ideal canvas make. And at this point, piercing anything that dangles or protrudes will only hasten its inevitable southward progress.

One encounters strange, strange things on the internet, and some of them can make a person feel like a piece of their innocence has been taken away. I think I'll go unearth my peg leg jeans and my Howard Jones cassette. I might even tease my bangs just a little. I need to think happy thoughts for a while.

12 Comments:

  • At 10:20 AM, Blogger Natalie said…

    I hadn't read that before and it reminded me so much of my college roommate. She had (if I remember correctly) about 23 holes in her body. Once she accosted me with "You’re pre-med, could you look at this for me?" and promptly flashing her infected clitoral piercing in my direction. AAAAAHHHH gross. She had nipple rings with a chain connecting them that had been pulled out by an upset boyfriend so she repierced them sans chain. What?? What is funnier is that the next year she took out all piercings and dressed only in clothes from the GAP because her parents threatened to cut her off if she didn’t start acting more appropriate. She is now married to a marine and a staunch Republican.

    I typically agree with you about tattoos but my best friend from high school has the most gorgeous tattoo I have ever seen. She designed it herself and it is the silhouette of a woman on her back in vibrant swirling oranges and yellows with purple, blue, and green interchanging swirls that wrap around her body and go down to her foot. It's a lot and certainly not for everyone but is fantastic art that embraces her womanhood. I survived with ear holes only. Sorry about the long comment. It's a topic I just had to go on and on about.

     
  • At 10:21 AM, Blogger Natalie said…

    Wait, not a marine an army west point grad, sorry.

     
  • At 10:59 AM, Blogger Blog Antagonist said…

    An infected clitoral piercing. Gross doesn't even cover that. Ew, and, ow.

    My sister also has a very beautiful tattoo on her leg; a beautifully rendered tiger with brilliant, vibrant colors. I can appreciate its beauty while still being completely mystified by why she would want it on her person.

    It's almost like wearing the same clothes every day for the rest of your life...kwim?

     
  • At 11:35 AM, Blogger Avalon said…

    I have 6 tattoos, about to et my 7th. I did not get my first until i was 28 years old. I LOVE my tattoos, permanent memories of where I have been and where I hope to go in my life. They are living art to me. They are also a very big part of who i am and what I beleive in. However, i am a realist, so all of my tattoos are discreetly placed in locations that are easily hidden by work attire. i do not need to limit my opportunities in the business world because of my personal choices.

     
  • At 3:23 PM, Blogger jen said…

    oh, friend. warp speed, indeed.

    take care...we'll be here when you get back. and at some point i'd like to hear more about the strange bedfellows, if it's fit for public consumption.

     
  • At 6:25 PM, Blogger Her Bad Mother said…

    It's just as good the second time 'round. Maybe better.

    Howard Jones, yeah. No one ever is to blame.

     
  • At 6:45 PM, Blogger luckyzmom said…

    I too have never understood why a person would want to poke holes in or draw on a perfectly good body. Don't argue with an adult's right to choose to do so though.

     
  • At 7:04 AM, Anonymous Jenny said…

    Don't knock gential bisection until you try it.

    And by benital bisection I mean chocolate pie with melted truffles on it because there's no way in hell I'm going to that website to see what it really means.

     
  • At 7:56 AM, Blogger Mrs. Chicky said…

    My husband is also currently working 24/7, but I don't have to do the amount of wrangling that you do. Hang in there!

     
  • At 9:27 AM, Blogger Wendy said…

    My husband got a jumping shark tattoo to cover his teenage marking gone bad. He searched and searched for it. As far as making me go to a tattoo conventions. I dont understand, but rarely notice it now.

    I do not, however, like that my daughter (almost 5 yrs old) runs around telling anyone and everyone that she is going to get a tattoo. When I told her that tattoos are not for girls, because I can lie like that and still get away with it sometimes. She was smart enough to tell me that her aunt has one or two or three dozens. Well, can I tell her that her aunt has decided to abandon her children for the party life?

    I dont think all tattoos lead to the road of evil. I just dont understand how someone can decide what they want on their body for the REST OF THEIR LIFE. It would be too much for me and I know I would be immediately unhappy with it when it was finished.
    *shrug*

     
  • At 10:19 AM, Blogger Kelly said…

    I kind of want a tattoo, but I think it's mostly to convince my mommed-out self that I'm still young.

    I used to have lots of piercings, but my last one (the tongue!) was pulled out prior to my first c-section.

    I'm don't want to make sweeping generalizations here, because I still think it's kind of cool (within reason please, I need my clit intact!), but I pretty much loathed myself during my piercing frenzy. That probably speaks volumes as to why I did it.

     
  • At 3:21 PM, Blogger AnotherMomCreation said…

    I just stumbled on your blog and I LOVE this post.
    Fantastic, and oh so dead on accurate.

     

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