In the not-too-distant past, if you wanted to talk to someone and not be face-to-face with them, you had to call them up on a telephone and hope they were by the other end in order to answer it. Now, you could text them, you could email them, you could IM them… You get the idea. And if you wanted to tell others your opinion, or write a story and disseminate it to the masses, you would have to publish it in print form either through a publisher or by yourself, and hope the cost wouldn't be too great. Now, you can get a blog for free and babble about whatever you damn well please. Have a post every Friday morning and give it an alliterative title. Or some such.
So obviously, we're a lot more connected than we used to be. So what? You might ask. Well, what happened in the aftermath of the Boston Bombing got me to thinking. When they were looking for the suspects, and asking for information, especially video or photos taken, they got literally several terabytes of data. On the one hand, it's wonderful that we now can get so much data in order to catch the perpetrators. But it also seems that the unintended consequence of being super-connected and everyone having cheap cameras on their cellphones is that we have created a sort of Big Brother State. Sure, it's great we can use that information to catch bombing suspects, but isn't there a danger in creating a slippery slope? Today we use our connectivity to catch terrorists, but tomorrow we catch our neighbor using our camera phone doing something we do not approve. It may not even be illegal, but what if we posted on Facebook where all could see? I bet it has already happened.
Before we get all agitated about potential privacy violations, let's dig a little deeper. In 1984, Big Brother had control because the State had total control. But that's not really what has happened in the real future. Yes, our government may be too overreaching in its ability to invade our privacy, but it does not have total control over that technology the way the fictitious Oceania had in 1984. Sites like WikiLeaks have shown the technology is more egalitarian. Yes, your employer might fire you over something stupid you said on Twitter. Then again, you might stumble upon his curious little fetish. Perhaps such an argument sounds childish, sounds a lot like the Second Amendment nutbags' argument that the criminal won't shoot if he thinks you have a gun. But I think it does something else. It makes society more transparent. That sounds pretty scary to many people. Emotionally, it sounds pretty scary to me. But intellectually, I think more transparency is a good thing.
Today, one of the social issues we talk about a lot is that of marriage equality. It seems obvious to many now that gay people should be able to marry. But what are those roots? Did we one day collectively wake up and think: "Gay people should get married!"? No. My hypothesis is that the gay-rights movement started with the AIDS epidemic, a disease that disportionately affects gay men. It forced homosexuality out of the closet because people we knew as our friends and family were now dying. We saw that gay people were just like straight people except they were attracted to the same gender. And therefore, be afforded the same marriage rights as straight people.
What other things has our greater connectivity brought out of the closet? The rise of the Internet porn industry I think has shown a greater prevalence of self-love than previously thought. Groups that have been historically marginalized are now able to organize more effectively through the Internet. These groups could be a part of the next wave of civil-rights movements now that they can find each other more effectively.
The World Wide Web has just turned 20 years old. In that time, it has changed society inextricably in ways we can see, and in ways that will become apparent in the decades and centuries to come. I can't see what the next 20 years will hold, but I'm sure the change to society will be greater than the previous 20 years. The ride certainly will be scary. I will suffer through many more complaints about yet more revisions to Facebook's privacy policy. I bet Facebook won't even exist in 20 years. Or Twitter. Or even Google. If our current slew of tech companies manage to survive, I bet they'll look very different than how they look now. Yes, it's a Brave New World. I intend to try to enjoy the ride.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Regular Writing Wednesday: Progress Report, in which I steal from Matthew Rotundo
It was Thursday night. Or early Friday morning, depending on your perspective. I needed to write something. Something that at least pretended to be thought-provoking, philosophical. Because, you see, I had decided to have a weekly blog post about philosophical musings. I called it "Fairly Philosophical Friday." I have an obligation to the few followers who currently follow this blog. I wrote something about an aspect of a movie I'd seen a few weeks ago. Then I looked it over really quick, just to make sure I hadn't made any grievous errors. Then I scheduled for it to post at 10:30 Friday morning. With that obligation met, I could then go to bed.
Since "Fairly Philosophical Friday" is forcing me to write, I think it wise to do the same with writing in general. I'm going to have a weekly writing blog post I think I'll call "Regular Writing Wednesday." It might be posts about writing related topics, but I also want it to be a progress report of sorts. I know at least one other writer who does this on a regular basis. He calls his blog posts by the highly creative title "Progress Report," though he often has snarky subtitles. So, Matthew Rotundo, I'm stealing from you.
What have I been doing this past week, writing wise? Well, I finished a story that's due on the 15th and took another stab at rewriting my Urban Fantasy novel, which my Muse refuses to inspire me all the way to the end. But I may have found a solution to that. I'm still contemplating all the implications of that solution, so I won't babble about that just yet. If ever. Gotta have some suspense, right? Even in a blog post.
As I write (actually, speak, but that's a topic for another day) these words, it is close to 9:00 p.m. on a Wednesday evening. Next week, I'm going to try to post it at a regular time. Since "Fairly Philosophical Friday" hits at 10:30, I think I'll do the same with this series. Till then...or, until Friday, when you can read me again...
Since "Fairly Philosophical Friday" is forcing me to write, I think it wise to do the same with writing in general. I'm going to have a weekly writing blog post I think I'll call "Regular Writing Wednesday." It might be posts about writing related topics, but I also want it to be a progress report of sorts. I know at least one other writer who does this on a regular basis. He calls his blog posts by the highly creative title "Progress Report," though he often has snarky subtitles. So, Matthew Rotundo, I'm stealing from you.
What have I been doing this past week, writing wise? Well, I finished a story that's due on the 15th and took another stab at rewriting my Urban Fantasy novel, which my Muse refuses to inspire me all the way to the end. But I may have found a solution to that. I'm still contemplating all the implications of that solution, so I won't babble about that just yet. If ever. Gotta have some suspense, right? Even in a blog post.
As I write (actually, speak, but that's a topic for another day) these words, it is close to 9:00 p.m. on a Wednesday evening. Next week, I'm going to try to post it at a regular time. Since "Fairly Philosophical Friday" hits at 10:30, I think I'll do the same with this series. Till then...or, until Friday, when you can read me again...
Friday, April 26, 2013
Fairly Philosophical Friday: The Asymmetry of Pursuit
A few weeks ago I saw the movie Elmer Gantry. The title character is a con man who falls for a traveling preacher named Sharon Falconer, and in the process, becomes a preacher himself. Set in Prohibition era America, it came out in 1960. Though it does a decent job examining the role of religion, however, that, surprisingly, is not what stood out for me. There is one scene where Gantry and Falconer are driving in a car. Gantry pulls over and professes his love to Falconer. He leans in to force a kiss upon her, but she backs away and gets out of the car. He gets out as well, and they have a brief argument where she tells him the only person she can really love is God, and especially cannot love someone like Gantry whom she sees through as an opportunist. They get back into the car and drive to a tabernacle Falconer's been constructing. She is tired of being a traveling revivalist and wants a permanent church. They move into the shadows and scary music plays. Whatever happens next is done offscreen, but in my mind, I'm thinking that at best Gantry is raping her, or worse.
But the next scene is not Sharon Falconer suffering from rape trauma, or her dead body being found. No, she's happy and primping herself up for her sermon. Gantry comes in, and it's clear from their interactions that they are now "an item." Apparently, she just needed more forceful "love" from Mr. Gantry to come around. Maybe I'm overreacting, or not fully understanding the scene. I'm a white heterosexual male who has never feared of being objectified from someone who might cause me harm. But I was disturbed by the story's turn of events.
I've been hearing a lot lately about rape culture. It certainly seems to have a greater spotlight now in the wake of certain current events. It may be just me, but I also get the sense that many view rape culture as a new thing. To which I say: Really?! Rape culture is certainly not a new thing; it's an old thing that we are only now beginning to examine. For most of human history — and in many parts of the world even today — women are just expected to have sex whenever a man wants it. And, like Elmer Gantry, it's a man who knows best what a woman wants.
So, what are we to do? How can we reverse this rape culture? I've seen a few posters about educating men on what is rape, exactly. That's certainly part of the solution. A couple weeks ago, when I started this weekly blog series, I suggested that we should live in a more sexually open society. That too, I think, will help alleviate rape. But I think the greatest antidote to our rape culture is to rethink relationships in general.
You see, compared to much of history, we live in a relatively gender equal society. Women can have the same careers and lives as men, when previously they were forbidden or frowned upon. Sure, there is still a lot of work to be done. Women generally get paid less than men for the same jobs, for example. But where it is still very gender unequal is in the area of relationships. Men are still the ones expected to ask the women out. Though they may go Dutch in paying the restaurant bill, it's still the men who is expected to lead the women in date activities. And therein lies the problem. The men are the pursuers, and the women are the pursued. Often, pursuers don't ask the pursued if they want to be pursued, or to what extent. A hunter doesn't ask a rabbit if it wants to get shot. Now, before you start screaming at your computer screen about male privilege and whatnot, hear me out. I am certainly not giving any excuses for when it is acceptable to rape a woman. I am not equating rape with hunting rabbits. Hunting rabbits is an example, not an analogy. In a perfect world, guys would have the sense to make sure the women absolutely, positively, wanted sex. But we don't live in a perfect world. So — and here is where I get into third rail territory — women, you need to take some responsibility too.
I'm not talking about dressing less provocatively or behaving in a way that won't turn guys on. That's impossible. Even if you were to wear a burqa, some guy will think that's superhot. I'm talking about being more assertive, telling man exactly what you want. It's your body and you have to deal with the consequences if you become a victim to rape. And sometimes, women, you need to be the pursuers. You need to take the risk in asking him out. Because gender equality is not just about which jobs you can hold; it's about how women function in the family and in society. And it begins with being more assertive.
So here's some advice: ladies, you wanna know how to get the man of your dreams? Put down that Cosmo. In fact, torch the rag. You'd get better advice on relationships by reading poorly written fortune cookies. See, you're the gatekeepers of the relationships. We're not as picky as you think we are. We're not going to reject you because of that pimple on your cheek. Those supermodels you envy? We know — or should know — that they are unicorns Photoshopped to perfection. So the next time you see someone you like, take the risk and walk up to him and introduce yourself. I bet you get rejected a lot less than we do when asking you. And guys, no, if she does approach you, that is not an automatic invitation for sex.
Perhaps I'm crazy. Or naïve. Maybe I am a little selfish; I am an introverted man who would love to have a woman ask me out. Unfortunately, even if this blog ever reaches more than my circle of friends, I doubt many women will give my advice a try. Our culture of the asymmetry of pursuit is just too firmly entrenched.
But the next scene is not Sharon Falconer suffering from rape trauma, or her dead body being found. No, she's happy and primping herself up for her sermon. Gantry comes in, and it's clear from their interactions that they are now "an item." Apparently, she just needed more forceful "love" from Mr. Gantry to come around. Maybe I'm overreacting, or not fully understanding the scene. I'm a white heterosexual male who has never feared of being objectified from someone who might cause me harm. But I was disturbed by the story's turn of events.
I've been hearing a lot lately about rape culture. It certainly seems to have a greater spotlight now in the wake of certain current events. It may be just me, but I also get the sense that many view rape culture as a new thing. To which I say: Really?! Rape culture is certainly not a new thing; it's an old thing that we are only now beginning to examine. For most of human history — and in many parts of the world even today — women are just expected to have sex whenever a man wants it. And, like Elmer Gantry, it's a man who knows best what a woman wants.
So, what are we to do? How can we reverse this rape culture? I've seen a few posters about educating men on what is rape, exactly. That's certainly part of the solution. A couple weeks ago, when I started this weekly blog series, I suggested that we should live in a more sexually open society. That too, I think, will help alleviate rape. But I think the greatest antidote to our rape culture is to rethink relationships in general.
You see, compared to much of history, we live in a relatively gender equal society. Women can have the same careers and lives as men, when previously they were forbidden or frowned upon. Sure, there is still a lot of work to be done. Women generally get paid less than men for the same jobs, for example. But where it is still very gender unequal is in the area of relationships. Men are still the ones expected to ask the women out. Though they may go Dutch in paying the restaurant bill, it's still the men who is expected to lead the women in date activities. And therein lies the problem. The men are the pursuers, and the women are the pursued. Often, pursuers don't ask the pursued if they want to be pursued, or to what extent. A hunter doesn't ask a rabbit if it wants to get shot. Now, before you start screaming at your computer screen about male privilege and whatnot, hear me out. I am certainly not giving any excuses for when it is acceptable to rape a woman. I am not equating rape with hunting rabbits. Hunting rabbits is an example, not an analogy. In a perfect world, guys would have the sense to make sure the women absolutely, positively, wanted sex. But we don't live in a perfect world. So — and here is where I get into third rail territory — women, you need to take some responsibility too.
I'm not talking about dressing less provocatively or behaving in a way that won't turn guys on. That's impossible. Even if you were to wear a burqa, some guy will think that's superhot. I'm talking about being more assertive, telling man exactly what you want. It's your body and you have to deal with the consequences if you become a victim to rape. And sometimes, women, you need to be the pursuers. You need to take the risk in asking him out. Because gender equality is not just about which jobs you can hold; it's about how women function in the family and in society. And it begins with being more assertive.
So here's some advice: ladies, you wanna know how to get the man of your dreams? Put down that Cosmo. In fact, torch the rag. You'd get better advice on relationships by reading poorly written fortune cookies. See, you're the gatekeepers of the relationships. We're not as picky as you think we are. We're not going to reject you because of that pimple on your cheek. Those supermodels you envy? We know — or should know — that they are unicorns Photoshopped to perfection. So the next time you see someone you like, take the risk and walk up to him and introduce yourself. I bet you get rejected a lot less than we do when asking you. And guys, no, if she does approach you, that is not an automatic invitation for sex.
Perhaps I'm crazy. Or naïve. Maybe I am a little selfish; I am an introverted man who would love to have a woman ask me out. Unfortunately, even if this blog ever reaches more than my circle of friends, I doubt many women will give my advice a try. Our culture of the asymmetry of pursuit is just too firmly entrenched.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Fairly Philosophical Friday: The Greater Tragedy
There is a quote, misattributed to Joseph Stalin, that goes something like this: "The death of one is a tragedy, the death of millions is a statistic." When people use this quote, they're often using it to show Joseph Stalin is an evil fuck, the implication being that good, decent people could never think that way. I got bad news for you. We all think that way. The human mind is incapable of processing a number as big as a million; it can barely process a few hundred. And our culture revolves around this uncomfortable fact. Murder is about the most horrendous thing someone could do. Yet, war is perfectly justifiable because the countless numbers of enemy soldiers and citizens are just faceless statistics. Even the casualties and fatalities on our side are just statistics. And our news? The war in Afghanistan is lucky to get any mention anymore. But the bombing in Boston that happened this Monday? Wall to wall coverage. As of this writing, three died in that tragedy. Thousands of American soldiers and who knows how many Afghans have died in the Afghanistan conflict.
Now, I'm not trying to be callous. The bombing in Boston is truly a tragedy and I hope they catch the sons of bitches who did it. But we tend to rarely think about the much larger tragedies that have occurred. The Holocaust, one may argue, is the exception to that rule. But even then, I think we use the Holocaust to show how evil Hitler was, and not to contemplate the magnitude of that genocide. A case in point: Americans of European descent have nearly wiped out the natives. As a white male living on land formerly occupied by…some tribe…maybe the Arapahoe…rarely do I see or hear that genocide being talked about. Yes, I could easily look up which Native American tribe called home in what is now known as the greater Denver area. But the point is: that knowledge has never been welded into my brain. In fact, days, weeks, months go by where I don't even consider the fact that my heritage had murdered millions of Native Americans. Wait, it wasn't murder because it wasn't a single individual murdering another individual. So let me rephrase: I usually don't consider the fact that my heritage staticified millions of Native Americans.
But Sean, what are we to do if we cannot conceive of millions of people? Well, maybe we could try harder. Let's do a thought experiment. Those three people who tragically died in Boston, imagine those are your three closest loved ones. That part's not too hard; you might've already been doing that when you heard the news. That's what makes it so compelling news anyway. Now imagine those three closest loved ones actually represent 1000 people. So you got the death of 3000 people on your mind, about the US fatality rate of a modern protracted conflict instigated by our United States government (i.e., Iraq and Afghanistan.) Now imagine the 37 people closest to you have died. At this point, you're probably expanding your circle to include all the people you really care about, and a fair amount of people you know whose death would be tragic, but you wouldn't be that heartbroken over. Again, multiply by 1000 and you get the US fatality rate for the Korean War. Now let's go to 58 people, that is, 58,000 people. That's the US fatality rate for the Vietnam War. Already, I'm sure in this thought experiment, it's getting hard to distinguish between 37 people dead and 58 people. Your mind is thinking: well, my closest loved ones are dead in both cases, but those other people dead are not going to be too great an emotional burden.
I could go on and on, up and up, to belabor the point. But I shall spare you. The next time you catch yourself thinking like pseudo-Stalin, try doing that thought experiment. Imagine your loved ones murdered brutally before your very eyes. Try making those statistical millions into personal tragedies. It is dark contemplation, true, but if we considered it, I think we would go into fewer wars, and the world would be a better place because of it.
Yes, the Boston bombing is a tragedy. But the greater tragedy is that we forget about the greater tragedies.
Now, I'm not trying to be callous. The bombing in Boston is truly a tragedy and I hope they catch the sons of bitches who did it. But we tend to rarely think about the much larger tragedies that have occurred. The Holocaust, one may argue, is the exception to that rule. But even then, I think we use the Holocaust to show how evil Hitler was, and not to contemplate the magnitude of that genocide. A case in point: Americans of European descent have nearly wiped out the natives. As a white male living on land formerly occupied by…some tribe…maybe the Arapahoe…rarely do I see or hear that genocide being talked about. Yes, I could easily look up which Native American tribe called home in what is now known as the greater Denver area. But the point is: that knowledge has never been welded into my brain. In fact, days, weeks, months go by where I don't even consider the fact that my heritage had murdered millions of Native Americans. Wait, it wasn't murder because it wasn't a single individual murdering another individual. So let me rephrase: I usually don't consider the fact that my heritage staticified millions of Native Americans.
But Sean, what are we to do if we cannot conceive of millions of people? Well, maybe we could try harder. Let's do a thought experiment. Those three people who tragically died in Boston, imagine those are your three closest loved ones. That part's not too hard; you might've already been doing that when you heard the news. That's what makes it so compelling news anyway. Now imagine those three closest loved ones actually represent 1000 people. So you got the death of 3000 people on your mind, about the US fatality rate of a modern protracted conflict instigated by our United States government (i.e., Iraq and Afghanistan.) Now imagine the 37 people closest to you have died. At this point, you're probably expanding your circle to include all the people you really care about, and a fair amount of people you know whose death would be tragic, but you wouldn't be that heartbroken over. Again, multiply by 1000 and you get the US fatality rate for the Korean War. Now let's go to 58 people, that is, 58,000 people. That's the US fatality rate for the Vietnam War. Already, I'm sure in this thought experiment, it's getting hard to distinguish between 37 people dead and 58 people. Your mind is thinking: well, my closest loved ones are dead in both cases, but those other people dead are not going to be too great an emotional burden.
I could go on and on, up and up, to belabor the point. But I shall spare you. The next time you catch yourself thinking like pseudo-Stalin, try doing that thought experiment. Imagine your loved ones murdered brutally before your very eyes. Try making those statistical millions into personal tragedies. It is dark contemplation, true, but if we considered it, I think we would go into fewer wars, and the world would be a better place because of it.
Yes, the Boston bombing is a tragedy. But the greater tragedy is that we forget about the greater tragedies.
Friday, April 12, 2013
Fairly Philosophical Friday: Why the word "Sexy" is offensive to some women.
So. I haven't posted anything on this blog for quite some time. You probably haven't even noticed. It's not like I have a huge following or anything. Usually, I don't notice either. But occasionally, I think to myself, "I really should write something on my blog, if for no other reason but to feel important somehow. Sure, I know the chances of me becoming famous for writing a blog is quite slim; most likely I will occupy a tiny corner in the vast net that is the interwebs. But at least I should pretend I'm important. So what am I gonna do about it? I'm going to start an essay series. Wait, are you supposed to use the word "essay" anymore? Okay, it's a "blog" series. It's going to post 10:30 Mountain U.S. time every Friday morning, and I'm going to call it "Fairly Philosophical Friday." I thought about having all the words start with "Ph" or "F," but I thought that might be perceived as uncreative and pompous. And rightly so. And now, without further ado, I present the first installment of "Fairly Philosophical Friday."
A few days ago one of my friends shared a link to a blog post by Kearstin Nicholson titled "Why is the word 'Sexy' offensive to women?" She sounds legitimately perplexed as to why a woman would find "sexy" offensive. Here is my attempt at answering that question, from a thirtysomething white male perspective.
To begin, I don't know Kearstin Nicholson and she doesn't know me (at least I don't think so!). From her blog post and a quick Internet search, I found that she is a cosplayer and model, sometimes of the tasteful nude kind.
On the face of it, I agree 100% with Kearstin. If a woman puts time and effort into making herself look sexually appealing, and that someone tells her how sexually appealing she is, she should very well take that as a compliment, as Kearstin points out. However, the word "sexy" and anything sexual are very loaded with baggage in our culture. Let me explain.
From birth, we are bombarded on a daily basis with sexually charged images and concepts. At some point, probably around puberty, our minds and bodies process those sexually charged ideas as such. But there is a mutually exclusive dichotomy when ever sex is involved.
On the one hand, we are told that sex is fun and cool; that skinny, busty women are hot and muscled, fatless man are handsome. And we do ourselves up in accordance to such cultural brainwashing, especially women. Now, I know those standards of beauty are impossible for most people, but that is the subject of another blog post. For my purpose here, I'm just showing how our culture values sex. I will say that those impossible standards are changing somewhat. Kearstin, for example, models as a geek for a geek audience.
Now back to the topic at hand: On the other hand, we acknowledge this "sexiness" only to a point, and on an arbitrary basis. If a woman's skimpy bikini can't even cover her areolae, or her outer labia is poking through her thong — and showing any part of a man's genitalia is completely out of the question — then it becomes a crisis of gigantic proportions. Seriously. Remember Janet Jackson and her so-called wardrobe malfunction? The cottage industry of punditry had a field day. At some point sex becomes a deeply private and even shameful endeavor which cannot be discussed in polite society lest it corrupt people's minds. Or something.
So we walk around the world with those two mutually opposed ideas: "sexy" is hot; "sexy" is shameful. George Orwell had a word for that: doublethink. When someone dresses, especially a woman, she can pretend that low cut blouse and push-up bra and miniskirt are neutral fashion statements, because we live in an enlightened society after all, where only Neanderthals would be sexually attracted to that. But then she remembers that cute guy she flirted with the last time she wore this outfit. When someone compliments her on how sexy her outfit is, which choice in the doublethink conundrum is she to use? As Kearstin points out, her reaction to "sexy" is often dictated by how she views the person giving the compliment. But the problem isn't really with the person giving the compliment or the person receiving it. The problem lies in the doublethink itself.
What are we to do? To correct the problem, we need to choose one or the other, choose between "sexy is cool" or "sexy is shameful." I personally would rather choose the former. But that would require a radical rethinking for many people. It would require network TV to show tits and pussies and — gasp! — penises and be able to say "fuck" as freely as any other word. It would require nudity to be no big deal and clothing only necessary for warmth, comfort, or practicality. And sex, of course, would be no more offensive than eating. But that, alas, is a pipe dream.
So, Ms. Kearstin Nicholson, you probably would be comfortable with all that in the above paragraph, but many are not. And as long as they continue to use doublethink to navigate which version of "sexy" they desire, they will continue to be offended by the word.
A few days ago one of my friends shared a link to a blog post by Kearstin Nicholson titled "Why is the word 'Sexy' offensive to women?" She sounds legitimately perplexed as to why a woman would find "sexy" offensive. Here is my attempt at answering that question, from a thirtysomething white male perspective.
To begin, I don't know Kearstin Nicholson and she doesn't know me (at least I don't think so!). From her blog post and a quick Internet search, I found that she is a cosplayer and model, sometimes of the tasteful nude kind.
On the face of it, I agree 100% with Kearstin. If a woman puts time and effort into making herself look sexually appealing, and that someone tells her how sexually appealing she is, she should very well take that as a compliment, as Kearstin points out. However, the word "sexy" and anything sexual are very loaded with baggage in our culture. Let me explain.
From birth, we are bombarded on a daily basis with sexually charged images and concepts. At some point, probably around puberty, our minds and bodies process those sexually charged ideas as such. But there is a mutually exclusive dichotomy when ever sex is involved.
On the one hand, we are told that sex is fun and cool; that skinny, busty women are hot and muscled, fatless man are handsome. And we do ourselves up in accordance to such cultural brainwashing, especially women. Now, I know those standards of beauty are impossible for most people, but that is the subject of another blog post. For my purpose here, I'm just showing how our culture values sex. I will say that those impossible standards are changing somewhat. Kearstin, for example, models as a geek for a geek audience.
Now back to the topic at hand: On the other hand, we acknowledge this "sexiness" only to a point, and on an arbitrary basis. If a woman's skimpy bikini can't even cover her areolae, or her outer labia is poking through her thong — and showing any part of a man's genitalia is completely out of the question — then it becomes a crisis of gigantic proportions. Seriously. Remember Janet Jackson and her so-called wardrobe malfunction? The cottage industry of punditry had a field day. At some point sex becomes a deeply private and even shameful endeavor which cannot be discussed in polite society lest it corrupt people's minds. Or something.
So we walk around the world with those two mutually opposed ideas: "sexy" is hot; "sexy" is shameful. George Orwell had a word for that: doublethink. When someone dresses, especially a woman, she can pretend that low cut blouse and push-up bra and miniskirt are neutral fashion statements, because we live in an enlightened society after all, where only Neanderthals would be sexually attracted to that. But then she remembers that cute guy she flirted with the last time she wore this outfit. When someone compliments her on how sexy her outfit is, which choice in the doublethink conundrum is she to use? As Kearstin points out, her reaction to "sexy" is often dictated by how she views the person giving the compliment. But the problem isn't really with the person giving the compliment or the person receiving it. The problem lies in the doublethink itself.
What are we to do? To correct the problem, we need to choose one or the other, choose between "sexy is cool" or "sexy is shameful." I personally would rather choose the former. But that would require a radical rethinking for many people. It would require network TV to show tits and pussies and — gasp! — penises and be able to say "fuck" as freely as any other word. It would require nudity to be no big deal and clothing only necessary for warmth, comfort, or practicality. And sex, of course, would be no more offensive than eating. But that, alas, is a pipe dream.
So, Ms. Kearstin Nicholson, you probably would be comfortable with all that in the above paragraph, but many are not. And as long as they continue to use doublethink to navigate which version of "sexy" they desire, they will continue to be offended by the word.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Game of Politics
This post will offend probably most everyone. I don't care; it needs to be said.
Today you will hear politicians of all stripes thanking our troops for their service. Yet, who sent those troops to die in some foreign country? The politicians did. Did the politicians have any skin in the game? No, the sacrifice is entirely on the troops. Were we, the American people personally or existentially threatened by these foreigners who supposedly are our enemy? No, yet we say that somehow our troops died for our freedom. Yes, there are many people in the world who hate America and Americans, but the real cause of most wars is to keep the rich and powerful rich and powerful, not to protect the citizenry from a foreign enemy, not to die for our freedom.
So before you repeat the blather of troops' sacrifice and dying for our freedom, please consider the above. If you truly want to support the troops and memorialize the fallen, tell the politicians to stop their game ofthrones politics with other people's lives. Support peace and love instead of war and hate. It's a very tall order, I know, but we must always strive for that goal, and it has been expressed by great thinkers throughout history. It is the compassionate thing to do.
So this memorial day, thank our troops and those fallen by setting the intention to be against the system that got them killed in the first place.
Today you will hear politicians of all stripes thanking our troops for their service. Yet, who sent those troops to die in some foreign country? The politicians did. Did the politicians have any skin in the game? No, the sacrifice is entirely on the troops. Were we, the American people personally or existentially threatened by these foreigners who supposedly are our enemy? No, yet we say that somehow our troops died for our freedom. Yes, there are many people in the world who hate America and Americans, but the real cause of most wars is to keep the rich and powerful rich and powerful, not to protect the citizenry from a foreign enemy, not to die for our freedom.
So before you repeat the blather of troops' sacrifice and dying for our freedom, please consider the above. If you truly want to support the troops and memorialize the fallen, tell the politicians to stop their game of
So this memorial day, thank our troops and those fallen by setting the intention to be against the system that got them killed in the first place.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Becoming Better Than Better: Procrastination Battle Report
Procrastination is a tricky demon. He's an ugly man, but he's oh-so-seductive. "Listen," he whispers in my ear, "you don't want to be productive. Browse the internet. Watch Jon Stewart. I know how much you love Jon Stewart." "Well, okay..." Then I come back to reality and get stuff done. Or try to.
Yes, I'm personifying Procrastination. No, I'm not crazy. If I'm going to gamify my life with Superbetter, I might-as-well have fun with it. Procrastination often does feel like a force outside my will. So does my Muse. I've heard that's one hypothesis for where religion comes from: the mistaken notion that our thoughts are somehow outside ourselves. Any thought about any god (or any thought, period) is contained solely within our heads. To say otherwise is a ridiculous idea. But Procrastination, or the Muse, or God, can be useful symbols, as long as you realize they are just symbols. So let me just walk through about one week with my symbol, Procrastination.
Let me start with Friday. Friday was almost a good day, except I'd gotten only 5 hours of sleep. "I can't meditate like that," I told myself, so I didn't. An otherwise perfect day, yet Procrastination won. However, I did do a lot on Friday, aside from not meditating, so what happens when Saturday rolls around? Free day! Didn't do a damn productive thing. It felt soooooo good; the weight of the cosmos delayed till the next day. I could see Procrastination's mouth full of rotten teeth smiling, plaque so thick his teeth are black, camouflaging the cockroaches scampering about. I smiled and nodded at him that day, as if he were my best friend. So Sunday rolls around. Productive day? Hell no, because I was out of practice. Procrastination continued smiling, maybe chuckling a little maniacally. Monday, I won, but barely. I got done all I wanted to do, but got them done at 4 AM. If you can't wait tomorrow, why not wait for a couple hours? Procrastination gave me that idea, so that on Tuesday, what'd I do? Procrastinate most the day. I procrastinated fine and good, and by the time I felt like working, I was too tired to compete. This time he won. I could see him gloating. That night I enlisted the help of a power-up; Vive Hora I call her. It means "live the hour" in Latin (because a day is just too long). She's attractive, fun, and sexy. And she wants me to succeed. Today/tonight's the first day I've got to use her, and while it's late, I'm not bone-crushing tired. She's helped. Eventually, I hope she'll allow me to keep "normal hours."
So there it is: my Procrastination battle report. I don't intend to do this every week. Again, I don't want this blog to be an online diary. So, till next week... (Maybe I'll be able to post at a decent hour on Wednesday.)
Yes, I'm personifying Procrastination. No, I'm not crazy. If I'm going to gamify my life with Superbetter, I might-as-well have fun with it. Procrastination often does feel like a force outside my will. So does my Muse. I've heard that's one hypothesis for where religion comes from: the mistaken notion that our thoughts are somehow outside ourselves. Any thought about any god (or any thought, period) is contained solely within our heads. To say otherwise is a ridiculous idea. But Procrastination, or the Muse, or God, can be useful symbols, as long as you realize they are just symbols. So let me just walk through about one week with my symbol, Procrastination.
Let me start with Friday. Friday was almost a good day, except I'd gotten only 5 hours of sleep. "I can't meditate like that," I told myself, so I didn't. An otherwise perfect day, yet Procrastination won. However, I did do a lot on Friday, aside from not meditating, so what happens when Saturday rolls around? Free day! Didn't do a damn productive thing. It felt soooooo good; the weight of the cosmos delayed till the next day. I could see Procrastination's mouth full of rotten teeth smiling, plaque so thick his teeth are black, camouflaging the cockroaches scampering about. I smiled and nodded at him that day, as if he were my best friend. So Sunday rolls around. Productive day? Hell no, because I was out of practice. Procrastination continued smiling, maybe chuckling a little maniacally. Monday, I won, but barely. I got done all I wanted to do, but got them done at 4 AM. If you can't wait tomorrow, why not wait for a couple hours? Procrastination gave me that idea, so that on Tuesday, what'd I do? Procrastinate most the day. I procrastinated fine and good, and by the time I felt like working, I was too tired to compete. This time he won. I could see him gloating. That night I enlisted the help of a power-up; Vive Hora I call her. It means "live the hour" in Latin (because a day is just too long). She's attractive, fun, and sexy. And she wants me to succeed. Today/tonight's the first day I've got to use her, and while it's late, I'm not bone-crushing tired. She's helped. Eventually, I hope she'll allow me to keep "normal hours."
So there it is: my Procrastination battle report. I don't intend to do this every week. Again, I don't want this blog to be an online diary. So, till next week... (Maybe I'll be able to post at a decent hour on Wednesday.)
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