Uncouth PerspectivesNot on the rug, man.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this shooter in PA. This guy, whose narrative is horribly tragic, is full of unfulfilled [mythical] promises of fertility/dominance and self-defeat by failing to obtain those promises .  In his murderous act, he finds retribution against a whole class.  Being, as he sees it, rejected again and again has made this a battle with “women,” not a single person.  He finds no accountability in his own failures–this is so dangerous.

He posted his diary online and it’s an amazingly fascinating read.  Being the student of religion I am, the reason I looked at it was because I wanted to see if there was anything religious in it.  On the day of his shooting, I found this:

Maybe soon, I will see God and Jesus. At least that is what I was told. Eternal life does NOT depend on works. If it did, we will all be in hell. Christ paid for EVERY sin, so how can I or you be judged BY GOD for a sin when the penalty was ALREADY paid. People judge but that does not matter. I was reading the Bible and The Integrity of God beginning yesterday, because soon I will see them.

But that’s it, that is really the only religious entry.  Reading the entire diary, we find that he’s tried at least once before to do the shooting, but does not do it.  Is the thought of an afterlife and the forgiveness of sins what he needed to push himself to do it?  I don’t really buy it.  He says a couple of times that “religion is shit.”  I think his previous attempts–his online diary existing in the first place–were all cries for help.  He just wanted someone to love him.  Maybe he believed that God would love him, but I think we can make anything into a justification if we want to.

And feeling hurt, lonely, and deprived is the justification he used.  He, a strong, virile, white man, how could he not be without young, hot, vivacious sex action?  I said he just wanted to be loved.  No, he needed to be loved.  What he wanted was to have lots of sex and prove his worth as a man by his sexual conquests. No matter how far we have or seem to have progressed, in America we can’t seem to shake the superiority of men to women, especially sexually. Our myths support it, our rituals support it, and our ideas about love and relationships support it.

How can I say such sweeping generalizations?  Well, first, they are generalizations.  It’s true for everyone and it’s not true all of the time.  But it’s very prevalent and often under the covers, because we don’t want to talk about it.  One of the things that stood out the most for me in his diary, of all the things, is when he says:

Told by at least 100 girls/women over the years I was a “nice guy”. Not kidding.

For those of you who have never had these words spoken at you, this is the death sentence, this is the no hope for romance, this is the end of the line.  “You’re a nice guy” means “I’m not going to sleep with you and, by the way, since you’re so nice, would you mind doing this thing for me?”  This is as opposed to the mythical bad boy, the one who is hard, fast, and daring on the outside, but soft, sensitive, and caring on the inside.  Our knight in shining armor.  Our prince charming and his god damn white horse.

This kind of thinking is where I put on the brakes though.  Is it… really all about sex?  Really?  Is that all we, as progressive, advanced, rational, civilized people have at the core of our relationships with each other?  Yeah, I don’t buy that either.  Well, I believe this is how it is for a LOT of people, but I just don’t think it needs to be.  And this is where the guys like the shooter don’t understand what is going on.

Unless you want single nights of ugly, retarded sex, stay away from the girl who thinks “nice guys” are duds and the guy who think “hot chicks” are all that’s important.  You can get, have, and deserve much better.  He looked at all of these young college girls, all of these gym rats, and said “why can’t I have any of that?”  I ask–why would you want that?

I’m not going to let “society” take the blame for this.  I am pretty upset at the thinking and mythology that perpetuate not only the back-asswards relationships we seem to strive for but the kind of masculine machismo which makes it okay to walk into a place and randomly kill people for some kind of petty, symbolic retribution.  But, folks, it’s the individuals who perpetuate this thinking.  This guy was lonely, and tragic, and a gigantic fucking asshole.  He bought into idiotic cultural myths and let them control his life.  He then took his pain out on others, never accepting accountability for his actions nor, from what I can tell, ever thought of another human being, especially women, as an individual, as a person.

Don’t be this asshole and don’t perpetuate the asshole myths that made him believe he deserved to have lots of sex (and if he didn’t he was worthless).  Take some responsibility.

There comes a time to move on.

People move, relationships end, death happens.  Life doesn’t stop and entropy marches blindly onward.

TIME! Is marching on.
And time.. is still marching on.
This day will soon be at an end and now it’s even sooner.
And now it’s even sooner.
And now it’s even sooner.

They Might Be Giants, Older

As we all do, I have seen many of my relationships (family, friends, lovers) end.  When I was growing up, I moved every year or two.  These moves were always dramatic, to different cities and different states.  Rarely was it across town, but even when it was, it was to different schools with different friends.  I got really good at making new friends, but I also got really good at spending time with myself.  I also got really good at letting go.

My father died when I was 25. A good friend of mine died when he was 27–we were the same age.  All of my grand parents and great grand parents are gone, most of them within memory.  (My mom is alive and well–and, since I know you are reading this, you better stay that way!)  Death is not a stranger and in some ways that is comforting.  When I was in high school, I went through the stereotypical depressed years.  I, in fact, almost died in my sophomore year of high school when I had a misdiagnosed case of appendicitis.  I went for a week and a half with a ruptured appendix.  For those of you not paying attention, the typical life expectancy is something like 48 hours.

I went through a very weird period where I personified Death (yeah, capital “D” Death personified-booooy!).  I imagined Death as anthropomorphic figure who rationed, reasoned, and maybe even felt. I imagined what it would be like to die and converse with this person.  You might understand why the first Terry Pratchett books I fell in love with involved Death as a character–and if you don’t, then you simply haven’t read enough Terry Pratchett and I insist you stop reading my drivel this moment and go pick up one of his books.  Ahem, anyways…

When I moved to California, I felt very lost.  Even though I hated Texas, where we had lived before, I had really started to feel at home there.  I was in advanced classes, I had some good friends, I even had girls flirting with me.  I felt like things were starting to come together and I was also working off of the promise my parents made not to move me when once I got to high school.  I can still recall my mother telling me “I had to move my freshman year of high school and I never want to do that to you.”  For reason beyond most mortals control, we did end up moving, and, yes, it was in my freshman year.  I remember on my birthday, one of the girls in my Honors English class gave me a snickers bar wrapped around an old stuffed animal frog for my birthday, shyly, about a month before we were moving.  All I remember is blurting out “I’m moving!” and getting away as fast as I could.

Romantic relationships end.  While I’m open to sharing many things with you, my faceless readers, these are mine.  If you want to hear these stories, I doubt you’ll read them many of them here.  But they do–and those of you who know me, know some of those stories.  Relationships, even ones ending, are important to me.  People are important to me.  I strive to not have messy endings and I think I’ve done a pretty good job.  I’m still friends with many of the people I’ve dated–just because something doesn’t work out doesn’t mean you can’t make something of it after enough time has passed.  Then again, sometimes you can’t and I recognize that too.

This is even more important to me when dealing with romantic relationships within social circles. I don’t tend to date random people–I’ve never been one to pick up on a random woman in the library or coffee shop or whatever.  And I try to be as honest as possible IN my relationships and part of that is working through problems.. and acknowledging when they’re probably unsolvable.  I prefer to break-up mutually and amicably.  This not only allows for, hopefully, no bad feelings, but then there’s not all this awkwardness in the social circles.  You’ve already lost a romantic partner, why lose friends as well?  And there’s a strong likelihood people in your social circle may date people you have, this is part of how social circles work.  If you date someone I have, I won’t begrudge you your shot at happiness, so don’t worry about feeling awkward about me.  I say more power to ya!

Emotions are hard things to wrangle sometimes, so I’m not suggesting that I’ve got good control over those all the time.  But I believe: you do good, you get good; so I try my best to do good, especially in all of my relationships (family, friends, lovers).  And this ties back to the whole death thing.  You never know when someone will leave you.  You never know when you will leave. So why mess around with it?  Get the best out of life.  When it’s worth it, hold on for dear life… and when it’s not, don’t hold on when you don’t need to.

There’s a lot more to life than carrying the past around with you.

It’s late Sunday morning and I’m sitting in my favorite grease-hole diner.  I think you know the type:  where the eggs are runny, the corned-beef hash is burnt on the outside and uncooked in the middle, the coffee is horrid, and the service is rude but reliable.  It really doesn’t get any better than this.

I’m by myself, reading a book.  Fork absently in one hand, book in the other, I am oblivious to everyone around me–that’s one of the reasons to come to a place like this, right?  Occasionally I chuckle from something I read.  I expertly scoop from from my plate into my mouth without much thought, a feat that comes from lots of experiences–and a few stained shirts and books.  Every once in a while I make the mistake of tasting the food, followed quickly by trying to fix this by drinking the coffee, which is of course also a mistake.  The delicate dance continues.

By some miracle, I make it through most of the food in front of me.  My stomach debates complaining, but it’s used to this and, in many ways, it is comforting to be full of greasy breakfast food.  At the end of a chapter, I put the book down and look around for the first time in a while.  I’m in the narrow window between breakfast and lunch rush and it’s quieted down since I first came in, though I know for the severs this is really the calm before the storm–this also means I’m on my own if I want a refill or to get my check.

I first notice the table across the aisle to my right.  It is an older man sitting with what appears to be his two daughters, who are maybe 6 and 9 respectively.  I notice him because he is ordering what I just ate, though he asks for his toast with extra butter.  This is, I assume, a polite way of saying “with any butter,” as the toast only comes in two ways:  traces of what might be the effort to put some butter on the toast but otherwise completely and absolutely dry or so sopping wet with butter that you could probably use a sham-wow before eating it and still have plenty left over to fill your butter snowmen molds.  I drift away for a moment, only to have my attention subtly pulled back.

“Ah, ha ha, what did the world do, uh, before text messaging,” he says, trying to appear clever, which only serves to highlight his discomfort at having what is probably the small time he gets to spend with his daughters taken up by one of them who is, yes, texting on her phone.  I think to myself that he would, perhaps, have better luck if he got a phone himself.  I try not to intrude long on his time with his daughters, but it is clear how uncomfortable he is and I feel bad.  This is highlighted more so when one of the girls says something starting with “my mom.”  I glance at him and you can see the pain he is trying to hide on his face:  “mom” shouldn’t need a “my” in front of it just like “wife” doesn’t need an “ex.”

I turn my attention elsewhere, letting the father have his short time with his girls.  Good luck, my friend.  In the next booth over from them is an older couple, perhaps early sixties, sitting opposite from each other in the bench.  The man is reading a book and wife is slowly chewing her food quietly.  After a few moments, the man chuckles and reads something aloud, which I assume he thinks is poignant but I am too far to hear, and the wife merely nods.  They sit quietly again for another minute or so and then he chuckles and reads something aloud, which I assume he thinks is poignant but I am too far to hear, and the wife merely nods.  This continues.  She is clearly bored and uninterested and he clearly does not care.  I wonder at how this can be, but before I get too far, I hear the ghosts of my own relationships past and being told not to bring the newspaper to the breakfast table (with clever retorts like “what better time to read the news than at breakfast?”), quickly feel guilty, and look away, giving them their privacy and shoving my ghosts and guilt back into the hole they belong in.

My eyes cross the aisle to the table in front of me.  Another couple, sitting across from each other, older than the last–perhaps in their late seventies?  Old enough to be noticeably old but not so frail that they require walkers or oxygen tanks or any of the lovely accoutrement which we earn on our final days before we turn in our return ticket.  They sit quietly, not talking at all.  I sit mesmerized.  Chew, chew, chew.  They do not even look at each other.  In fact, they do not even look up–well, I can only guess about the woman, whose back is to me.

It’s then that I become aware of how much I’ve noticed when couples are sitting across from each other.  It makes sense to sit across from one another, right?  This way you can talk, you can look each other in the eye, maybe a passing caress as you each reach for the salt.  And yet.. there is a time and a place for that, but looking at these two couples, I realize how far apart they are.  The table might as well be a bottomless chasm which engulfs all conversation and emotion.  I feel bad for them and I feel bad for every person I cared about who I did not take the time to saddle up next to on the same side of the table.  I vow to never do this again and secretly vow to try to actually remember.

I feel an abrupt jar as the table on the other side of the divider gets new occupants.  You know this diner table type, right?  There is almost one table that is shared between two booths and when someone pushes down hard on their side, your jumps up accordingly.  Mine does this and I find myself back in the present.  Three teenage boys sit down and begin talking at unnecessarily loud levels before they are even situated in their seats.  It takes a moment to sort out what they are saying, but I quickly understand why they are so loud:  they are having three separate conversations and trying their best to get the other two to listen.  I can’t even figure out what they are each talking about, but I quickly realize that I don’t care.  Not only because I doubt I share the interests of a teenage boy, but I certainly have no interest in what someone who competes so loudly for attention has to say.  Perhaps that makes me a snob, but I’ve come to be okay with that.

The conversation is clearly a contest.  Each boy has no time or attention to listen to what the others are saying.  They calm down a little once they get menus and drinks to where a casual observer might thing there are pauses and dialogue which consists of a statement and a thoughtful retort, but really they fall into the pattern of conversation without the reality of conversation.  I’m sure I see myself better than I am, but I wonder if I was ever like this.  I try to take my time to listen, but do I always?  Can I do it better?  I try, I really do, to not feel better than these kids, but I do not succeed.  I know I can have a good conversation and I know I can listen.  The question I ask myself (and I am unable to answer) is: do I use this knowledge as a crutch and assume because I can be a good listener I assume I always am?

Like many times before, I decided then and there that I never want to pretend that I am happy.  I never want to have a relationship–friend, lover, whatever–where the act of being together becomes more important than actually having a relationship.  And, here, I try not make any more assumptions for any of these people.  Maybe there is nothing left to say, maybe they are happy not talking, or maybe just having someone around to compete with is enough; but that is not always the case and perhaps I have too much a idealized or romantic streak, but I believe we can have more, I believe we can do more with our lives and with our relationships.

I think I’ve lived this principle well, but it’s always hard to see at the time.  My life is full of mistakes, but I try my best to learn from them.  I feel like, sitting there along with my book, at least I am being honest with myself.  I may be sitting alone but I’m trying to do it honestly and with dignity.

What kind of dignity is that?  I’m not really sure.  But it’s the best I’ve got and that is good enough for me.

I have been thinking a lot about the stories we tell ourselves.

The tumultuous economy has affected many.  For a while I thought I might be untouched, but things are looking a lot more shaky than they were.  This affects me in very interesting ways.  Most of the problem is not actually my personal situation, though it is scary.  Mostly, people are just a lot more grumpy and cynical.  It wears.

Where I have been most affected is my plan to finally finish my Master’s degree in Religious Studies.  I finally got myself ramped back up to get it finished and now with pay cuts and bleak times ahead, I just can’t justify taking on the loans I now need to take on to get it finished.  I’ve paid for my school as I’ve gone along and taking on debt is just not appealing right now.

A good friend told me that I didn’t need an advanced degree to be legitimate.  While I’m not trying to get my Master’s in Religious Studies to legitimize anything–I’m doing it because I want the knowledge and the experience–it got the meat juices flowing.  Unless there is specific knowledge you are trying to get, degrees are mostly part of myth–a right of passage myth.  By going through the steps and the process, you prove you can participate in the process of advancing in society.  Note that I am not saying the degree process is false or wrong, but there is a mythical element to it.  While our educations provide foundations, it is our experience and our ability to learn from that experience that generates the bulk of our knowledge.

How many people define themselves by the degrees they have?  Or, more to what I’ve been thinking about, how many people look down at themselves because they don’t have degree X.  Or aren’t doing Y and so failure is the only thing in sight.

We all have an idea of who we are and who we want to be.  There is going to be a natural difference between who we think we are and who we are (in sum of our experiences).  It’s often too easy to overlook a bad deed or a poorly worded retort.  Let’s face it, it can be awful hard to admit “Wow, I really screwed that up and was not very nice.”  Most of us seem to learn to apologize, but I’m too aware of how many people seem to not understand there is a difference between just saying the words and meaning them.

I’m curious what happens when we let these ideas of who are or who we want to be get to mythical proportions.  It seems like it would be too easy to swing into grossly arrogant or pitifully depressed.

I know this happens to me, for example, when I think about past relationships or where I think I should be right now in my life with romance.  I always assumed that I would get married (once) and have a rich and happy partnership.  I feel like I have a lot to offer.  People around me like to be supportive and tell me what a great husband/father/potato I would make–I want to scream at them to stop saying that, because it just makes me feel worse about it all.

I’ve learned a lot about myself and how to be a good partner through the failed relationships I’ve had a long the way–and that’s also not sailing they are all failures just because they ended… but I’ve definitely had some failures.  But a lesson I am coming to see is how I struggle with myself because of the dichotomy of how I see myself versus how I really am.

But it’s not just pining about relationships.  Romance is just an easy go-to.  I think this happens with all kinds of things:  education, careers, personal achievement goals, whatever.  It’s important to have something to strive for.. and it’s incredibly important to hope.  But it’s also important to remember what those things are and not get so caught up that we forget either who we are or what we are doing.  Sometimes it’s good to just be yourself.  Sometimes it’s good to just enjoy the journey.

Ah, but the truth is, it’s always good to dream.

Editor’s Note: I wrote this back in February and guess I never posted it. I just found it and thought I’d go ahead and still post it.

So here is something I have -never- understood about dating: what’s up with all the ignorin’?

Imagine a scenario like this:

Young Jimmy is a bright, decently attractive young man. He sees Susy, a smart, decently attractive young woman. Perhaps they talk. Perhaps they are in the same class. In this day and age, maybe it is on a dating site or he reads her blog. Jimmy gets infatuated with Susy and decides to ask her out. Perhaps he calls her. Or maybe he emails her. If he calls, there is no answer, so he leaves a voice mail. With his email, he just has to wait. And he does. He waits. And waits. And Waits. And Susy never responds, clearly not interested. Or is it so clear…?

I can not decide which person is weaker: the person who would rather ignore someone who is interested or the person who is interested who cannot take the rejection. You see, I think that there is decades of cultural weight and a lot of crazy people who are to thank for this. I think that one of the reasons this happens lies somewhere between a person who either feels bad or does not want to face someone and tell them no and a person who can not handle or take the rejection.

Maybe I have a different attitude, but I would rather know someone is not attracted to me (and maybe even why) than to be ignored. I can easily take someone saying, “Hey, not interested.” I know that I’m a pretty unique person and I think that really limits who might be interested. I can even take someone saying “Hey, I don’t think you are attractive.” Yeah, it doesn’t make me want to jump up and down and celebrate, but it’s the truth and that is important. Especially because I am not Brad Pitt… hey, I’m not even Ron Perlman. But knowing is important. I’m also not one who will get angry, or weepy, or cunningly master a guilt trip.

I don’t know if I understand why people do the ignoring part, I can only guess. Most of this is, well because in my vast history of getting ignored I’ve never had a chance to find out why… because I’ve been ignored. See the vicious circle here? But enough about me. Does anyone understand this better? I mean, is it because someone doesn’t want another person to feel bad? Or because he/she cannot face turning someone down? Or is it because it is just easier? Or maybe people just get more offers than I am naively aware of and one cannot expect him/her to have the time?

So, I didn’t shave the whole weekend I played hockey and I decided to play around with growing a full beard in. Mainly I wanted to see how much grey I had.

This is a conversation I was having with my friend
about it:

Me: There’s so much freaking grey in my coming-in beard.

Friend: Better for you. get the chicks easier.

Me: Yeah, cause you know the babes, they love beards.

Friend: young chicks do because it makes you look older

Me: Can I tell you something you don’t want to hear?

Friend: sure

Me: Porn is not demonstrative of how the world works.

Enjoy the pictures, because it is not going to stay.

So I have been trolling internet dating sites trying to get an idea of what people “out there” are looking for and how they sell themselves. It has been quite an interesting adventure.

For the most part, it is what I assumed. A lot of people, men and women, have very bland, shallow, and non-descriptive profiles. “Gosh, I’m just a down to earth [gender], who takes it easy and likes to have a good time! I’m looking for someone who is honest, funny, and no drama!” Tell me, really, who is not looking for these things? To me, that is one of the things that gets me every time I read this stuff. Do you really think it’s going to make a difference or, perhaps, net someone who you really want to meet?

The impression I get that people seem to go off the idea that pictures will sell everything. At least, that is the assumption I am making off of: 1) the lack of depth to profiles and 2) my cynical view of the unwashed masses. And I am sure that people go hunting profiles based off of this. Now, do not get me wrong. Physical attraction IS important–I mean, it is not really a relationship without that. But unless you really do want to just party and/or have sex, there really should be more to it than that

Trying to play devil’s advocate, the process of selling yourself like a piece of meat online is not necessarily comfortable or easy. If you commit to the process, you have to open yourself up a little bit (and, perhaps, have an understanding of yourself). And I think there can be a lot of better matching coming from something like that process . . . but so many people seem to move the club/bar/etc hook up to this arena and I think it shows. I do not think there is anything wrong with meeting people at the bar or club… I mean, it’s one reason to go to those places and, frankly, it is fun. But, at least from my perspective, meeting the “right” person in that setting takes a shit ton of luck.

Anyways, the thing that got me down this line of thought is that as I’ve read profiles, I have noticed a lot of women have added “good hygiene” to their list of qualities in the people they would like to meet.

Really?

And not really as in “you like hygiene?!” but really as in “you have to say that?” I really have to wonder what the guys out there are doing to make this an issue. It actually makes me wonder if I’ve got something going on I do not know about. I also wonder what this means. Is this like a “how often do you brush your teeth, ugh!” or a “could you shower after the game?” I play hockey and, honestly, that’s a gross sport. You sweat like crazy and you’ve got all kinds of padding to soak it up and keep it close to home for all time. I’m sure other sports are bad, too. But, yeah, I keep my stuff clean and I shower. Often.

It just really makes me wonder . . .

Britney’s Teen Sister Jamie Lynn Spears is Pregnant!

Okay. Let’s stop for a second.

Really? This is what is important?

When this “news” broke, it was the headline on most American news outlets. I was literally beat upside the head about it and I try to avoid “entertainment” news as much as I can, but this story seemed to be inescapable (and continues to be).

So a 16 year old girl got pregnant. Weeeeird. That never happens. Oh, wait, no, that’s right: it happens ALL the time. The shock and surprise is… really amazing. What I do not understand is what the shock is really about. I mean, is it because she a star? A “role” model? She meets the cookie cutter definition of attractive? Because her sister is falling apart and it is fun to watch the house continue to burn down?

It just makes me livid that it is such a big deal when it happens to this one person (they are talking about making a show about it already!). People need to open their eyes and wake up–our kids are having kids and the way we are dealing with it is only making it grow. We have a culture that has one part of it’s foundation in selling sex and another in repressing it. Kids are smart enough to realize how stupid the repression part is, too naive to understand the commercialization of sex, and rebellious enough not to listen by the time anyone starts talking to them (perhaps talking to them as a real person, too). A very fertile mix, it turns out.

With this and other such stories, I just get so angry when something which highlights the normal state of things happens and suddenly it’s a big deal–but instead of actually dealing with the problem, there is a knee jerk reaction to dealing with it which never works and no long term thinking happens. And, of course, it is then quickly forgotten. I already can not wait to be tired of seeing stories about how to deal with teenage pregnancy, and I already can not wait to be suddenly surprised when I stop seeing the stories.

Many would claim that our age, the world we live in, falls to this title.  We are in a time, they cry, that is ripe with immorality and rampant sexuality.

I would like to suggest that we are merely more aware of what has always been done. It is nothing new and, if there is any truth to the title, this has been a very, very long age.

And I truly believe many people have overlooked this. We are so criss-crossed in our sexuality that no answers seem clear… but the answers are there.

The answers lie in the fact that we, as conceptual human beings, do not deal well with duty-bound ethics. We, as thinking people, do not need to be protected from ourselves. We can learn and grow.

Yet, we need to embrace this characteristic as a truth to our existence. That we can learn and grow. We can do it. We can do it from living life. We can do it from others. We can do it together.

It is this, well, individualist togetherness that I think also escapes people. There is a schism in the thinking of people, a dichotomy, that has individual desires at one end and group ethics at the other.

Is this really the case? Does this dichotomy truly exist? I do not think so. I believe they actually work in tandem. We need to work, to learn, and to grow.

Rather than to classify one specific thing as wrong, let us worry about what is behind it. Instead of setting rules that say “this is exactly what to do”, let us educate. Let’s worry about life, not about specific actions which, without intent, may or may not be immoral, in and of them self.

Wherein we can also focus on our relationships. We can focus on fulfilling desires for the sake of … this individual togetherness. It is not as simple as physical pleasure, nor a simple mental bond.

Together, in a connection of the physical and mental, we can truly become one. Not with another, but through another. And one, in and of ourself.

We can love ourselves AND others.

LIVE.

Over the weekend, I came across a person who thoughts and ideas really ring true to some of my beliefs and values. This is exemplified in the recent Editor’s Note of Nervy Girl Magazine. So, I decided to write a letter… and I thought I’d share some of it:

In seeing not only your credits, the fact that you have at least one article on Good Vibrations (whom I hold in high regard), and if nothing else at all, the beauty of your writing, I felt the need to thank you. While spending many of my years as that quiet, shy boy in the back, my explosion into speaking, writing, and generally expressing myself in ways I never thought before have endowed me with a very appreciative attitude for those who can share and express as well as you do.

My background, of which I momentarily spoke of previously, includes a quite open exposure into the world of “sex”, that not-as-taboo-as-people want it to be that you are perhaps more familiar with than me. I have managed one of the best local “sex” stores. In that, I came to begin giving speeches at local colleges and universities. This has subsided with my lack of backing… the teachers and faculty tend to find it less apt when I announce myself and expert on my own terms. Ah, well. I am in talks with another company to continue doing this again. If not, I shall find a way. Speaking about sex, sexuality, relationships, anatomy, communication, and more has created a driving passion in me.

As I scanned through your work, I also came across the editor’s note for the current Nervy Girl! magazine. I was going to type something silly such as “And now allow me to comment”. But, because even if you wish me to not comment, you can simply not read it (which will not prevent me from typing it), and some speech teacher in the past said “Never say what you are about to say in a speech”, which I have a bad habit of not following, I decided not to. Well, for the most part, heh. Anyways, the comments, man, the comments!

In the rare case you are unfamiliar offhand to which I speak of, I’m going to go ahead and quote the end of it, the part in which I shall focus my attention:

“So rather than making rules and laws about who should come together, let�s spend that time and money teaching people HOW to come together. Let�s take Bush�s welfare money and spend it on classes that teach people from all walks of life how to have happier, healthier relationships. Let�s take some of the defense fund and create a World Peace Fund, so that nations may come together without war. And let�s teach by example � by nurturing positive, loving relationships with ourselves and those around us.

If we must create rules, either legal or societal, that govern coupling, then let�s create ones that will really make a difference. Let�s call for rules that end domestic violence and mental abuse, and laws that say it doesn�t matter who you couple up with as long as they bring joy to your life. But most of all, let�s call for a celebration of the couplings that lift us up, that make us better, stronger and wiser people. For it is these couplings, these connections, that allow us to create change, first in ourselves and then in the world. ”

In reading this, I think my heart skipped a beat. I was just having this conversation (which I, admittedly, have had many times) today with my friend Jennifer. Our specific talk was about forcing public libraries to block pornography on their public access computers. Now, pornography arguments aside, there are deeper issues at hands with this sentiment and with the things that you talked about.

The first issue is the answer is not in controlling people. We, as individual, conceptual human beings do not need a government or any body to protect us from ourselves. We have the ability to do that on our own. By attempting to limit people’s actions, we only expound the bad and negative influence. I am a firm believer the oppression leads to repression and repression leads to obsession.

When society begins to control instead of educate, only bad can be the outcome. The answer is not in placing more bars, placing more censorship, inhibiting more actions. The answer is in educating. Sex is not bad. Sexuality is not wrong. It is the ways in which people come to desire and oppress themselves that is bad. It is not sexuality we should bad. It is sexuality we should educate. It is not freedom we should ban. It is freedom we should educate.

And, like you said, the rules we do need to create. These needs to be rules to foster the spirit of humanity and beauty of the world. There are need to be rules that do not control, but rather promote growth.

And growth is part of why I wrote this email. Between my experience with sharing and opening people to their own sexuality, and creating and harvesting a website wherein my writing is applauded and has an apparent impact, I really savored what I stumbled across. It is people like you who continue to inspire and teach me, as I in turn think I inspire and teach others. We all have something to teach, as we all have something to learn. That is part of the beauty of all human relations. But it is even more wonderful when a person, like you, opens her or him self widely to the experience but without the need to fulfill self worth by saying “look how great I am for doing this.” The self worth is in the action, not just in the reaction.

Let’s here your thoughts…