Body Modification

If I remember correctly, the first big fight I had with my (soon to be) ex-wife was over a tattoo. This was probably 17 years ago, while we were dating and still in college. The tattoo was innocent enough, but the problem was more about her not having a say in me getting it than the tattoo itself. We ended up working through it, and eventually I got more and more tattoos with no issue, as did she. At the end of the day, we agreed our bodies are our own, and we can do to them as we want. That doesn't mean we won't be judged for our modifications, however...

The term "body modification" can encompass pretty much any type of physical alteration you can imagine, a large subset of which can also be called "body art". When most people think of body modification, they think of tattoos and piercings, however I tend to think more inclusively. Very common modifications, in my opinion, include makeup (temporary body art) and circumcision. I would also put breast implants and bodybuilding in the same bucket. In popular Western culture, modifications considered more "extreme" might be micro-dermal, trans-dermal and genital implants, non-ear piercings, tongue or genital splitting or cutting, binding, stretching, branding, scarring, tooth filing, ear shaping, nullification (body part removal), etc. The list goes on and on.

I recently watched the 2005 movie "Modify", and was duly impressed. It featured extremely candid footage, interviews and discussions on the topic and it's history. In my opinion, the underlying theme had as much to do with people's acceptance level and perception of body modification as it did with people's reasons for modifying themselves. I would highly recommend this movie if you are curious, although I should warn you that there are some very graphic scenes (like liposuction surgery and penis splitting). The message conveyed is that everyone has a different mental/emotional/cultural/spiritual line distinguishing what is normal or acceptable, and what is extreme or wrong - or even classified as mutilation. What is attractive to me might be considered disgusting to you. Certainly there were things in the movie which I would never consider doing to myself, but far be it for me to stop them from doing it to themselves.

My perception is that my modifications are quite tame. So far, they only include 4 ear piercings (2 on each lobe) and 8 tattoos. All my tattoos are personal to me, which I think is the best kind. I didn't go pick "tattoo #57" off a wall in a tattoo shop, and I wasn't drunk when I got them. And yes, they hurt a little, and I'm glad they did. A "rite of passage" of sorts. You have to earn your ink! My tattoos include, in reverse-chronological order:

1. The back of a skeleton, life size matching my shape on my entire back side (head to heals and head to finger tips). So far just the outline is completed.
2. My sons' names in script on my right forearm.
3. My daughter and ex-wife's names in script on my left forearm.
4. A Buddhist endless knot on my left calf.
5. A vine wristband around my right wrist.
6. A large crow carrying a Native American medicine bag with an infinity symbol on my chest.
7. A tribal-like arm band with a guitar in the center around my left bicep.
8. An accidental right thumb-stab by an India ink pen in high school art class. Yes, it's permanent, and yes, I consider it my first tattoo. ;)

I already have my next tattoo in mind after the skeleton is shaded/darkened/styled, which will probably take quite a long time. The thing about tattoos is that once you get your first (once the ink is "in your blood"), you will start craving your next, then next, then next. After that, I am seriously considering starting to get some branding done. No specific designs yet, however.

The only moral rule I have regarding body modification is that it is safely performed and ONLY at the informed choice of the person being modified. This is why I abhor things like breast ironing and female circumcision in cultures where young girls are being put through such torture. Similarly, although I am a circumcised male, my boys' mother and I chose not to circumcise them when they were born. We felt that if someday - if they choose it for themselves - they can have it done under their own free will. (We feel the same way about not forcing any particular religion on our sons and daughter. It has to be a personal choice of theirs which we will respect.)

Forced modifications aside, why do people choose to modify their bodies? For some, the response might be related to self-image or peer acceptance, for others, affiliation or identification with a group or philosophy, others, remembrance of an important person or event, still others, they find it artistically or aesthetically pleasing, and so on. But there is no one-size-fits-all answer, and I truly believe that to know for sure you're gonna have to ask the people themselves. In most cases, they will be more than happy to talk to you about it.

Surface Tension

It can suck being the nice guy. How do you know you're that guy? This has happened to you, probably a few times in your life: You've gotten to know someone, even a little bit, and you connected. Beyond physical attraction, or the standard "she's smart and funny too." Beyond common interests or even opinions to some degree. We're talkin', "Wow, there's something about this person that just clicks." A compatibility. A synergy. A familiarity. "I can open up and be myself with her." Oh, now you've gone and done it: You screwed up. You are no longer attractive to her (if you ever really were). You will now be viewed as a brother, a confidant even. A shoulder, but nothing more. Congratulations, you're "the nice guy." Who is she attracted to? The bad boy. The guy who brushes her off, who disrespects her, who hurts her. He is selfish, always choosing the needs of #1 above anyone else's. Why is she attracted to him? I can't say; I just don't get it. Maybe because his "toughness" is misconstrued as strength or confidence? Maybe he reminds her of her father, or how men are "supposed" to act, or what she thinks she deserves, no matter how screwed up that is? And where does that leave you? Alone. Wondering how beautiful and rewarding it could've been for both of you if she would've dropped her guard, listened to her gut that she really does deserve something good in her life, bucked the trend, and finally given the nice guy a chance.

Maybe this all makes me sound weak, needy or (gulp) desperate. I don't care. I'm sick of all the appearances crap, trying to act like you don't care when you really do. Not calling someone because it hasn't been enough days, or maybe because it's "her turn" to make the next move. You don't want to seem too interested, after all... If you want any chance in hell of seeing her again, you have to pretend to be the bad boy, at least a little bit. You have to play the game. You know what though? The game sucks. I hate the game. I don't know how to, nor do I want to, play it. I can only be myself, which might prolong my loneliness indefinitely, but at least I'll know that if and when something happens, it will be real.

What I need - what I think everyone needs - is intimacy. Yes, even men. There, I said it. Is that our "feminine" side? No, that's our HUMAN side. It's about feeling connected, understood, accepted, safe, warm and cared for. It is a source of compassion, love and mutual respect. It is also a source of trust, which can open the door for sexual intimacy - a beautiful thing itself and not to be slighted. If you've had the experience of lying next to someone with whom you have this level of reciprocal closeness, you know what it's like to feel "one" with someone else. The phrase "you complete me" is not cheesy - it's real. Spare me the glorified "loner" persona: humans need other humans. Here I am yet again inspired by water, and the property of droplets to naturally want to attract and stick to each other. This is known as surface tension. Appropriate, I think, as it is our natural tendency as well. We want to connect. We are drawn to one another. We want to feel together. To be together.

What keeps us from intimacy? Fear, mostly. We keep our defenses up so we don't get hurt, but the act of doing so makes it difficult to accept others and ourselves. And the longer the wall stands, the harder and harder it becomes to break down. We won't let anyone in because we don't want to get hurt. Again. When my marriage was falling apart, I remember holding out my bleeding heart as the ultimate plea offering, desperate for a shred of hope that the relationship could be mended. I was wide open, exposed as anyone could ever be. But I was rejected. She did not want to accept my love. Love is the ultimate gift, and for someone to turn down that most personal of gifts is devastating. This is the kind of pain that people carry with them. We can never forget it, but maybe we can learn from it? I'm trying to learn from it, to make the changes necessary in my life to be a better person, a better human, a better being. My happiness is ultimately my responsibility, and I admit that for a long time I've had a hard time taking that responsibility on.

Dammit, I want to be happy, and I want to re-experience intimacy. But you know what? I'm gonna keep being a nice guy, 'cause that's who I am - even if it means being alone for a longer time. There is a lot of love to give, but it can wait for the right person. When that time comes, I only hope she is ready to accept it.

You Really Don't Matter

One of the great things I like about living outside of the city is my relatively unadulterated view of the night sky. Even such a mundane task as putting out the garbage becomes an enjoyable experience when I stop at the end of the driveway, look up, and soak it all in. The smell of the trees, grass and water, the feel of the cool night air, the sound of the crickets and frogs, and of course: the seemingly countless stars filling my vision. But it always makes me think, "Damn I'm small."

I've blogged before about the concept of purpose. Specifically, that a man needs to feel like he has made an impact on his environment, that he can make a difference - that his life has purpose. Soberly, I know I will never come anywhere close to comparing to Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr, Mother Teresa, the Dalai Lama, or the like. But even the greatest of people doing the greatest of deeds for the greatest number of beings quickly becomes insignificant in the vastness of just our known universe - or, on a much smaller scale, just the history of mankind within a short sliding window of time. Heck, it's only been less than 2,000 years since Jesus walked the Earth, and millions of people have died disagreeing about what he did or didn't say or do, or even if he was or is what he or others said he was. Even what he looked like is conjecture. (BTW, I seriously doubt he was white.)

Now think about yourself. Do you have delusions of grandeur that you actually matter? Probably. At times we all do. But if you died, what impact would that really make? Your loved ones would be sad, very much so for a period of time, and your friends and co-workers would miss you for a little while. But everyone would get by and eventually move on with their lives. I remember how sad I was when my grandfather died, but now weeks go by that I don't even think about him. I'm not proud of that, but it's the truth. Over the past year, personal events have greatly exacerbated my fight with depression. So much so that there are entire days where I can't seem to shake the thought that there's no point in me going on living, other than to provide a paycheck for those fiscally dependent on me. The only thing that short-circuits that thought is the knowledge that even though they don't live with me anymore, my children do love me, and I love them too much to completely remove myself from their lives. If it wasn't for them, I'm fairly certain I would've emptied that bottle of sleeping pills by now. Still, their importance to me or my importance to them is only a relative concept we have amongst ourselves.

A few weeks ago I was sitting outside a Rochester, NY bar (LUX), people watching. I was literally disgusted, not just with them but with myself. All these people dressed up or down, drinking their cheap beers or overpriced cocktails, chatting away about nothing. Absolutely NOTHING. What kind of life is that? Seriously? And here I am, doing it too. And I'll probably do it again. Why? Because I've got nothing better to do? Grrr. Look at that tree over there. Wow, that's a big tree. Probably a couple hundred years old. A blinking light passes by in the distance. A plane. From that distance, even the tallest redwoods aren't even a spec of peachfuzz to the naked eye. And from the moon, the largest mountains are glassy-smooth on the curvature of the seemingly perfect sphere we call Earth. To our Sun, a mere 93 million miles away, the Earth is barely a circling gnat. And there are billions of solar systems in our galaxy. The Milky Way is so huge, that at the speed of light it would take 100,000 years to cross it. And their are billions of galaxies in our perceived universe. AND, if you subscribe to the "Big Bang" theory as the origin to our universe, then it is conceivably possible that there have existed multiple "big bangs" that have originated other universes. And we're still only talking about our temporal plane of existence, our dimension of understanding. If our sun collapsed and created a black hole, and sucked us all up, the truth is that the cosmos would not even notice. Countless theoretical civilizations on unreachable worlds would never know we ever existed. Hell, if you died today I bet your neighbor one block away wouldn't know, or probably care. Does anybody under the age of 60 even read the obituaries?

But we matter to God, right? Well, first prove to me that God exists. Wait, which religion's "god" or "gods" are we talking about it? The one predominant to our culture? The one that has the most followers? The one that's been around the longest? I guess it comes down to faith, "faith" to me being a best guess or gut feel that this is the correct thing to believe. The thing that makes me comfortable not understanding everything, that makes me sleep better at night, that makes me think that I actually matter.

Sorry to break this to you, but you really don't matter. And neither do I.

50 Songs for Sadness

I don't know what "most people" listen to when they're feeling down. For some, it might be happy music to try to cheer themselves up. I bet there's quite a few (if not most), however, that do what I do: they listen to music that provides a sort of soundtrack for what they're going through. Something that they can tune in to which gives their mind a point of reference and focus, as opposed to the flurry of random thoughts that might otherwise ensue. The lyrics don't necessarily need to be related; it's the feeling you associate with the music that's important.

Tonight I decided to compile a list of 10 songs that I go back to during such times, with no more than one song per artist (which sometimes made for difficult decisions). Well, the list quickly grew to 50, and I could probably get it to 100 without much more effort! I need get to bed soon, though... They are listed below, sorted alphabetically by artist name - not by preference. I will italicize my top ten, however. I am curious to hear your comments on this somewhat eclectic list, as well any additions you might propose.

1. Air - "All I Need"


2. Alice In Chains - "Down In A Hole"


3. Beatles - "Yesterday"


4. ? - "Black Snake Moan" (acted by Samuel L. Jackson)


5. Cat Power - "Babydoll"


6. Chavela Vargas - "La Llorona"


7. Clint Mansell - "Requiem for a Tower" (from the movies "Requiem for a Dream" and "Sunshine")


8. Coldplay - "A Rush of Blood to the Head"


9. Dead Can Dance - "How Fortunate the Man With None"


10. Empty Grave - "Under My Skin"


11. Eurythmics - "Here Comes The Rain Again"


12. Everlast - "What It's Like"


13. Frou Frou - "Let Go"


14. Gary Jules - "Mad World" (from the movie "Donnie Darko"; original by Tears for Fears)


15. Gnarls Barkley - "Who's Gonna Save My Soul" (crazy video)


16. Gorillaz - "El Mañana"


17. Gustavo Santaolalla - "The Wings"


18. Jane's Addiction - "Three Days"


19. Jeff Buckley - "Halleluja"


20. Johnny Cash - "Hurt" (original by Nine Inch Nails)


21. Kansas - "Dust In The Wind"


22. Led Zeppelin - "The Battle of Evermore"


23. Lhasa de Sela - "De Cara a la Pared"


24. Meghan Coffee - "Nightingale"


25. Metallica - "Unforgiven"


26. Moby - "Porcelain"


27. Neil Young - "Old Man"


28. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - "Do You Love Me"


29. Nick Drake - "One of These Things"


30. Nirvana - "Something in the Way"


31. October Project - "Bury My Lovely"


32. Peter Murphy - "Keep Me From Harm"


33. Pink Floyd - "Comfortably Numb" (from the album/movie "The Wall")


34. Portishead - "Sour Times"


35. Radiohead - "Street Spirit (Fade Out)"


36. Sia - "Breathe Me" (Mylo Remix)


37. Sinéad O'Connor - "Troy" (almost chose "Feel So Different")


38. Steve Baker & Carmen Daye - "For Whom The Bells Toll" (from the movie "Donnie Darko")


39. Stevie Nicks / Fleetwood Mac - "Landslide" (Smashing Pumpkins does a great cover)


40. Sting - "Shape of my Heart" (from the movie "Léon"/"The Professional")


41. The Cure - "The Same Deep Water As You"


42. The Doors - "The End"


43. The Future Sound of London - "Papua New Guinea"


44. The Mars Volta - "The Widow"


45. The Smiths - "That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore"


46. The Verve - "Bitter Sweet Symphony"


47. Tom Waits - "Dirt in the Ground"


48. Tool - "Forty Six & 2"


49. U2 - "Tomorrow"


50. Zero 7 - "In the Waiting Line"

Water

It's raining outside. I love the sweet, fresh smell of it, and the sound of the raindrops hitting the trees and ground. I got to thinking about how impactful water has been - and is - to me. Beyond the obvious physical need, it has played an important role in my life, being a frequent companion of mine in the poignant highs and lows of my existence.

When I was young, water was a medium for fun and relaxation. My grandparents lived on a small lake south of my home town. They had a canoe, a sailboat and a motor boat, and some of my best memories are being out on that lake paddling through the lily pads, water-skiing with most of the men in my family, and a little bit of fishing. On the Fourth of July you would see everyone's campfires dotting the edge of the lake, and you could walk around and have s'mores with pretty much anyone, since there was a such sense of community. You could take a boat out to the middle of the lake to watch the small-scale fireworks show overhead, or just stay on shore and watch the fireflies put on their own show.

As I grew into adolescence, I starting lifeguarding and teaching swimming lessons - a natural early job considering the years of lessons and training I had taken myself, as well as my aforementioned experience in and around water. My older sister and younger brother also lifeguarded and taught; it kinda ran in the family. I remember how much I enjoyed teaching Red Cross-sponsored young childrens' swimming classes every Saturday. So much, in fact, that I think it was way back then that I actually started thinking about having my own children someday.

Of course, water activities can often bring awkwardness, especially during one's teenage years. What guy hasn't been stuck in the pool, because if he were to get out the whole world would see the boner he had after watching the girls in their bikinis? Embarrassing situations involving pools followed me to college - a strict Christian college mind you - where my future wife, best friend and I broke in and went skinny-dipping, only to be caught by the nighttime security guard. For that and other acts of indiscretion, I was suspended from college, but thankfully was able to return the following semester, when I received a 3.9 GPA - "just to prove I could if I wanted to." I didn't maintain it after that...

Getting more serious, water is not only with me during the lighter times of my life, but also the darker. Water can bring fear: ridiculous fear like stressing about sharks, possibly due to watching one too many Jaws movies as a kid (1 was awesome, 2 was okay, "3-D" was bad, and 4 was absolutely horrendous), or parental fear like worrying about my children drowning. If I was a religious person, I might be able to appreciate the symbolic meaning of water. Religion is rife with it, as it can represent a cleansing, an immersion, an act of faith and dedication, or beginning a new life. Baptism is just one example of this. But I don't ascribe to any organized religion, so I can't rely upon such positive symbolism.

Lately for me, water has become more of a channel to contemplate, or possibly escape from, my life. I have had to deal with depression throughout all my years, but it has been near-debilitating in the last 8 months or so. I have been on anti-depressants for a few months now, but honestly I can't tell if they are working. I'm afraid to stop taking them, though. Remember one of the opening scenes in American Beauty, when Kevin Spacey (whilst in mid-life crisis) is jerking off in the shower? It's not the masturbation that's noteworthy in the scene; that's normal. (Note: every guy has done that countless times in the shower; if he says he hasn't, he's lying.) What's noteworthy is that he is escaping. In the solitude and privacy of the shower, he is transporting his mind to some other place, so that he can experience some respite. I can relate to that, because almost every morning I stand in the shower and time stops. I can't focus. I can't move. I just lean up against the shower wall, with a thousand thoughts and at the same time zero thoughts assaulting me. "How can I face this day?" I shut down. Half an hour goes by and I haven't even started washing. "I really need to get going," but I can't. My mind turns to the water streaming down my face, and I look through the waterfall as a distorted lens.

Some evenings I step into the jacuzzi to relax after a tiring day. The hotter the better. It burns at first, but after my nerves give up trying to complain, I slide in the rest of the way. If I submerse my ears, I hear the soothing sound of nothingness. "Is this what it would be like to be deaf?" Sometimes I don't think I'm far off from that. It's almost like a sensory deprivation tank, like William Hurt experimented with in Altered States. Mixing that with an experimental hallucinatory drug, he was able to delve into his "altered states" of consciousness. But I don't need his drug - I have my depression. I turn over, exhale completely, and hit the bottom of the tub. "Is this what it would be like to be dead? It's not so bad. Let's see how long I can stay down here." My lungs are complaining. It doesn't take long for them to start having mini-convulsions. But I don't want to come up for air; I want to stay down in that silence. It is safe there. It is peaceful. It is my cocoon.

What is it about water that has such a powerful effect on us? Is it it's fluidity, how it can dynamically reshape itself to fill in every crevice of what it may envelop, so you can "lose yourself" weightlessly in it? Is it because we cleanse ourselves with it, both physically and often spiritually? Is it simply our natural dependence on it, being the foundation for life on this planet? Does it bring us back to the time we spent in our mothers' wombs? I don't know. All I do know is that it has always been there for me, in the good times and bad. A friend without criticism or condition. One of the few constants in my life.