I fully intended today's writing to be about my wedding this past weekend. I am not even close to modest enough not to share all the amazingness and friendgasm that was this past weekend.
and then this woman had to go and use the word "barbaric."
To explain. I was sitting alone on a bench in the shade, eating some blackberry frozen yogurt with mini-Reeses' pieces dots sprinkled all about. That's what I was doing. To be clear, that's why i was in town. When all of this went down, i was, literally, minding my own business. I emphasize this because those who know me best know that this is rarely the case.
From two directions come friends of mine. One, saunters from my right, alongside her mother. The other, arrives from the parking lot behind me, and is traveling with a female friend. Let's call her Mona. See seemed like a Mona.
These two friends of mine also know each other, and considering that i am still shiny with that new marriage glow, they all converged around my bench, with me the only one with frozen yogurt.
My female friend's mom when to go get a coffee and she sat with me on the bench, as my male friend stayed standing, chatting with his companion. Now, this part i'm not clear on, because i was in my own conversation, but somehow the other people got into a conversation about circumcision.
I stayed as far away as I could without actually moving (I was here to eat some god damn frozen yogurt). But, as with any conversation that you hope doesn't get opened up to the larger group, Mona decides to open up her stance and start really projecting her views on this issue.
Now, I should first say that Mona was really the only one expressing her viewpoint on this issue. The rest of us really just didn't want to be having this conversation. Especially because Mona was adamantly anti-circumcision. and she meant business.
Admittedly, I have a low tolerance for crazy. More now than any other time in my life. But i held my tongue as long as I possibly could. And then she said, "but it's so barbaric!" and with that, she stepped over my line.
Circumcision is one of those rare issues that I can absolutely see both sides to. One the one hand, no one is dying of having a foreskin these days. It's one of those advantages of living in a first world country. So to chop a piece of the weeny off right after birth can be viewed as a bit extreme, and certainly unnecessary.
On the knife hand, as a circumcised male, i'm glad its circumcised. Cleaner lines, aesthetically superior. From a public health perspective, it's cleaner and can help prevent sexually transmitted diseases. But still, America circumcision is like a total "whatever" on the public health priority list.
So she calls circumcision barbaric.
And I have to say that this is one of those times when its a little crazier that a woman is arguing this point so fervently. I mean, she had that crazy need for us to agree with us in that way that a person does after convincing her husband that they shouldn't circumcise their son -- or after falling in love with the first man you have ever been with who wasn't circumcised. She had the need for us to be on her side.
And between you and me, none of us were.
But, like polite humans around strangers, we kept mostly quiet. Until the barbarism.
Let's be clear here. FEMALE circumcision is barbaric. There is no ambiguity. Destroying a woman's ability to feel sexual arousal is a disgusting horrible barbaric act.
Male circumcision has been reported to increase sensitivity. big f'n difference. Like I said before, i see the opinion of circumcision as unnecessary -- but giving a child a medical procedure that is, in that kid's parent's opinion, what's best for the child -- is the very opposite of barbaric.
Barbaric is killing that baby and raping the parents. Circumcision is carefully cutting a piece of skin off from around the penis.
My pointing this differentiation out to Mona did not go well. Remember Mona. Mona hates circumcision. She hates it like a woman whose father and brother weren't circumcised and like maybe she hates the jews subconsciously. (I liken Mona's rage toward circumcision to me being militant that women should only wear pads, not tampons because of the risk of toxic shock syndrome. I could only see myself taking up that cause if a close loved one had experienced it.)
She was still trying to convince that my own penis was mutilated shortly after birth, when a mother with 2 kids, ages probably 5 and 7 started peeking in and out of our conversation.
It was weird. Why were we getting the auditory pat down? She exclaims, "Oh, I just wanted to make sure you weren't smoking before i sat down with my kids."
My Friend: "Oh, would you like us to start up again."
Sir Mom-a-lot: "Well, I'd rather you didn't light up ever again for yourself as well as me, but I'll save you that speech, since you have probably heard it before.
(NEWS FLASH: YOU DIDN'T JUST SAVE US THE SPEECH, YOU JUST GAVE IT TO US)
Now i hate smoking, but i hate that backwards talk moral bullshit much much more.
At this point I . . . Remember me. I was just sitting there on the bench. Eating blackberry frozen yogurt with mini-Reeses' pieces dots sprinkled all about.
At this point I exclaim, "Man, everyone's telling me what i can and can't have today."
My friends laugh. Mona and the Mom-i-nator pretend to laugh.
Mercifully, I had finished my frozen yogurt.
Before we get to the whole "marriage" thing . . . Foreskins!
Thursday, May 31, 2012 | 0 Comment(s)
Monday, May 21, 2012 | 1 Comment(s)
I'm getting married next Sunday.
I am extremely excited. Getting married is the easy part.
So today, i've been spending a lot of time looking at my ring finger. all bare and unmarked, over there on my left hand.
I have small hands. I realize that popular culture would lead one to believe that this potentially means that i need . . . . well . . . small gloves as well . . . but part of getting married means never caring about a conversation RE: glove size, ever again. Another wonderful benefit of marriage.
In reality, my small hands mean that the prospect of a ring is a true change of my digital landscape. Did I mention i already have a ring. Check it.
It's blue and purple speckled quartz and is truly one of a kind (a local acquaintance recently saw a picture of the ring and remarked, "you frggin hippie." The combination of the accuracy of the statement, taken together with the fact that she has gotten as "engagement tattoo" on her thumbs, made me laugh heartily. )
The only so called "problem" i have with the ring is that when i wear it, it feels, thick. I mean, it fits -- but i can't tell if the feeling of discomfort comes from a normal adjustment to the rings thickness pushing on my pinkie and middle finger, or if i need a thinner ring because i have small hands, or, perhaps, it is just the discomfort that comes from weight of the chains (of knowledge?) that come from knowing you will never be free again. (I KIDDDDDD I KIDDDDDD).
Nonetheless, the ring is going on next sunday. for good. and so, i realize, that i am now experiencing the fleeting feeling that i have grown accustom to over the past 33 years, of wearing no jewelry on my fingers. And, like everything else this week, i'm trying to take the time to appreciate these moments. These moments of normalcy, fingers bare, that will soon become abnormal, swallowed by the new normal of a quartz gilded promise of my connection to another. Both feel good. The old and the new. I don't feel forced to change, nor pressure to remain the same. Like my recently diploma, i have completed where i am, and i am moving toward what is next. and the ring itself is just a cut of stone. The strength of that stone, however, lies inside mmf and me.
(ps. i'm also excited to move away from acronyms for my fiancé and into the Wife Zone)
and now. puppy snuggling pictures.
I am extremely excited. Getting married is the easy part.
So today, i've been spending a lot of time looking at my ring finger. all bare and unmarked, over there on my left hand.
I have small hands. I realize that popular culture would lead one to believe that this potentially means that i need . . . . well . . . small gloves as well . . . but part of getting married means never caring about a conversation RE: glove size, ever again. Another wonderful benefit of marriage.
In reality, my small hands mean that the prospect of a ring is a true change of my digital landscape. Did I mention i already have a ring. Check it.
It's blue and purple speckled quartz and is truly one of a kind (a local acquaintance recently saw a picture of the ring and remarked, "you frggin hippie." The combination of the accuracy of the statement, taken together with the fact that she has gotten as "engagement tattoo" on her thumbs, made me laugh heartily. )
The only so called "problem" i have with the ring is that when i wear it, it feels, thick. I mean, it fits -- but i can't tell if the feeling of discomfort comes from a normal adjustment to the rings thickness pushing on my pinkie and middle finger, or if i need a thinner ring because i have small hands, or, perhaps, it is just the discomfort that comes from weight of the chains (of knowledge?) that come from knowing you will never be free again. (I KIDDDDDD I KIDDDDDD).
Nonetheless, the ring is going on next sunday. for good. and so, i realize, that i am now experiencing the fleeting feeling that i have grown accustom to over the past 33 years, of wearing no jewelry on my fingers. And, like everything else this week, i'm trying to take the time to appreciate these moments. These moments of normalcy, fingers bare, that will soon become abnormal, swallowed by the new normal of a quartz gilded promise of my connection to another. Both feel good. The old and the new. I don't feel forced to change, nor pressure to remain the same. Like my recently diploma, i have completed where i am, and i am moving toward what is next. and the ring itself is just a cut of stone. The strength of that stone, however, lies inside mmf and me.
(ps. i'm also excited to move away from acronyms for my fiancé and into the Wife Zone)
and now. puppy snuggling pictures.
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| "Dad, we're sleeping" |
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| Falcor is always the small spoon |
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| so many cute puppies, my brain can't handle it!!! |
Thursday, May 10, 2012 | 0 Comment(s)
First and foremost, I have successfully not turned this into a wedding blog. I know that because the Itsabout Timely Demise of my mmf into my wifeaholic is a short 2.5 weeks away. And I believe this is the first I've mentioned it.
I also never turned this into a graduate school blog. I know this, because i get hooded tomorrow, and i'm saving all the juicy stories from this wonderful journey into human torture for it's own dedicated volume.
It's obviously a little more of a borderline call as to if this is a doggie bloggie. I don't think so. I mean, I've hardly even talked to everyone about the grey/blue hurricane which is our 7 month old pit Falcor. I am developing a project around this, however, which may actually force me to learn how Tumblr works. I'll explain.
My understanding of the web service Tumblr (and I promise i have not peaked into the internet to verify any of this, so I'm assuming at least some subsection is incorrect), is that it is like twitter, but designed to post primarily pictures with small text captions. At first, i thought this a bit ridic. Excessive. redundant.
Then my puppies started cuddling and my whose worldview was thrown to shit.
Grover (our 2 yr old) and Falcor (our frrrressshhly neutered 7-month old) love each other (see above). They are the best of buddies. (the hope is that now that Falcor is fixed, that their buddy-ship will become much less sexual and less "hump-ie").
Because of said affection for one another (the platonic kind again), they prefer to sleep together. cuddled. They don't, however, have a preferred position for said cuddling (though in relevant situations, Falcor is the small spoon). And so, each night as I watching Jon Stewart and Colbert point out the world's hypocrisy, I look to my right and get a glimpse of the holy of holies of cuteness. I submit to you:
Are you starting to understand why i may need to learn Tumblr?
I don't want this blog to become a storage facility for my cute dog pics. I do, however, want a storage facility for all of my cute dog pics. Perhaps some record of the nightly contortions of cute that nuzzle their way onto the couch and into your heart. I'll let you know when i make this happen. I'm worried that it will be way more popular than my writing.
so be it.
I also never turned this into a graduate school blog. I know this, because i get hooded tomorrow, and i'm saving all the juicy stories from this wonderful journey into human torture for it's own dedicated volume.
It's obviously a little more of a borderline call as to if this is a doggie bloggie. I don't think so. I mean, I've hardly even talked to everyone about the grey/blue hurricane which is our 7 month old pit Falcor. I am developing a project around this, however, which may actually force me to learn how Tumblr works. I'll explain.
My understanding of the web service Tumblr (and I promise i have not peaked into the internet to verify any of this, so I'm assuming at least some subsection is incorrect), is that it is like twitter, but designed to post primarily pictures with small text captions. At first, i thought this a bit ridic. Excessive. redundant.
Then my puppies started cuddling and my whose worldview was thrown to shit.
Grover (our 2 yr old) and Falcor (our frrrressshhly neutered 7-month old) love each other (see above). They are the best of buddies. (the hope is that now that Falcor is fixed, that their buddy-ship will become much less sexual and less "hump-ie").
Because of said affection for one another (the platonic kind again), they prefer to sleep together. cuddled. They don't, however, have a preferred position for said cuddling (though in relevant situations, Falcor is the small spoon). And so, each night as I watching Jon Stewart and Colbert point out the world's hypocrisy, I look to my right and get a glimpse of the holy of holies of cuteness. I submit to you:
I don't want this blog to become a storage facility for my cute dog pics. I do, however, want a storage facility for all of my cute dog pics. Perhaps some record of the nightly contortions of cute that nuzzle their way onto the couch and into your heart. I'll let you know when i make this happen. I'm worried that it will be way more popular than my writing.
so be it.