In my prior post, I laid out my experiences with sex. I felt that perhaps my views on the subject would be clearer if I shared my background. As you can tell, in someways I started very early, but in the ways that usually count in our society, I've not progressed very far. Even so, my experiences and relationships (friendships mostly) with women have led me to some definite ideas as to what sex is about, can be about, and should be about.
I begin with the question of what is sex? I remember during most of my life being told that sex makes babies. I know that is actually true, but I read recently that given completely natural circumstances, only 12% of heterosexual sex will actually come to full term as a baby. That is assuming, of course, that there is actually a deposit of semen within the vaginal canal. Further, human women don't have heat cycles and can have sex any time they choose, even after their child bearing years have passed. More, humans are inventive, and as such we have developed many different sexual activities that wouldn't necessarily introduce semen into the vagina at all. Finally, we look at the existence of homosexuals, who engage in sexual behavior that could not possibly produce children
So, sex clearly isn't just about reproduction. If not, why do we have it? As if the question really needed to be asked. Obviously, sex is pleasurable. We enjoy it. Sex stimulates our senses, our minds, and our emotions. Sex is an art. It can be beautiful, it can be vulgar, it can be expanding, it can be intimate.
Art begins with an internal experience, an individual perspective. The artist then expresses that experience, that thought and idea with their chosen medium. Through that medium, the artist touches another person and perhaps inspires them to do the same.
In sex, the experience is arousal, desire, love, or simply lust. Emotion gives way to the mental, and then to the physical. The medium is the other person, or people, involved. The contact, one to another, is direct because our bodies are the medium. And they are our tools. Certainly, there are other implements that can be used, for smaller detail, or broader strokes.
Yes, there is a science behind sex. And those who wish to be great artists must know and understand that science well. The details are important, and the science helps us understand those details. Sculptors must understand stone, painters paint and canvas, builders architecture, and sexual artists must understand the body. It is not to say that everyone has to be so dedicated to enjoy sex, simply that one reinforces the other. Art and science, science and art. Science leads to deeper understanding, art to deeper appreciation.
I consider myself an artist because I write. But I also consider myself a student of the art of sex. I am simply looking for someone who an appreciate my natural talent and my acquired knowledge. Someone who can help me hone both into skill.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
Me and Sex
Sex happens to be one of my favorite topics. After some consideration, I decided to share my history with the subject. I know that this is a long post, but to get it out there, I've decided to post everything at once. I realize that this may be TMI for some people, however, I respectfully ask that if you don't care to know, don't read it.
My dad likes to tell me a story about when our family lived in Ohio. I was three or four years old on one particular occasion that we were out. Dad says that two attractive girls walked by and I eagerly called out "Hey baby!" I don't remember the incident at all, in fact it may have been after we moved back to Michigan. It strikes me as being rather significant because I think it establishes my attraction to women at an early age.
I recall being six or seven and having a vague awareness of what sex was. I knew that it involved being naked, the male penis and the female vagina, though I don't believe I had ever seen one. I had ideas and images, but nothing clear. Some might say that this was a sign of sexual abuse, but I have no recollection of any such thing happening to me.
I do clearly recall being 8 years old and visiting some friends of my parents. While the adults were talking, I got bored and went for a walk outside. While out there, I discovered a magazine. It was full of pictures of naked women in suggestive poses. This is the first time I remember ever seeing a woman's breasts or vagina before. I read some of the stories, though they were short to accommodate the large suggestive pictures. The one I remember most clearly was about two women performing oral sex on each other, though I had no concept of what they were doing at the time. My parents visited this couple often, and I used every excuse that I could to go outside and look at the magazine. I was grossed out by some of the images, but also liked them and was drawn to them. I noticed that my body reacted and I liked that too. One day, the husband came out and found me with the magazine. He told me that I was too young for that and threw it out into an over grown field. He didn't do a very good job, because the next time I looked, I found it again easily.
A while later, my mom caught me looking at a nude advertisement in a women's magazine at the doctor's office. She took it from me and had my dad talk to me when we got home. We sat awkwardly on my parents' bed as my dad refused to look at me and tried to explain what I had done wrong. I told him about the first magazine and where I had found it. I don't recall anything about the conversation other than the idea that I should be ashamed of myself for my interest and what I did. I really don't think that was what my dad was driving at, but his serious discomfort with the topic left me with that impression.
A word of warning. For this next part, I am going to be intentionally vague and misleading, though I may share some vivid details. I am doing this to protect someone. Please, do not ask who.
My family visited a friend's cabin each year. When I was 10, I was out swimming with a girl I knew. Our parents were in the cabin visiting and we were playing in the lake. When we swam out to the diving raft, she decided that we should play a game. I frankly hated her games and wanted to just swim on my own. She set up a scenario and told me that I had to tell her what to do. I tried to ignore her, but she insisted until I finally told her to flash me her breasts. She was older than me, and already developing. She told me no and dove back into the water. This was the reaction that I expected and I also dove back into the lake. I started picking up rocks from the bottom, which had been that summer's project for me. The girl started calling my name and I tried to ignore her. After a time, I finally looked and she had the top of her swimsuit down, exposing her breasts. My jaw about hit the bottom of the lake. We spent the rest of our time touching each other under the water.
This initiated a six year physical relationship. We soon discovered that it was the best way for us to get along. It was primarily oral, because we were afraid of our parents finding out if we took the time to buy protection. Our families were pretty well known in the community and we were well known at the only places in town that sold condoms. I was primarily the giver. I didn't particularly care for her style of fellatio. We did have a brief pregnancy scare once, but she wasn't and we got our heads on (relatively) straight after that. I never considered her my girlfriend. In fact, I didn't really know whether or not to call what we were doing sex. We would often go a few months without it, do to guilty consciences, but eventually we would get together again.
On a dare from a friend, I bought a Playboy from another kid at school. I flipped through it on the bus, looking around desperately to see if anyone was looking. I was disappointed because there were supposed to be naked pictures in it. I stashed it away and took it home. When I could close my door, I opened the magazine and finally found what I was looking for. I looked and pleasured myself as best as I knew how at the time. For the first time in my life, I ejaculated. When looking at the pictures became boring, I read. I learned about sexual techniques and I was fascinated to try them, though I never really got the chance.
I grew up Christian, but my exposure to Fundamentalism changed my perspective. I ended my sexual relationship and never resumed it. I took a vow of abstinence and decided to wait until marriage until I had sex again. This in turn boosted my desire for a relationship and my frustration at not having one. I still looked at pornography, but I now considered it a problem, an addiction. I tried to suppress my interest, which combined with a lack of access and an impulsive nature cause me to act out in inappropriate ways. Namely viewing pornography on public computers.
I occasionally visited the yahoo personals under a fake ID that claimed I was 21. I would find ads that I liked, particularly those offering picture exchanges and tell them that for pictures I would write them a story about sex. I had often done this at home on our non-internet linked computer and the idea that someone would actually read and like my writings thrilled me. I got one response, from a lesbian, and I promised to make my story about two women. She offered me notes and suggestions, and kept her promise to send me pictures. I didn't think about it at the time, but the photos she sent me were rather professional and often followed a theme. "She" may have been pulling them from a website. Truthfully, I never really cared.
I joined a cult soon after, then went to a Christian College. I ended up homeless in Santa Cruz, California and that began a long process of changing my perspective on so many things. Sex, gender, and sexual orientation were high up on that list. I began frequenting a BDSM dating site, talking with some of the members. I rarely engaged in anything other than playful banter and strong imagining. I learned that when I wrote, I could shape the world of words in whatever way I wanted. I worked in a gay bar and had several friends who were homosexual and bi. In fact, during that time in my life, I could count on gays, pagans, and atheists more than I could count on Christians.
I began to view sex as an act, something pleasurable to do with another person. I was still deeply religious and one night prayed to God that I knew having sex outside of marriage was a mistake, but I felt that I needed to make it. I felt a response that it was ok, but God was going to choose the woman I was going to be with. A few days later, a woman began hitting on me. I resisted her at first, but within a couple of weeks, I stayed the night at her place. We didn't sleep together, or have sex right away. Before I left that day, she took her shirt off and had me claw her back. I grew my nails out back then and filed them into points. She then had me lay on top of her so she could feel my weight. I took the opportunity to play with her breasts, though I was a little rough with her. I backed off a bit after that, but she came to me again, asking if I would house sit for her while she was out of town.
When she came back, we engaged in a few sessions of oral sex. Upon seeing my penis for the first time, she told me that it was a good size for anal. It was the first compliment I'd ever received about my sex and was flattered. I had learned a few techniques about oral since then and saw this as an opportunity to try them out. Before I could finish, she pushed me away and rolled on her side, telling me it was too intense. She later told me that I was very talented at it. She was into tantra, so we progressed slowly. That, I think, was part of the problem for me. I had too much time to think it over and my anxiety built up. I told her I couldn't do this anymore. She told me it was fine, that she could easily change her paradigm and adjust, but I could tell that she was hurt. Truthfully, it had nothing to do with her. I was just too tied up in myself to keep going. I couldn't tell her that, hell I barley understood it myself. In time, I might have gotten back to her, but she began to chase after me rather relentlessly rather than giving me the space I needed.
I let it go, mostly. I gave myself permission to view pornography and this has allowed me to have a healthier relationship with it, even if I am still somewhat compulsive about it. I gave myself permission to have sex, though I have other issues that stand in the way of my relationships in that regard. I began having cyber sex, and discovered that my detailed, descriptive writing gave me an edge in that kind of play. I decided that if I wasn't in a relationship, that I should learn everything I could about performing well until I had a lover to practice with. I think that my research as improved my writing, if nothing else.
I reflect. I reflect on my first partner and realize that our relationship had so many problems, our age doesn't seem important... though that was likely the cause of most of our problems. I reflect on my partner in California. I'd like to see her again, explain, apologize, maybe have a fling or something more. Maybe. I reflect on the fact that for all of my sexual experience, I never engaged in intercourse. I would like to, but it strikes me as being seriously selfish to pursue anything just for that. I'd rather have a partner to focus on than on any place I'm lacking. I reflect on the amazing women in my life. Nothing I've seen, done, or been through has removed or tarnished my respect for women as a gender.
I know, this was long. If you read it, thank you. I hope to continue sharing my thoughts on sex very soon.
My dad likes to tell me a story about when our family lived in Ohio. I was three or four years old on one particular occasion that we were out. Dad says that two attractive girls walked by and I eagerly called out "Hey baby!" I don't remember the incident at all, in fact it may have been after we moved back to Michigan. It strikes me as being rather significant because I think it establishes my attraction to women at an early age.
I recall being six or seven and having a vague awareness of what sex was. I knew that it involved being naked, the male penis and the female vagina, though I don't believe I had ever seen one. I had ideas and images, but nothing clear. Some might say that this was a sign of sexual abuse, but I have no recollection of any such thing happening to me.
I do clearly recall being 8 years old and visiting some friends of my parents. While the adults were talking, I got bored and went for a walk outside. While out there, I discovered a magazine. It was full of pictures of naked women in suggestive poses. This is the first time I remember ever seeing a woman's breasts or vagina before. I read some of the stories, though they were short to accommodate the large suggestive pictures. The one I remember most clearly was about two women performing oral sex on each other, though I had no concept of what they were doing at the time. My parents visited this couple often, and I used every excuse that I could to go outside and look at the magazine. I was grossed out by some of the images, but also liked them and was drawn to them. I noticed that my body reacted and I liked that too. One day, the husband came out and found me with the magazine. He told me that I was too young for that and threw it out into an over grown field. He didn't do a very good job, because the next time I looked, I found it again easily.
A while later, my mom caught me looking at a nude advertisement in a women's magazine at the doctor's office. She took it from me and had my dad talk to me when we got home. We sat awkwardly on my parents' bed as my dad refused to look at me and tried to explain what I had done wrong. I told him about the first magazine and where I had found it. I don't recall anything about the conversation other than the idea that I should be ashamed of myself for my interest and what I did. I really don't think that was what my dad was driving at, but his serious discomfort with the topic left me with that impression.
A word of warning. For this next part, I am going to be intentionally vague and misleading, though I may share some vivid details. I am doing this to protect someone. Please, do not ask who.
My family visited a friend's cabin each year. When I was 10, I was out swimming with a girl I knew. Our parents were in the cabin visiting and we were playing in the lake. When we swam out to the diving raft, she decided that we should play a game. I frankly hated her games and wanted to just swim on my own. She set up a scenario and told me that I had to tell her what to do. I tried to ignore her, but she insisted until I finally told her to flash me her breasts. She was older than me, and already developing. She told me no and dove back into the water. This was the reaction that I expected and I also dove back into the lake. I started picking up rocks from the bottom, which had been that summer's project for me. The girl started calling my name and I tried to ignore her. After a time, I finally looked and she had the top of her swimsuit down, exposing her breasts. My jaw about hit the bottom of the lake. We spent the rest of our time touching each other under the water.
This initiated a six year physical relationship. We soon discovered that it was the best way for us to get along. It was primarily oral, because we were afraid of our parents finding out if we took the time to buy protection. Our families were pretty well known in the community and we were well known at the only places in town that sold condoms. I was primarily the giver. I didn't particularly care for her style of fellatio. We did have a brief pregnancy scare once, but she wasn't and we got our heads on (relatively) straight after that. I never considered her my girlfriend. In fact, I didn't really know whether or not to call what we were doing sex. We would often go a few months without it, do to guilty consciences, but eventually we would get together again.
On a dare from a friend, I bought a Playboy from another kid at school. I flipped through it on the bus, looking around desperately to see if anyone was looking. I was disappointed because there were supposed to be naked pictures in it. I stashed it away and took it home. When I could close my door, I opened the magazine and finally found what I was looking for. I looked and pleasured myself as best as I knew how at the time. For the first time in my life, I ejaculated. When looking at the pictures became boring, I read. I learned about sexual techniques and I was fascinated to try them, though I never really got the chance.
I grew up Christian, but my exposure to Fundamentalism changed my perspective. I ended my sexual relationship and never resumed it. I took a vow of abstinence and decided to wait until marriage until I had sex again. This in turn boosted my desire for a relationship and my frustration at not having one. I still looked at pornography, but I now considered it a problem, an addiction. I tried to suppress my interest, which combined with a lack of access and an impulsive nature cause me to act out in inappropriate ways. Namely viewing pornography on public computers.
I occasionally visited the yahoo personals under a fake ID that claimed I was 21. I would find ads that I liked, particularly those offering picture exchanges and tell them that for pictures I would write them a story about sex. I had often done this at home on our non-internet linked computer and the idea that someone would actually read and like my writings thrilled me. I got one response, from a lesbian, and I promised to make my story about two women. She offered me notes and suggestions, and kept her promise to send me pictures. I didn't think about it at the time, but the photos she sent me were rather professional and often followed a theme. "She" may have been pulling them from a website. Truthfully, I never really cared.
I joined a cult soon after, then went to a Christian College. I ended up homeless in Santa Cruz, California and that began a long process of changing my perspective on so many things. Sex, gender, and sexual orientation were high up on that list. I began frequenting a BDSM dating site, talking with some of the members. I rarely engaged in anything other than playful banter and strong imagining. I learned that when I wrote, I could shape the world of words in whatever way I wanted. I worked in a gay bar and had several friends who were homosexual and bi. In fact, during that time in my life, I could count on gays, pagans, and atheists more than I could count on Christians.
I began to view sex as an act, something pleasurable to do with another person. I was still deeply religious and one night prayed to God that I knew having sex outside of marriage was a mistake, but I felt that I needed to make it. I felt a response that it was ok, but God was going to choose the woman I was going to be with. A few days later, a woman began hitting on me. I resisted her at first, but within a couple of weeks, I stayed the night at her place. We didn't sleep together, or have sex right away. Before I left that day, she took her shirt off and had me claw her back. I grew my nails out back then and filed them into points. She then had me lay on top of her so she could feel my weight. I took the opportunity to play with her breasts, though I was a little rough with her. I backed off a bit after that, but she came to me again, asking if I would house sit for her while she was out of town.
When she came back, we engaged in a few sessions of oral sex. Upon seeing my penis for the first time, she told me that it was a good size for anal. It was the first compliment I'd ever received about my sex and was flattered. I had learned a few techniques about oral since then and saw this as an opportunity to try them out. Before I could finish, she pushed me away and rolled on her side, telling me it was too intense. She later told me that I was very talented at it. She was into tantra, so we progressed slowly. That, I think, was part of the problem for me. I had too much time to think it over and my anxiety built up. I told her I couldn't do this anymore. She told me it was fine, that she could easily change her paradigm and adjust, but I could tell that she was hurt. Truthfully, it had nothing to do with her. I was just too tied up in myself to keep going. I couldn't tell her that, hell I barley understood it myself. In time, I might have gotten back to her, but she began to chase after me rather relentlessly rather than giving me the space I needed.
I let it go, mostly. I gave myself permission to view pornography and this has allowed me to have a healthier relationship with it, even if I am still somewhat compulsive about it. I gave myself permission to have sex, though I have other issues that stand in the way of my relationships in that regard. I began having cyber sex, and discovered that my detailed, descriptive writing gave me an edge in that kind of play. I decided that if I wasn't in a relationship, that I should learn everything I could about performing well until I had a lover to practice with. I think that my research as improved my writing, if nothing else.
I reflect. I reflect on my first partner and realize that our relationship had so many problems, our age doesn't seem important... though that was likely the cause of most of our problems. I reflect on my partner in California. I'd like to see her again, explain, apologize, maybe have a fling or something more. Maybe. I reflect on the fact that for all of my sexual experience, I never engaged in intercourse. I would like to, but it strikes me as being seriously selfish to pursue anything just for that. I'd rather have a partner to focus on than on any place I'm lacking. I reflect on the amazing women in my life. Nothing I've seen, done, or been through has removed or tarnished my respect for women as a gender.
I know, this was long. If you read it, thank you. I hope to continue sharing my thoughts on sex very soon.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Medical Procedure pt 2
If you haven't read it yet, part one is here:
Medical Procedure pt 1
I'd like to take a moment to outline my key points
Medical Procedure pt 1
I'd like to take a moment to outline my key points
- There are medical procedures that I do not agree with
- Though I don't agree with them, I acknowledge that they are sometimes necessary. Being necessary doesn't really make them good, but it makes them better than the alternatives, such as say a slow horrible painful death.
- In some cases, these procedures can be advantageous, and because of this, some people may choose to electively undergo the procedure.
- While recognizing the need for parental consent when the patient is a minor, there are circumstances where a parent's involvement may not be in the patient's best interest.
Perhaps by now we recognize that amputation is not the issue.
I do not morally agree with abortion. I recognize that performing an abortion is in fact ending a life. I am concerned that in some ways, abortion has created an image in our culture that children are parasites. Contraceptives exists and to an extent are widely available. In short, there should be little need for abortion.
However, there is a need and that need is not going to go away if abortion is outlawed. Zygotes don't always implant right. Babies develop debilitating and terminal congenital diseases and defects. There are so many things that can go wrong with a pregnancy. Sometimes, it comes down to a choice of saving the mother, or letting both die.
Even without the medical need for an abortion, there are still reasons to have it electively. Precautions fail. It's rare, but nothing is 100%. Even if we could say that everything was 99%, no matter how many 99% we stack on top of each other, we still don't make it to 100%. If a woman doesn't feel ready to have a child, for whatever reason, ending the pregnancy maybe the best option.
There are other reasons. People are raped, both men and women. Age isn't really a factor, I don't think. And both men and women commit rapes. It is a part of that dark side of humanity that we don't want to face, and sadly, our culture is very good at brushing off. Specifically, though, when a man rapes a woman, there is a risk of pregnancy. The same is true when a woman rapes a man, but I'm focusing on victims, not aggressors. It stand to reason that if a man shown such little respect to a woman as to take her by force, it is not unreasonable to think that he hasn't enough respect for her to care if she gets pregnant.
I know very well, the argument that nearly every anti-abortionist cites. "I know a woman who was raped and gave birth and it was the greatest blessing of her life." I'm not a parent, but I know enough parents to see how children are a blessing. I also see how they are a burden and a responsibility. It is not a situation that a person should ever feel forced into. When a woman has a child, the man who fathered that child has a measure of power in her life. The child is a reminder of the father. Further, under law, a father has rights and may or may not exercise those rights. Does a child deserve to spend his or her life being a reminder to their mother of a horrible event? Does a child deserve to be a means for their mother to be re-victimized, to have to share a part of her life with a man who violated her? I wouldn't dare suggest that anything is universal. I'm simply stating that if any way a woman sees this the kind of life she would offer the child of her rapist, ending the pregnancy is likely the better option.
The discussion of rape leads us into yet another facet of abortion. Consent. Technically, a minor needs parental consent to have a medical procedure done. So why should we make an exception for abortion? Statistically, when a child is abused, it is likely a person who lives in the same household. If a teen is pregnant from an act of sexual abuse, asking for parental consent opens a gateway of putting teen girls at the mercy of their abusers. This gives the abuser, if he or she is a parent, control over an important decision, power over their victim. For the most part, control and power is the reason an abuser abuses to begin with.
As I write, I take another factor into consideration. Anti-abortionists have cited, in the past, the psychological effects of having an abortion. Feelings of regret, depression. and shame. For depression, I'm inclined to think that this may tie in with Postpartum Depression, which occurs in mothers who have actually carried a baby to term and given birth. I won't pretend that I know anything about PPD or the physiological, psychological, or emotional changes a woman undergoes during any stage of pregnancy. I haven't studied either. I simply observe that there's a possible link. Feelings of regret aren't singular to women who've has an abortion either. It's a very big decision and many people take the time to reflect on their decisions and consider the alternatives. In some of these people, it leaves regretful feelings.
Finally, I look to feelings of shame. My personal experience tells me that feelings of shame are often inflicted by external sources. We choose to adopt and internalize those or not, but I've never heard of a case where someone simply invented a reason to be ashamed of themselves. I consider what a source of these feelings shame might be and I think that maybe it might have something do with the crowd of people women have to walk past, shouting names at them like "slut," "whore," and "murderer". Just a guess.
The discussion of rape leads us into yet another facet of abortion. Consent. Technically, a minor needs parental consent to have a medical procedure done. So why should we make an exception for abortion? Statistically, when a child is abused, it is likely a person who lives in the same household. If a teen is pregnant from an act of sexual abuse, asking for parental consent opens a gateway of putting teen girls at the mercy of their abusers. This gives the abuser, if he or she is a parent, control over an important decision, power over their victim. For the most part, control and power is the reason an abuser abuses to begin with.
As I write, I take another factor into consideration. Anti-abortionists have cited, in the past, the psychological effects of having an abortion. Feelings of regret, depression. and shame. For depression, I'm inclined to think that this may tie in with Postpartum Depression, which occurs in mothers who have actually carried a baby to term and given birth. I won't pretend that I know anything about PPD or the physiological, psychological, or emotional changes a woman undergoes during any stage of pregnancy. I haven't studied either. I simply observe that there's a possible link. Feelings of regret aren't singular to women who've has an abortion either. It's a very big decision and many people take the time to reflect on their decisions and consider the alternatives. In some of these people, it leaves regretful feelings.
Finally, I look to feelings of shame. My personal experience tells me that feelings of shame are often inflicted by external sources. We choose to adopt and internalize those or not, but I've never heard of a case where someone simply invented a reason to be ashamed of themselves. I consider what a source of these feelings shame might be and I think that maybe it might have something do with the crowd of people women have to walk past, shouting names at them like "slut," "whore," and "murderer". Just a guess.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Medical Procedure pt 1
I am morally against cutting my arm off. I like having two arms and find it very useful. I realize that some people have needed to have limbs and other extremities amputated for various reasons. I respect those people and admire them for the challenges they've over come to have a normal life. However, I have no personal interest in becoming one of them, as I'm sure they had no intention of becoming amputees either.
However, the fact that no one intentionally becomes an amputee, but there are amputees speaks to the necessity of amputation. Severe injury and several diseases make it necessary to remove an extremity. Necessity doesn't make a bad thing good, it only means it's the best option under certain circumstances.
I've been considering the idea of amputation as an elective procedure. It sounds strange I know, but I consider the achievements we've made with prosthetics. People with no legs are now able to run professionally, and I mean actually run. We're creating robotic arms that respond to nerve impulses to flex fingers. One man has replaced his standard glass eye with one with a camera, to record and document his life. Given these advancements, how far off are we from creating cybernetic enhancements, prostheics that not only perform as well as a natural body part, but surpass a fully organic counterpart. In order to utilize such enhancements, some people would have to voluntarily remove a healthy extremity.
Is such an idea so really far fetched? As it is, women undergo breast enhancement surgery, an elective procedure using prosthetic enhancements Of course, that's not removing an arm or a leg, but it is a surgical augmentation. Workers able to move from intensely delicate jobs to ones that require great strength. Soldiers with hidden weapons build into their bodies. Spies with compartments for hiding messages, or with built in data ports for accessing computers and servers. Investigators and law-enforcement offices with camera eyes, so we can know exactly what they saw and when they saw it. Still, I prefer my body to be completely organic, given the choice.
I next consider the need for consent. If a child or teenager needed an amputation, I think that would give us cause to pause and wonder why. Given the reasons behind the need for amputation, we should ask if the parents' actions or inactions directly caused the circumstances. If the answer is a definite "no" then we should all be glad we took the time to confirm that. If the answer, however, is yes, then I have to wonder if the parents are in a position to make decisions in the best interest of the child or teen.
Since this is getting long, I'll stop here and tomorrow I'll share what the real point is.
Edited for spelling and grammar.
However, the fact that no one intentionally becomes an amputee, but there are amputees speaks to the necessity of amputation. Severe injury and several diseases make it necessary to remove an extremity. Necessity doesn't make a bad thing good, it only means it's the best option under certain circumstances.
I've been considering the idea of amputation as an elective procedure. It sounds strange I know, but I consider the achievements we've made with prosthetics. People with no legs are now able to run professionally, and I mean actually run. We're creating robotic arms that respond to nerve impulses to flex fingers. One man has replaced his standard glass eye with one with a camera, to record and document his life. Given these advancements, how far off are we from creating cybernetic enhancements, prostheics that not only perform as well as a natural body part, but surpass a fully organic counterpart. In order to utilize such enhancements, some people would have to voluntarily remove a healthy extremity.
Is such an idea so really far fetched? As it is, women undergo breast enhancement surgery, an elective procedure using prosthetic enhancements Of course, that's not removing an arm or a leg, but it is a surgical augmentation. Workers able to move from intensely delicate jobs to ones that require great strength. Soldiers with hidden weapons build into their bodies. Spies with compartments for hiding messages, or with built in data ports for accessing computers and servers. Investigators and law-enforcement offices with camera eyes, so we can know exactly what they saw and when they saw it. Still, I prefer my body to be completely organic, given the choice.
I next consider the need for consent. If a child or teenager needed an amputation, I think that would give us cause to pause and wonder why. Given the reasons behind the need for amputation, we should ask if the parents' actions or inactions directly caused the circumstances. If the answer is a definite "no" then we should all be glad we took the time to confirm that. If the answer, however, is yes, then I have to wonder if the parents are in a position to make decisions in the best interest of the child or teen.
Since this is getting long, I'll stop here and tomorrow I'll share what the real point is.
Edited for spelling and grammar.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Reasons and Rules for My Blog
I have all kinds of thoughts buzzing around in my head. My hope and intention is to have a place to put these thoughts down and discuss them with my friends. I will be covering a range of topics, some of which will be political in nature. Others may be sexual and more may be spiritual. I think to begin I'll lay down some ground rules.
My Rights
Above any and all other rights, I reserve the right to be wrong. Whatever my views, whatever my thoughts, whatever my information, it can be incorrect and at times will be.
I have the right to observe. I will probably not take the time to research much of anything I post. I draw my conclusion based on what I see going on and what I know. While this ties in with my right to be wrong, this fact does not give room to automatically assume that I am wrong.
I have the right to be open. I have the right to be real. I have the right be vulnerable.
I have the right to censor. To protect my above listed rights, I have the right to restrict the content of comments as I see fit. This is not an article. This is not a forum. This is not debate hall. This is a blog. More importantly, this is *my* blog.
Your Rights
It would be unfair for me to reserve my rights without acknowledging yours
As a reader, you have the right to disagree. Your agreement or disagreement may be right or wrong.
You have the right to respect. No one has the right to attack you personally. If you feel attacked by myself or by another commenter, you may bring it to my attention and I will read the comment in question. If I agree that the comment has made as an attack on your person or character, I will take it down.
You have the right to share. It's my blog, but I encourage participation.
You have the right to leave. If it offends you, if you disagree that strongly, if you for whatever reason cannot hold a respectful dialogue on the subject, no one is forcing you to stay. In fact, if it becomes a problem, I may ask you to leave.
It is my sincere hope that with a few basic guidelines, we can have a meaningful discussion. If you have any suggestions on expanding or limiting any of these rights, I will take it under advisement.
My Rights
Above any and all other rights, I reserve the right to be wrong. Whatever my views, whatever my thoughts, whatever my information, it can be incorrect and at times will be.
I have the right to observe. I will probably not take the time to research much of anything I post. I draw my conclusion based on what I see going on and what I know. While this ties in with my right to be wrong, this fact does not give room to automatically assume that I am wrong.
I have the right to be open. I have the right to be real. I have the right be vulnerable.
I have the right to censor. To protect my above listed rights, I have the right to restrict the content of comments as I see fit. This is not an article. This is not a forum. This is not debate hall. This is a blog. More importantly, this is *my* blog.
Your Rights
It would be unfair for me to reserve my rights without acknowledging yours
As a reader, you have the right to disagree. Your agreement or disagreement may be right or wrong.
You have the right to respect. No one has the right to attack you personally. If you feel attacked by myself or by another commenter, you may bring it to my attention and I will read the comment in question. If I agree that the comment has made as an attack on your person or character, I will take it down.
You have the right to share. It's my blog, but I encourage participation.
You have the right to leave. If it offends you, if you disagree that strongly, if you for whatever reason cannot hold a respectful dialogue on the subject, no one is forcing you to stay. In fact, if it becomes a problem, I may ask you to leave.
It is my sincere hope that with a few basic guidelines, we can have a meaningful discussion. If you have any suggestions on expanding or limiting any of these rights, I will take it under advisement.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)