Retro Post: When Did Being Human Go Out of Fashion

Posted as a “Rant” on my original site, 2002. Still believe it.

When Did Being Human Go Out of Fashion?
I mean, look around at the number of people having lifts and tucks, enlargements and enhancements.  Permanent makeup, there is a concept for you.  Get tattoos on the sensitive parts of your face, so don’t ever have to worry about putting makeup on again.  There are pills and procedures for removing wrinkles, removing fat, enhancing your sexual life, making your lips more pouty, keeping your hair a young color etc. etc. etc.I partially blame the advertising schemers of our century.  The models and ideals that are represented in almost every advertisement nowadays represent less than 2 percent of the actual living population.  Yet this is what people feel like they MUST look like in order to gain any sort of acceptance in society.  But you can’t just blame the advertisers.  We also have to blame the people that buy into this image.  It’s a sad fact of American society today that we feel that in order to be the best we can be, we have to look a particular way.  We accept what the advertisers tell us; thus reinforcing this image, in turn telling the advertisers this is what we WANT to see.  This is how we WANT to be judged.

It has come to the point where we don’t even realize that these images, these advertisements, effect the way we perceive ourselves.  It’s a sad time when we have diseases such as anorexia and bulimia that take toll on people’s health, just so they can try to reach what they see as the “ideal” image of themselves.  These are sicknesses were the ill person doesn’t even in realize what they’re doing to their bodies. They can’t see the damage that they are doing.  They just see someone who isn’t thin enough.

This is not a new phenomenon either.  Throughout history there have always been different “ideals” for body types.  At one point in history being large showed how wealthy were.  The more wealth you had, the less you actually had to DO.  The less you had to do, the more you could eat and retain your shapely form.  Nowadays tanning beds provide hours that people don’t actually have to lie in the sun, but can still walk away with a nice glowing tan.  In times gone by, the paler you were, the more attractive.  Lighter flesh showed that you were wealthy enough that you did not have to work in the actual sun, instead you can lounge about all day indoors without a care in the world.

Nowadays, wealth is shown by how much time you can spend a gym, tanning salons, and how much you can spend on expensive “touchup” operations and procedures.  It seems that the “ideal” body is always dictated by perceived wealth.

I can’t wait for the day when the “ideal” is being able to afford to be yourself.  When we don’t feel that we have to stand up to the measures that other people set, and that society seems to hold so dear.  In the days where the natural beauty that each of us possesses is allowed to shine through, perhaps we’ll realize how wealthy we all are in our own rights.  Not material wealth, but rather the wealth of knowledge, creativity, and beauty that each of us possesses deep inside.

When the day comes where everyone is comfortable being who they were born to be, without all the operations and procedures, pills and processes, that will be an indication that our world has come to a point were everyone is truly equal.  When material objects no longer matter, and people are based truly by what’s inside.  That will be happy day and something we should strive for.

Retro Post: My Thoughts on Why I Write

The following is a post I made on an earlier iteration of the CrushedMuffin site. Below the post, I will toss in my current-state two-cents; what the “now” me thinks about what the “then” me wrote.

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My Thoughts On Why I Write

I think I’m a writer at heart, or rather, soul. As my current project I was was going through my filing cabinets, purging things I’ve had tucked away for who-knows-how-long, and I have found a lot (several folders full) of my creative writing. I also have, elsewhere (another project to go through) a box of journals. I think I started keeping them off and on around the fifth grade. I began to wonder why I write so much. I think it is in order to explain me to myself.Skimming my poetry, and setting it aside to type and save on a CD ROM disc (another new project) I see some creative imagery, but also a lot of introspection. I have, in the past, tried meditating, feeling it was important to try to find the inner me, what I mean to myself, my beliefs…my core. It never seemed to work. It has just occurred to me, 25 years into my life, that perhaps I don’t need the candles, the quiet music the lying still on the bed trying to relax my entire body and clear my mind. Perhaps I just need a pen and paper. I write to release my soul, to discover who I am.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not closing my eyes and doing that automatic writing exercise, where you let the pen do what it will, calling on whatever may be present in you. Rather, I figure things out on paper. I go through my thoughts, my mind, my soul, step by step I pick up the pieces, turn them over in my hands as I examining them in words, and place these pieces in a (hopefully) logical place in myself where I can find it again later. I write to get to know me.

Well, I’ve decided, once I begin that monumental task of typing all my handwritten prose, I’m going to select bits of my soul that I don’t mind sharing, and placing them on my writings page. And this writing- it started out as a write for myself, but I decided to invite an audience. Welcome to a little piece of my soul.

I think I’m going to try to write something, anything, for my website and change it out every week or two. It may be soul-searching, it may be a strong statement of my beliefs, it may be silly prose I come up with on a bad afternoon, but I have decided to invite you to join me in my life-long quest to understand myself.


Current status: Well, I now have a two-drawer file cabinet full of folders of fiction, no fewer than eight three ring binders of novels and one of poetry (those are the ones correctly shelved, though I’m convinced I have at least one more novel somewhere). Additionally, I have electronic versions of the same stories, and of stories I’ve not yet had reason to print – on my computer, in the cloud, on flash drives and CDs.

I still journal, though for a while I was concentrating on the Morning Pages model from The Artists Way. I still have all these journals – stored away in my office in tubs and boxes and sitting on shelves.

I don’t recall how far I got typing in the handwritten pages, though I’ve had that thought (or scanning them) enough times since then that I think I didn’t get very far. At least not with the straight up journaling – A review of the old contents of tells me I did manage to type up a significant portion of the fiction and poetry.

And I have considered traditional meditation again and again in the 13 years since this post (honestly, I was surprised to find that I had been trying it, or at least considering it, for so long – it feels like a more current development in my life). I think in some regards the younger me had more insight into how my brain works, or at least, more self awareness.

The idea that writing is how I explore my self, and come to know myself better feels both foreign (like it wasn’t my idea), and right. I wonder what has happened in the intervening years that made me lose sight of this – what convinced me that I need to seek other forms of meditation? I’m not discounting the fact that people change over the years, and how they interact with the world can subsequently change, but am opening myself up to the idea that maybe the younger me had some wisdom worth re-examining.