“At first glance, it may look as if Bhagat had given birth. Actually, Mehta had removed the mutated body of Bhagat’s twin brother from his stomach. Bhagat, they discovered, had one of the world’s most bizarre medical conditions — fetus in fetu.”
Problem solved, this man had the remains of his long lost twin found inside him as a partially developed fetus.
“Despite years of taking hormones and living outwardly as a man, Beatie maintained that he retained his female sex organs because he intended one day to get pregnant.”
I feel this is wrong. I must say something about this. Though I don’t envy transvestites I find this unfair, because this person is having their cake and eating it too. They chose not to be a woman—sorry, they were born a man in a woman’s body, but then they chose they wanted to give birth too? You can’t choose both lifestyles. You want to be a man but give birth? Having a child is one of the “miracles” and positives of being a woman, whether or not woman agree about how lucky they are to go through it; I will never be able to even understand the idea of having something someone growing inside me—that’s unimaginable for me! I feel this person is cheating the game.
Also, can we consider this man a man? Sure, he fits to this definition: “the human individual as representing the species, without reference to sex; the human race; humankind,” but there’s also: “an adult male person, as distinguished from a boy or a woman.” The latter is considered the first definition, which I’d consider the most worthy of being followed, possibly because it agrees with my opinion. There’s no distinguishing this man from a woman, therefore giving a “true”-birth, not giving birth to a lost twin’s fetus, takes away his being identified as a male.
Last semester, I had a professor in Philosophy who blogs often on very interesting topics. One of his more recent posts is on the topic of Terrorism and Torture. I say you check it out, and maybe some of his other posts while you’re at it. You can find his blog on my blog roll, it’s titled: Out of the Woods.
This post I decided to comment on, and follow that up by writing about it on my blog.
I added:
“‘It is high time that we stopped talking as if our life was constantly in danger. It is high time to try to think clearly and calmly about terrorism and about torture.’ [Quoting his post]
This talk we must constantly put up with is, most likely, the result of being influenced by a frightening facade that terrorism, and its portrayal, gives us. We’re constantly feeling in fear, which is terrorism. So, I’ll agree with you and say that in order for us to stop being the victim, we must stop playing the victim.
It’s difficult to judge something clearly and rationally when it is the filter through which you see the world; everywhere we look we find a threatening possibility, and until we allow ourselves to let go and not be in constant reminder of this “threat”, we shall continue to be the bind of fear. Beginning an argument with “My children could be in danger…” wouldn’t be the same as beginning “This is a problem, and we need to deal with this in a fair-manner.” We allow ourselves to play this role all too well, and I feel this is only worsening our image as a nation of “power” and of “strength”, while also giving ourselves and sight of our nation’s incompetence.
We’re being bullied, and though I don’t mean to entirely “ignore it,” we need to be able to move on and live outside the shadow of Terrorism’s facade.”
Now, since reading his post, I keep wandering back in my mind to the topic and its reason for being written. It was clearly more about torture and its use, but I found more value in the truth behind our being terrorized—we’re constantly in a rut of confused panic. I’d like to think that if our cousin Vinny were to say something about it, he’d say we had, “mud in our tires.” And Lisa may add, “Anyone who’s been stuck in the mud in Alabama knows, you step on the gas, one tire spins, the other tire does nothing,”—we’re in a slippery rut. Where as we make more speculations we’re quickly digging a deeper hole, and just furthering ourselves from getting away from this “mud”. Thus, making the topics, terrorism and torture, appear esoteric to those who allow it to be taken from their grasp.
—I wake up. I get dressed and put on some shoes. I went out to go get a coffee. On my way to get it, I’m walking down the sidewalk. Well from a distance I hear this noise, and it has a very distinctive sound to it. It was windy and sort of was whipping around between the buildings. This one sounded like a person though. I take the corner and go into this small alley between the buildings. I find this girl and she’s sitting on the ground, and she looks up at me. She gives me this deathly look—now I’m about to turn around and leave, but she grabs my hand and says, “If you leave me you’ll find another to love you like I do!”
And I ran, I ran so far away.
I just ran, I ran all night and day.
I couldn’t get away.
I hope the A Flock of Seagulls reference made it obvious that this story was a lie. I made it up so I could put that lyric in here.
Last night, I had just made a pot of tea and pulled my book out, when I heard my phone doing the “missed call chirp”. So, I made a call back, and after about three back-and-forth missed calls, I got a hold of my friend and we decided to go out. We made a quick stop at Starbucks, which is sort of mandatory and headed back to the neighborhood. It was an evening right out of two years—I don’t think I’ll experience another night that will so well embody a typical “summer night of my youth”. We met up with two others at a friend’s place, which I hadn’t been to in well over a year.
We’ve all kept rather distant, after high school there were all different paths taken. I went to school in Worcester; my friend who I was originally went moved out to school in the west; my friend whose house we were at went right into working; and due to a rigorous school schedule one other there had just now graduated high school. But for awhile we just spent some time blowing the dust off the remains of our years spent together. It was nice for the whole time, and then we decided to move to my other friend’s, which is maybe four houses away. I should mention we all live within, maybe ten houses.
When we go there, we just sat back down and kept there until maybe 11:30 at night, catching up on our summers. I think, I’m the only one not working, and I’m the only one who will be going to school in the east—sweet. I’m a little disappointed with myself for not venturing out west, like they are, but I’m better off in the east.
Overall, it was enjoyable, and I’m glad to see that we can all just come back together and mend the tangled, broken strands of our relationships. We’ve all kept very different, and continually change, but it’s nice to see all of us following out own courses, and finding what we all are looking for. I don’t feel that any one of us is waiting for the world to happen; we’re all trying in what we do, and not just sitting and waiting for everything to unfold. We are all trying our own things and going in entirely opposite directions, but somehow it works—let’s continue life, and see where this “growing up” leads. Hitherto, I don’t think I’ve ever been so ready to move on with life and find what I’m looking for. They’ve all shown me what we’re all looking for, and I think the contrast has helped me to narrow down the possibilities of what it is that I want. It’s safe to say we’ve all shown one another something different, and could all learn from one another, at least a value or two.
Do I have one yet? I’m not even sure what it is that makes up a blog.
I think that the concept is to put on the web whatever you feel interests you and hope that others share interest in it. But should I be doing this for me or for the reader? Should we be equally benefiting from my entries?
I feel my blog has found a direction, but at the same time, I feel that I see other blogs all the time where I go, “Woah, I wish mine was more like this.” Some people, I guess, interest me more than I, myself can. I’d like to create a new blog which has direction and only one field/genre of interest. This blog is properly titled for what it is: a place which is oozing with me and my interests. I’d like another properly titled for whatever I find to be the topic, and then, I’d like to stick to just the topic of interest.
We’ll see if I ever get around to a new one, but I hope that if/when I do it’ll be much more “bloggy” than this one is, though, maybe I’m wrong and this is what “blogging” is. I’m still perplexed by the vagueness of “blogging”.
In Newburyport, MA, they’re having for their annual music festival Blind Melon be the headline. It shall be pretty ridiculous, even though it was pretty mandatory for them to find a new lead singer. After his death it was difficult to keep the music coming from him.
I’m just excited to go on the twelfth and see this show! It should be swell, and I am telling any out there who read this that they should make an appearance.
I’ve on many occasions found myself in a moral dilemma of whether to hold in my desires and allow them to build over time, or to succumb and become victim of my own appetence.
I, recently, allowed myself to give into what many may not consider a big deal, but as of right now I am. I have had several partners; I am in no way a modern day Don Juan, but I mean, more than a few partners in these activities. This most recent occurrence occurred after an evening out with her, which all the way through seemed to tease me with tempt. I’d describe her to you as a modern day equivalent to if Judas and Jezebel were to make a daughter. I won’t go into all that detail yet—let’s stick with the basics. Well we got so far as kissing, and a bit more, but nothing too intense, or below the waist. We’ve kissed before on one other occasion, maybe two months ago, but I couldn’t give you a date for the run-in.
I was point in a situation where my own sexuality took more power than my ability to reason and negotiate thought—I apparently am weak. She took the wheel and steered us into a predicament which made me decide, “Should I or should I not?” This should have never happened, considering her knowledge of a soon to be date between myself and one of her friends, which leads me consider her a spawn of Judas—betrayer of the friendship. I know! She can’t solely be to blame, I must at times take blame for my actions, but I feel more victim than ever. I didn’t want this to happen at all, but somehow it did. I went the whole evening without allowing as little as a hint to that I had anything of that sort in mind, which I didn’t. About half way through the evening I even texted the soon to be date, and told her what we were doing, and such just to sort of let her know she was on the mind, but then I guess I lost bearing and felt the need to give in. She literally asked for it, could not even make that up. Even worse: she asked to invite herself to join on the date between her “friend” and I. That even put in awe, without an idea as to how to respond. Maybe such a strong biblical reference as saying she took the role of Jezebel, and put me in the role of the Hebrews for the evening is out of line, but I feel at this time that it works rather well.
I spent awhile after she left explaining to the largest victim: her “friend”, and my soon to be date the whole situation and outcome. She took it much better than had expected and we will still be keeping our plans. And I was devastated before talking to her that I had broken trust and led us into a permanent end. I had the idea of permanence, though I dislike change; both frighten me.
I am glad to say goodbye to the girl of tonight, and hello to the girl of tomorrow.
I went a day without Instant Messenger, because I had troubles/complications show up, which made it impossible to ignore the internet.
I read a book and wrote an entry for my blog, but not much else was done. It’s a bit drastic of a measure for me to go without internet entirely. Especially considering that it’s the only way for me to see my love, www.Dictionary.com, or to look up various pieces of information; I don’t have an encyclopedia set—yet.
Well, I have returned, and will get back into things. I can’t do this. A whole week is far too long! Life is too short for me to start giving up loves, and time is too precious to lose a week.
I’ve come to the conclusion that for the next week I, Michael Luciano, Jr. will be shutting off my internet card.
You heard it first hear. I am going to take a large siesta, and just read and write. I won’t even be using my girlfriend, www.dictionary.com, who makes my day complete with her helpful suggestions and insightful…insight?
I am going to bust out the paper dictionary, like the one before internet, and try to see if it can keep me content with its lacking of several of today’s words. I guess I can also use my Scrabble dictionary, which is seventh edition so it can offer me many odd words. We’ll see how long I last; honestly, I think it’ll be maybe three days.
Sometimes it’s just good to take a break. For lent I went vegetarian, which as an atheist is sort of weird, but was a fun way to try something new. We’ll see how I do with this.
In preparation I’ve already made a folder in “My Documents” to be the new home for any blogs I decide to write while away. I use Microsoft Word’s Blog Template, so I can just save them with that and just push publish once I’m back in the internet.
I’m a little nervous to try this. I have gone, maybe, four days before without it, but a week is kind of ridiculous. Four days wasn’t easy.
Maybe though I can come back with some reading/writing done, and I can fix my sleeping schedule!
Well, my wi-fi card is on until midnight, and then poof! Then, after midnight, blasted back to the days of banging rocks together and finger-painting on the walls of a cave.
Good luck to everyone else out there in the internet—try not to miss me too much… I’m sure that could become a problem
