I brandish my egalitarian temperament pretty often when I come in contact with feminist views. And then, sometimes, things happen that make me think about what my stance on things really is like. And in this instance, I am talking of hair, or rather, androgenic hair, to be specific. Should it not bother me if a woman is sporting the sprinkles of a moustache? And if it does, does it say I am not as egalitarian as I like to think?
So I dwelt a bit on the matter. The aspect of the natural process briefly... It is alright for some of the vellus to turn androgenic in women once post-menopausal levels of testosterone rise. They still ought not to turn into furry little (or big, as the case may be) things, but I suppose it makes certain amount of visible body hair on them a natural process that can't be much avoided. But that doesn't happen till they get to their mid-40s, not when they are 25.
Then of course, there is the cultural aspect. I know a strangely high number of men now who like to believe that women don't have any body hair, and act surprised and disgusted to find out that they indeed do. ALL of them are west European or American. I know women who spot some armpit hair on another woman and go "yetch". And these are not just west European or American women. It is expected of women, by men and women, to be almost entirely hairless beyond the head. I am not in that camp. Do what you will, it's all good, is what I say.
Which brings me to third aspect... the aesthetic. Of course, it is purely subjective (though in this case, there is overwhelming concurrence across our race in a particular direction, but I am not using the argument of the tyranny of the majority) and I have my own taste. In my own mind, the idea of facial hair is associated with my own sex, since I have been shaving it from my own face for years now. And so, for me, it forms a part of aesthetic qualities associated with males (though I don't have any opinion on men's looks, an attitude which once earned me the opinion of being insecure about my own sexuality, but that's a tale for another time).
All that said, I had never quite seen as many young women walking around anabashedly with facial hair as I have seen here in London. Without making a futile comparison between the pressure to look good in this city and say, Delhi, let us assume for simplicity's sake that it is the same in both cities (because I can't prove one way or the other, neither can anyone else, I think). So I began thinking why this was so. And I came up with two possible reasons.
One, blonde hair, or light coloured hair in general. Maybe some women confuse light coloured hair with it being invisible against their skin. Let me tell you, it is certainly not! And there are obviously more of those in London than in Delhi. Two, feminism. Maybe it is that twisted approach to attain their notion of equality that prompts certain women to not bother about it if they happen to grow a bit of a grizzly. And there are also more feminists here than perhaps all of India put together.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
The call of conscience in dreamland
I wouldn't blame you if you thought I have somewhat of a fixation with dreams. So anyway, here is a brief, sanitised version of the dream that I woke up from in a state of considerable agitation.
In essence, everything was going wrong in my life and around it. I was beat, downbeat and beat up. Bad things were happening to my near and dear ones, sometimes with gruesome violence. And the few who escaped the 'carnage' were, for whatever reasons, inflicting great pain on me, my person, my mind and my soul. I was truly and wholly abandoned and forsaken, with copious amounts of venom especially and pointedly directed at me. In my dream, as I flitted from one place in my life to another - trying to keep something, anything, in my life being utterly destroyed, or destructive - I wondered why it was happening.
And in the dream itself, as bits of consciousness floated into it, I figured it may be my conscience (or my mind, or my heart, or my whatever the fuck else) trying to tell me to stop being such an arsehole in general, to fix my idea of morals, to appreciate human beings more, to actively cherish and value the people in my life, to stop hoping for bad things to happen to others and the world, etc and blah. In short, something in me trying to scare me (or if you like to put it another way, to warn me of the error of my ways).
I won't lie, so I won't say that I didn't care about the dream. As I said, I woke up pretty agitated. A piss and a glass of water later, I was calm and pensive. A couple of minutes of thought, and thank you very much, but I am alright the way I am.
In essence, everything was going wrong in my life and around it. I was beat, downbeat and beat up. Bad things were happening to my near and dear ones, sometimes with gruesome violence. And the few who escaped the 'carnage' were, for whatever reasons, inflicting great pain on me, my person, my mind and my soul. I was truly and wholly abandoned and forsaken, with copious amounts of venom especially and pointedly directed at me. In my dream, as I flitted from one place in my life to another - trying to keep something, anything, in my life being utterly destroyed, or destructive - I wondered why it was happening.
And in the dream itself, as bits of consciousness floated into it, I figured it may be my conscience (or my mind, or my heart, or my whatever the fuck else) trying to tell me to stop being such an arsehole in general, to fix my idea of morals, to appreciate human beings more, to actively cherish and value the people in my life, to stop hoping for bad things to happen to others and the world, etc and blah. In short, something in me trying to scare me (or if you like to put it another way, to warn me of the error of my ways).
I won't lie, so I won't say that I didn't care about the dream. As I said, I woke up pretty agitated. A piss and a glass of water later, I was calm and pensive. A couple of minutes of thought, and thank you very much, but I am alright the way I am.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Pre-conception sex determination
Researchers sure do end up doing all kinds of researches, and they don't always start out doing the same ones. Anyway, a Dr Fiona Mathews from the University of Exeter has shown a link between a women's level of calorie intake a few weeks before, and a couple of few weeks after, conception, and the sex of the baby born. Higher calorie intake has been linked to boys being born, and dieting has been given as a probable cause of the fall in male birth rates in industrialised (read developed) countries. The inverse could be true too then, with malnourishment leading to more girls being born in poorer countries, where the traditional emphasis and desire is usually for a male child anyway, making a sort of vicious circle. So if you are looking for a baby boy, force feed the mother. For a girl, oh well, save on the food bills!
Other than the implications on sex ratios, of at least as much importance is the impact on the scientific understanding of the process of conception and its link to sex determination. Till now, we always thought that the sex of the foetus was decided by whichever chromosome, X or Y, from the sperm fused with the ovarian egg. In effect, the father decided (though completely beyond his own control) the sex of the baby the mother would bear. But now, for the first time, there is evidence to show that somehow, the mother influences it too, without having to do anything with the 23rd set of chromosomes. Science always does leap ahead of itself, doesn't it?
To steer this in a slightly controversial territory, as I am wanton to. Thinking in terms of biological evolution, or rather, the process of natural selection, this certainly could speak volumes. Healthier food = boy, not so healthy food = girl. You can't argue with the course of nature now, can you? And yet, and yet, I am a proponent of egalitarianism, but now, with a heightened dislike for those who had rather use the label of feminist.
Other than the implications on sex ratios, of at least as much importance is the impact on the scientific understanding of the process of conception and its link to sex determination. Till now, we always thought that the sex of the foetus was decided by whichever chromosome, X or Y, from the sperm fused with the ovarian egg. In effect, the father decided (though completely beyond his own control) the sex of the baby the mother would bear. But now, for the first time, there is evidence to show that somehow, the mother influences it too, without having to do anything with the 23rd set of chromosomes. Science always does leap ahead of itself, doesn't it?
To steer this in a slightly controversial territory, as I am wanton to. Thinking in terms of biological evolution, or rather, the process of natural selection, this certainly could speak volumes. Healthier food = boy, not so healthy food = girl. You can't argue with the course of nature now, can you? And yet, and yet, I am a proponent of egalitarianism, but now, with a heightened dislike for those who had rather use the label of feminist.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Beat up your kids
Well, I really wonder how many of my present bunch of readers are even married, let alone have a kid (not that you have to be married to have a kid). So the topic of this post doesn't really apply as an instruction, but anyway...
Were you ever hit by your folks when you were a kid? Has it scarred you for life, or has there been no love lost? I have heard arguments trying to convince me that beating your kids amounts to abusing them and violating their 'rights'. And for one reason or the other, I never do get convinced enough to be called convinced. What I wonder is how often people use the word 'abuse' instead of 'use'. If you take a foul tasting medicine to get rid of your affliction, it amounts to use; it can't be termed 'abuse' only because it tastes like shit. (That, by the way, is an expression people should not use lightly, for how many of you actually know what shit actually tastes like? And don't ask me that question, because you don't want to know the answer.)
Violence, like pretty much everything else, can be used or abused. Hell, even love can be abused, and quite often is. Unless you have mental issues (or a kinky fetish), you probably don't enjoy beating up anyone, let alone your kids. You hurt your kid when you feel it is indeed the best action to take. And if you make an error of judgement more than a couple of times in this aspect, then you had no business having a kid, or the right to vote, for that matter. You are a numskull who might as well die, the world will be better off without you. The last thing we need is the government having to create legislation about how to parent, because of morons like you.
And I am ABSOLUTELY convinced that if there was a little more physical disciplining of kids, we would have much fewer punk-ass teenagers creating trouble for all and sundry wherever they go. Which reminds me that earlier in the day, I was in a bus on my way home, when two pieces of white trash chav meat walked in, complete with a dog each. After a while, one of those dogs shat. Right there on the bus floor. The driver refused to go further till they cleaned it up. Those trash-heads argued with each other, laughed, passed the buck and then went away, leaving the shit intact, the bus stinking and the driver fuming. If they had only been beaten a little by their parents, they probably never would have ended up as chavs in the first place, and would definitely have the self-discipline to behave responsibly.
Oh, there was this girl in the bus who had a very happy face, with a smile on most of the time. It was an unusual sight in this city's public transport where most faces are set grim.
And yes, I know I did not venture in to the children's rights territory and its defilement by beating them. But that is only because I think they shouldn't have any rights in the first place. This whole business of rights and their widespread dissemination that is touted as one of the achievements of 'progress' has probably done a lot more harm to the world than good. Fuck 'progress', long live the poor dead Neanderthal.
Were you ever hit by your folks when you were a kid? Has it scarred you for life, or has there been no love lost? I have heard arguments trying to convince me that beating your kids amounts to abusing them and violating their 'rights'. And for one reason or the other, I never do get convinced enough to be called convinced. What I wonder is how often people use the word 'abuse' instead of 'use'. If you take a foul tasting medicine to get rid of your affliction, it amounts to use; it can't be termed 'abuse' only because it tastes like shit. (That, by the way, is an expression people should not use lightly, for how many of you actually know what shit actually tastes like? And don't ask me that question, because you don't want to know the answer.)
Violence, like pretty much everything else, can be used or abused. Hell, even love can be abused, and quite often is. Unless you have mental issues (or a kinky fetish), you probably don't enjoy beating up anyone, let alone your kids. You hurt your kid when you feel it is indeed the best action to take. And if you make an error of judgement more than a couple of times in this aspect, then you had no business having a kid, or the right to vote, for that matter. You are a numskull who might as well die, the world will be better off without you. The last thing we need is the government having to create legislation about how to parent, because of morons like you.
And I am ABSOLUTELY convinced that if there was a little more physical disciplining of kids, we would have much fewer punk-ass teenagers creating trouble for all and sundry wherever they go. Which reminds me that earlier in the day, I was in a bus on my way home, when two pieces of white trash chav meat walked in, complete with a dog each. After a while, one of those dogs shat. Right there on the bus floor. The driver refused to go further till they cleaned it up. Those trash-heads argued with each other, laughed, passed the buck and then went away, leaving the shit intact, the bus stinking and the driver fuming. If they had only been beaten a little by their parents, they probably never would have ended up as chavs in the first place, and would definitely have the self-discipline to behave responsibly.
Oh, there was this girl in the bus who had a very happy face, with a smile on most of the time. It was an unusual sight in this city's public transport where most faces are set grim.
And yes, I know I did not venture in to the children's rights territory and its defilement by beating them. But that is only because I think they shouldn't have any rights in the first place. This whole business of rights and their widespread dissemination that is touted as one of the achievements of 'progress' has probably done a lot more harm to the world than good. Fuck 'progress', long live the poor dead Neanderthal.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Changing faces of climate, Nazis & sexuality
I was just woken up early on a Sunday morning (7:30 is early for a Sunday) by a phone call from Goa where it is obviously sunny, and I was told about a chocolate mousse tan. I sleepily looked out of my own window here in London, and it is snowing like I have never seen here before! And this is the 6th of April, we are more than two weeks into official spring. All winter went by with not a single flake of snow appearing anywhere, and now? The snowfall doesn't even show the slightest sign of letting up! We truly have fucked things up with the climate. I do not know how much the weather cycles have been affected in the developing or under-developed countries, but I certainly do hope that these developed countries suffer more of the wrath of this global screw up they have caused. Only fair, I like to think, even though it does make living here unpleasant. Like one needed more reasons to make it unpleasant here. I mean, the kids on the streets alone are quite enough... I really don't think I have ever even heard of a worse generation of youngsters who are empowered with unreasonable rights that they regularly abuse without any sense of responsibility. They should all be rounded up and put in Auschwitz or some such, if you ask me, and oh, they should be sterilised before that so that the vermin don't spread. As it is, it seems like so many 15-16 year olds are getting knocked up in this place all the time.
Anyway, nasty road to go down way too early in the morning, when the world outside my window is covered in a serene soft white layer. For the record, for those who think that each snow flake is unique is... well, there are actually about 80 different kinds.
For those of you who don't know who Max Mosley is, he is the (maybe outgoing) president of FIA, the body that governs motor racing worldwide. And he is currently in the soup, since a tabloid earlier this week published reports of his bedroom antics, which included some (or maybe considerable, who cares?) Nazi role playing. The matter gathers more gravity because his father was the founder of the British Union of Fascists, and Adolf attended his parents' wedding in person. So his Nazi role playing with hookers in the privacy of his room has prompted calls for his immediate resignation, he could not be present for this weekend's F1 race at Bahrain, and he is being criticised from left, right and centre, by auto companies and F1 drivers, among others.
Now I have some serious issues with this whole deal. Why does what a person does in his bedroom reflect on what he does in the boardroom? I mean, he is not bringing the hookers to work with him, neither does he ask any F1 driver to give him the Nazi salute. So long as he does his job well, why should the public knowledge of his sexual fetishes reflect poorly on his professionalism? By extension then, all people who indulge in, for instance, bondage and domination as a part of their sexual activities should be fired from their jobs. And what are we then to do with women who harbour rape fantasies? Yes, such women do exist. It is only a fantasy, so you can stop raising your eye brows. Anyway, so should they be fired as well? Max did not commit any crime, so why should he be punished? And if someone regards having a Nazi role playing fetish as a crime, I have no sympathy for them. I mean, on another note, I have heard a few Europeans saying (rarely openly obviously) that people need to get over colonialism because it happened long ago. Funny how the same thing doesn't apply to the Holocaust. Anyway, I will let that be for another time. For now, I hope Mr Mosley sues the pants off the nosy intrusive tabloid all the way to bankruptcy. Come on, aren't there more important things around that those in charge of these arse-wipes should be fussing over?
To end on a more pleasant (though infinitely more complicated) note however, the first pregnant man has arrived. Born a girl, Thomas Beatie had a sex change, got married to a woman, sports a beard (not a very good one, in my opinion) and is now pregnant, because he never had his womanly reproductive organs removed. So now, because his wife doesn't have a womb any more, he was artificially inseminated and will produce a baby girl in about three months. This opens a whole new chapter in the field of sexuality and gender studies, despite stupid comments from some media persons (they just "happened" to be women, I suppose) who want this to become a 'trend' that 'catches on' across the world. What I was wondering was, will Thomas lactate?
For the record, it is still snowing.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
A bit of this, a butt of that, etc
Again a much longer gap than I would like there to be. But no use bitching about it, rather, get straight down to it.
So I am beginning to get back on track in life. Debts are being steadily (yet too slowly for my liking) paid off. There are people to meet and the social life (though a bit repetitive) is in its place. There are things to do, the latest being rowing classes. But more than anything else, the mind is working on, thinking of sometimes interesting thoughts and otherwise, trying to be ambitious. The complacency and lethargy of comfortable mediocre monotony is wearing off.
So what has transpired in the interim? On the surface, an uncalled for day off from work which I don't feel bad or irresponsible about. It is only work, after all, and it isn't such a bad idea to take some time off from having your mojo sucked out by corporate parasites. Still on the surface, another night of a drug binge which I don't want to repeat for the next month or so. Not because I didn't enjoy it, but because I can't afford it, and it is only drugs, after all and I am no addict.
I went for a very interesting exhibition, titled 'Sleeping and Dreaming'. Considering I have my own set of vivid dreams, bordering on lucidity, I had a great time, and learnt some interesting things. For instance, one of the few benefits of sleep that we know for a fact is that it helps recharge our immune system. Physical rest can be achieved without sleeping too, simply by lying down, and as for mental rest, the mind is 90% as active in sleeping state as it is when we are awake. Of course, there was much to be said in that exhibit about dreams as well. For instance, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, among many other works of literature, art, music and even scientific breakthroughs, was conceived in a dream.
That set me off on my own tangent about dream state inducing hallucinogenic drugs and the role the resulting "visions" played in many ancient religious rituals, especially those involving finding solutions to problems or foretelling the future. I never did give his much thought, but I am sure the link exists. I think I will go visit some shamans in the Amazon forests sometime, and find out first hand. And now that I have said it, I can't wait! Well, I suppose that will happen next year at the earliest.
After a gap of a few months, I have again recently dished out advice to people, or friends, to be specific. I thought I would be a bit rusty, but it felt natural dispensing advice about housing, relationship blues and financial trouble (to different people, thankfully for the people concerned). Maybe I should start looking into becoming a professional adviser? And once again, as my interactions with people have increased (or maybe their quality has changed), I have become privy to personal information that cannot possibly benefit me (unless I do something nefarious) and only increases the pressure on my tongue to rattle it off. I suppose this is where my loathing of gossiping comes in handy. But it still feels to strange to know things that I have little business knowing.
Anyway, hunger beckons. So I will post after another gap, hopefully a rather short one.
So I am beginning to get back on track in life. Debts are being steadily (yet too slowly for my liking) paid off. There are people to meet and the social life (though a bit repetitive) is in its place. There are things to do, the latest being rowing classes. But more than anything else, the mind is working on, thinking of sometimes interesting thoughts and otherwise, trying to be ambitious. The complacency and lethargy of comfortable mediocre monotony is wearing off.
So what has transpired in the interim? On the surface, an uncalled for day off from work which I don't feel bad or irresponsible about. It is only work, after all, and it isn't such a bad idea to take some time off from having your mojo sucked out by corporate parasites. Still on the surface, another night of a drug binge which I don't want to repeat for the next month or so. Not because I didn't enjoy it, but because I can't afford it, and it is only drugs, after all and I am no addict.
I went for a very interesting exhibition, titled 'Sleeping and Dreaming'. Considering I have my own set of vivid dreams, bordering on lucidity, I had a great time, and learnt some interesting things. For instance, one of the few benefits of sleep that we know for a fact is that it helps recharge our immune system. Physical rest can be achieved without sleeping too, simply by lying down, and as for mental rest, the mind is 90% as active in sleeping state as it is when we are awake. Of course, there was much to be said in that exhibit about dreams as well. For instance, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, among many other works of literature, art, music and even scientific breakthroughs, was conceived in a dream.
That set me off on my own tangent about dream state inducing hallucinogenic drugs and the role the resulting "visions" played in many ancient religious rituals, especially those involving finding solutions to problems or foretelling the future. I never did give his much thought, but I am sure the link exists. I think I will go visit some shamans in the Amazon forests sometime, and find out first hand. And now that I have said it, I can't wait! Well, I suppose that will happen next year at the earliest.
After a gap of a few months, I have again recently dished out advice to people, or friends, to be specific. I thought I would be a bit rusty, but it felt natural dispensing advice about housing, relationship blues and financial trouble (to different people, thankfully for the people concerned). Maybe I should start looking into becoming a professional adviser? And once again, as my interactions with people have increased (or maybe their quality has changed), I have become privy to personal information that cannot possibly benefit me (unless I do something nefarious) and only increases the pressure on my tongue to rattle it off. I suppose this is where my loathing of gossiping comes in handy. But it still feels to strange to know things that I have little business knowing.
Anyway, hunger beckons. So I will post after another gap, hopefully a rather short one.
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