Love Thy Neighbor? Let's Not.

I really have been trying to be a more accepting and loving person, you know. Especially since I knew that I was going to be returning to the scene of the crime. So, I read several books that were designed to enlighten me and, according to the these books, I am supposed to be able to love everyone around me and know that we are all equal and connected as one great life force in the universe. And, despite my intial reaction to deface the books in retaliation for purporting such nonsense, I actually tried. And tried. And then tried some more. I have been trying ever since I got on the airplane back to the States. But as I look at the people around me at any given moment, I find that I am overwhelmed by only one recurring feeling - disgust. People tend to disgust me. I know, I know, I should probably bring it up in one of my group therapy sessions but, if I do, they will regretably ask me the inevitable question to which the inevitable answer will have to be, "Yes! Yes! You disgust me, too! In fact, collectively, I observe your movements and hear your conversations and I want to hurt you. I look at your bodies and I want to cry. I hear the sounds of your voices and my eardrums start to bleed. In fact, just knowing that I am supposed to share the planet with you, makes me suicidal." Now, I know that I can't just come right out and say that...although, I suppose I just did...but I can't help how I feel. And, of course, I am not talking about you, now, am I? Or am I? Needless to say, I am failing at this "love thy neighbor" concept at the moment. I just don't want to love everyone around me...let alone be "connected" to them (ewww)...and to be quite honest about it - you can't make me!

As I thought about this sicheeashun, I began to question whether or not I am simply disgusted with myself on some level, but after much thought on the subject I determined that "ah...nope...it's not me...it's definitely them!" I also questioned whether or not I'm a snob and, although I hate to say it, maybe I am. I don't think that we are all equal...but, at the same time, I don't think I'm better, just different. I mean, am I more talented? No. I can't put in a ceiling fan, build a boat dock, or knit purses. Am I more socially skilled? No. I think eye contact is overrated and the purpose of small talk eludes me; yet these folks can talk to anyone at anytime about nothing at all and everyone's happy (unless they are talking to me, in which case I usually have to keep sticking my finger in my eye). Are they less intelligent than I am? I think not. They can build transmissions, for heaven's sake. I can't do that and, let's face it, you probably can't either. And are they evil people? Not at all. Most of them are very sweet, enthusiastically plowing out your driveway in the winter and sharing their yellow squash with you in the summer. Yet, I wouldn't for one second ever want to be one of them NO MATTER how complicated and painful my life journey has been. I wouldn't want to be any one of them because, in reality, I actually have more respect for myself than I do for most other people. I actually like myself and my own company more than I generally like that of others. I actually find my struggles to be worthy and believe in their overall importance in the scheme of things. And, more importantly, I like the fact that I discriminate when it comes to whom I choose to love and befriend. So, maybe I am not a snob, perhaps I just like myself a whole hell of a lot. Is that really so bad?

On a similar, yet totally different note,I was trying to find something to read around the relatives' house today and I knew I probably wouldn't find a book, unless you count "Weight Watchers", so I set out to find a magazine. Everyone has magazines. Unfortunately, the magazines all had names like, "Wood", "Woodworking", and "Working with Wood" and none of them had ANYTHING to do with penises. There was also a magazine called, "Gardening" (which, ironically, was all about penises). So, I went to the local store, but the selection didn't improve much. There were basically five categories of mags: Current Hollywood Gossip; Guns; Home Maintenance and Repair; a Million and One Ways to Wear Your Hair; and Sudoku. I was about to leave (after reading about a series of fights that Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are apparently having; seriously, folks, things look pretty rocky for the dynamic duo, don't they?) when I couldn't help but notice one magazine that really stuck out from the rest. No, it wasn't The New Yorker, Mother Jones, Z Magazine, or the UTNE Reader, it was a juicy, thick, glossy hunk of a mag about PLASTIC SURGERY. Ooooh, I was mesmerized. Now, I know better than to get all excited, but I just...can't...help it.

My take on plastic surgery? It's an acceptable form of violence and mutilation done for the good of the individual as well as society at large. Unlike the violence done to a woman's body when babies distort and rip their way out...this kind of violence has a rewarding and necessary outcome: ugly people stop being so ugly. I don't see what's wrong with this. I really don't?!! Don't you want to be in an aesthetically pleasing environment? I say, if the unattractive want to be attractive, it's oppressive to hold them back. I personally think that it's the naturally attractive people that are behind the plastic surgery backlash. It's not the feminists - it's the pretty feminists! They don't want the competition! THEY are the ones that always preach, "You should love yourself the way Ghod made you," or facetiously purr, "You aaaaarrreee pretty," and then offer you that maniacal, conspiratorial grin which is code for, "Stay off my turf, bitch!" Now, I am not a beauty queen, so I totally support the invasive use of sharp instruments to make the world a prettier place. Would I do it? Hell yes. I wouldn't trade my mind or my soul or my personality for anything in the world, but would I trade in my nose and my inner thighs for a newer, sexier model? "Yes, gosh darn it. Yes, I would. And you can't stop me." And further more, if I had a large sum of money to give away after making sure that all the children in the world had food and clean water and a safe place to live, I would use that money to offer free tummy tucks, hair implants (for women), liposuction, eye lifts, and permanent back and facial hair, mole, and hairy mole removal to every resident in this town and the ten neighboring towns, as well. I would, damn it. And you couldn't stop me. [Note: I do NOT, I repeat, I do NOT recommend getting breast enlargement surgery for men or women...I have recently seen the aftermath of a few years of wear of tear and going from 'big' to 'long' is not hot. Big -> Long. Big -> Long. :) -> 0:]

By the way, I tried to give my aunt and uncle a mini lesson on the basic grammatical concepts I mentioned in the previous blog and they received the input just as I had expected. They mocked me and then told me that I could stick that information in a dark, dirty place in my body. Then they bought me a new cell phone and gave me some ice cream. I just knew they were going to react like that. Do you want my new cell phone number? I bet you do!

On an even happier note: I am pretty thankful that everyone in the house isn't expected to sleep in the same bed.

That's all for tonight.

99,

Ima B. Lever