Tuesday, 14 May 2013
It started with an itch
In my early 20s, I developed an itch on my arm. I scratched it, it scabbed, and it disappeared. It later came back. The itch was not an ordinary itch - it was red and there were little bumps allover the affected skin area. I kept scratching it. It kept spreading. It kept getting redder. I eventually learned that I had photodermatitis, a skin condition which is triggered by sunlight (and I live in Hawaii... fuck!). To treat my dermatitis, I use a topical cream.
The secret treatment: hot water
The itch on my arms is awful, but I have a secret treatment: scalding hot water.
I don't want to scratch my affected skin, but at the same time, it's so hard to concentrate when my photodermatits is active. So, I take a hot shower to subdue the itch without having to scratch it. And when the hot water touches my itchy skin, I get a powerful feeling that's almost as good as an orgasm. No, I'm serious - I get an O-Face.
Not quite an orgasm
The feeling I get when hot water runs over my photodermatitis is great. I can't say that the feeling is quite an orgasm. My orgasms are like - they are abrupt and quick. My eyes roll to the back of my head and my eyelids start to flicker. But my feeling when the hot water touches my afflicted skin is like ... ... - it's slow, tender, and so satisfying (and sometimes I hit a good spot, it can be strong too). I want to just lay back and let out a deep sigh and a grunt. It does not have the pleasure peak of an orgasm; but it's prolonged (about 6 seconds) and strong. And when I wait a bit, I can run the hot water over my skin again to feel good again - but not as good as the first time. So, I'm guessing the feeling I have might be closer to a female orgasm. But I wouldn't really know because I'm just talking about relief of an itch on my arms... and I don't know what it's like to have a female orgasm.
Cause scratching an itch can be like sex
It makes sense in the end because sex is just like an itch. You can't think because it's so itchy. And you want someone to scratch it. When someone scratches it, you want it even harder. And you want them to keep scratching it until you don't want it anymore. Also, physical pleasure for both comes from nerve endings.
It's both a curse and a blessing - a curse because I must live with it and avoid the sun, but a blessing, because treating it feels like an orgasm on my arms.
Wednesday, 03 April 2013
I got a Facebook invite from a classmate regarding my graduating class' 10 year reunion. It's amazing to think that it's been 10 years since I graduated. I won't be going though, because I never really got to know anybody in high school. Furthermore, everyone brings their significant others to reunions and I really could give a fuck about meeting a classmate's spouse. The only real friendships I made with people from my high school came in the years after high school. One reason I might want to go would be to see if the hot chicks in my class remained as hot, but with the way that Facebook has proliferated our society, the surprise of seeing people after 10 years is really lost.
10 years is also about the same amount of time that I've spent writing on Xanga. I started out on Xanga because everyone was doing it at my high school. I was even in my high school's 03 blog-ring Blogging was a new-found trend at the time, but like many trends, it eventually died. But I never stopped blogging. And that has led to some very entertaining reading for me now, 10 years later. Looking back at my old blogs, I realized that I wasn't as dumb as I thought I was; I was very intelligent, but I had problems related to people and the world. As a mature adult however, I realize that those "problems" are simply traits that belong to me and were developed in my youth and now define me as a person.
With that said, here are some pearls of wisdom that I found in my old entries:
Figachewy on working at KFC while going to school:
5 day work weeks are killer. This will be my 3rd 20 hour week. 5 to 9. Doing whatever crap. You know, I'm really disliking work. So static. Same shit over and over. No progress. Funny thing is, I've only been working here for 4 months too. Imagining doing this shit your whole life. But I have other things to look forward to. This job seems bleak in comparison.
Figachewy on "senior photos":
Fuck invitations. Fuck graduation. Fuck all you guys. Fucking can't wait to leave. I tell you I'll visit or call, keep in touch, but that's not my way of life. For me, it's either you're there or not. Everyone has their own life, and I don't believe in sustaining relationships to such the lame extent that I'm writing fucking hundreds of fucking xmas cards to people I barely fucking know and sound like paul and dottie after a while saying "oh, so and so has cancer and so and so has a baby!" and fuck that shit. Fuck, I really hope I don't become such a lame fuck when I get married and grown up. Really fucking lame.
Figachewy on someone stealing my pants:
Someone stole my pants.
I was exercising, left them in the changing room, and they were gone when I came back.
I was really shocked. Who the hell steals pants? There were only a couple pennies in there.
I was pissed. Someone stole MY pants. Without my permission, too.
Figachewy on senioritis (my "diligent" classmates suddenly stopped doing homework):
Although many and practically all have outperformed and outGPAd, I realize that they were no different from me -- that they did what they needed to do to get by. Now that the products of their efforts meant little, they choose to not exert any effort at all.
Senioritis. It is the word that reminds me of the tendency of people to rush to their goals and then just writhe away. That diligence is a mere annoyance faced prior to gratification. That life's all about getting into a good college, getting a white collar job, and then making a lot of money.
But I'll probably still keep doing my math homework anyway. Despite the frivolity of my labors at this point, I still want to avoid the disappointment of my teachers. I still respect them such that they know their own efforts in the classroom amount to something more than just lecturing a student so he can get a good grade on his report card.
Figachewy coming to terms with how he interacts with the world:
Now that I'm older, I realize I've been cold to people all my life. Friends, classmates, relatives, and neighbors, I would just love to say to them that I never meant to act that way, to avoid them and not say hi when I saw them and or ignore them. I only acted that way because I was didn't know how to act otherwise. But I don't wanna say that cause it would make me feel super-duper gay. So, all I can hope for now are new beginnings and perhaps make amends to the ones that I will encounter again.
Figachewy on McDonalds:
McDonalds has 100% white meat chicken nuggets coming out in about 4 weeks.
Tuesday, 12 March 2013
Note: I have no kids. But that doesn't mean I can't have good parenting ideas. If you needed to have kids to know how to raise kids, then that would mean that every person in the world is a better parent than I could be. That's hard to believe.
Beauty is important for women
Here's a truth: no matter where in the world you are, women are valued by their looks. Even in America, a country that has gone through the women rights movement, women are still valued by their looks. Even for professional women, looks matter and can contribute to their success. Just take a look at any news station, if you don't believe me: there are attractive women on every station. And in sports, guess who are the most popular and getting the most endorsement deals? It's not the most successful ones, but rather, the most attractive ones, such as Anna Kournikova, Danica Patrick, and this Australian hurdler:
Why do young girls want to be pretty?
Historically speaking, traits of being pretty are associated with fertility. And since women have been baby makers for a majority of human history, we still carry that subconscious sentiment today. There's another reason though.
The main reason that women want to be pretty is because that is how they are socialized. Everyone from their parents, to their aunties, to their teacher, to their future boyfriends will compliment them on how pretty, cute, adorable, or beautiful they are. After awhile, any girl will be trained to think that looks are a major factor in her value as a person. And when she starts looking at Seventeen magazine and watching MTV, what she sees there will further confirm that idea in her mind.
There will probably be a moment during teenage years where she's self-conscious and you sit and talk with because she doesn't feel pretty. You then comfort her... by telling her that she's smart, intelligent ... and indeed is pretty. Heck, even if she's butt ugly, you'll probably say some line like she's "pretty on the inside." That's silly, because you're offering a consolation prize that includes the word "pretty."
Help her realize that there's value outside of her looks.
If you had to enroll your daughter in 1 after school activity, which would you prefer: modeling or softball? I hope you choose softball. Here's why:
In psychology, there are the concepts of self-esteem and self-efficacy. Self-esteem is how someone views themself. Self-esteem can be increased by internal or external means. For most young girls, telling them that they are pretty is an easy way to boost their self-esteem. The girls basically have a positive view of themselves because they are pretty. What if someone tells them that they're fat or ugly? That will knock their self-esteem back. Or what if the girl gets a zit outbreak, gets old, or gets into a scarring car crash? That will absolutely devastate her self-esteem.
Self-efficacy is how able someone thinks they are. Self-efficacy is completely developed internally: you cannot see yourself as a competent and able person unless you see yourself finishing tasks or achieving accomplishments. Interestingly enough, self-efficacy is directly related to self-esteem. By this, I mean that no matter how much people shit on you, as long as you know that you're an able person that can do great things, you'll always have a decent outlook on yourself.
So choose softball over modeling. She'll suck at softball at first, but if she keeps at it, she'll realize what she can do as a person with arms and legs. Instead of a "you're pretty" compliment, she'll be getting a "nice catch, girl" compliment. Which do you think is better for her?
Improvement vs Changing Yourself
Everyone knows that they can be better (except narcissists). Someone with good self-esteem will accept who they are, and commit to bettering themselves. Someone with poor self-esteem, does not like who they are, and they want to change themselves. Both are doing the same thing, but regarding the psychology behind their actions, one is definitely more preferred.
One thing that is really sad is when old women (40+) can't accept the fact that they're aging and so they get plastic surgery to preserve their looks. Here's a scary thought: a lady gets plastic surgery because she wants to look younger and prettier. Why? Because she considers looks to be a large part of a woman's value and her own value. But no matter how much nip/tuck she gets, she's never going to look as good as younger girls in their 20s. So what can she do? Keep getting plastic surgery, going to spas, investing thousands in various creams and makeup and electric facial massages, etc. But she'll still not look as good and so she'll always have esteem issues.
By the time that your daughter is 40, let's be honest, she's not gonna be pretty anymore. She might look good for her age, but she probably won't be "pretty." But it won't matter though, because she'll have had a lifetime of developing her self-esteem and self-efficacy (and softball skills) to the point where very little of self-worth comes from her looks. Basically, she'll know that she is a worthwhile human even though she's an old hag now and no one wants to fuck her (please see Hilary Clinton).
So parents, please don't tell your daughter that she's pretty. Enroll her in a sport. Teach her how to buy groceries and cook for the family. Or teach her web design. But don't enroll her in a beauty pageant where everyone judges her solely on her looks. And don't teach her how to use makeup before you teach her how to drive. And most importantly, don't tell her that she's pretty.
Wednesday, 27 February 2013
I had a crazy dream last night. It wasn't a nightmare, but it was bloody and disgusting:
There a Native American chief riding horses with some white cowboy dudes out in the desert. The suddenly get ambushed and talk about a plan to escape. Flash forward and we're in an old, Western house out in the desert. Some angry guy barges into the home looking for his friend, the Native American chief. He sees some big, gruffy, middle-aged white guy lounging in a chair and asks "where is he?" The middle-aged guy says he doesn't know. So the angry guy smacks him in the head. The middle-aged guy screams out in pain. Then the middle-aged guy points to the room to the right. The angry guy walks past him and the middle-aged guy's wife, who is on the floor, leaning against the wall, and cowering with fear. The angry guy walks past some plastic drapes into the next room. He sees a scared guy, who was the guy that killed the Native American chief. The scared guy is holding a gun, but he is paralyzed with fear and doesn't use it. The angry guy looks around and sees there are face masks of dead people - the scared guy apparently killed them all and cut the skin from their faces off. The angry guy looks down and sees the face mask belonging to the Native American chief. The angry guy is angered. He takes some rusty, 18" garden shears that he finds lying around, opens them up, and puts them up to the scared guy's neck. The angry guy decapitates him.
End of dream.
I swear I'm not a psychopath. I've just seen too many gore movies before and they seem to have stuck in my subconscious, even after all these years.