Saturday, June 19, 2004

Saturday afternoon cranial vacuum.

Self Mutilation: I finally get it.

It is toute la fureur to mutilate one's self this day and age. We see body piercing becoming acceptible in the workplace as well as gratuitous application of tattoos on the body. Where five years ago it not only was unheard of to have parts of the body other than earlobes pierced and visible in my workplace, it was downright against the rules. Five years later I see employees in my workplace with various metal artwork protruding from every place on the visible body imaginable.

Don't get me wrong. It is not my lot in life to judge, just to observe. This was fast. Years and years faster than it took for the thong panty to catch on, but I digress. However, this is not about whether or not it is acceptible, or even whether I like it or not. It's about putting the practice into terms I can understand and appreciate. After all, I am the most important person in my world and it is the world's responsibility to make me understand how it works.

Now, when I ask metal clad people about the practice, I am met with various motives for having oneself pierced. A common answer I have gotten is "It's about the act of piercing itself. The Piercing itself is the motive, and the result is just a perk." This tells me we are becoming a society of masochists, albeit not the self torture kind, just the trendy kind. This is what I never could understand. I have a high threshold for pain, given my life experiences, but to actively seek out ways to put myself into pain just doesn't seem logical or sane... till now.

You see, there is this mom and pop Buffalo Wing restaurant nearby. They have a strong clientele because of the quality of their food. They serve wings in just about any style one could want. For the daring, they serve three varieties of ultra spicy wings. They are as follows, from least damage caused to worst: (Remember, these are above the 'hot' varieties.) 3. Suicide Wings 2. Texas Heat Wings 1. "I'm Stupid." Now, the first time I ordered the latter, the police officer standing behind me in line and a total stranger to me, actually leaned in and asked me "Are you freaking brain damaged?". Bad Sign. Words cannot describe the excruciating and lingering pain these things inflicted on me. Absolutely shattering, but I just could not stop consuming them. A wing-from-hell eating automaton I was that day. I embraced the fire.

Now after that, how can I question why someone would want to pierce themselves all over the place? I get it. But after 20 "I'm Stupid" wings, I can safely say body piercing is likely to be child's play...

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