06 June, 2008

Naked Vulnerability (and stuff)

This is an issue that I almost brought up once before, in an entry I ended up scrapping. But the idea came back to me tonight.

In a way, being naked brings a reality to my fears. I'm afraid of people. I'm afraid of people knowing what I'm doing, because I'm certain they'll judge me for it, and might possibly disapprove, or suggest something else, or even actively get in my way. I try to keep things secret, partly to keep them from being compromised, I guess, but moreso because I'm simply afraid of people judging them, because that allows for the potential of disapproval, which is something that hurts me, even when I'm only imagining it.

Anyway, in normal situations, I try to hide myself from people, and it's purely because of inner, mental reasons. But when I'm naked, I have a more immediate reason to keep myself hidden. I have a pretty good feeling that being seen naked, especially by unsuspecting strangers, will only fare poorly for me. So it's almost like getting naked gives me a solid, substantial reason to feel the vulnerability that I feel anyway. It's like it validates my cautious behavior.

I just want to make the point here that this is not the /reason/ I get naked. I get naked because I like being naked. It's just that I've noticed a sort of correlation between the vulnerability that being naked in this society brings, and the psychological vulnerability that I usually feel.

I think I've probably mentioned my distaste for the suburban warrens before. There are relatively small plots of land, each belonging to a different person/family, each with a house where they live, and each right smack up against its neighbors. The only public land between them is the streets, which are not especially wide, and do not especially create much space for hiding oneself from the private plots of land on either side, and on down the road. In other words, there's nowhere to go where you can be away from the eyes of strangers, short of being behind the walls on your own private plot of land. There are no large stretches of public/unclaimed land. Even the parks in this area are so small that you're lucky to find a spot that's not within a stone's throw (let alone visual distance) from a row of houses.

And the trouble with public property is that it's not neutral. It's owned by the social government. Police are on regular patrol to make sure nobody uses it in any way that hasn't been condoned, in one way or another, by the general populus. If you want to engage in some kind of activity that doesn't sit well with the general populus, you have to steal back some of that land for private use. It's a hell of an inconvenience, and it makes it incredibly hard for some unaverage Joe to just go out and live his eccentric life without being hounded by the Code of Standards Patrol simply for being different, for being an outcast, for wanting to live a different life than what he was prescribed.

Freedom. The land of the free. I realized today that the American Dream is Revolution. Simple as that. It's the fight against corruption. Following the heart out of bondage and into a new world where your personal rules are law. Some country we've got now. Who the hell came up with the idea of morals anyway?

I just want to burn it all away. All these chains and things. The inhibition that keeps me locked up in my own mind. I want to just be me, and live my life the way I want to, and say fuck you to the police, and kick them in the crotch if they get in my way. I never agreed to be governed by other people. I don't recall signing a contract that says I will submit to the will of others, and abide by their morals and standards. Whose life am I living, anyway? So far, it hasn't been my own. I'm the one that's got to go when it's my time to die. So let me live my life the way I want to.

I just can't stand this waiting. This wondering and worrying. Hiding. I don't wanna spend my whole life hesitating. I gotta let loose and shame the devil.

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