Clarissa Johal's Blog, page 71

Nudity

Well, that probably got your attention. Perv.
I'm kidding, of course. Well, not about the subject. I'm going to talk about nudity. You may want to look away. Or not.
A recent thread in one of the photography groups I belong to addressed the topic of nudity and whether it was appropriate on the site to post nude photos. Artistic ones, of course. Whatever that means.
The thread has been going for a week now. Quite a hot topic--no pun intended. The plethora of opinions and comments led me to thinking about how we view nudity in American society. Or how often we view nudity. In secret, of course.
I've always been pretty matter-of-fact about nudity around my kids. It is what it is. There are "appropriate" places for nudity (at home, in art, museum exhibits) and "inappropriate" places (in public, text message attachments, with your future boyfriend). Okay, maybe I'm kidding about that last one. Maybe.
At this point in my kids lives, I will concede not to walk around naked in front of them, for the mere reason that it's not really acceptable in American society. Imagine the conversation in the school cafeteria should it come up (and, trust me, Things You'd Rather Not Be Shared always do). Now, I won't go screaming out of the room should one of my daughters accidentally walk in on me while I'm getting dressed. But nor do I stand there and have a complete conversation pretending that I'm not the slightest bit embarrassed about being naked in front of my children. I was raised completely differently and have many years of repression to battle over that one. But, I'll be darned if I'm going to pass that body shame onto them. So, I practice indifference. Thus far, I'm lucky because their reaction seems to be, "it is what it is."
Case in point.
The other day, I was sitting with my 10-year-old waiting for her swimming class to start, when one of the other kids plonked herself beside us and started chattering, as kids do.
Her: "Hi. My name's Madeleine."
My daughter: "Hi."
Madeleine: "I saw my brother naked once."
My daughter: "Um, okay."
Madeleine: "I saw his (insert stage whisper here) thingy."

To which my daughter had nothing to say and sat waiting for the punchline. Until she realized that was the punchline.
I have to admit, I bit my tongue and looked away because my inner child wanted to burst out laughing. You have to love kids and what they come up with. I also was pretty proud of my daughter for handling the situation the way she did. She politely remained silent.

Why is nudity so verboten and sexualized in American society? We goggle at naked photos of celebrities, pay to watch people having pornographic sex, and tune into the Victoria's Secret fashion show which features women clad in only their underwear. Sexually repressed society? Nope. Not us. No way.
My theory on this is that we were settled by Puritans and have carried their fine sensibilities with us to this day. Oh yes, that 16th century lass caught showing her ankle whilst stumbling off to milk the cows? Slap a red "A" on her butt and send her to the stockade. Harlot.
These days, while not as extreme (or maybe it is) anything relating to naked skin can be construed as sexual. Swimsuits. Not for swimming anymore. You can buy an entire magazine devoted to women in swimsuits. Is it meant to be sexual? Of course it is.
It's quite bizarre, really.
Which leads me back to the group thread on nudity. Some photographers felt that nudity wasn't really appreciated, especially by those with children. Too risky. Might rot their brain and cause too many questions. Another group of photographers felt nudity was okay if it was done tastefully. You know; soft lighting, shadows over the naughty bits. Maybe a humble apology here and there for raising the eyebrow of the viewer. And yet another group felt that art need not be censored. And it was in the eye of the beholder. Please email all your nude photos and um....I'll get back to you later.
Interesting.
My feelings on nudity and the internet remain complex. I tell my girls that anything posted on the internet can and will be viewed by every type of person imaginable. It's a public place. If you wouldn't prance around naked in a public place, then you have no business posting naked photos of yourself on the internet. And if it bothers you that not everyone will see your artistic naked photos as "artistic" and might very well decide to um, pleasure themselves while looking at them, then again, don't post them. (Yes, yes, I used the proper word for "pleasure" when I discussed this with my kids. Give me a break.)
I do feel people have the right to post what they wish to post, but again, it's complicated. There are forums that accept this and forums that don't. Artistic forums usually do, family-centered forums...yeah, usually frowned upon.
Would I post a nude of myself in an artistic forum? Absolutely not. See argument aforementioned.
Do I care that somebody else would? No.
Would I want my girls, once they become adults, to post an artistic nude of themselves on any forum? Absolutely not. See...well, see my whole Blog. I'm an over-protective mom and that thought horrifies me. And also probably makes me a hypocrite to some extent. Whatever. Go away now.
For now, however, I can say that seeing nudes in an artistic forum doesn't bother me. If they offend, I can move on. If my girls are looking over my shoulder, it will lead to mature conversation covering everything from body image to artistic freedom to...whatever else comes up.
Once they're adults however, please don't quote me on that.

Generation X, Y, Z

There are things we do as parents that in retrospect realize were great, big mistakes. We can either suck it up and admit we messed up, or pretend we’re perfect and refuse to back-pedal. Personally, and coming from a childhood of the latter, I prefer to suck it up, admit I made a mistake, and back-pedal. Quickly.
Perhaps it’s a Spring thing, but I’ve been seriously giving some thought lately as to what we’ve invited into the house under the guise of entertainment. The Xbox, Wii, iPods, Nintendos; they’ve taken over my daughter’s brains. The Nintendos were bought with the intention of making long car trips more tolerable, the Xbox and Wii as rainy day entertainment and the iPods….well, they were Christmas gifts so I blame Santa for those. Never trust a guy who wears a red suit. I’ve tried to be “cool mom” about all of them, really I have. I took an interest in the tiny screens of the Nintendos, pretending to actually see what was going on when in actuality it looks like a frenetic blur of colourful dots to me. I bought Wii fit games hoping to balance the fact that most of the Wii games require only your fingers and thumb to move with any intensity. And the iPod? Quite honestly, all of the applications on those things just stump me. I’m still mystified by the phenomenon of Angry Birds and just…don’t…get it. Why would I want to throw a bird at a pig? I have nothing against the pigs. And throwing the birds by slingshot? Of course that’s going to make them angry…duh.I’ve pretended not to feel the pangs of second thoughts about all of these electronic things, I do realize that they are part of our world today. However, lately all of it has become too much of a part of my world and I feel the need to back away, fencing sword in hand, and keep some of it at bay. And after months of unsuccessfully trying to cut down on the electronic usage in our house, I finally decided on an all or nothing approach and made Sundays “electronic free days.” My younger daughter embraced the idea whole-heartedly. Nothing makes her happier than having a conversation and spending time together. Cooking, art, gardening, house-cleaning, it’s all fun stuff if it means time with mom. But my older daughter, who is just hitting the ‘tween years and all the hormonal mess that brings, was…not…thrilled. Perhaps my timing was off but last Sunday morning I happily greeted her with the electronic free Sunday idea. Last to wake, she had wandered down the stairs; hair disheveled and still in her PJ’s. Oddly, my "great idea" was rewarded by a single turn on her heel and the view of her backside disappearing up the stairs again. At the time, I figured she went to brush her teeth or to take a shower and get ready for our day of fun. After a half hour passed however, I went upstairs to check on her and saw that she had gone back to bed, covers tightly over her dear little, electronic free head. I guess that meant she was not happy with the plan.At the risk of sounding completely out of touch and well…old, I wonder about the up-and-coming generation and what we’ve done to ourselves as a society. You can’t seem to go to any event without seeing everyone plugged into something. Cell phones, palm devices, Nintendo, iPods; and there are hundreds of other devices I can’t even name. It’s kind of sad, really.The other night my husband went out to a bachelor party. Mid-way, he couldn’t help but notice that every few minutes, the other men were pulling out their hand held devices, emailing photos of the event and texting people who apparently “needed” to know how exciting sharing a drink at the local pub was.Huh??What ever happened to living in the moment and giving people 100% of your time? What does that do to this generation as far as their social connections and friendships? Hmmm, I’ll ponder on that for awhile before I just shake my head and move on. Or maybe I’ll text somebody about it. Just a sec while I put all of you on hold and give you half of my attention… Anyways…where was I? Oh yeah, writing in my Blog.The generation that dominates the workforce today has been dubbed Generation Y. Wikipedia characterizes them by; “people born in the 70’s marked by an increased use and familiarity with communications, media, and digital technologies.” That would be an understatement. Personally, I’m from Generation X. Born in the 1960’s we are characterized by Jane Deverson’s study in 1964 as people from a generation who; “sleep together before they are married, were not taught to believe in God as 'much', dislike the Queen, and don't respect parents.” Yeah well…I take the 5th on the first two and have no issues with the Queen, I don’t even know her. We won't even go into the parents. Why somebody felt the need to pair my age with a letter is beyond me, it’s too much like algebra. (Which would send me screaming from the room.) What happens when they run out of letters in the alphabet? Is that when the Big One wipes out humanity as we know it and we go back to Generation A again? All the Generation A cells hanging out in the primordial ooze can’t for the life of them figure out why Generation B would want to mutate into anything beyond a single-celled organism. It just invites deep thought and communication. But I digress.So electronic-free Sundays it is and I’m hoping this experiment will invite more art and outside time now that summer is creeping up on us. My girls will emerge from their den of “high scores” and “level ups” to blink wondrously at that bright thing that hangs in the sky and creates Vitamin D. They will revel in all the green, growing stuff that litters their planet and willingly pull on their sandals to exit the house, once again mucking around in the backyard in the dirt and grass to discover what lurks there. They will tag along with me daily without complaint, walking the dogs and happily picking flowers and listening to the birds. Yep, I have high hopes.But for today, once my older daughter decided to emerge from her cocoon of denial, I dug out the art supplies from our art closet. I figured it was a good place to start. We had paper, paints, markers, clay--every form of art supply known. I spread it all out on the table and started drawing with my younger daughter. We drew frogs, flowers, butterflies and trees. We drew silly things, pretty things, scary things; we created a world without electronics. Sheer bliss. After about an hour (and begrudgingly I might add) my older daughter picked up a pencil and plonked herself down, finally realizing that she had no other options. “There are books too, you know. You don’t have to do art if you don’t want to.”“I read at night time,” she grumped. Pause. “Can I read a book online?”“Um…how about just a book from the bookshelf? I’m really trying to stay off the computers too.”Eye roll. (I hate eye rolls, but you really have to pick your battles) “Fine.”After her frustration died down however, I could see she was really getting into her art. And we were chatting! Not that chatting that occurs when their attention is focused elsewhere. Real chatting with complete sentences and everything.An hour passed before she stopped drawing and sat back with a huge grin on her face. “Perfect!”“What did you draw?”She held up something that resembled a comic strip. “A Pokemon! This is how he starts and then he mutates into…..” and her description kind of merged with the screaming sound in my brain.Note to self: this is the first Sunday. I will not be defeated. My fencing sword is drawn.

Writing and Children

…don’t go together at all. Reading and children, yes. Like butter and toast, in fact. But trying to write with children around is like repeatedly trying to start a car without a battery. I know this now because I tried to work on my novel this summer with both kiddos at home.Silly me.Erroneously, I figured that while my little darlings were doing what darlings do while out of school (the stuff that didn’t include trips to the museum or playing board games together) I could get some writing done. I’m working on a paranormal fantasy and plan to have it done by October. But, I reasoned, if I could get some writing done this summer, I might move that date to up to September. It sounded like a perfectly reasonable idea.Our first day of summer vacation, we had a lovely morning taking the dogs for a long hike. We followed that up by spending most of the day at the museum together and by the end of the day, were all pretty tired. When we got home, my darlings decided to spend an hour on their computers before making homemade pizza for dinner. Perfect. That would mean I could write for a whole hour.Or so I thought.He ran his hands over the steering wheel restlessly. Unbidden, something inside him slowly began to stir to life. “Look mommy, I made an outfit!” My oldest was playing a dress-up game on her computer.“That’s beautiful, honey. I like the color of the dress you chose.” I smiled at her enthusiasm. Okay, back to writing.Parking the car in front of her house, he followed her to the front door like a shadow. “I put make-up on mine! Do you like it?” My younger daughter is playing the same game and, not to be outdone, has dressed her model up in hot pink with matching eye shadow.“Wow, sweetie. That’s really sparkly. I like it!” Okay…what was I writing again? Oh, yeah. My antagonist lead character was about to disclose the beginnings of his dark secret to the reader.Wordlessly, he placed his firm hands over hers and pulled the key out. She left him at the open doorway, dropping her coat on the floor and leaving behind a trail of water into the kitchen.“Do you like her shoes? I matched them with her dress.”I look up, slightly bleary-eyed. Straddling two worlds is sometimes a difficult task as a writer. “I love them. They’re really fancy. She looks like she’s going to a party.”My antagonist is restlessly drifting across the computer page. I hustle him back on-track. Okay. Now.He crossed over and shut the door behind him, turning the lock with a quiet click. His icy eyes flashed as Darwin skated in the room. The dog growled menacingly and backed up towards the hallway. “Shall I let him out?” he grated evenly.“Zeus wants out, mommy.”“Okay.’ Distracted, I continue to type. “Can you let him out, honey?”“I got up last time.” I glance over at my oldest and see that she is completely absorbed in her game. “Okay, Zeus. Last time, buddy.” I let our dog out and walk back over to my chair.She turned around and almost fell into him. Startled, she involuntarily drew in her breath.“Oh, mommy, look at this!! You can give them a background!”“What?”“A background! You can make a house for them!” My younger daughter’s eyes shone as if she’d discovered a diamond under her pillow.“Great, honey. That’s fabulous. I like that pink you chose for her room too.”I look back down at my computer screen to discover that my antagonist has wandered off and is sitting beside my darling now, marveling at what a great room her diva has. I shake my head to clear it. “Is there anything else you want to show me? Mommy’s kind of trying to write while you two are playing.”“Sorry."“It’s okay. I was just wondering if you wanted to show me anything else.”Both girls look up at me with blank faces.“Just asking.” Taught smile on my face, I motion for my antagonist to get back into my computer and back to being sinister. I begin typing again.He picked up the wine bottle from where it had been shoved in the corner on her counter top. “Do you have a bottle opener?”Shaking her head, she dropped into the chair, shivering in her wet clothes. “I’m hungry.” My oldest chimes in.My computer screen seems to brighten for a second, but I figure it's probably just my imagination. “Okay. What do you want?”“Peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”“Do you want one too?” I wisely ask my younger daughter. She continues to type on her computer, oblivious. Obviously, her game is quite fascinating and taking up 100% of her attention. “Sweetie?”She looks up at me.“Do you want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”“Um, okay.”Walking into the kitchen, I begin to make their sandwiches. Amused, my antagonist follows me, waiting patiently to be told what his next foreboding and sinister move will be.“Here you go.” I set their sandwiches down and sit again, placing my computer on my lap. Quickly, I begin to type before I lose my train of thought.“I’m cold,” she whispered to herself. Her damp t-shirt clung to her skin.
“You need to change into some dry clothes.” Pulling the cork out, he eyed her as he inhaled the cork’s aroma.“I need the crusts cut off.”“What?”“I always have the crusts cut off, mommy.” “Of course," I reply, somewhat flustered, "what was I thinking?” My antagonist rolls his eyes at me like I should have known all along. Drifting off to sit beside my younger daughter, he smiles proudly at the fashion diva she’s created.“Here you go!” I am cheerful. I am super-mom. I am getting a little pissed at all the interruptions. My antagonist laughs at me as he slides back into my story. “Anything else?” I ask my darlings patiently.They both don’t hear me, of course, because the game they’re playing is so freaking fascinating.“Okay. Back to writing.” I wait to see if they answer me. They do not.She watched as he opened a cabinet door and helped himself to the glasses in the cupboard. Vaguely, she wondered how he knew where the glasses were kept, but was too cold to ask. Pouring the dark, red liquid, he ran his finger along the rim to catch a stray drop.“Oh my gosh, that’s sooooo funny!” Both my daughters explode into a fit of the giggles. I look up to see that my older daughter is peeking over her sister’s shoulder.“What’s funny?”“Look mommy!” More laughter.I dutifully get up and have a look. Her diva is dancing around with a cat. A bright pink, feather boa is wrapped around their necks. My antagonist peers over my shoulder and begins to laugh as well. I resist the urge to smack him upside of his darkly handsome, yet foreboding face.“How clever, yes, ha-ha. That’s pretty…silly. Did you make the cat too?”Silence.Smile still plastered on my face, I once again, get back...to...my writing.“Thank you,” she said quietly. Still shaking, she watched as her wine trembled in the glass. “A patient died today. We had to put him to sleep.”
“Things die. You know that.” He crouched in front of her, placing his hands on her knees. “Woof!”“Mommy, Zeus wants back in.”I get up and stomp over to the door. Wordlessly, I stomp back to my computer and sit. Several seconds tick by before I furiously begin to type.“Everything gets its time on this earth. The trick is, knowing when it is time to stay, and when it is time to move on.”
“Is that the trick?”
He smiled. “Drink. You will feel better.” “I’m thirsty.”My fingers stop. “Why don’t you get yourself some water?” I grate.“I don’t want water. I want a glass of milk.”My antagonist looks at me and shrugs his shoulders.Knowing that the milk carton is far too heavy for my youngest to pour herself, I reluctantly get up. “Okay. Do you want some too?” I ask my older daughter. My words fall on deaf ears. “Do you want a glass of milk?” I repeat, a bit too loudly.My older daughter looks up at me with a frown.“Milk. Do you want a glass of milk? I’m getting some.”“Yeah, okay.” And she blissfully goes back to her game.I slosh milk into two large glasses, more milk than I know they can drink, and set the glasses onto the coffee table. Task done, I point firmly to my computer. My antagonist pulls himself reluctantly away from Diva Land and slinks back into my story.  She raised the wine glass and drained it, pulling away from him.
“You will end up on your back at that rate.”"Maybe that's where I need to be right now."“Can I have a pillow?”“Excuse me?”“Nevermind. I’ll get it.” My older daughter hops up to grab a pillow and settles happily onto the couch again.Writing…now.“This game is boring. What’s the name of that wolf site that I was on the other day?”I close my eyes briefly. “The one that had a museum link?”“Yeah, that one.”I search my chattering brain for the name and can’t come up with it. “I don’t remember.”My daughter sighs, exasperated. “It had a picture of a grey wolf on the page.”“Yes, honey, I know. I don’t remember.” My fingers are frozen mid-type and mirror my characters who are frozen in their repartee. After several moments, I continue to, once again, write. Minutes tick by, or maybe seconds.“WolfQuest!!”I practically jump out of my skin. “Great, honey. Why don’t you go there now?”“I love WolfQuest.”Typing.She could feel his breath on her hair. His presence was hard to ignore, it pressed behind her insistently. He murmured something in her ear.“I thought you wanted to play dress-up?”My eyes snap up to my younger daughter. Sensing her sister has gone onto something bigger and better, she is peering over her shoulder.“Stop looking over my shoulder!”“What site are you on?”“None of your business! Play your own game!”“Mommy, she won’t let me see what site she’s on!”“Please tell her what site you’re on and stop arguing.” Both my characters are looking at me, eyebrows raised. I know, I know.My older daughter sighs dramatically. “WolfQuest! Okay?I wait. And start typing once again.
She backed away from him. “Why are you here?”
“In your house?”
“No, in this town. You seem quite…worldly. Why did you move here? I don't even know your last name."
“How do you spell quest?”I can hear both characters yelling the letters out in my brain. I quietly spell it for her, however. Too quietly--because I am trying to not…lose…my temper.“Thanks, mommy.”Immediately, I feel like a heel. “You’re welcome, sweetie.” Okay.
A small, triumphant smile touched the corners of his mouth. “Look mommy, you can pick what wolf you want to be! Which one should I be?”And it is at that moment, my friends, that I give up on my writing. “How about I help you choose? I’ve always liked grey wolves.”I save and close out of my novel and for the next twenty minutes, my younger daughter and I play with our wolf in WolfQuest. My antagonist cheers us on; a big smile on his face and a bright pink, feather boa slung over his broad shoulders.

Summer Break

May 2010
I will be taking a Summer break from blogging.
Writing with kiddos in stereo is quite impossible.
Back in the Fall...