Jumping the Self-Censorship

   F brought up a good point in the comments of the last post, namely that some of the material I post here is questionably appropriate, especially given that my grandparents are regular readers here. I’ve pondered this myself on several occasions, lingering over the “Publish” button, wondering if I shouldn’t edit something out or put a disclaimer at the top. And always the thought, ‘Do I want Grandma and Grandpa to know this about me?’

   In various posts I’ve discussed my flat butt, my periodic lack of underwear; how hummus gives me terrible, room-clearing gas; how I got kicked out of class; sex, both good and bad;  handjobs; getting bitten by a bedbug on my boob; marijuana use; and my inconsistent hygiene and tendency to pick at my body. This list reflects a pretty limited range of taboo subjects which can be divided neatly into gross bodily stuff and stuff you do that you don’t want your parents to know you do. Interestingly, the two posts that gave me the most pause were “I’m So Bad,” because I have this fear of letting my parents know I’m not always the most responsible student I could be, and “Goddamn Hippies,” because I opine freely about sex and I use the word pussy.

  However, in the end, I don’t censor myself and there are two solid reasons for this:

1)      It’s my blog and I’ll do what I want. This is my place to talk shit, and talk shit I will, and if someone doesn’t like it, they do not have to read it. Moreover, I think my parents would be chagrinned to think I was censoring myself for their sake. They’re “go forward and express yourself” kind of people and have always encouraged me to be who I am, not who I think they want me to be.

2)      Nothing I have done, nothing I have to say, comes close to the shit my dad, aunts, and uncle pulled back in the day. I’ve heard stories, told around the Thanksgiving table, of crazy, life-threatening, cringe-inducing stuff they used to do. Me running my mouth off about farts and hand jobs and having a passive-aggressive run in with a professor don’t even come close.


2 responses to “Jumping the Self-Censorship

  1. I think I’ve censored myself the longer I’ve been online. I have concrete things I don’t blog about – work, specifics of love-making…

    But now that I’m thinking of it I should totally do a mattress mambo post. Hrrrmmm. What should that be on?

    Okay, and you know what, my Dad really had some crazy stories too – do you ever get the feeling like, dude, I should be living more like they did? I had that thought as I watching the Hunter Thompson documentary on Sunday. I walked out of the theater saying to myself, “I need to do some hallucinogenic drugs stat.” And then I got sad because I would have no way in hell of even knowing how to get involved with that.

    *sigh* It sucks to be good.

  2. I think I censor myslf less now than I did at the begining. All part of getting your blog legs, I guess. Also, yes, everyone should do a post about riding the purple pony.
    As for not living up to the wild shit my elder generation did, I’m actually kind of content. Between ages 18 and 22 I did some crazy, dangerous, hilarious stuff and I’m satisfied with that part of my life being over. Some of the things one of my aunts did went so far that they actually worked as a preventative to wild behavior.
    As for hallucinogens, sadly, that part of my life is over too. My advice is stay away from acid because the experience could go bad and the trip always lasts much longer than you want it to. Go for mushrooms if you ever get the opportunity, but make sure you are in a controlled environment with at least one sober, responsible, patient person. Final advice: DO NOT do this kind of stuff if you are at a low point emotionally. It will be bad.

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