Concerns with the Quality of my Corporeal Education
I’m 23 but I have learned so much about my body through experience in the last couple of years. There are so many things no one told me, not teachers. school books or educational tv, or my parents.
I learned through wild stories or urgent parental guidance things like the importance of bathing, being careful with pointy objects, shit like that– I know that I must stay relatively clean for harmful bacteria to not hurt my body or create odors, I know to how to handle knives so that I don’t lose any digits, and to handle scissors without poking my eyes out. My own parents and so many others end up focusing on relationship lessons at this stage in my life, which are important, but not the only thing that happens in people’s twenties or thirties. My mother and father seemed to want to save the talks of getting older physically for my late thirties, since I mostly have to prompt them about it now– but I wish I’d known just five years ago.
People express how young bodies are limber and capable, but I didn’t hear from those teaching me about how even just in my early twenties how much that goes away, or how working some jobs can damage the body beyond repair but you’re still expected to do them without accommodation. Nor did they bring up strange pains that arise seemingly out of nowhere (as opposed to something like sleeping wrong) and how they feel much more urgent than anything in my adolescence that I could safely assume would go away on its own, and just how sore and tired you can be after doing nothing– even though you are still “young and spry.”
There’s the idea of someone’s prime as being the height of some human condition but the physical prime may not go hand in hand with one’s emotional, social, academic or creative prime.
But I guess these experiences are so specific to individual people that they can’t be taught by just anyone, kind of like how each used car has quirks that only the previous owners can share with you– except I’m the only person who’s ever inhabited this body, thus no one is there to give me tips about getting it to start and run smoothly beyond the moderately classed advice of “exercise regularly and eat well.”
And yet so many of us can say “no one ever told me that this could happen” or “nobody taught me this about myself.” Still, I can only imagine how strange this process is for people with more severe or rare disabilities or “quirks” than my own. I fear this process of alienated learning, anxiety and confusion with my body will only become more apparent as I age, and all the figures that I had no choice but to trust in molding me as a person will continue on in silence, as if that part of their job was done long ago.
listen… I’m new here… I just got here… I’m on episode 17…. I don’t know what yall are panicking about…… I’m just going to pretend that bad things don’t happen here……. just let me draw my dipshit taco son. let me live
I rly like it when people draw taako all pointy n shit. also do you know how fucking happy it makes me that he has a fucking magic umbrella
my good friend @maeofthedead suggested trans taako, so here he be. my boy!
Walking through his living room strolled Tig. Wondering where in the fuck in this apartment he’d kicked off his boots after last night’s drunken stupor. As morning had come and passed and late afternoon had seen him rise. He had shit to do today and thought lovingly to himself “You ain’t riding the damn bike without out your boot ya shithead”.
As he rounded on the coffee table, his right baby toe found the corner of said table. Shooting lightning up his leg and a sheer pain that brought him straight to his ass
A loud howl of pure agony escaped his lips followed by a string of obscenities. "Mother fucking piece of Monkey shit table! Pointy ass, sharp edged cow raping hunk of fuck bull jizz lumber. Fuck! That little bastard is broken, goddammit! Fuck my foot! I feel blood.”