I like being out of the ordinary. It's daring and exciting and dangerous. Being ordinary is safe and boring and ... well ... ordinary. One can learn a lot by choosing to be unordinary, which he would otherwise not learn.
The first step out the back door introduced my body to a slight breeze and the soft sound of droplets hitting the paved path leading to the bridge just outside my backyard. As I step down the steps to the pavement I feel the first drops of warm spring rain tingling my bare feet. The breeze carries with it the scent of washed asphalt, damp earth, and water vapor.
I could handle all of them individually, explain to them that I'm fine and used to the "cold" (the ground was actually much warmer than my shoes) and that this all feels really great and not at all uncomfortable. But when there's a crowd of people, I don't want to lecture them, they're harder to dismiss, there'll be multiple objections to everything I say or do and I can't answer them all and I can't ignore them all.
Instead, she heard it from my mother, who heard it from who knows who, who heard it from local gossips, whose brains have constructed this image of me naked after photons have passed through glasses an inch thick, which their eye is still too broken to actually focus properly onto their respective retinas, but have brains rotten enough to turn a blurry image into a vicious gossip.
[...] there's a little drawback to getting my base tan purely from gardening, as that way I mostly only tan my shoulders, the back of my neck, my back, arms, and a portion of my legs. This leaves me with the most problematic area in terms of tanning - my torso - looking like cheese. But, I suppose, tanning half my body on the deck chair is faster and more comfortable than tanning my whole body on a beach towel.
A Christian website went out of its way to explain how "the foremost reason of clothing is to cover up those parts of our body which are involved in sex" failing to realize that our entire body is very much involved in sex (in fact some of them should realize that their mouths are quite involved in sex too, and cover them up as well occasionally). If that's the main purpose of clothing then maybe we should all wear burquas and sunglasses at all times.
It's been almost four weeks since I started out on my barefoot adventures and I'm still liking it. I walk around the house barefoot all the time now, whether we have guests or not. I have been told to put on some shoes or socks at least a couple of times, ("You'll catch cold!") but I just waved the issue away.
[T]his very idea started brewing in my head when I saw one of the videos on YouTube with Tim Minchin (whose work I started admiring when I stumbled upon his poem Storm, shortly after which I saw Matilda the Musical on Broadway and decided I still admired his work, which led me to the said YouTube video) performing on stage barefoot. I looked up if he ever said why he performed barefoot, and found that he has. The answer is quite simple - he likes it.
Everything is natural. Appealing to the "naturalness" of something isn't an argument in either its favor, or against it. In fact, when someone invokes an appeal to nature it makes me dubious because if "it's natural" (like everything else) is all one has to say about a thing, then that thing doesn't sound like it's very interesting.
I found myself roaming what I could best describe as a deserted, overgrown orchard. Its south edge was actually a cliff, or a very steep slope. So, it was either braving the slope, or turning back.