Weiners, Tattoos, and me (Samuel D. Angus)

Today I had an opinion piece printed in the local paper, and that fact has bothered me since the moment I saw it staring back at me. There is a typo in the first paragraph, I’m not satisfied with how it was edited, and to me it sounds like it was written at midnight after a long day of watching two children … which it was. Most of all, I just don’t like the idea of it out there being read and then linked back to me. I no longer have complete control over my own ideas. My edits no longer become the only version, the only reality. I can’t control how anyone reacts to my ideas. I also can’t control how this paper impacts how people see me. I love writing, but the idea of people reading what I have written scares the hell out of me. I am comfortable with this blog because very few people read it, and because those who read it never comment. I have no evidence that anyone has ever read it, and thus I can believe that I am sending my ideas into a black hole. At worst, I am sending it into a sparsely populated desert community. It is this psychosis that motivated me to write a novel, and then bury it on my computer. It is why I won’t ever get a tattoo. I’m not even comfortable wearing a cool vintage Hawaiian print shirt that I inherited from my grandfather, complete with airline ticket in the pocket. I want to be able to bland into the background. I know that anything I do in public can be used against me, even the Hawaiian shirt … although I can take that off and no one is going to be taking pictures of me and putting them in a paper or on a conservative blog. A tattoo is with me forever. I can’t take it off, at least not without a lot of additional pain. I can’t easily switch from the Aztec symbol for house to an exploding atom when the whims of fashion so dictate. Posting on the Internet, or submitting a piece to the paper, is kind of like getting a tattoo. Once you post a blog entry on teachers’ unions or tweet a picture of yourself with your pants down, it’s out there. That’s a scary proposition. That should be scary enough to stop you from posting a lewd picture of yourself if you are a member of Congress. If you ask me, the fact that Weiner did this shows a lack of judgment which would make me question his fitness to represent his district. It is just one factor, along with his greater record, but it is a factor. It has to be. Just as the tattoo you had put in a place you can’t cover up with clothes should be a factor that is considered when you apply for a job. I’m sorry, but you should have thought of that before you put flames on your face. Now Weiners willingness to stick out there in the first place, to run for Congress and serve his constituents, is admirable. I couldn’t do that. I’m just too aware of the big wide illogical world out there. The world filled with folks who still think our President is a socialist who was born in Kenya. I don’t want them to have a piece of me. So, I’ll be sticking to this blog for now. No tweets. No opinion pieces. Just this, until someone reads it that is.