Today’s Youth = Tomorrow’s Leaders (Ahem)

Where did we go wrong?  Ok, maybe that is really just a rhetorical question.  However, somewhere, my generation took a sharp left turn in raising our kids who are now teens.

Oh I know what you’re thinking.  You’re thinking I’m going to rant about the foibles of today’s something or other generation (is it x? y? z? aa? I can never keep up).  Well, you would be right.

I mean come on, have you looked at bozo the clown looking teens of today?

Never mind the tattoos and piercings.  Never mind the weird hair colors, never mind the pants that are about to fall off.  No, wait.  Let’s mind it.  A lot.

Hey, I was a teenager once.  We had our own fads.  In my town, in my day, it was cowboy hats with roach clips hanging off the back (purely for aesthetics, honest mom, I never did drugs.  That’s my story and I’m sticking to it).  But I look at today’s kids and I have to wonder.  I mean really really wonder.  How do some of these kids expect to get a job?

Whatever happened to the phrase, everything in moderation?  Apparently, we somehow missed the opportunity to pass that vital information on to our kids.  I can see my way past a little bit of “personalization”.  My own daughter has a piercing in her nose.  But I look around at some of these kids at the mall, even ones who are working and I think to myself – something just ain’t right yo.

Blue hair, red hair, white hair, green hair, practically every weird color you can imagine under the rainbow.  Facial tattoos.  More metal in their face than iron man, ripped clothing (if you can even classify some of it as clothing because it covers less than a bikini), thongs hanging out of the back of pants.  It just goes on.

If they aren’t trying to pass off as “Gangsta Paradise” (don’t judge, I roll old school Coolio ya know), their trying to look like something from the circus.

I expect a little rebellious behavior in teens.  I was one once, despite what my 17 year old daughter thinks.  But I look at these kids and I have to wonder, especially in talking to them, have they no idea what they are doing to their future?  The answer is a big fat no.  Why?  Because they don’t think what they are doing to themselves with their various circus colors and metal faces will make a difference.

Ahem

They obviously don’t understand corporate America.

Or they plan on working at fast food restaurants all their lives (no offense, but come on, how many more fast food places to we really need in this country?).

I’ve seen people who have just made it out of their teens, trying to make a living with battle scars from their piercings.  That’s right, they couldn’t keep them.  Once you get those holes in you, and let them close, they leave behind scars.

Then there is their clothing.  I’ve seen young adults, just out of their teens, still wearing their pants around their knees and wonder why they can’t get a decent paying job.

So where, exactly, did we take a left turn?  Did we get to busy, trying to keep our own heads above water trying to survive that we didn’t notice?  Or did we just get to the point where we made the mistake of not realizing the appropriate time to say no, and stick to it?

I don’t know, I just don’t understand it.  I’ve only let my daughter get one piercing and it’s in a place that won’t leave a visible scar and I have talked earnestly with her about the fact when she finishes college, she is gonna have to lose that nose piercing.  Which she doesn’t get.  Maybe I shouldn’t have allowed it in the first place.

Who knows what the future will bring.  We can hope that our youth start waking up and realize that youthful things must be left behind when they grow up.  It’s either that, or our next president may have facial piercings, and wear his pants around his knees.  What a horrible image.

~ Kev

No Tattoo For You!

If you know me at all, you know my opinion of most doctors are that they are all a bunch of quacks who fly sound for the winter nice people who try their best for you.  Despite that, they don’t always get things right.  I’m a firm believer in the fact you know your own body better than they do, and if you have half the brain God gave you (and are able to use it) then you pretty much know what is going on and what needs to be done.

But every once in awhile, doctors get things right, and after debating a certain issue, I think in one particular case my evil psychopathic skin doctor dermatologist called it.

I have several skin issues.  The biggest one is a skin disease called eczema.  The second is something I don’t remember the name for, but it’s a rare disorder that is particular to those of American Indian descent.  But in this case, this is all about eczema.

If you aren’t that familiar with what eczema is, it is an affliction from the devil, a disease that causes rash like symptoms, itching, swelling, and cracking of the skin.  It’s no fun, trust me on this.  Blisters can form, and the itching is unbelievable.  When the skin cracks, it’s not uncommon to have slight bleeding.  I know right?  Gross.  I can only say that it is much worse than what it sounds like.

Eczema can be brought on by a number of things.  Stress, diet, chemicals, certain types of fabrics, dyes, soaps, all that fun stuff.  Finding out what the causes are can be a trying experience.  In my case, the chemicals I work with cause most of my difficulties.

One of the things I’ve learned about my case, is that dyes are a giant no-no.  I discovered this after getting one of those fake tattoos at the beach.

Don’t judge me, I still have a bit of a child in me.

This was before they started using the henna style of ink.  The older ink they used has the same dye in it that hair dye does.  Needless to say, after the ink wore off my skin, I had a breakout and I carried 1/4” welts on my skin in the exact shape of the tattoo for six months.  My dermatologist took one look at it, and yelled for her assistant to bring a camera.  That’s right, my breakout, in the form of 1/4” red welts in the form of a dragon, was immortalized and passed around the practice and laughed at placed in my file.  This was followed by an intense lecture of why I needed to stay away from dyes of all types.  I can’t even cover up my grey hair, which is a real bummer, let me tell you.

Well, I recently decided I really, really wanted to get a tattoo.  Nothing big or anything, just something small, something personal.  After the expert tongue lashing lecture my doctor gave me however, I decided I had better check in with her to see what she thought.  I pretty much figured the answer would be no, but hey, we all have hopes and dreams.

So I placed the call.

I talked to her nurse, and told her the deal, and she said she would pull my chart and talk to the good doctor and call me back the same day.  I got the call back in under a half hour.

The return phone call went something like this:

(ring right) Hello?

Mr. Riley?  This is Nurse %*$! from Doctor’s %&##$!’s office.  I talked to her and explained that you wanted to get a tattoo.  She looked at your file and under no circumstances should you try to get a tattoo.  The results would be unpredictable, and frankly, we aren’t sure how bad a break out you would have from it ok?

(noise of phone fumbling) Mr. Riley, this is Doctor $%!!!** and I just wanted to tell you that you must have lost your ever loving mind.  Don’t you remember the fake tattoo?  Are you nuts or something?  I don’t think you are in your right mind for even considering this and let me tell you – yadda yadda yadda.

She went on for quite a bit.  I’m sure she had lots of evil fun telling me off like that, and have no doubt she was hovering by the nurse just so she could talk mean to me.

However, at the end of her rant, I did hear the words, “But it’s up to you”.  I quite distinctly heard in that tone “if you’re some kind of brain dead idiot”.

Ok, maybe the conversation didn’t go quite like that, but it was close.

Needless to say, she dashed my hopes.  I had to swallow sadness.

So, to summarize, according to my Doctor, no tattoo for you.

Sometimes it’s no fun being “special” as my mother likes to say about me, but I always thought she meant that in a more derogatory way.

Ah well.  I guess I’ll have to find some other way of expressing my uniqueness.

~ Kev