Ramblings & Rants

It's 2:25 AM now and I should be asleep but for some reason I've a lot on my mind, so I thought I'll just write and let my mind wander.

Read this via takchek and it left me rather incensed.

What if I was adamant about not having a little one?  What would have happened to our marriage?  What would have happened to us?   

And all I will say it would never have been the same.  Our relationship would probably not have come this far if not for the kid.  As a matter of fact, it might not even have survived.

I would write a lot more but there are people (believe it or not) I care about who may be hurt by my acerbity (e.g. "What a bunch of crock! People like you shouldn't breed."), so I shall exercise a measure of restraint. This much I'll say though: any relationship that needs the presence of children to survive or exist, isn't much of a relationship at all. Bringing children into this dying, polluted, conflict-plagued, world just to salvage your pitiful little relationship; just so that you can have someone to call your significant other; just so that you won't feel lonely; just so that you can fit into your social circle, and fill those empty hours, days and years; is about the most selfish act imaginable.

It is illogical that one who is deemed "selfish" for not having kids (where's the logic in that?) is suddenly crowned with a halo of admirable — even emulative — parental generosity after bearing a child. News flash: just because the motive of your actions shifted from grabbing as many opportunities for yourself to grabbing them for your scion does not mitigate your greed and selfishness. A soccer mom who's a jerk behind the wheel is still an asshole on the road. And worse of all, now there is another (partial) copy of you competing for resources in this sad, sad world. So, please, please stop with the nauseating self-congratulatory pats on the back for successfully rutting. Pigs reproduce; bacteria reproduce; H5N1 reproduce; you are nothing special.

How can the bringing of another sentient being into this screwed up world be a cause for joy?

It is unconscionable to create another human for the sole purpose of "cementing" a crumbling or shaky relationship. The absurdity which lies behind such an infantile act exposes the absolute dearth of reasoning, all-consuming narcissism, and immaturity, in the mindsets of the perpetrators. Here's a clue: divorces still take place with the presence of children — it just gets messier; the fallout worse.

And, even if the dysfunctional (or lackluster) marriage doesn't dissolve in a divorce, the children are saddled with the horrendous — and unasked — responsibility that they are the "glue" which keep their parents' marriage together. But I suppose these matters are hardly a concern for those who rushed down the aisle for the wrong reasons. Act first, think later. Brilliant.

Having children to cement or "save" a relationship goes beyond wishful thinking, it is selfish, stupid, and myopic — be prepared to fork out for therapy and medications for your screwed up kids (and maybe even grandkids) down the road. Here's to your happy family (and profitable drug companies).

Xanax. BuSpar. Valium. Paxil. Zoloft. Serlift. Effexor. Celexa. Elavil. Prozac. Wellbutrin. Lexapro. Desyrel. Zyban.

Ahhhh! Numbness!


Related posts:

Why breed?
Obey!
Why breed? II
Obey! II
Paternal Instinct
The damndest lie

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Spent 1 hour swimming laps in the pool last night, slept 2.5 hours and then went for a 106 km (66.25 miles) road ride at 4:30 AM. Boy, I love the new tires! The first couple of hours were blessed: feeling like you are the only one out there, silently pushing against the wind and the darkness, to the constant rhythm of huffs and puffs — a thin, inch-wide, thread of rubber flowing silkily over empty roads — when everyone else is asleep. Feeling a little under the weather now. I guess I got a little dehydrated; one water bottle is insufficient in warm and humid Singapore (and I was feeling too good to stop for refills). 106 km, that's not even a full century (don't talk to me about metric centuries. A real century, IMHO, is 100 miles (160 km)). Jeez, I'm becoming soft.

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Dominic's latest toy, a multifunction analyzer, BC-554, by Tanita, is cute: it not only weighs you; measures your body fat and visceral fat percentages; reveals your metabolic rate; but also calculates your metabolic age. Mine turned out to be 16 years of age. So... Hey! I AM Peter Pan after all. So, to the hoity-toity detractors always admonishing me to "grow up," here's a quote from an old Western flick, The Shootist (1976), "The day they put you under, what I do on your grave won't pass for flowers."