Untamed

Every day we find ourselves making statements that generalize everyone into a specific category; if someone listens to “metal” styled music, they’re a “metal-head” and in some cases, based on their appearance, they’re a “freak”. If a woman sleeps with several men, she’s deemed a “whore” or a “slut”, yet if a man does the same thing, he’s deemed a “player”. Whilst this is a normal practice of society, it is not exactly a healthy one, especially for the people who are labelled as something by another.

Most people have seen it every day, as a constantly occurring event; either being labelled or labelling someone else. In some instances, labelling can be a self-esteem booster for the giver and the receiver; to be told you’re beautiful can bring a smile across your face. Yet, on the same token, good labels comes with an equally bad label. Should humanity be labelling everything they pass? One should hope not. Often we don’t consider the repercussions and effects of saying such things and for some, being classed into a typical category can hurt their feelings.

It seems that society cares not for who the person is or what status they hold; Michael Jackson is considered “wacko” merely for his actions and how he chooses to live his life. Constantly, he is ridiculed for his decisions and appearance because people don’t deem it to be ‘normal’ and ‘acceptable’. What is acceptable, though and who makes the rules of what is acceptable? It is acceptable for a woman to have facial plastic surgery and body modifications, yet a man who chooses to do the same is deemed “weird”.

It seems that everyone is so caught up in pleasing himself or herself and making the world suit them that they’ve begun to lose touch with being accepting, compassionate and understanding. If someone doesn’t meet ones requirements, there’s no hope for that person, apparently. There is much pressure on many with these categories and labels, with everyone striving to be categorised by people in something acceptable, they begin to lose what they should be loving: originality.

Originality and being unique used to set everyone apart, to define who we are and say to the word, “this is who I am”. Somewhere along the line, that began to change as the world progressed and being unique is about as important as a bit of rubbish. No longer do we dress to be different but rather, we dress now to fit in. The roles of life have reversed and being different is not “cool” yet being the same as everyone else is “rad”. It is a pity that we have de-evolved to such a point where we’re insulting people personally just because views are different and have little care for anyone around us.

Are people really a specific thing if they happen to do some things the same way as others? Certainly not and we shouldn’t classify everyone as something just because it is trendy. Often most feelings are hurt the worst by these petty little names, labels, categories and requirements. Even corporations pitch in on this horrid practice by targeting “beautiful people” when they hire someone. If you’re not wearing the latest clothing, have a perfect face thanks to Maybelline, you have little chance to find a job and you’ll end up working for award wages at McDonald’s.

Sometimes one has to wonder how we can possibly continue such acts even after seeing the repercussions such an action has. Is humanity really selfish, ignorant and un-accepting?

The world is progressing rapidly every day, technology is advancing and the latest trends are constantly hitting society with a theoretical white glove. With designers pumping out new fashion, cosmetic teams creating even more products for women to use, it is no wonder some people don’t know who they or others are these days. Countries have become so used to listening to self-proclaimed know-it-alls on the ‘ins-and-outs’ of the fashion world that they absolutely insist that everyone dress to impress and wear what they advise.

With women putting on more layers of make-up than a cake and ‘fashion consultants’ deciding to barge in on peoples lives and call them ugly, it is no wonder nearly everyone has evolved into a shallow minded, superficial state. From ‘Queer Eye for the Straight Guy’ to ‘What Not To Wear’, there is a platitude of “experts” making a spectacle of peoples lives, insulting them a little, then making them over and saying “aheh-aheh, look what I can do”. Humanity has to wonder how so many people can accept calling another person ‘ugly’ or ‘fat’ without looking at the obvious culprits that instil the idea that image is everything into everyone’s minds.

However, not all consultants are bad, one must acknowledge that fact before blatantly pointing out how shallow most consultants and societies are. Some tend to focus more on the health side of the spectrum, encouraging people to eat better to live a longer, more full life and it is something we should not be against. If anyone chooses to embrace the idea of living longer by taking expert advice, then we should encourage, applaud and congratulate these people. It is much harder to change your habits, diet properly and lose weight than it is to walk into a store, buy tons of make-up, accessories and clothing to unnecessarily use.

Image has become so large and so pushed that even the smallest children of eight are wearing make-up and other items intended for adult or mature persons use. Are we living in a sane world where our children wear bras earlier than a parent ever has, despite the fact the child has no breasts at all yet? One has to wonder where to draw the line and when to say ‘enough is enough’. Admittedly, some parents feel pressured by their children to buy them the latest looks and items in fear that their popularity and image will be hindered if they don’t have such things. Sadly, in this world, popularity is based on exactly that: image.

When was it that someone decided the natural human body simply isn’t enough? Marilyn Monroe had a mole on her face, just above her lip and back in her days, it was considered beautiful and unique. The twenty-first centuries idea of beautiful and “unique” is getting plastic surgery, increasing your breast (or penis) size and wearing the skimpiest, most tight fitting clothes on the market. A mono-tonus look set for everyone, with every blemish and natural markings removed to make the perfect look that everyone seems to have. Barbie is a symbol for children at a very young age; that perfect smile, the perfect breasts and body and a huge range of stylish clothing to choose from.

It is no wonder that girls find they need those cute little plastic stiletto’s for $4.95 at supermarkets and the endless array of cosmetics kits, fake nails and their body perfecting items. We find ourselves falling in love with people physically who really aren’t as they appear on the outside and the insides of the person being far overlooked and in most cases, ignored. We do not really find the person attractive; we merely adore the latest looks from the Maybelline Style Team. Society really needs to let go of the fashion reins a little and encourage people to wear less make-up or none at all and expose that true beauty that probably never has had the chance to see the light of day.

People can learn to spend less money on superficial, materialistic items and learn to appreciate the human form as it were intentionally designed. The human body is unique and no two bodies are ever the same; beauty extends just as far within as it does without and should not be overlooked or dismissed. We may just learn to stop playing ‘God’ and creating the perfect prototype for everyone to become and self-esteems may increase with more people accepting others for who they are, not what their cosmetics or clothing brand is.

The bigger and “not-so-perfect” people in life won’t feel as though they are social outcasts that should never be seen and the ‘this is beauty’ will no longer be the perfect skin, hair, face and body appearance. A little fashion and style cannot hurt but we really have gone overboard on the ideas and it is something that should be looked at and reconsidered. Is it really that important to try and be something you’re not, when there is something much more natural, real and beautiful to show?

A robot, no bigger than a four year old sits on the couch with a giant cup filled past the rim with a brain freezing slushy in his left hand. In the right hand, a remote, as though glued with a robotic thumb clicking endlessly through television channels in search for something better than the late breaking news about police discoveries on last weeks chaos.

‘GIR!’ a impatient voice calls loudly over the house intercom, ‘COME HERE, NOOOW!’

The channel surfing stops immediately as the robot we now know is named Gir jumps off the couch, dropping the remote and spilling green slushy all over the floor. His eyes turned a vibrant red and the small SIR Unit responds to his summon, before his eyes switch back to their idiotic green as he skips toward the basement elevator in a state of insane giggling and childish humming.

Hunched over a work in progress, a green alien with beady red eyes works frantically at a small object, sparks flying everywhere and shots of electricity buzzing every few seconds. Gir enters the basement and the alien stops, flipping up his Irken protection gear and looking at his ever obedient robotic minion who was affectionately holding a plush pig close to his metal body.

‘Gir, would you put that stupid pig down and come over here?’ said the alien with a slight sound of impatience. The robot looks at his toy pig for a few moments, sniffles as though losing a loved one and asks, ‘Aw, do I have to?’ in hope that his master would show some compassion.

‘Yes, Gir. If we’re going to prove we can conquer this planet filled with these filthy slugs to the Tallests, you’re going to have to put the pig down. I have something I want to test on you, to increase your…’ The robots master paused for a moment, pondering the right word to best describe what his robot lacks, ‘…intelligence.’

GIR wonders what his master meant by “intelligence” but shruged, walking over and setting himself down on the chair that awaited him. The alien stepped closer carrying a glass capsule with what appeared to be a pulsing metal brain inside; Gir couldn’t help but stare at it in amazement and showed a sign of admiration with a simple, ‘Ooo, what’s that do, Zim?’

The alient we know now as Zim presses a few buttons and the top of his faithful robot’s head and waited as the little metal flaps opened to reveal a large, empty space with a key at the very bottom. Raising an eyebrow, Zim picks up the key and hangs it over GIRs head in front of him.

‘What is this?’ He asked.

‘Oh, you mean my key to the cupcake?’ asks GIR, with high amusement as his legs dangled back and forth underneath the seat, just like a child.

‘The what?’ Zim asked curiously, wondering how on Earth a cupcake could relate to a key.

‘The key to my cupcake, the one I locked in your vaulty-thing,’ explained GIR who was now beaming with a smile as though he did the most intelligent and safest thing with his cupcake. He continued, ‘so I can eat it later! It flicked the switch,’ the robot leaned closer, lowering his voice to a gravely tone ‘it’s safe!’

Zim slapped his forehead, shaking his head at what he had just heard and slowly says, ‘You put your cupcake …in the Irken Degeneralization Vault?’

His attempt to contain his anger was failing with every second that passed, until he could no longer hold it in, ‘YOU IDIOT, GIR! Now I have to stop the process from turning the cupcake into a living, breathing… thing!’

GIRs legs stop swinging and come to a halt as he hops off the chair and runs over to the vault, turning to look over his shoulder at Zim and saying happily, proudly, ‘Aw, you mean I’m going to have a baby?’

‘This is no time for games, GIR, we must continue our plans uninterrupted. Finally, I can show the Tallests how great of an Irken invader I really am. Then they will give me the respect I so rightfully deserve and I will show the disgusting worm child Dib…’

Zim stops himself, kicking the air with hatea nd grunting at the thought of Dib even existing.

‘I’ll show Dib who really is better’, he finally managed to finish.

GIRs eyes flashed red for a fleeting moment once more as he signified he was ready to obey. With a quick salute of the hand to his master, he marched back over to the chair, his eyes shifting back to their vacant green as he sat back down and started swinging his legs back and forth just as he did before. The tiny Irken robot’s eyes fixed onto the object Zim was holding before the discussion about his cupcake arose.

‘What’s that do?’ he asked, pointing to the pulsing metal brain.

Zim looked at his hands, noticing what Gir was pointing at and held it high in his hands. ‘This! This is what will make our doom on Earth successful. With this, you will be intelligent under every circumstance. With this, there is no way you can ruin my fool-proof plan…’ Zim lowered his voice as he remembers all his other failed attempts to conquer Earth, as he adds a snide comment, ‘like you always do.’

Zim walked behind absent minded robot and gingerly placed the brain into the empty head, setting a few controls on his Irken computer before stowing it away into his backpack. He looked at GIR, who is looking around the room carelessly, singing off beat “dee’s” and “doo’s” and he continued, ‘While I am at school with the hideous earth slugs, you will be here, preparing everything so we can finally doom this planet as ordered by my Tallests!’

A smug smile spread across the his green skinned face.

‘Since I will be at school with Dib, even he won’t suspect anything and couldn’t possibly foil my plan!’ Zim stopped for a second, wiping his hands on his shirt with a feeling of pride and intelligence as he muttered quietly to himself, ‘Oh, I am good.’ Picking up a few things from his work bench, he headed toward the basement elevator calling over his shoulder to his obedient slave, ‘Come on, GIR, we’re going to do some tests.’

GIR jumped off the chair, raising his hands high and runs to his pig, picking it up in his arms and screaming excitedly at his plush toy.

‘Yay, Piggy! We’re going to do some tests!’

Without a further word, he ran after Zim, holding the pig above his head and giggling idioticly.