2005-02-13 - 10:50 a.m.

crotch and scars

My crotch itches again... this had better not be another yeast infection. Sorry- do I talk about my down-there too much? Well, it's because it's on my mind a lot becuase it's always creating problems. It's always either itching or oozing something or needing something... vaginas are so high mintneance. And this probably all goes back to my youthful conviction that I was supposed to be a boy. I was most certain I had been assigned the wrong set of stuff, but of course if I was a man I would be the gayest one ever. Not because of my flamboyance (though that would be a problem too) but because I really, really like boys too much. I could never be into women for the same reasons I feel awkward being one myself. I mean sure, boobies are fun and all, but girls are so COMPLICATED-- emotionally and physically. I find my own crotch enough of a pain in the ass- lord knows I don't want to deal with another one. Even from my female perspective it seems like a lot of indecipherable, oily folds which I have absolutely no desire to stick my face in. Penises, on the other hand, seem fun. Boys strike me as delightful, both above and below the waist. Nothing against striaght men and lesbians, but I just don't get it. I can't imagine being attracted to a woman. No, scratch that, I have been before, but it's more like a "you're interesting to look at" thing than a "lets do it" thing. Hmmm... when I break it down like that it sounds like I have bad case of Freudian penis envy. Do I, or have we sufficiently in 21st century America proved that Freud didn't know what he was talking about? Well, I do agree that a lot of craziness stems from sex and your family, but maybe not so much as he assumed. And speaking of all that jazz, I need to read more Jung. Dr. Raphael is always making Jungian references that I don't get. Not that I have the time for a lot of pleasure reading these days. and when I do I find myself reading the Bible a lot. Haha- that is the Emma Connundrum. How can I be so sensual and so spiriitual at the same time? How, after a long tirade about how much I love the penis can I say "I find myself reading the Bible a lot?" It seems not so strange to me becuase this is how I've always been, but I know that I'm shocking to many outsiders. Haha- speaking of which, Cyrus e-mailed me yesterday because he was really concerned about the bruises on my neck. When he had first asked, I told him I burnt myself with a curling iron. He got confused and pointed out that my hair is always straight. So I sighed and told him Jason did it. He was horrified and asked if he was beating me. I laughed, thinking he was joking. Then, in the e-mail he was worried and confused, trying to figure out if Jason was trying to strangle me. He expresssed concern that his charming churchbuddy (my phrase, not his) was the victim of domestic violence. Then it dawned on me that I have on my hands the most naieve 23-year-old ever. Jason found a link for me to e-mail him which broke down in the simplest possible terms what a hicky is and how one comes to be on a neck. I'm eagerly awaiting a reply- I expect even more shock and horror, but this time for it to stem not from the erroneous assumption that Jason is beating me but rather from the very real truth that we have a passionate lovelife. I'm pretty sure that he has that common Christian-boy conviction that "true-love-waits" possibly compounded by his own VERY stunted sexuality. It's easy for true love to wait when you aren't emotionally ready to have sex anyway. In my world it seems like an artificial emphasis on marriage results in too many bad ones. Back in my hometown a bunch of kids got married straight out of high school. They were all "true love waits" types. When you're 18 you usually want sex, and if you have to get married to do it, then fine by you. That just seems dumb. God already knows you love a person- marriage is just the thing you do to establish it in the eyes of the rest of the world. Why should that make a difference? I think sex is a beautiful, wonderful thing. I gift from God and a way too get closer to him. In "Closer" Trent Reznor repeats "you get me closer to god," followed by "I want to fuck you like an animal." While I never much cared for the song I agree with the sentiment. Yes, fucking like an animal does have the power to bring you closer to God. If you've never had a divine revelation while in the throes of an orgasm, I pity you.

Wow, that was a candid discussion, even for me.

On a semi-related subject, I feel very young right now. I feel all angsty and sexually charged and confused. I feel like listening to music really loud and smoking lots of cigarettes and cutting class and making out. Basically, I feel like I did when I was 16. This is bad, since I've got a shitload of German homework to do. I start to try to figure out where the antecedent in a sentence is and then I get distracted. It's such a beautiful day outside- the sun is shining and it feels perfect. This is the kind of day that when I was 16 I would want to go out skateboarding or rollerblading or something where I could move really fast with the power of my own feet and maybe fall down and get hurt but it would be the wonderful, silly, laughing kind of hurt that you don't mind and lets you know you're alive. I fell down a lot when I used to do that stuff- I'm a very clumsy girl and have come to the conclusion that I'm better suited to knitting than "extreme sports," but it was fun back in the day. I'm proud of my scars and have no regrets. Actually, I have a deep love of all my accidental tatoos. While I've never paid someone to carve a butterfly into my lower back like so many girls my age, I have a lot of marks on me that sum up who I am, where I've been and what I've done. I have faded hickies for starters- those go away, unfortunately, but they speak of my sensuality. Then I have the scar on my abdomen from that bad rollerblading accident. That's how I got the scar on the back of my left hand too. I have the thing on my knee from when I was riding my bike when I was 12. I have the other thing on my knee from when I was hiking in New Mexico and fell down the hill. I love being outdoors- I love life, and those say that. But then of course I have the scars on my wrists from that really dark time. I have no regrets about how and when I got those either. It's just another side of me. Ditto the ones where I started in on my ankles and legs after people began to see the ones on my wrists. It was never a cry for help and I didn't want people to see that I was cutting myself. I just wanted to bleed, and that's how I was. All this is behind me now- skateboarding and self mutilation both, but the marks remain, reminding me of my personal history. Those who do not know history are doomed to repeat it, they say, and I do indeed know my history. I can never forget.

The last thing I wrote before this thing. The next thing I wrote after this.