johnnynotsid

Seriously, this is annoying.

Why do we equate the term "pussy" with "wimp"?

We hear this all the time, on the street, online, in Judd Apatow films... The vagina is continually used as metaphor for weakness and wimpiness.

"Don't be such a pussy."

"Don't let the door hit you in the vagina on your way out."

"Pittsburgh Penguins star Sidney Crosby to miss his fourth straight game because of a sore vagina"

This is really starting to annoy me because this slang can only be attributed to one thing: misogyny.

I'm not saying that everyone who uses that term is a misogynist, I'm saying that there's subliminal girl-hate within that use of the word. Because, if you think about it in realistic terms, it makes absolutely no sense for "vagina" to mean pathetic.

Actually, it directly contradicts reality so much that you might suspect that equating the lady bits with weakness is sarcasm.

Think about it. The average adult caslopis is an opening with a circumfrence ranging from that of a penny to a silver dollar. Yet, an adult caslopis can expand itself to release and push forth another human being, roughly the size of a watermelon, without being ripped to shreds. That is not weakness. That is the exact opposite of weakness. That's strength and toughness to the Herculean degree. Anybody who disagrees is a moron.

As if that is not enough to support my theory that the word pusy is misused, also consider this, if we were to use any sort of gentalia to describe wimpiness, how is it that it isn't the testicles? Why are balls a symbol of strength while the vagina is a symbol of weakness? It really should be the other way around considering the testicles have the strength and endurance of a strawberry and the vagina, well, the vagina pushes other human beings into the world. It's a person with balls that should be considered the wimps, and it's the pussy that should be equated with nerves of steel.

After all, what happens when you kick a man in the balls?

The man in the picture obviously has balls, but that hasn't helped him much in the toughness factor. But if he had a pussy, he'd probably be kicking ass. Balls are a dude's weak point in battle.

But the vagina, it's the most powerful force in nature. So how on Earth could it be equated with weakness?

If you think about it, what other explanation is there for this nonsensical word usage? There has to be a reason for it, because it directly contradicts the reality of the situation.

The pussy is strong. It's powerful. It's tough.  The testicles are. So why aren't we calling weak little dweebs testicles?

It makes no sense! It's just stupid and sexist. So why do we continue to talk that way?

The same reason why girly things are made fun of. In order to glorify the masculine ideal, we have to demean the feminine. It's the classic sexist dynamic, to foster the male ego and power, we have to reinforce the idea that women are weak and pathetic. So, in a way to subliminally reinforce the idea that girls are weak and pathetic, we demean the thing that makes girls so powerful while pretending that testicles are anything to brag about. Because guys want to believe that maleness is real strength, so anything female has to be less than. So we make pussy the new slang for wimp.

Even though in real life, we all know the pussy is no pussy.

So, over the past year I have become a big fan of a certain sports team.

This is pretty uncharacteristic of me, considering I always considered myself one of the last people on the planet to take a keen interest in any professional sport. Sure, I had played soccer and basketball before, but I wasn't a big fan of watching anything professional. This of course, has always been a sore spot with my dad and I, as my father is a sports fanatic and has adorned our entire basement with autograph photos, baseballs, framed memrobilia, and, in oarticular, minor and major league baseball caps. Practically everything down there is sports-themed, and don't get me startedon all the other stuff he owns that is devoted to College football. I never had much interest though, until over the last year things changed and I became a big fan of a particular sport and team.

I have not just become attached to the team, however, but the fans I hang out with at games. I've gain a reputation with the people I sit with and its out of respect for them, and the team, that I will not say which team it is. Let's just say I'm as in to being part of this fandom than I have been into being a part of the Arcade Fire fandom. I've made quite a few friends among this group of people.

I am also, I am afraid to say, known as one of the loudest screamers and best trashtalkers in my section. I assure you however, that my reputation as a trash talker is not because I get negative a lot, it's because when I do get negative, I am very articulate and creative when I jeer. I don't get too nasty, and I make sure I don't say anything homophobic or sexist or anything like that, but I do say some pretty ridiculous things.

I do however, have standards, and my principles, despite being a sports fan, have not changed, though I hate it when people bitch about my favorite team or fellow fans.

Here's where I get conflicted,

Recently I read in the Washington Post an article about how the coach of one of the opposing teams was complaining about the fans of my team. At first I was like, "Aw, put a sock in it, crybaby." But then I found out that a lot of the comments made by fans were homophobic.

Now, while the people who made these comments were not in my section and are not acquainted with me, you feel a connection to all the fans when you're in a group and so their antics, while they didn't involve me at all, are still embarrassing to me. That people that have even the most remote connection to me, people I like to defend, do things that so go against my own values, well, it's humiliating. And you know it's not the group or most of the people, and you know it doesn't mean being a part of that fandom is bad or that even the people who said those things really meant them, but it still can be upsetting when people act that way

It makes me think about other times online where I've been embarrassed by people who are a part of something I'm a part of. When fellow MCR fans would send threats to Alicia Simmons or spread rumors about Lin-Z. Or when people on buzznet say disgusting, sexist things. I know that is just their behavior and it does not determine the character of all MCR fans or buzznetters, but it is stuff that sticks in your mind and gives a really bad impression of everyone associated with that group. You don't have to know these people, have been involved, agree with them or even have heard of them, but the fact that you share this one thing with those people makes you feel strange and awkward.

Have any of you had this experience?

So basically, this paper, and one I had due in Government, and one I hade due in Religion, have been what I've been doing all week. We had to write a paper comparing the film adaptation of a great piece of literature and I did The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by RObert Louis Stevenson. I focus on the romantic element of the 1941 version with Spencer Tracy. It's eight pages double-spaced, but it's good. If you guys are in the mood to read something, take a look.

The Women Who Dreamed of Being Mrs. Jekyll

“A good woman! A bad woman--- Who needed the love of both!” reads the tagline of Victor Fleming’s 1941 classic production, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (IMDB, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde). Within the original novella, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, by Robert Louis Stevenson, the characters of Beatrix Emery (the “good woman”) and Ivy Peterson (the “bad woman”) fail to appear to readers. The theatrical adaptation of the book, made years earlier, introduced the romantic element of the film. Though it does not appear at first in Victor Fleming’s version, the first screen adaptation of the book in 1931 initiated the new love interests. The movie indeed almost entirely set itself around the romantic storyline, rather than through the narratives and letters of Dr. Henry Jekyll, Dr. Hastie Lanyon, Mr. Utterson, and Mr. Richard Enfield (Robert Louis Stevenson). Readers have long been fascinated with the original book as both a study of dual personality, as well as its status as a thriller. While some might criticize the romantic addition as pandering to mainstream readers and viewers at the expense of the book’s original theme, others could be argue that the film’s romantic storyline enhances the psychological aspects of the story. The casting, the portrayals of the characters in the story, and the use of imagery and roles of those characters all show connections to the matter of dual sides of human nature.

Lana Turner and Ingrid Bergman portrayed Beatrix Emery and Ivy Peterson in the film, respectively. That line of casting was not the first choice of the male lead. Spencer Tracy certainly wished for his character to be fully fleshed out, though he was cast against his wishes. While the characters of Jekyll and Hyde enjoyed the same experience they had in the book of being chained together by one body – Spencer Tracy and the two invented female characters were cast in an entirely different ways. A rumor states that title star Spencer Tracy had originally wished for his future co-star and lover Katherine Hepburn to play both of the parts. Though Tracy had not worked with Ms. Hepburn before, his admiration for the eccentric starlet’s abilities as a highly versatile actress was considerable. Tracy had the idea that Hepburn would play the “Bad Woman” Ivy and the “Good Woman” Beatrix, and that the heroines would be revealed as having been the same woman all along by the end of the movie. “That’s the problem of civilized man’s soul, isn’t it? That the good and evil in it are constantly fighting one another. Good and evil are so close as to be chained together…” Spencer Tracy’s Dr. Jekyll says, when explaining his research at a dinner party, sitting next to Turner’s Beatrix Emery, his fiancée in the film. It is this statement which pertains to the book’s original central theme, and why shouldn’t the “good” woman and the “bad” woman be chained together the way Jekyll and Hyde are “chained” together in the story through the same actor and person. Alas, that was not to be so as Hepburn devoted herself to stage roles on Broadway during this period of her career. But, as it turns out, the dual personalities were embodied by the women and the actresses playing them in a different way when the studio abandoned the plot twist and offered the role of Beatrix Emery to Ingrid Bergman and the role of Ivy Peterson to Lana Turner. Both women had enjoyed successful careers thus far and continued to do so after the movie premiered. The two actresses had also become known for specific types of roles. Ingrid Bergman, who would famously go on to star in the legendary romance Casablanca, was a Swedish immigrant who had enjoyed stardom in her native country and had made a name for herself in Hollywood for playing good saintly women in Intermezzo: A Love Story and Adam Had Four Sons. Lana Turner had worked her way through Hollywood and gained a reputation as a “Blonde Bonfire” and sex symbol in roles like Dancing Co-ed’s Patty Marlow and These Glamour Girls’ Jane Thomas. It would seem logical to any studio, casting the sweet, saintly Bergman as the lady Beatrix and the bombshell Turner as the cockney barmaid Ivy. But before filming advanced, Bergman was conflicted about playing the role of Beatrix, with fears of being typecast as the “good girl” and the fascination with the character of Ivy was the more challenging role to her. As a result, Bergman requested that she switch roles with Turner, which was granted by the studio heads. Thus, while one star had to assume two personalities entirely on screen, both Bergman and Turner had the opportunity of the experience to explore other “sides” of themselves: Bergman, revealing her ability to play the “bad girl,” and Turner getting to drop the “Bonfire” act and explore her abilities to be the innocent, chaste, “good girl.” The reviews noted the oddity of the casting of the two women. David Kehr of the Chicago Reader noted that Bergman and Turner “Seemed to be playing each others roles.” Another review had this to say:

“Oddly, the studio cast Turner as Jekyll's sweet, prudish fiancée, this time called Beatrix Emery, and Bergman as the coy, temperamental barmaid, this time called Ivy Peterson. You'd have thought it would have been the other way around, but the results are fine, even if Bergman seems a bit too cultured for the street snipe she plays.”(John. J. Puccio, DVD TOWN)

In spite of the noting of this switch in roles, the casting of the women oddly mirrors the central idea of the story. In the book, Henry Jekyll states in his full statement, “It came about that I concealed my pleasures, and that when I reached my years of reflection, and began to look around me and take stock of my progress and position in the world, I stood already committed to the duplicity of life.” (Robert Louis Stevenson, pg 97). Could it be that Bergman, who initiated the switch, saw the duplicity of her own career, always playing the “good woman,” and decided, like Jekyll, to explore the other side of her persona?

Personas are the very center of the story of Henry Jekyll and his alter ego, Edward Hyde. It is indeed after much self-reflection in the book that Dr. Jekyll wishes to embark on the research that leads to his downfall and unleashes the fiend Mr. Hyde in the film. Mr. Hyde is first introduced in the book by a personal account from the character of Richard Enfield to his friend and relative Mr. Utterson. In a scene that does not appear in the movie, Richard Enfield describes an incident where he encountered Mr. Hyde late one night after the alter ego trampled a young girl and was confronted not only by Enfield, but by the girl’s family and several newcomers with threats of scandal. Though the description of such an act on Hyde’s part would be enough to let the reader know Mr. Hyde as a scoundrel, Enfield goes into greater detail. “He is not easy to describe. There is something wrong with his appearance; something displeasing, something downright detestable. I never saw a man I so disliked, and yet I scarcely know why. He must be deformed somewhere; he gives a strong feeling of deformity, although I can not specify the point.” (Robert Louis Stevenson, pg 18) Mr. Hyde, indeed, does not appear in the film until thirty-seven minutes into the film and we at once see a change in appearance. Rather than seeing Tracy’s sturdy, full, handsome face and gentlemanly demeanor, we’re greeted with flashing eyes, sallow, tight skin, greasy hair, filthy teeth and engorged eyebrows which give him an entirely maniacal look. Mr. Hyde indeed immediately assumes the role of a brute and a great abuser, his acts lustful and manipulative, and he has no issue using his connections to Dr. Jekyll as an advantage. But while in the film his great ills and crimes seemed to be mostly tuned to the violent and barbaric, such as his murder of Sir. Danvers Carew, and his trampling of the young girl. However, Hyde’s crimes in the film do not just touch on bestial and unsophisticated violence, but also psychological, lustful, and devious crime as well. He does kill and attack Sir. Charles Emery, the father of his fiancée Beatrix, and does beat Ivy, but his crimes do not end there. Particularly his abuse of Ivy, not only does he perfectly embody the character and actions of a domestic abuser through the physical aspect, but he also does through a mental aspect as well. He at first manipulates her into becoming his concubine of sorts by seeking her out and getting her fired from her job, robbing her of her independence and taking over her life. He threatens and abuses her with violence, threats, and taunts every time she shows any inclination of interest in the outside world. His mental manipulation as well as obvious showing of lust gives us the picture of a less hulk-like Hyde and more of truly deranged individual, but it fails to remove itself from the central theme, for in Jekyll’s account in the book, he describes the two sides of himself as “the intellectual” and “the moral.” Mr. Hyde is certainly not the moral. When it comes to Dr. Jekyll, we see little of him in the book, as the narration mostly comes from the perspectives of his friends Mr. Utterson and Dr. Lanyon. For the most part, Dr. Jekyll is described as an upstanding gentleman who grows more and more distant from his friends and, when he does personally appear within the story, appears frightened, paranoid, shameful, and desperate. Jekyll in the film appears first and foremost as an ambitious but kind doctor determinedly pursuing his research and adoring his dainty fiancée with outward displays of affection that once in a while meet with the disapproval of Sir. Charles. We at once know, however, that Jekyll is a good man, for his initial appearance is of him coming to the aid of a mentally-addled man who has a public outburst. Dr. Jekyll calls the law off the man and sees him to a hospital instead, viewing the man as a possible case for his research. Jekyll at first seems as devoted to his profession as he is to his intended, explaining and defending his theories on the two sides of man and whispering words of adoration into Beatrix’s ear; but it is not long before Doctor Jekyll engages in an activity that included an attack of his “evil” side. After rushing to the aid of a woman being attacked by a criminal, he escorts her home, and an immediate attraction forms between him and his damsel in distress. At her home as she attempts to seduce him, and, in a moment of weakness, he kisses her before being interrupted by Dr. Lanyon. Jekyll would later admit to his friend, “I don’t think that was a triumph [of my evil side over my good side], but it was an attack.” We know at once Jekyll is a flawed individual, but certainly a good man. Opposite Jekyll and Hyde, we see the characters of Beatrix Emery and Ivy Peterson. It could be said that the two perfectly embody the “virgin/whore” or “madonna/whore” dichotomy prevalent even in today’s society, the idea that a woman can either be a perfect, sweet little virgin or a dirty, conniving whore. Beatrix Emery certainly embodies the perfect “good girl,’ perfectly obedient to her father, hopelessly devoted to her fiancé. Her interests revolve entirely around being married to Jekyll, and her only act of rebellion throughout the whole movie is her midnight flight from her bedroom to Jekyll’s home to make sure he was okay and still with her. It is not hard to understand why Ingrid Bergman was dissatisfied with the original role, as Beatrix seems more of an archetype than a real character. Ivy Peterson is certainly a more complex part for an actress. Though she is characterized as a “bad woman” by theme and tagline, there is certainly more complexity and social influence pertaining to such a person. We are given the idea that Ivy is truly the “bad woman” when she is first introduced, being assaulted at night by a scoundrel and saved by Dr. Jekyll. Upon being saved, she immediately starts flirting with Jekyll and pretends to have injuries in her side and ankle to keep him with her. Once Ivy is carried into her small apartment by Jekyll, she believes she is successful at seducing him when he asks her to remove her blouse for examination ,and upon finding out that Jekyll is a doctor, presents him with her garter as “payment.” The message is clear—this woman is the proverbial “wanton slut”, though Jekyll believes she is not a prostitute, and labels her as “a pretty girl, perhaps a little too generous.” Other so-called “bad” qualities supposedly lie in the fact that she is an evening barmaid in middle-class music hall, and the fact that Hyde immediately seeks her out. For a long period, though, Ivy is presented as more of a victim than a deviant. Forced into Hyde’s clutches after he gets her fired from her job and robbing her of her livelihood and independence, she becomes the classic victim of domestic abuse. Ivy becomes shut off from the outside world, beaten and manipulated by Hyde, and driven to desperation and paranoia. When she goes to Jekyll for treatment of the various wounds she acquired through Hyde’s beatings, she becomes hysterical, professes her troubles to Jekyll. “He won’t let me go, sir! I’m afraid to run away! They say it’s my nerves and that you know about such things, but nothing can help me now! You can’t help me, I’m afraid. He ain’t a man, he’s a devil he is! He knows what you’re thinking, he does. When he knows I have been here today, I don’t know what he’ll do with me!” The only direct characterization of a “bad woman” that could possibly be interpreted later in the film is when she offers herself up to Jekyll in exchange for help. She does indeed fall in love with Jekyll, but is not his mate in the story. But the personalities of these four characters are symbols of dual natures nonetheless, showing the two sides of men, and the two types of women accepted during the era.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is often described as “the purest example in English Literature of the use of the double convention to represent the duality of human nature.”(Charles E. May) Is the romantic theme merely a new convention to represent that duality? As stated before, Ivy Peterson is certainly the sexual side of the female coin presented by her and Beatrix Emery. She becomes Hyde’s mate, as a sort of live-in girlfriend. Such an arrangement would meet with scorn both in the Victorian era and the 1940’s. Despite the fact that Ivy exhibits a personality too vulnerable for a modern viewer to see her as a fully “bad woman,” she is the character of Hyde’s mate in the story, longing for Jekyll, but living with—or enslaved—by Hyde. Indeed, she becomes a foil for Jekyll when he is not the perfectly good man. At her introduction, Jekyll exposes weaknesses even in his good persona, and Hyde seeks out Ivy at once. Sexuality seems to be a major theme in Jekyll’s downfall, for it is after meeting Ivy that he first experiments on himself. Beatrix, however, is his good side, the woman he truly wants when he is Jekyll, the woman he wants in the most respectable sense, through marriage. Beatrix’s role in the story truly seems to run its course as the pining, chaste, bride-to-be, the “good woman” to Jekyll’s “good man.” She is on a pedestal as the “good girl” and is not at all the same sort of sexy bombshell role Turner usually played. She is indeed so innocent that she has to reassure herself (and Jekyll) that the two of them being in love is not part of their “evil” side. She is the female Jekyll, as Ivy should have been the female Hyde. That is not to say, however, that Ivy is the only woman in the movie who is sexualized. During the transformation scenes, the film presents the Freudian images of Hyde whipping horses that become both women, and of the two of them lying before him invitingly in their undergarments flash up upon the screen. Sex is a major key to the film, but not the book. Robert Louis Stevenson’s novella seems absolutely devoid of any overt sexuality whatsoever and instead, the evil is acted out with acts of violence and rude behavior, as well as cowardice and social isolation. The writer Wilton Eckley believes that “As an exploration of the darkest recesses of the human mind, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is skillfully constructed.” Should the film be deemed worthy of that phrase? The Jekyll in the film acts as the “good man” who, when he goes “bad” spends his time as Hyde with Ivy, but acts in public still comfortably as Jekyll, until he loses control of his transformations. Jekyll in the film then plays the role of a man leading a double life past his transformations. However, in the book, Jekyll describes himself as truly leading “a public life of convention and gentility and private life of unrestrained vice” (Wilton Eckley) before his experiments, and becomes entirely reclusive as Jekyll after he becomes Hyde. Either way, in both storylines, Jekyll is a truly tragic figure. The roles of Beatrix Emery and Ivy Peterson do not even exist in the book, but the roles they play in the movie, as the female Jekyll and Hyde respectively, certainly enhance the psychological aspects of the book. Each woman embodies what each side turns to when in control. Beatrix represents calm, loyalty, family life and innocence. Ivy is the woman of sexuality, violence, isolation and low class surroundings. The roles they play in the story create perfect dilemmas for Jekyll and Hyde, making the absence of the character narration almost unnecessary, and changing the story altogether. The plot may have been changed to revolve around these two women, but the theme, however, stays intact.

Some might believe that the theatrical adaptation completely changes the story Robert Louis Stevenson created in The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. That story is not a romance, but an intellectual study of the two sides of every person. Despite the change in storyline and narration, the true nature of the book is not in any way abandoned by the film. Spencer Tracy playing both male roles and his interest in one actress playing two women, then the two actresses switching roles to go against what they were typecast as mirrors well Dr. Jekyll’s own story of exploration and dealing with the two sides of himself. The personalities of the women, the victimized Ivy, the flawed Jekyll, the deviant Hyde and the sweet and innocent Beatrix, played true to their roles as starkly different personalities. Such portrayals set up exactly the dynamic that was needed to play true to the theme of good and evil battling internally within human nature. Though the cinematic version of the story becomes introduces supposed love interests, this new dynamic does not replace Stevenson’s initial intent, but enhances it.

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Yeah it's pretty long. Here's hoping I get an A!

                Anyone who knows me knows I’m no fan of abstinence only propaganda bullshit and all of its disturbing features and results. I think I’ve written enough about it to make my point. But there’s another thing I want to talk about that might not seem as true to my often-stated convictions as you might expect.

                It has to do with the new double standard, which is kind of a spinoff of the old one. The basic one is obvious “He’s a Player, She’s a skank.” We know it all. But the new double standard is the one celebrated and adored by the Joe Francises of the world: Sexual Objectification of women= Sexual Empowerment for women. The idea that things like Girls Gone Wild is empowering to women. Yeah. Safe to say, it’s not. But there’s obviously enough liquor in the world to make enough girls think that for an hour or two, and it’s championed by pretty much every advertiser and campaign that’s used women’s bodies to promote or sell their schtick (I’m looking at you, PETA).

I'm not interested in telling anyone what to do with their lives or anything. But this new double standard is troubling, not just because it gives a bunch of exploitative pornographers more bullshit to lurch out of their mouths and fools some women into becoming objects for the pleasure and entertainment for men. It also presents a disturbing picture of how we view sexuality, and indeed, what it means to be "sexually empowered" for women.

Do you need to be sexually active and happy about it to be empowered? Do you need to be "ready" to have sex? Do you need to experiment  sexually? Do you need to be comfortable when experimenting? Or is it something else.

I'm a young woman a month away from reaching the age of consent. So these thoughts about being a sexually empowered young woman have been occurring to me.

I'm not going to mention my sexual state, because that's nobody's business. I'm not ashamed or afraid, I merely think nobody outside of those I at least know personally really want or need to know. But the point is, I'm not ashamed. I've never been ashamed of who I am sex-wise, and I'm not afraid to be open about sex in general. I go to a Catholic School, and while I don't ever seek out exciuses to speak frankly on the subject, I do speak about it openly when the subject turns to that. And I do speak openly then. I've said point blank to classmates that I think the Clitoris is God's gift to women. I've told dirty jokes, I've talked about sex and my views on it, I've talked about rape. It's no secret to anyone at school that I'm a feminist, and a few times I've had people stop me because they noticed that I'm carrying a book with the title, in big letters, SLUT! (written by the amazing Leora Tanenbaum, if you haven't read it, check it out, that book will blow you away) or something of that nature on the cover. I don't force the subject or continue it when people don't seem very receptive, and if I say something that makes people feel too uncomfortable, I'll joke about it. On our question packet in our Abstinence-only sex class, there was a question about what could help kids to enbrace their sexual identities without engaging in pre-marital sex and I wrote, without hesitation "masturbation."

I'm not trying to show off, and in fact, some people find me pretty quiet, but they know if a subject regarding feminism, politics, social issues, sexuality, books, rock, or hockey comes up, I have something(s) to say.

And I don't feel embarrassed when I talk about these things. Not with boys, not with girls. I am always eager to share something I think a friend or classmate will respond to in a positive manner. Sometimes, though, I forget that not everyone is as easy with this stuff as I am, and I go to far (though I never try to ask them about what they do themselves, I don't bring up personal stuff, just issues in  general). And I wonder why, why are people, both sexually active and non-sexually active, are so embarrassed. Is it because still, even in this day and age, with such a pornified culture, we still are uncomfortable with ourselves sexually?

And I think, right there, is what sexual empowerment really means. Being comfortable and open about sex and our sexual selves. Not having to be active, not having to flash or use vulgar language or be explicit, but just feel comfortable enough that we're not afraid to express our feelings about such subjects, and not be embarrassed when someone else talks about it. I'm not talking about liking it when people breach a barrier of propriety, I mean not feeling personally embarrassed when someone does. Just say, "That's too far" and not feel ashamed or angry towards people who talk about sex. Not feel awkward to think and talk about sex ourselves, not afraid to look up the information we need or take safety measures regarding sex, like buying condoms or birth control, or going to the Doctor about certain things. Does being sexually empowered meaning being sexually active, expressive, agressive, etc? Or does it simply mean not being afraid or ashamed to be?

I consier myself a sexually empowered young woman, and I don't owe that to the fact that I have a dirty mouth or anything I've done sexually. I owe it to not being afraid of doing and saying those things.

I can’t believe how long it’s been.

Ever since I realized that I had real friends on this site, I didn’t think I could stay away long. This place and all the people I’ve connected with on it have meant so much to me, I could not fathom not ever wanting to log on, blog and comment my heart out and talk to all of you. But then… My time on here had been growing less and less frequent and finally… Well, it’s been long. I’ve already said that. The last few months for me have been… bad. Really bad. My whole life is turning upside down, really. Everything I thought was going to happen hasn’t been happening. I’ve mentioned this before, but I’l mention it again: I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

When people think of OCD, they usually think of some Monk-type character. Neurotic, afraid of germs, hyper organized, uptight, anal-retentive. That’s not everyone though. That’s not how it affects me at all. I’m not at all organized. In fact, I’m a total slob. It’s held me back a lot and I don’t obsess over things that could help me. I’m not a straight-A student and I don’t package everything and I don’t keep everything in perfect order.

Instead, it’s other things. My skin has to be perfectly smooth. Perfectly smooth. I’m always checking to make sure my skin is perfectly smooth. I can’t stop. It doesn’t matter what it is. If there is the slightest bump, I have to pick at it. The slightest hair that seems too dark or coarse or out of order, I have to get it out. My eyebrows are practically gone. I have to wear tights all the time, or I’ll be going after my legs with a tweezer, even after I’ve just shaved. If I see or feel the slightest sign of a hair root, I have to pluck it out.And I'm always searching running my fingers over any bit of skin I can get to... looking for the tiniest bump or hair... It doesn't matter how small. You would never notice the things I try to rip out of my body, but you'll see the scar tissue left over from what I've done. 

It's not like cutting. I'm not looking for pain or release or anything like that. I just need these things out of me. I do it in my sleep. And it's not something I just do in private. I'll do it in public, everyone else melting away around me. All I need is to get the poison out. Get the imperfections out. I'll scrath and pick and grab and pluck until there's blood. Then I'll search through the blood and when it finallly heals over, I'll pick at the scars and marks.

Do you know what it's like to do that, to have to do something so bad, and then have people notice and tell you to stop, like a three year old picking its nose? When you're seventeen going on eighteen, it's mortifying. Even more mortifying is that you can't stop. You can't stop trying to get it out. You want to stop. You try to stop yourself in a million different ways. You sit on your hands. But then it hurts or you need your hands to do something and then you stop in the middle of whatever you're doing to go at your self again. You leave your tweezers at home, but then you just plucks things out with your fingernails... or you try to and you spend even more time trying to get it out and end up cutting and scratching your face. So you try cutting your nails, but that just makes it even worse. So you try occupying your hands with something else, but you can't concentrate because you can't stop thinking about that little welt on your shoulder or that tiny emerged stub of hair just below your eyebrow that is too blond eto see but you felt it...

The only thing that could ever distract me was writing. Writing in this blog, writing in my notebook. Creating my own world to escape into where there were no bumps on my skin or hairs growing out of place. It's always been my safe haven.

It's been steadily growing worse over the years, but around Christmas it was increasing with exponential speed until it turned into a kind of mania. I'm always exhausted because I'm up all night worrying about it.. reaching under the covers with a tweazer...

What was worse was that I couldn't write. No matter what I did, I could not write. I tried everything to be able to write again but I couldn't. Nothing worked and I couldn't escape. I couldn't do anything but freak out. When I realized I couldn't write I'd freak out more.

It's affects kept deepening too. Soon I couldn't concentrate at school at all and I was failing two subjects. So I had to try and make myself do more schoolwork. My stress levels increased and it was all I could do to stop myself from failing the subjects I had A's in. just last quarter. One week I had won a spot on a field trip to Quantico for being one of my law teacher's  top students, the next, I was struggling to recieve a C on the interim.

It finally came to a head two weeks ago. My parents went insane about what I was doingand where I was going. They were terrified I would not be able to graduate. They changed a lot of things, trying to get me back on track. Then I had a full blown nervous breakdown. I couldn't stop crying. Everything had imploded on me. I felt so alone.

The other thing about my problem is that I can't get close to anybody. I'm afraid those bumps will be caught by someone else. I don't want to leave home because it's the only place where I can hide cover up my bumps and imperfections and protect others from having to deal with it. When people notice it, they're disgusted and I don't blame them. It is disgusting and no one knows what it is. And no one, no one, seems to really understand. My parents have sent me to a thousand dermatologists to try and fix whatever it is. I've gone to shrinks, I've gone to counselors. I've gone to a bunch of people and every time, I've become more afraid of telling anybody.

But it all spilled out of me finally, I couldn't hide it forever. I thought I could. I wanted to. But I couldn't keep it in. I just wanted to feel truly loved. To feel close to someone. To not feel like a freak. To truly feel safe. So I let it out as much as I could.

The problem is that even with my problems, a lot of the mess I'm in is my fault. It is. A lot of it comes from laziness, cowardice, fear, and a refusal to take responsibility for myself. And because of that, I've let my problems become an excuse and as a result, they've become out of control. If I had started taking responsibility for the mistakes I've made before, I wou;dn't be in the mess I'm in now. Because I wouldn't come clean to anyone. Because I let myself use what waqs once something I could have learned to control with a little help be my excuse for my failiures until it became a mania I may never be able to completely control even with a lot of help. Because I let myself use my problems as a way out of doing anything, it's now completely controlling my life. I'm now taking more medication than I've ever taken before, trying to curb my mania, to get my eyebrows back.

But there's still major damage. People around me who don't deserve to feel bad at all feel guilty because I didn't tell anyone sooner. I kept things from my family and I think they're going to have torouble trusting me completely for a while.

I still haven't been totally open with everyone. There are still things I'm not ready to say. But today, something happened. I got on my computer and started to write. Because that's the way I think I can communicate properly. I've become to accustomed to saying nothing but bullshit, but I think I haven't lost the ability to write something true. For some strange reason, I'm not afraid of writing all this down and posting it on the net for everyone to see, but I'm terrified of saying so much as "Mom, Dad, Sarah, Dr. B, I have a problem, and this is what it really is."

So here it is. This is where I've been. And I plan to print this out and have the people I love read it. Maybe it's the best I can do. I can at least try for once, and not hide.