Ten Little Chances to be Free (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tenlittlebullets) wrote2004-10-15 07:13 pm
tenlittlebullets) wrote2004-10-15 07:13 pm
Ich hab keine Lust mich nicht zu hassen--und auch keine Lust mich zu hassen
New icon. Am having lots of fun with Photoshop--might try manips or something.
Got a haircut.
I've realized that I have this remarkable way of just not caring. That I'm a very cold sort of person, not Daria-esque actively bitter and sarcastic, just can't work up much emotion for most of the things and especially people in my life. Sometimes I make a show of being interested, but I always end up retreating back into my own little fog. Sometimes I make an extended show of fervent interest in something it doesn't come naturally to me to care about--like sex. Sure, I'm a perv extraordinaire, but I never really saw why everyone was so interested in it as anything but fodder for dirty jokes, and I don't really think about whether people are attractive unless prompted to. Just doesn't come to mind. I used to think I had an incredibly high sex drive, but eventually I realized I was only jerking off every night because I was a chronic insomniac and the orgasms were the only things that helped me sleep. At Simon's Rock I could roll into bed and be snoring in thirty seconds, and never jerked off except on occasions when I thought "hey, a nice healthy wank would be good for you" and almost made myself do it. Sometimes I think most of my interest in slash is a desperate attempt to convince myself I'm not, in fact, asexual; and what interest remains is a sort of detached fascination, the same sort of fascination that could spawn songs like "Heirate Mich" or "Spiel Mit Mir." (Which would explain that niggling problem of not being attracted to men at all and yet still loving m/m slash.)
Actually, I'm not quite sure I'm attracted to anyone, at least romantically or sexually. I thought for a long time that I was attracted to girls, simply because I didn't like men and I thought girls were pretty and nice to look at. But it's the same sort of pretty and nice to look at as, say, a gothic cathedral, or a lake on a misty night. Always "ooopretty," never "ooosexy."
I don't know, maybe asexual is the right word for it. I can make myself care about sex, but it doesn't come naturally, and I can stop caring almost anytime I want (the lone exception being when I'm about five seconds away from orgasm, ha). The problem, I've discovered, is that when I'm actually in bed with someone it becomes sort of a multitasking effort--"okay, think about sex, think about sex, good, now move your hand, no, don't stop kissing--" And we all know how good I am at multitasking. *cough horrible cough*
Anyway, back to cold-and-not-caring. There are some things I care about, honestly. The problem is that I could count them on my fingers--my parents, my Internet, my cats, my music, Phantom, Rammstein, picking up random knowledge. That's about it--the rest of it, including all the other people in my life, is just sort of peripheral. It could disappear off the face of the earth and I'd miss it, but not get horribly upset. I can never naturally get worked up over any particular cause or idea... I jumped around the house in glee after the court's ruling on Goodridge was released, but only because I figured it was the sort of thing I should be jumping around the house in glee for. Just like I figured I should be interested in sex and made myself care about it.
I wonder what would happen if I said "bugger what I'm supposed to feel" and just let myself freeze over emotionally.
Got a haircut.
I've realized that I have this remarkable way of just not caring. That I'm a very cold sort of person, not Daria-esque actively bitter and sarcastic, just can't work up much emotion for most of the things and especially people in my life. Sometimes I make a show of being interested, but I always end up retreating back into my own little fog. Sometimes I make an extended show of fervent interest in something it doesn't come naturally to me to care about--like sex. Sure, I'm a perv extraordinaire, but I never really saw why everyone was so interested in it as anything but fodder for dirty jokes, and I don't really think about whether people are attractive unless prompted to. Just doesn't come to mind. I used to think I had an incredibly high sex drive, but eventually I realized I was only jerking off every night because I was a chronic insomniac and the orgasms were the only things that helped me sleep. At Simon's Rock I could roll into bed and be snoring in thirty seconds, and never jerked off except on occasions when I thought "hey, a nice healthy wank would be good for you" and almost made myself do it. Sometimes I think most of my interest in slash is a desperate attempt to convince myself I'm not, in fact, asexual; and what interest remains is a sort of detached fascination, the same sort of fascination that could spawn songs like "Heirate Mich" or "Spiel Mit Mir." (Which would explain that niggling problem of not being attracted to men at all and yet still loving m/m slash.)
Actually, I'm not quite sure I'm attracted to anyone, at least romantically or sexually. I thought for a long time that I was attracted to girls, simply because I didn't like men and I thought girls were pretty and nice to look at. But it's the same sort of pretty and nice to look at as, say, a gothic cathedral, or a lake on a misty night. Always "ooopretty," never "ooosexy."
I don't know, maybe asexual is the right word for it. I can make myself care about sex, but it doesn't come naturally, and I can stop caring almost anytime I want (the lone exception being when I'm about five seconds away from orgasm, ha). The problem, I've discovered, is that when I'm actually in bed with someone it becomes sort of a multitasking effort--"okay, think about sex, think about sex, good, now move your hand, no, don't stop kissing--" And we all know how good I am at multitasking. *cough horrible cough*
Anyway, back to cold-and-not-caring. There are some things I care about, honestly. The problem is that I could count them on my fingers--my parents, my Internet, my cats, my music, Phantom, Rammstein, picking up random knowledge. That's about it--the rest of it, including all the other people in my life, is just sort of peripheral. It could disappear off the face of the earth and I'd miss it, but not get horribly upset. I can never naturally get worked up over any particular cause or idea... I jumped around the house in glee after the court's ruling on Goodridge was released, but only because I figured it was the sort of thing I should be jumping around the house in glee for. Just like I figured I should be interested in sex and made myself care about it.
I wonder what would happen if I said "bugger what I'm supposed to feel" and just let myself freeze over emotionally.