I have no pants.

One of the great things about Cliff is that he always had a knack for getting me to remember things. I’ve realized a lot of things in the past few years, but I’ll be damned if I can instantly recall all of them. Cliff knows how my memory is. So to get things lodged in my head, he creates humorous Cliffisms™ that I’ll never, ever be able to forget. I’ll never forget the TimmyMatrix™, or how he once said he could never explain exactly what was wrong with me – instead he has to get me up the ass without me noticing. Both things seem a bit odd on the surface, but trust me, if I think for a moment, I’ll remember exactly what he meant.

So short of giving Cliff a call and asking him to fix my memory, I should utilize odd phrases to help me remember how I got out of that hole last night. The phrase Be the ninja may be useful, but it’s too close to a swiftkickintheass™. I need to catch myself when I try to give myself a swiftkickintheass™, because it usually ends up making me feel worse. Those are the moments I want to just snap out of it and move on with whatever task is in front of me, but instead I spaz out and feel like shit.

I remember talking about being “overwhelmed” with my Rapist. As I remember, she told me to do exactly what Alex has been placating me with: Give yourself a break and do it later. As I joked to myself this morning, it’s like I set my pants on fire, then run around in little circles screaming OMGMYPANTSAREONFIRE, MYPANTSAREONFIRE. When, in reality I have no pants. Well, okay, maybe not, but come on, that’s a witty phrase, no? Distractions work well to get me to calm down, but only if it’s in the context of giving myself a literal break. Not a five minute refresher then pray a swiftkickintheass™ works. A genuine “I’m going to stop trying to do this, do something else, and do this when I feel comfortable. And it’s okay if I don’t do it today at all, either.”

Just take off my pants completely. : D

I try to pay attention to what it is that’s making me feel better. I was talking to Carolyn last night. She was being extremely positive and supportive. Yet, what she was saying still hurt. I think it’s because talking about how to climb that mountain of a molehill makes that mountain seem even bigger. Then my inner critic chimes in and tells me I’ll never do it. I didn’t start feeling better until I was told it was okay to have a circumcision. Yes. Just circumcise the mountain, and deal with it later. There’s no need to get worked up over some silly things in my head.

(She’s such a doll. I’m the one that left without saying anything, and SHE was the one that felt bad. She was afraid I was mad at her. Nein! I told her that she was indeed being positive and supportive and I appreciated her trying, but I needed to get away. She tried putting herself down for her lack of helpfulness, but I countered that. As I progress, I think I’ll try to explain to her how I can be helped. It’ll do good for both of us.)

What else…

I’m tugging. *smiles* My penis is growing! *shows you his penis*

That reminds me of two things. One, yesterday I displayed myself on LJ like I do a lot, and a guy commented that he thinks most foreskins are ugly, but mine is awesome. I let myself be flattered, as that’s a high compliment – but that’s not the point. In explaining circumcision and restoration, I felt no need to make him feel like I do. If he’s happy with himself and his minimalized penis, so be it. As I said, all I care is that the cycle of violence ends. This is a big step, because I previously fell into the trap of needing to convince other guys that they’re missing something important, as if to validate my own convictions.

Second… Aw shit, what was it. Oh, now I remember. I feel horrible sometimes, due to that stupid scar. If you’ve heard me talk about this, you know how depressive I get. Any other scar on my body, and it wouldn’t be a big deal. Yet, I turn this into an extravegant affair, as if to prove a point of how bothered I am.

Okay, we get the point.

This is ridiculous. I may not be content with the scar, but that’s no reason to feel shame from it. It’s not worth it to be emotionally masochistic like. (Maybe I should just say I’m being emo, which will curb “emotionally masochistic” behavior, as I HATE that three letter word.) I’ve been trying to say to myself, “I have a pretty penis.” Wouldn’t that be a self-affirmation? I believe it is!

Moreover, I don’t need a penis to be a sexy beast. However, I will comment that relying on my tongue for sexual prowess isn’t a good idea, either. (Though, I do have a damn good tongue in its own right.)

You know, maybe I shouldn’t say I have “no” pants. That has a negative word in it. Maybe I should say “I have really damn fine pants.” It’ll be a take on that inside joke between Cliff and I. Maybe. Ah, to speak in metaphors.

I do really like the cords that I’m wearing. These are nice pants.