Thursday, September 29, 2005
My inner Animus
"Who are you again?" He was sprawled out on my bed, making me worry. He was cute, but in a familiar way--we looked enough alike that I honestly had a case of the creeps. "Did John give our apartment key to somebody else again?" I asked suspiciously.
"I'm part of you. Don't you read Jung?"
"Part of me? Is this some kind of romantic obsessive weird thing? What's this about Jung, anyway? I haven't read him in years. I'm just not into that whole Freudian circle thing, OK?"
"He got rejected by Freud--he got too much attention."
"OK--I remember that part. Now, before I call the police, who are you again?"
"I am your inner animus. Your hidden male side to your personality."
"Really? I have an inner animus? Cool! Can you teach me how to spit?"
"Yep--and you're well hung, too. In case you were wondering."
"Um...no, actually. The whole thought brings masturbation to a whole new, weird level that I just don't want to think about right now. My head hurts enough already. By the way, speaking of headaches, does this have to do with the fact I've had the stomach flu for a month in a half?"
"How bad is your fever? Sheesh, your forehead is hot, girl. You call your doctor lately?"
"It's only at 101! That's a record--it was hovering around 102 for a week and a half! And yes, he knows all about it. So why are you visiting me, inner animus? Surely you have something better to do than to brag about appendages that technically don't exist on me?"
"Well, it's about your assertiveness. You need to be more assertive if you want to save your Psych career."
"All right."
"You haven't taken over your study proposal yet, have you? You're afraid it sucks. You're afraid that you suck. You're afraid that the fact you have a few lesions in your head means that it's all over, that you'll never be capable of competing against other bright people in your field, aren't you?"
"Well--um..."
"Well, listen here, Toots. We didn't survive and deal with all that crapola so you could sit on your kiester here and GIVE UP, did we? You may have a few holes in your head, but you're still brilliant and you still have a LOT to give this world. Hell, your creativity alone has to count for something. Therefore, as your animus, I am telling you to GET OFF YOUR SORRY ASS and DO something about it."
"Okay--okay--it's just my current methodology blows chunks."
"Well, start tinkering with it, will you? Sheesh. Don't sit there and avoid things and expect your life to get better! Move it before I have to get nasty with you! To the library to look up more sources! Onward!"
"Where did that whip come from, anyway! Ouch! OK, OK, I'm GOING! By the way, there's something unsettling about the idea my inner animus has a sadistic streak!"
"Cruel to be kind, sweetie."
"That's what Marlene, my inner bad girl, said! I didn't appreciate her, either!"
"Yeah, but at least she'd share a cigarette with me. Now GET BACK TO WORK!"
I guess I'd better start hopping.
"I'm part of you. Don't you read Jung?"
"Part of me? Is this some kind of romantic obsessive weird thing? What's this about Jung, anyway? I haven't read him in years. I'm just not into that whole Freudian circle thing, OK?"
"He got rejected by Freud--he got too much attention."
"OK--I remember that part. Now, before I call the police, who are you again?"
"I am your inner animus. Your hidden male side to your personality."
"Really? I have an inner animus? Cool! Can you teach me how to spit?"
"Yep--and you're well hung, too. In case you were wondering."
"Um...no, actually. The whole thought brings masturbation to a whole new, weird level that I just don't want to think about right now. My head hurts enough already. By the way, speaking of headaches, does this have to do with the fact I've had the stomach flu for a month in a half?"
"How bad is your fever? Sheesh, your forehead is hot, girl. You call your doctor lately?"
"It's only at 101! That's a record--it was hovering around 102 for a week and a half! And yes, he knows all about it. So why are you visiting me, inner animus? Surely you have something better to do than to brag about appendages that technically don't exist on me?"
"Well, it's about your assertiveness. You need to be more assertive if you want to save your Psych career."
"All right."
"You haven't taken over your study proposal yet, have you? You're afraid it sucks. You're afraid that you suck. You're afraid that the fact you have a few lesions in your head means that it's all over, that you'll never be capable of competing against other bright people in your field, aren't you?"
"Well--um..."
"Well, listen here, Toots. We didn't survive and deal with all that crapola so you could sit on your kiester here and GIVE UP, did we? You may have a few holes in your head, but you're still brilliant and you still have a LOT to give this world. Hell, your creativity alone has to count for something. Therefore, as your animus, I am telling you to GET OFF YOUR SORRY ASS and DO something about it."
"Okay--okay--it's just my current methodology blows chunks."
"Well, start tinkering with it, will you? Sheesh. Don't sit there and avoid things and expect your life to get better! Move it before I have to get nasty with you! To the library to look up more sources! Onward!"
"Where did that whip come from, anyway! Ouch! OK, OK, I'm GOING! By the way, there's something unsettling about the idea my inner animus has a sadistic streak!"
"Cruel to be kind, sweetie."
"That's what Marlene, my inner bad girl, said! I didn't appreciate her, either!"
"Yeah, but at least she'd share a cigarette with me. Now GET BACK TO WORK!"
I guess I'd better start hopping.
