So I was totally going to whine about why I am unloved and unloveable, but then I read on msnbc that the two-headed, eight year old snake “We” died today. Go here http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19334041/?GT1=10056 to read more about it. I think talking about the two-headed snake is much more useful.

First off, it had both male and female genitalia; they had tried unsuccessfully to breed it with another two-headed snake previously and were going to try again this summer. Which genitals do you use? Both? Alternating? How does one decide? Flip a coin? Most importantly, however, is the fact that this snake is two-headed. Bleh! Because one head isn’t bad enough it needs to have two? Granted, the picture isn’t all that intimidating and because it was reported to “try to slither in two directions at once” I think I would most likely point and laugh as opposed to shudder, but the principle remains. Two heads on one body equates with a phobia and a half. I have a shudder just thinking about it.

And I have to wonder what it is about snakes that bothers me so? I watched a special on the History channel long, long ago describing snake phobia in our culture as being extremely high—they conjectured it had something to do with the religious symbolism of snakes in our predominately Christian culture. I figure that might have something to do with it, but I would place my bet more on the sheer…difference of snakes from people. When I was little and my family would go to the Children’s Museum in Indianapolis there was usually a python you could pet in one of the rooms. Every year I would make myself touch it and every year I seemed okay. As soon as it wasn’t there for me to touch I remember my fear nearly overtaking me. I have an easier time walking by rabid, barking dogs than I do a snake sunning itself on a rock. Isn’t irrational fear grand?

But on the flip side, while I am petrified of snakes I’m also incredibly fascinated by them. I can’t look away—I seek them out in movies and educational specials. Joy Harjo talks about having a vision one night where a giant Cobra appears to her and she isn’t scared because she recognizes it as the spirit animal of her sacred feminine. When I read that I remember thinking my sacred feminine is screwed because I would so freak out and possibly urinate on myself. But maybe not—what if a snake is the representation of my feminine half and on some level I know it? Does that mean I am fascinated because of it but repulsed by the reality that is a snake? Or does it mean I’m at war with my feminine side?

Sorry, didn’t mean to take this conversation there exactly—that’s a whole other blog that would take significant thought and space to talk through. In a nutshell I would admit it’s both, but I’m not going to clarify just yet. In the end I have neither an answer to why snakes fascinate and repulse me nor why no one wants to make sweet, sweet love to me. I have contemplations I think I will engage in concerning female culture and male culture but those too belong in another blog. In the meantime I go to Maine soon and then Vegas. If someone did love me I wouldn’t be around long enough to enjoy it anyway so I suppose it’s just as well.

I still have hope, though, that tomorrow I will wake up Catwoman with Batman by my side. Hey, a girl’s gotta dream.