Growing up Geisha

Well, well and well.

Having been layed up in bed for the last two and a half weeks I have had plenty of time to think. You know, when you're sick or on bed rest what is there to do? I mean honestly, even an avid reader like myself can get bored of reading when that's all that is available to occupy oneself. I have in the last two weeks read four substantial novels, granted one I had read before so it was an easy go of it, still four novels in fourteen days. So, when I haven't been reading, sleeping and doing the "getting out of bed to walk to the bathroom and back" triathalon the only other thing I found to amuse myself was to spend some earnest time WITH myself. By that, I mean, thinking. You all know what I'm talking about, the thinking that you do that is remeniscent, forward, analytical, judgemental and wishful playtime all in one. I have to say, just for the record, I'm done. I would much rather be thinking about world hunger, the democratic theory and what I want for lunch. Anyway, before I digress too badly, I would love to share with you some of the thoughts that came to my mind.

There have been many times, and some very recently, when I feel as if I, as a woman, have an army of dicks chasing me. Truely. Now let's just get the visual here for a moment because this is good.

Think Tienamen Square.

Okay, now in my context. A lone woman looking small and absurdly out of balance with the rest of the picture, standing by herself in the middle of some grand highway or military parade ground, that would be more fitting in this case I think. There I am, can you see me? Long hair, maybe in a pony tail, jeans, rebok sneakers, t-shirt. Nothing glamorous, nothing too sensual or picturesque, just "girl next door" type. I'm out for a walk, wandering, deep in thought, maybe even weaving a bit because I'm not always looking where I'm going. There's nobody around, just me in this wide expanse of military ground. You could even imagine it's a clear sunny spring day. Warm, but not hot, slight breeze, but not bothersome wind. I am walking and thinking and looking at my suroundings minding my own bussiness when I spot something shiney on the ground. Well, I can't resist a shiney, I mean come on, I am a woman you know. So, I bend over to discover what it is that's caught my attention. It's a quarter. Cool. Free money. You know you all think that too, don't pretend like you wouldn't pick it up yourself. Anyway, as I'm bending, out of the corner of my eye I see something moving. I stand erect, turn and I can't believe what I'm seeing. I blink. I realize, a bit awkwardly, that my mouth is hanging open so I correct that. Before me, moving slowly but steadily, is a giant army of dicks. Now, remember, get the mental picture here. Giant, tank-sized dicks all lined in military fashion, thousands of them. Semi-erect, at a forty-five degree angle pointing ominusly at me this gaping hole from which they shoot their horrible artillary, with a retractible helmet, rolling along the tarmack on giant round testicles. It's not the speed or manueverablity that frightens me it's simply the tank like indestructability, the slow and steady pace of the turtle that give them an inevitability, an assuredness that is completely overwhelming. The more I run, the more I realize they are there. It doesn't matter what zig-zag pattern I follow, I simply can not out run or out smart them, and so, we are at a stand-off, the dicks and I. This lone, average woman, unarmed taking a stand to confront the constant threat of the army of Dicks.

Okay, realizing that some of you have lost interest and skipped to the end of my post, or simply have left because I didn't hold your attention. I am now going to make myself clear and give a pertinent explination to those of you who have so graciously made it thus far, probably thinking, "she's lost her mind".

Most of you who read my blog on a regular basis know that I am realy in love with symbolism. I really feel an attration to it in all forms; world religions, art, literature etc.. I put a lot of symbolism in my writing and I'm always searching for the perfect analogy for every situation. But, as usual, I digress. Back to the point.

Most of my life, because of being raised in an inappropriate sexual atmosphere and the extensive abuse I suffered as a child, I grew up sexualizing everything. In other words, I learned at a young age that men could most easily be controlled by sex, or the perception of ataining it. Now, in all fairness, I have to say that I do have in my life some remarkable men who have helped teach me that there is still integrity, chivalry and gallantry in the world. Also, as an older teen I was removed from my abusive situation and became abstinent untill meeting my husband and have lived, for the most part, twenty years in blissful monogomy.
However, there have been times when I have felt this menacing army encroaching upon me like a slow moving plauge. Men who think, for whatever reason, at some time, someplace if they exhibit patience and forebearance the time will most certainly come. They carry the belief that eventually I will be drunk enough, angry enough, or simply emotional enough that I will have a lapse in judgement and they will be there to reap the reward, "home base" so to speak. Those men believe in flattery and tactical freindships and play the game much as they would Axis and Allies. So, wearily, the day before yesterday I came to the conclusion that what I feel is that persistant, military pressure. I feel like Vietnam, only without weapons of mass distruction. I am a person, with a somewhat reasonable mind, an untamed and deeply loving heart and a willfull, rebellious, sweet spirit.

Can you see me? Can you see past my breasts, my legs, my ass. Can you laugh at my jokes because they are funny and no other reason? Can you help me when I'm vulnerable because I'm in need? Can you walk with me and talk with me without an agenda?

Can you see me? Long hair, maybe in a ponty tail, jeans, rebok sneakers, t-shirt. Nothing glamorous, nothing too sensual or picturesque...