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My Profile
Gift from Hil Part 2 - 2014-12-30
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9:32 a.m. - 2010-07-15
You guys made some interesting comments about that last one, thanks! Do I think it would be a world of fluffy bunnies and an endless Lilith Fair if women had charge of things? No, not really. Would there be less war and physical violence? Absolutely. Would there be far less overt strife? Yup. Would it be cleaner and would there be a longer view of the future? Yeah. But would the world be a NICE place? No. Know why? Women are mean. Sure the vast majority of us don't stomp around growling, "Crush. Kill. Destroy." Women would have never invented the Atom bomb. But think on this, a guy can belt another guy in the face and then 10 minutes later they can shake it off and go have a beer together. Women? Never. We don't forgive or forget. As a rule, on the whole, qualifiers to infinity, of course, but truly women have perfected the art of the endless feud. We are just as turfy, just as aware of power and status, and are as willing to be ugly to maintain our positions as men are. We're just more subtle about it. Now I've read plenty of wymyn-centric stuff that claims females have been socialized to compete for male approval and that's why we behave as we do. That if we remove the onus of pleasing the penis owners that we gals would be fabulously generous earth mothers and we would live in the land of fluffy bunnies and we'd all play nice forever and ever amen. Bullshit. Ever hang out with lesbians? I have. Bitchy-Poo Central. Nary a penis for 100 miles and they still squabble, cheat, lie, backstab, jostle for position/power/status, form cliques, shun, dun, and hound each other. Life with the Lezzies ain't no Pussy Paradise, I tell you what. So I'm not going to buff my nails on my lapel and make any boastful claims about how great things would be if we got rid of the dicks and let the chicks be in charge. It would be different, but no guarantees it'd be better. Moving on now. Operation Put It Away is going nicely. I can tell it's going to take more time and thought than I originally believed. Be worth it in the end though. I am already starting to purge some of the excess. MIL suggested I have a garage sale, but the very idea of that makes me want to stab myself in the eye with a fork. The whole concept wigs me out. Too much work for too little gain. Even putting aside the yicky process of washing and sorting and pricing and setting everything up on tables and advertising and getting the permit and then sitting in the baking heat of my driveway for two days (gah!), there's the bit about strangers coming into my yard and sifting through my stuff and making disparaging comments and then trying to haggle with me over an item that's already priced at 50 cents. I might not want that item anymore and am willing to let it go for stupid cheap, but jeezly crow, at one time I did love that item and truly do NOT want to hear someone's snitty criticism of it so they might save a quarter. I'd prefer to bag and box everything up and drop it at the Goodwill. Let those worthy people sort it out. Let them sell what they can and do some good with the money. And if they have snitty comments as to my stuff's quality and style I don't have to hear it. A garage sale? Not in this lifetime. Another interesting (to me, anyway) bit of fall-out from this weekend's adventure is how much Mick missed me. Of course I was the busy one who was off into the world and seeing my friends and having fun so I didn't miss home at all. But Mick had to come back here and said the house felt utterly deserted without me in it. He told me he'd not ever realized before how large my presence was, even when I'm tucked away here in my wee office at the back of the house. Mick's not a one who scoffs at my witchy ways and how I bump along almost solely on intuition and feelings, but he is a tangible sort of fellow and often finds my way of going on too ethereal to grasp. He said it was a shock to discover how much energy I transmit. Only with me gone could he feel how empty it was without me. Mick described it as the same silence as when the ex took his grandfather clock from the house. I rather liked that. And understood what he meant. The steady tick-tock and gentle chimes of the grandfather clock faded off the top mind, but it was there all the time and when it left all we could hear was how it wasn't anymore. Mick said my being gone was the loudest silence he'd ever heard. Nice.
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