Days Like This
Once a month the moon is full and the air is still. This night, it's cold, and a frozen fog hangs over the city, daring you to inhale it's stagenant particles. All I want to do is sit curled up in a blanket, wedging myself into a comfy chair. There would be a cup of hot liquid within reach, preferably caffinated, but soothing. The tendancy is to veg, but I manage to balance the ibook on the blankets and my knees. Curled up in this little ball I journal the thoughts of a woman gone mad with rage at a nation whose will she cannot comprehend. Of a society so sickening, one wonders why it doesn't just give up and go home.Instead I kneel on an automan in front of my girlfriends computer. Her pod soundly asleep in the next room. A cup of water is my companion and all I can hear is the whine of an old fan somewhere inside this Pentium Laptop and the neighbors TV blowing up over and over again. KGGHh! KGGGHH!! There's a satillite TV connection that I know holds some entertainment value, but my mind has enough to entertain it's self with and a whole lotta time before I return to my home. At least I can turn the TV to an Opera station, it's a bit bright, far from the eastern European sound I crave, but It shall suffice.
Maybe my mood was set when they guy who picked me up for work today had NPR blaring on the radio, listening to our illustrious El Presidente spew forth banal and carefully phrased noises. Maybe it has something to do with the position of the "moon", maybe it's because houses in portland have no insulation, so I've always got a chill about me. What ever the reason I find myself wishing I was anywhere that I am not. Some place warm perferably, stretching, tuning in to physical cycles, instead of head cycles.
I fear tomorrow, the hot poker up the jerxsy(?), or the knitting needle in the ear(oh wait, that was last night, yay hot poker!!!), and the subsequent loathing of all I see. (She's talking about Period Pains) Why can't I just be locked up once a month? Drug me, give me a field to run in, and a little closet in the middle to hide in when the field becomes to big. There is almost always a day or two during the month where I feel almost completely and utterly useless, where I only want to just lie there, or walk for hours and become completely self absorbed or un-absorbed with myself. A day of deep reflection and a day of total lacksy-daisyness. Two hours of needing, 22 hours of running away, escaping. Sometimes I wonder why am so blessed to have a guy who can let me be not so beautiful me.
I believe our culture needs to change it's views about menstration, instead of making me go to work and coming up with 101 products to pretend I don't turn into a bloody nightmare a few freakin days out of the month. Because I do turn into a bloody mess! I don't recognize the woman in the mirror, my clothes don't fit right, I can see straight, and I think you're all bloody wrong about everything. If I want to go to work, fine, but I shouldn't have to deal with people if I don't want to. I tend to think that the ancients had it right- send 'em all to a hut in the woods. Where all the women can gather once a month and bitch about whats wrong with the world. Talk about sex and swap recipes. Eat a lion and then come home a few days later refreshed and ready for another 23 days of living freely.
What happens to woman used to be considered sacred. Now it's seen as an inconvience, and you wonder why we lash out at the drop of pin sometimes? It's because we aren't allowed to be natural anymore, I'm supposed to have my head about me when it isn't. I sometimes revel in this slight insanity, taking advantage of the wierd energy that I have yet to define. Projects get done it seems. Things that I've put off. Sometimes. Othertimes it's just a one finger salute to the world, but maybe that's because I have no focus. But it matters not what I do with "my days". They are mine and mine alone. Same for any other woman out there. Or man for that matter. (I know you guys have a cycle too, but I'm not here to talk about equality, so shush already)
Imagine the jobs we could create, if every working woman could take a few days off every month from work or family, or both. Imagine how much saner we would be! And your hearth and place of employment would be so much more peaceful. We could create cheaper spas, where we can be pampered or left alone, even allowed to explore. We could build several hundreds of these across the nation housed by women and even men, whose sole pupose is to allow a woman to go through her natural cycle. Be treated like the goddesses they are.
Maybe we should just realize that all peoples are sometimes solitary creatures, that they have natural cycles that take them into the dark areas of the pysche. That we all deserve to be respected and worshipped, not treated as just automatons, here to produce and reproduce. We should be allowed to live.
Which brings me to another rant about what is happening in our agricultural endeavors as a nation...but that's for another night. I ranted enough about bloody nothing and any guy out there reading this, I'm sorry...maybe I should have warned you, maybe I should have explained things more, so that you can talk to your girl freely and figure out what she needs and wants and learn to be intuitive to those things, if you haven't already. If you have BRAVO!!! If not, start now!
In our insanity we are most creative. Whether it is apparently so, or just a means to an end. It is art. And art ain't always pretty.
There's no freakin Tilde key...grrr, I miss my mac :(
love love love love all your honey,
-isirk listening to some freakin opera that sucks
posted by iSirkus @ 8:37 PM
Comments: 4
