Of Pens and Swords

Then Thursday afternoon happened. There was the cold front moving south down the Rockies, and a warm front coming up from the gulf. Storms in the middle, and we were in the middle of the storms.

I started off the day as normal, this time heading to one of my airports about 3 hours away. From here to about half way there, torrential downpours slowed things down. From about the halfway point to the airport, a southerly wind was blowing about 30-50 mph. It was interesting driving, in a constant right turn down the highway.

I spent 2 or so hours on site, fixing things, yada yada yada. Then i headed back. I stopped and grabbed a chia tea and a double shot latte for the trip back. I knew I was going to need a nice boost to keep me going while fighting the winds. As I was driving back, the winds were stripping the topsoil off the ground for miles, and was making the area look very much like Kuwait. Most of the trip back, visibility was maybe 1/4 mile, at some times dropping down to less than 25 feet.

I was following the next car from 500-600 ft away. It was a good distance, considering that the dust was bad. I think the people behind me were getting frustrated. I don’t care, I’m in no rush, and if they wanted around, I was going slow enough for them to pass me. Then the visibility dropped down to about 25 feet. I started slowing down. I didn’t want to slow down too fast, because the two large trucks behind me closed to within feet of me. I didn’t want to cause an accident of course. I was down to about 30mph or so…and then the car that was 1/8 of a mile in front of me was now right there. I was already on the brakes, and crushing them to the floor didn’t take much time. Then, I hit. First thing I noticed, my sunglasses were on the dash. I limped the truck over to the ditch, wanted to get out of traffic, since I know there was about 20 cars behind me. I got it in the grass, turned the truck off. I could barely see the car I hit, the dust was thick. I looked for my work cell, and it seemingly passed through my briefcase and was on the floor. I called 911. The circuits were busy…ok.

So I ran over to the car I hit. I opened the back of that car badly, the trunk crushed up and open, and the bumper on the ground. I knocked on the window, to see if they were ok. Two old ladies in the car…Great. I knocked on the window and the lady, still knitting in the passenger seat, opened the window. The driver, looking about 75, asks, calmly, if I could move, so she can pull over to the side of the road. No biggy. She does, and I ask, anything I can do for you? Are you ok? She said, Nope…oh, can you close my trunk for me? I looked, hehe, said, sorry ma’am, that’s not going to happen today.

Well, now I’m just waiting on the insurance company to decide whether or not to save the truck…One way or the other, she’ll be saved. Hopefully.

The Ex has been hitting me up to let her claim little girl on her taxes yet again. It’s written in to the divorce that I get to claim her every other year, except for those years where I’m deployed. So, the Ex got to claim little girl two years in a row. Now, it’s my turn…and guess who starts hitting me up to just let her claim little girl on taxes…because she whatever…it’s always the same excuses for the Ex…

She started to ask back before the kids came out here for the summer. I didn’t answer because I knew that she’d pull something and not let little girl come out here. She asked while the kids were here, and I didn’t give her an answer because I didn’t want to deal with something like all of a sudden I kidnapped little girl. Now, she’s asking again, and she won’t give me the time to give her an answer…Either way, no, I’m not ‘letting’ her claim little girl.

Her reasoning, well, now you have 5 people to feed instead of just one on a single income, so she deserves it more. Whatever. First, an agreement is an agreement. Second, I spend more on my little girl for child support, day care, and insurance, than I do on the rest of the family. There shouldn’t be any reason my daughter has a need for anything.

Now, the Ex calls and spends exactly 1 minute and 20 seconds asking questions that she already knows. I know this because Jess sent her all the information for whatever ‘insurance’ that she needs. I’m already expecting to get a call, a letter, whatever, because the Ex no longer wants to stick with an agreement that she signed off on. Wonder why this never surprises me.

The thing that sucks most is that I know there is a good chance for my daughter to turn out just like her mom. She’s already got some of the traits that we had to deal with this summer…

That folks, is the week in rock.

Lets first go back 20 odd years, to my childhood. I was raised in a family of women, my mom, aunt, two sisters, and the hodge-podge of female friends of my mom and aunt that were always in the house. How I didn’t turn out to be flaming gay or a serial killer is beyond me, but as I was. Being raised by nothing but women gave me a lot of insights on how the female brain works, but it also gave me an insight on how a woman, seemingly by nature, automatically tries to create/recreate a man in the image she envisions.

It’s almost alarming how American women seem to both want and expect their man to be both sensitive and caring and blissfully unaware that anything else in the world exists except the woman he’s with, and in the same breath fix anything mechanical and be completely decisive in all decisions. They want someone who will fight in bloody fist-to-cuffs fights to prove he’s a man, then automatically turn off the testosterone flow and wax metaphorically about the latest romance movie that they just saw while he cleans out the cuts from the fight.

Anybody who’s watched any sort of daytime tv knows that this doesn’t work that way. Never has, and no matter how much programming a guy gets, never will.

Now, normally, a woman who looks for that ‘perfect’ man eventually realizes that the perfect man is what is created, not what she creates. It takes 15 years and 50 guys for her to find this out, and it’s based on coming to a conclusion from two answers…either every man in the world is jacked up, or her perception of ‘perfect’ is jacked up and needs refining.

I could go on and on, but all 3 of you that read this are asking, How does this tie in with Ken Dolls?

How many people have looked at, for, or gotten a Ken doll recently? My immediate impression…Ken is Flaming Gay. Not even sort of gay, or could be possibly be changed into a gay man if Mr. Right came along.

And they’re marketing this Flaming Gay, Super Sensitive, Does everything what a woman thinks she wants, loves romance movies and chatting in gossip circles, and can’t do without the most expensive clothes, toys, and drama, Ken to little girls.
Industry, knowing that girls and women are the pulse on marketing and power shopping, are marketing out men.

Sure sure, boys still have their Lego’s and Erector sets, Hot-wheels cars, rescue hero’s and so forth. They’re getting the toys that they’ve always gotten. Little girls, however, are having their image of what a ‘Man’ should be set forth by toy makers and disgruntled moms. Little girls that will one day grow up into women. Women that not only are going to be looking for Prince Charming but demanding it.

And boys, growing up into men, are going to be led to the conclusion that this is how they’ll have to act if they want the woman. Flaming Gay.

Little girls growing up into women are going to get their prince charming, who can cry at a drop of a hat, not only tolerates but emulates the mood swings of the woman on her monthly cycle, yada yada yada, and then one day, they’re going to realize that the perfect man they have isn’t fulfilling in some of the most fundamental ways.

As much as women complain about their men, eventually they grow enough to realize that we’re the way we are for many reasons. The way we are is the Yang of life…and breeding that out of men will lead to a fully unbalanced life, not just on a personal level, but with society as a whole. By breeding in pre-conceived notions of what a man is supposed to be not only disrupts the outlook on what a growing woman could be looking for, but ultimately could disrupt the basic balance of civilization.

So moms, go ahead and get those dolls for your daughters, but don’t train them to believe that that’s what they’re supposed to be looking for in a man.