Go away, give me a chance to miss you
Songs often give very good advice. I really should listen to that advice more often.
I seem to be pretty good at this posting twice a day thing recently...
Kat won't let me watch any more Heroes tonight; it's still to early for bed; I'm bored; I'm restless. So, I'm going to tell you a story.
There was a girl. She was a nice enough girl, pretty ordinary. All she really wanted in life was a boyfriend. Not the most ambitious of goals but it worked for her. Right from when she was a child she'd dreamed of her wedding day, she thought it would make her complete. Even though the world had moved past the days where woman had to stay home and look after the kids, be the homemaker, this girl hadn't. That was what she wanted in life. That was all she wanted.
One late Saturday afternoon when the girl was 17 she admitted to her parents that this was her goal. They had been talking to her about university and what she wanted to study. She was their only child and they expected big things from her, doctor, lawyer, astronaut, something great. Understandably they were upset when she told them she had no intention of going to university. Instead she was going to go out and find herself a man, marry him and have his babies.
For the rest of the year following the girl's revelation to her parents about her future they tried to talk her out of it but to no avail. The girl would not be persuaded. This was what she wanted out of life and they could like it or lose her It was their choice.
Unable to accept her decision, or perhaps just not believing she was serious, the girl's parents refused to give her their blessing. On her 18th birthday, newly graduated from high school the girl left, planning never to return. She didn't have much money but she was sure it would not take her long to find the man she was looking for. Afterall, it was her destiny.
Six months later the girl was flat on her back as a fat, balding, smelly man grunted and sweated on top of her. Becoming a prostitute was never the girl's intention, she had sort of just fallen into it. So set in her belief that she would not ever have to have a job because a man would save her, she had refused to look for a job even when the little money she had ran out. Alone, starving and sleeping on a park bench she had been unable to conjure enough resistance to say no when a man approached her and offered her money for sex. She made two hundred dollars that evening and all she had needed to do was lie there while he used her to satisfy himself. She had been able to have a proper meal and sleep in a motel for the first time in a week.
The girl rationalised to herself that this wasn't really a job, she wasn't giving up her dream, her destiny. She didn't do any of the work, she always just lay there while the men satisfied themselves. She may not have been paid as much as other, harder-working, street-workers but it was enough for her and left her with the delusion that she didn't have a job.
It didn't take long for the girl to get into trouble. One night a man decided he didn't want to pay for sex, he just wanted to take it and not gently either. The girl tried to resist, tried to insist that he pay her. Her resistance angered the man and spurred him on. He started to hit her, to rip at her clothes and to take her by force. The man was far bigger than the girl and he would win, she knew that although she still tried to fight.
Just as the girl had given up hope, had come to the realisation that this was going to happen whether she liked it or not, she heard a voice yelling out for the man to stop. Her vision was blurry as the blood from a cut on her head leaked down into her eyes so she could not see what the new man looked like. She liked the sound of his voice though. It was familiar somehow, it made her feel safe and warm. The girl felt a weight life off her as the new man pulled the first man off her, throwing him to the ground as though he weighed nothing. This man, with his safe sounding voice was a real-life hero. Her real-life hero.
The safe-voiced man held her gently and murmured something in her ear. She couldn't understand the words he was saying, it was all just nonsense but, like his voice, it made her feel safe and warm. He took a cloth, perhaps it was his sweatshirt, and gently wiped the blood from her face. Her vision became clear and she saw her rescuer clearly for the first time. In that moment she realised she really was safe, she wouldn't have to work on her back while she waited for a man to come along and take care of her. He would look after her until she was ready to look after herself. He was here. Her dad.
~~~
Okay so that was weird. No idea where that came from. I just started typing with absolutely no plan in mind to see where it would take me. It's something I do from time to time as a writing exercise. I just start writing a story with no ideas at all in mind. I'm not allowed to stop until I am finished and am not allowed to take more than 15 minutes. It sort of frees up my mind and leaves me ready to concentrate on whatever I'm actually working on. (Although usually I don't publish the results - after reading this can you blame me?) Forgive all spelling and grammar mistakes, I do not go back and edit anything. Also forgive the lameness of the story. Once I have typed a sentence I do not change it. And no, this story does not reveal some reverse Oedipal-complex, she's not going to marry her father. To me my dad is a hero and I'm guessing that feeling just came out as I was typing.
I seem to be pretty good at this posting twice a day thing recently...
Kat won't let me watch any more Heroes tonight; it's still to early for bed; I'm bored; I'm restless. So, I'm going to tell you a story.
There was a girl. She was a nice enough girl, pretty ordinary. All she really wanted in life was a boyfriend. Not the most ambitious of goals but it worked for her. Right from when she was a child she'd dreamed of her wedding day, she thought it would make her complete. Even though the world had moved past the days where woman had to stay home and look after the kids, be the homemaker, this girl hadn't. That was what she wanted in life. That was all she wanted.
One late Saturday afternoon when the girl was 17 she admitted to her parents that this was her goal. They had been talking to her about university and what she wanted to study. She was their only child and they expected big things from her, doctor, lawyer, astronaut, something great. Understandably they were upset when she told them she had no intention of going to university. Instead she was going to go out and find herself a man, marry him and have his babies.
For the rest of the year following the girl's revelation to her parents about her future they tried to talk her out of it but to no avail. The girl would not be persuaded. This was what she wanted out of life and they could like it or lose her It was their choice.
Unable to accept her decision, or perhaps just not believing she was serious, the girl's parents refused to give her their blessing. On her 18th birthday, newly graduated from high school the girl left, planning never to return. She didn't have much money but she was sure it would not take her long to find the man she was looking for. Afterall, it was her destiny.
Six months later the girl was flat on her back as a fat, balding, smelly man grunted and sweated on top of her. Becoming a prostitute was never the girl's intention, she had sort of just fallen into it. So set in her belief that she would not ever have to have a job because a man would save her, she had refused to look for a job even when the little money she had ran out. Alone, starving and sleeping on a park bench she had been unable to conjure enough resistance to say no when a man approached her and offered her money for sex. She made two hundred dollars that evening and all she had needed to do was lie there while he used her to satisfy himself. She had been able to have a proper meal and sleep in a motel for the first time in a week.
The girl rationalised to herself that this wasn't really a job, she wasn't giving up her dream, her destiny. She didn't do any of the work, she always just lay there while the men satisfied themselves. She may not have been paid as much as other, harder-working, street-workers but it was enough for her and left her with the delusion that she didn't have a job.
It didn't take long for the girl to get into trouble. One night a man decided he didn't want to pay for sex, he just wanted to take it and not gently either. The girl tried to resist, tried to insist that he pay her. Her resistance angered the man and spurred him on. He started to hit her, to rip at her clothes and to take her by force. The man was far bigger than the girl and he would win, she knew that although she still tried to fight.
Just as the girl had given up hope, had come to the realisation that this was going to happen whether she liked it or not, she heard a voice yelling out for the man to stop. Her vision was blurry as the blood from a cut on her head leaked down into her eyes so she could not see what the new man looked like. She liked the sound of his voice though. It was familiar somehow, it made her feel safe and warm. The girl felt a weight life off her as the new man pulled the first man off her, throwing him to the ground as though he weighed nothing. This man, with his safe sounding voice was a real-life hero. Her real-life hero.
The safe-voiced man held her gently and murmured something in her ear. She couldn't understand the words he was saying, it was all just nonsense but, like his voice, it made her feel safe and warm. He took a cloth, perhaps it was his sweatshirt, and gently wiped the blood from her face. Her vision became clear and she saw her rescuer clearly for the first time. In that moment she realised she really was safe, she wouldn't have to work on her back while she waited for a man to come along and take care of her. He would look after her until she was ready to look after herself. He was here. Her dad.
~~~
Okay so that was weird. No idea where that came from. I just started typing with absolutely no plan in mind to see where it would take me. It's something I do from time to time as a writing exercise. I just start writing a story with no ideas at all in mind. I'm not allowed to stop until I am finished and am not allowed to take more than 15 minutes. It sort of frees up my mind and leaves me ready to concentrate on whatever I'm actually working on. (Although usually I don't publish the results - after reading this can you blame me?) Forgive all spelling and grammar mistakes, I do not go back and edit anything. Also forgive the lameness of the story. Once I have typed a sentence I do not change it. And no, this story does not reveal some reverse Oedipal-complex, she's not going to marry her father. To me my dad is a hero and I'm guessing that feeling just came out as I was typing.
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on Tuesday, September 25, 2007 at 10:28 PM.
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