Warning: I talk about genitals a lot in this post. Like a lot. Which probably says a lot about me…but really says more about certain someone whose name rhymes with Droid.
Do you know what isn’t very awesome? Being conned into a doing another thing on top of already being conned into doing something you dislike. Example: Being conned into paying for something with chickpeas and leaves in it (and no steak) when you were already conned into eating something with just chickpeas and leaves in it. Another example: Being conned into studying sexuality, masculinity, femininity and other things you have absolutely no interest in on top of already being forced to study philosophy…which you hate.
“That last example is weirdly specific Tom”, I hear you state in a very annoying and obvious ‘plant’ tone of voice (seriously get your shit together I don’t want people to know that we know each other, that’s the trick) and it is. It is weirdly specific because it is actually a thing that is currently happening to me. You may have already noticed, if you’ve read anything else I have ever posted on here, that I don’t particularly enjoy studying philosophy. It’s the thorn in my side. The meteorite in my mass extinction theory. My very own Johnny Killjoy (an awful superhero who’s only ability is to ruin everything for everyone, ever) if you will.
It’s not that I’m not open-minded. In my closed-minded view of the world, I accept a lot of different view-points before ignoring them completely and staying the narrow course I have previously plotted. I’m kidding obviously. I am generally pretty open to most experiences (but I won’t do that), it’s just that one of those experiences isn’t philosophically related. Therefore after having to endure the damned subject, like an incredibly sweaty, fat guy standing waaay to close to me on the tram, for the last two years my patience has worn incredibly thin. Like well-worn socks. Only these socks didn’t get this way due to me over-wearing them out of comfort. No. They got this way due to repeated stabbing and hacking with a pen knife (and some mild fire damage).
Now once again I find myself head-butting metaphorical walls whilst wishing I could head-butt literal ones, as I read things by old Greeks who were kind of into sodomy… But the thing that’s really got my goat (could it please return it as soon as possible please as I have many goat related activities to get into) is that now I’m looking at the world of philosophy through the eyes of Freud, feminism and gender politics. Let me just say, I am not anti-feminist. Nor am I anti-gender equality. In fact I’m pretty much pro-everything (especially if I can eat it), but I dislike feminists that hate me because I have a penis. I also dislike the fact that some guy (with serious, serious issues) thinks that the reason I get turned on by drain pipes is because I want to have sex with my mother who I actually wish was a giant phallus.
Freud makes me angry on all of the levels imaginable, mostly because everything is dicks with him, but basically because he always has a fucking answer for everything. Like if I was like: No Freud, I don’t like Mars Bars because they resemble my ideal penis. He’d be all like: Actually because you reject the Mars Bar/Doodle Hypothesis you are proving that you actually love Moro Bars and want a vagina that you secretly wish was a penis. Actually Freud, I like Mars Bars because they are delicious and when you eat one it’s like looking at the face of an angel that you can taste, and no-one likes Moro Bars you dick. And when I say dick I don’t actually mean ‘I wish I had penises (should that be peni?) everywhere but that you are an unsavoury person of ill-repute and can go and fornicate with yourself.
So I dislike that I have to sit there and read his ideas that everything is genitals (clearly the dude got sexually assaulted by a bird as a kid or something ). The problem is that due to being exposed to this sort of thing over a period of time has kind of ruined my brain. Basically I am now thinking in terms of masculine and feminine (something I’ve never done before except for when I think that boobs on a lady are much better than boobs on a man…) and so I decided to look at my after-Uni activities in terms of where they would fall.
Essentially I have learnt (based on my limited understanding of 1960s misogyny) that I am an excellent housewife. I actually enjoy doing little homely things like dishes, straightening up boxes (nothing gets me more excited than putting various square items in rows on tables), cooking delicious meals, singing to myself while doing these things and giving the apartment a good seeing-to (which involves more vacuuming than fisticuffs or fellatio). I am terrible at fixing things and using tools of all sorts (I use screwdrivers to decapitate insects that invade my kitchen) I also shy away violently from heavy-lifting and other ‘masculine’ tasks. I was too busy being dinosaur to be good at contact sports.
So take that Freud! I am not insecure at all about my sexuality or my gender-role in society! And I don’t want to sleep with my mother at all! So there. You’re wrong about everything and I’m right about somethings. I also want to point out at this moment that while I would make an excellent housewife, I in no way feel that the above mentioned chores and behaviours are supposed to be completed by either sex. Basically I’m not a dick. I just want to clear that up. This was just an exercise in outdated sexual dynamics and being angry at Freud and stuff.
So if you’re angry, take it up Sigmund.