10/27/08

I’m in a mood, at the moment, to put on some relaxing clothing, brew up a tall bowl of kettle pop corn, hop in my time machine, and kick back to some good old fashioned torture during either the Salem witch trials, or the Spanish Inquisition. Now, I know this irritation isn’t the fault of women as an organization, as they’re just following the path and playing their parts as evolving creatures of the world. I have no desire to get involved, or personally affect things, directly. You see, my irritation is only with myself; or rather predictibility, in a general sense…particularly when it’s of systems that, by and large, should be significantly more complex than my own abilities to understand. A lack of surprise and interest, while often reassuring, can swiftly turn into mind numbing annoyance if one is in the mood for something new, and fresh.

You might argue that men are a largely more predictable than women, but it’s irrelevent. Men are supposed to be predictable, as women base their entire lifes’ campaign on this fact. Women are supposed to be smarter than us; more advanced, cunning, decietful, etc. They require this to survive among the apeish brutes that equate the male race.

Men require cunning women to have something to hold to value in them; attraction, or interest, as both an object and a seperate individual. Women are supposed to be more detailed and lovely; coy, meticulous, thoughtful, and so forth.