No no don’t worry I’m not on some killing rampage or completely out of my mind, but there is some killing involved in my activities on almost daily basis. But I’ll get back to it a little bit later.
First of all, let me begin with telling that I’ve never been a damsel in distress, and I never intend to be one, if I can help it. I enjoyed fairy tales and their happy endings and all, but I just never could understand why is it that men characters in those stories usually were the ones having all these exciting adventures, and the ladies were either left behind to just wait, or they mostly were these annoying damsels in distress waiting for their rescuer. I’ve never wanted to be a boy, but neither did I ever wanted to be this helpless girl. I wanted to have the adventure of killing some dragon, discovering some Wild West territories or flying some spaceship Star Wars’ style, etc. for myself. Since until my early teenage years I was happily tailing my brother and his boy company, including all of my summers spent in a company of my all-boy cousins, I’ve never even questioned myself, if climbing up that tree is girlish or not. I was having a time of my life up in those trees or while making some arrows for a hand made bows, and was basically doing anything the boys did, but those few things I thought were stupid. Anyway, I’ve learned to kick ass and fight in a proper way – no hair pulling and scratching at your opponent’s face like some girly girls do (though that technique is SCARY, and could be quite efficient from what I’ve seen).
Then the day has come, when I was no longer wanted in this company of the boys. My brother – a teenager now – was more interested in girls and other stuff the boys at that age do, than playing with his little sis. So, after years and years of running with the boys, I’ve found myself playing with the girls my age, and often thinking how playing family is so much much more boring than playing football. I think this was the time, when I first decided, that I’d never be this helpless girl, who is stuck with cooking, while some men are out looking for a mammoth to kill.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never wanted to be a manly lady, a man or anything like that, but in my opinion a princess in a ball gown was just as good for some sword fight as a knight in his armor. Only the princess in this case had the advantage of two worlds – fighting like a man, or running from the fight without a risk of being called unmanly or a coward 😉 Cheating, you’d say? Screw that! If I cannot open a jar, I’d ask for help, but I still have a trick or two up my sleeve if this help is unavailable 🙂
I have some phobias and frights; I can work some of them, and I’ve come to terms with the others. It’s like I’m afraid of heights, yet I can climb up real high for a picturesque view to enjoy. On the other hand, at the mere sight of a mouse or some snake I’d be gone in the opposite direction in a moment, fighting back a panicky noises coming from my throat. And that’s OK. The thing about being a knight as opposed to the unlucky damsel waiting to be saved is to take charge of your own decisions, life, and not just sit waiting for life to happen while you skulk.
So now we’re back to the killing part. Since August is well known for wasps getting very active and bothersome, it’s no surprise that this summer is no exception. But a late night exercise on an almost daily basis of killing up to some 3 nasty wasps at a time, which dare to bother a sleepy princess while she’s getting ready for hers good night’s sleep is way too much. That is when the princess gets all mad and tunes into her ‘kill ’em all’ slayer mode.
How’s killing a few angry wasps for a lullaby for you, eh?