The world is my oyster.

Why, then the world’s mine oyster.
Which I with sword will open.

William Shakespeare

The Merry Wives Of Windsor Act 2, scene 2, 2–5

Women seem to be perpetually swamped. With words, thoughts, wishes, wants, desires, chores, work…

For long, I believed this to be an unique and peculiar endowment of mine. The gift of multitasking.

I’m told, it is not. It is neither uncommon, nor a talent. It is a banally common affliction of the female mind apparently. A curse. A malady that we, the females species, must endure and make do with all our lives.

We are constantly juggling, and shuffling, and balancing. The Man does one thing at a time, and focuses on doing it well. As well as he can. He has one ball (no crass, snide remarks and jokes on this please!) in the air; he throws it as high as possible and then puts in all his effort to catch it safe and sound. Meanwhile, The Woman has about half a million balls in the air at a time. To top it off, she juggles it whilst standing one- legged (working out possibly?) and makes do with one hand, as the other is busy applying mascara!

The Mister is constantly complaining about my scatter- brainedness. I’m all over the place apparently. Really? I’m known to be hyper- charged but cool and composed. I’m supposed to be someone that gets things done. Not really, apparently. At least, not to someone who knows me from close quarters.

No matter what I seem to the outside world, close up I’m a confused, procrastinating, inefficient mess. How I get anything done is beyond His comprehension, he tells me. I dilly- dally. I stall. I shillyshally.

But I get it done. Whatever it is. And well too. Does it really matter how much energy I “wasted” because of my female- mindedness? Maybe it is the female- mindedness that makes me “brilliant”…

I’m all over the place. With thoughts running a mile a second, and never sitting down to do one thing at a time; my actions and thoughts are fine examples of why the human- female- mind is a thing of marvel. A complex, hard- to unravel, undecipherable mesh of tangled and mangled thoughts and wishes.

If someone asks us what WE WANT, truly want; we have no clue. We meander along, with feigned purpose and will, while our mind drags it’s feet trying to decide and make mundane everyday choices and decisions. From what to have for breakfast, to the color of our socks or underclothes; the choices we have to make are infinite, the ramifications hard to predict or comprehend.

Still, we work. We function. Excel even. We honestly do things, that men can’t even begin to imagine. This is not a feminist rant folks. I have my own thoughts on gender “equality” and matters in that regard, this post isn’t about that. This is about gender differences. About how inherently different we are. We can never be the same. Men and women are poles apart in how they think and function. In modern parlance,we run on drastically different software.

Aah! How I wish I had The Mister’s software installed. It is a highly power efficient system. Hardly any energy is wasted on the unimportant (or so it seems). It never runs more than a few programs at a time, and all unnecessary (read “those that are not essential to existence and sustenance”) applications are uninstalled.

To a man, the world is his oyster. And he has a fine, fabulous, gilded sword to open it with.

The world IS my oyster too. The only problem is – I HAVE TOO MANY SWORDS ON HAND TO TRY AND OPEN IT!

Darned choices I say!

Till next time..

Dr J.

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