A large college class at a university was taking their final exam for the term. It was a very difficult exam, with questions requiring long, detailed essay answers. The class was instructed that they would have only the 50 minutes of class time for the test, and no more. The professor watched the clock closely.

At the end of the 50 minutes the professor called, “Time is up. Bring your papers to the front and lay them on the table. With groans and sighs, the students did as they were told. All but one young man. He stayed in his seat and continued to write diligently. The professor cleared his throat, but the student continued working. The professor checked his watch. Five minutes went by. He cleared his throat again, louder this time. Still no response from the student. Another five minutes passed. And another.

Twenty minutes after the scheduled time was up, the student came down to the front to turn in his test.

“You have taken more than the allotted time. That is unacceptable; you fail,” said the professor.

“Do you know who I am?” asked the student.

“No,” said the professor. “But you took more than the allotted time, and your test will not be scored.”

“Do you know who I am?” repeated the student, a little more agitated. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“No,” said the professor, raising his voice as well. “I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter.”

“You really don’t have a clue who I am, do you?” the young man said sharply.

At this the professor blew up. “No, I don’t, and I don’t care who you are!”

“Good,” said the student cheerfully. He stuffed his paper into the middle of the stack on the professor’s table and walked out.

It is that time of year again. Seniors are graduating, Evenings are filled with awards ceremonies and baccalaureates. Yawn!

But, wait a minute. It is true that I have been a part of these ceremonies for 20+ years. I have seen the kids grow up and move on, open businesses and have children of their own. Unfortunately, my familiarity with this scenario seems to have left me jaded and bored. This happens all the time (every year). But last year, I saw it from a different perspective. I was the mother of a graduate.

I truly understood the impact of this time, more than I did when I myself graduated. Life will never be the same for these kids. They will go on to other things, some with excitement, some with trepidation, but they will all go on. They must. They cannot go back and be high school kids again. Yet, the challenges and adventures awaiting these kids is awesome, and I appreciated that last year more than ever.

I may have witnessed several ceremonies, but I owe it to the kids to give them my attention, even if I have “seen it all before”. It is a big important step for them. This is their time to shine. The world awaits them.

I hate housework. I REALLY hate it. And, I’m never home so it piles up. Sometimes I fear that I will find myself on TV. You know the news stories where authorities find the residence in appalling condition, junk and debris everywhere. I think, MY GOD, THAT COULD BE MY HOUSE!

Well, obviously, cleaning is in order, especially with Master coming to visit in three weeks. So, I have been trying to buckle down and get some work done. I have begun to schedule things so that I HAVE to clean. For example, I needed a bed downstairs. I found one but needed to get it brought in. I made arrangements to have it come in this morning. That meant that I had to prepare (read CLEAN) the room for it. The dreaded housework.

Now, I always thought I didn’t do housework because I was lazy. But I am beginning to realize that there are other reasons. I’m not often home, for example. I as try to clean, I find that I am not home enough to get much done. With two jobs and school activities, I am always running. I’m happy running, but the house is a pit. It wouldn’t be bad if it were only me, but there are two boys, two dogs and one cat that live here as well. They all seem to be even less concerned about cleaning than I am. The mess is monumental.

So, I have no time to clean, and “roommates” with no desire to clean. But last night I discovered another reason. Avoidance. Just how far will I go to not have to clean? Pretty far, apparently. I was called from my second job last night. One of the girls working wanted to go help her boyfriend, whose truck had broken down somewhere. My thought when asked to come in? Yes! I don’t have to CLEAN! I went in to work, and I’m glad I did, because I was able to help them out. But I have no illusions as to why I did it. I didn’t want to clean.

I was up at 6:00 am so I could get the room ready. I also enlisted the help of my two boys, although they didn’t really want to. And they had fun (sort of). I’m sure there would have been more fighting if left to their own devices. It really wasn’t so bad. As a matter of fact, I think we’ll get up again and do it tomorrow.

As far as I am concerned, there are things about the geisha that appeal to me as well. I think the geisha provide many lessons for complete submission. They can (politely) suggest a different idea, but the danna has the final say, and the geisha accepts this. The geisha work very hard to serve the danna, pouring tea or sake, helping to slip shoes on and off, etc. This is also something that appeals to me. Perhaps most of all, the geisha work very hard to know their man/men. There job is to entertain and to please. They learn quite quickly that the better they know a man, the better they will know what things to say or do to please him. I also want to know Master that well, to know what to say or do to please him.

There are, however, a couple of things about the geisha that I don’t like, or at least don’t see within myself. The first is their motive. They are motivated to enter these submissive relationships for money. It is a business. I am not involved with Master for the money. That’s a good thing, because he always tells me that he has none! Anyway, I don’t do this for material gain. Nor would I.

The second thing about being a geisha that I don’t like (and I don’t think Master likes, either) is how manipulative the whole thing is. In discussing this with Master, I told him there was a lot of topping from the bottom. This is when the submissive controls things, even though she is the “submissive”. In the book, geishas often manipulated the situation and the men they were dealing with in an attempt to get the best deal for themselves, or to get what they wanted. I don’t want to do that, and Master Bennet would certainly not tolerate it.

I am not a geisha, nor do I wish to be. Nevertheless, there are lessons I can learn from them and their behavior. I will attempt to find more good info on the culture of the geisha.

I read Memoirs of a Geisha because Master has talked about geisha from time to time. It was obvious that he had an interest and an admiration of them, so I wanted to better understand what drew Master to the idea. First, there is the obvious. A geisha’s roll is to make the men in her life happy. That is what she does. She should be pleasing to look at and interesting to talk to. What man wouldn’t want that?

There are other reasons Master likes the world of the geisha. First, he likes the relationship where his woman is submissive, willingly handing all control over to him. A geisha cannot refuse her danna, and he likes that idea. That is the total control that Master seeks. A geisha will always defer to her danna. She knows her place, and the danna knows his.

Master also likes the respect that is given, and, I suspect, the respect that is evident in the Japanese culture. There is so little respect in our current culture. It is common place here to tell someone to kiss your ass. You would never do that in the world of the geisha, at least not in so many words. You can let people know how you feel, but never in such a crass way. This is the way Master operates. He speaks politely and respectfully to people, while at the same time cutting them down to size if they need it.

Being a geisha takes hard work and dedication. So does being a slave. I hope that, like the geisha, I can be pleasing to Master.