A Thought or Two or Three or…..Part One


I got to thinking about oppression.

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Of what it does to an individual, what it does to groups and the lasting impact it can have on a society.  Globally oppressed states have a tendency at times to become radicalized.

These are, of course, my thoughts and observances that I’m jotting down here.  I try to look at this world with thoughtful contemplation.  Sometimes this is not always the case though.

Sometimes it is just with a sense of sadness and at other times with hope and wonderment.  I prefer the latter.

There has been a shift lately with with the #metoo and #timesup movements.  They’ve had a powerful effect and so they should.  In fact, it is long overdue.

And it is not just those of us who’ve been assaulted or preyed upon sexually.  It is about being categorized as ‘less than’ or viewed as an ‘accessory’.

I too have been sexually assaulted and been made to feel as if my worth in this world was of little to no importance.  And I know the percentage of women who have experienced these issues as well is staggering.

I was watching a news feature on CBC last week.  Iranian women were standing in public , their hijab on sticks being waved in the air as if to surrender.

It was anything but!

You see they were protesting against the laws in Iran that make it compulsory for a woman to wear the hijab while in public.

The first woman to do this was promptly arrested.  So began the protests and the campaign of #whereisshe?

February 11th, 2018 marked the 39th year since Iran made it a law that a woman cannot go out in public without wearing the hijab.   I have included the link to an article on this subject at the bottom of this page.  To date about 29 women have been arrested and it is likely exceeded that number at this writing.

Oppression of women has been a global issue for thousands of years, if not from the beginning of our time.  And I wonder why this is?

There are men now feeling a little intimidated by this movement.  To those men who feel they are being ‘silenced’ I say this.

What you feel is but a shadow of what many women have lived with for thousands of years.

We have lived our lives in fear, lived our lives without a voice and have had to abide by laws forbidding us rights over our own bodies.  And this is just the tip of the sexual divide.  And that women in areas of this world still cannot show their face in public and are circumcised (mutilation of female genitalia) in this day and age is so very tragic.

Men will never know the full impact of how they’ve treated their counterparts as there really are no words.

What we need to do is move forward.  It starts from the cradle.  We need to teach and build that education on respect, love and equality.

Let’s give it a try, okay?

 

 

http://theconversation.com/how-iran-uses-a-compulsory-hijab -law-to-control-its-citizens-and-why-they-are-protesting-91439

 

 

 

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Get Outta My Head…And Into My Car!


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Alright then, the title is a play on words from a Billy Ocean song from years past.   The idea that sometimes I am too much in my head…that I over analyse a situation or an idea.  I’ve been accused of this many times.

And yes, dammit!  I confess!  It’s true.

I’m sitting here on this beautiful Sunday morning with the window to my office open.  I’ve had a thousand things running through this head of mine as I stare at the computer screen.  I should go for a walk.

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I should write more.

I should plan my out my seven minute speech on sex, though I already know what it is I plan to discuss, however, I want to leave the audience, which will be Douglas College students, with a thoughtful impression.

I want to discuss ‘consent’.  This word gets bandied about quite a bit in sexual assault cases.

It isn’t relevant what someone is ‘into.’  What is important is that they discuss this with their potential partners.

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Of course, I’m thinking about the Jian Ghomeshi trial that recently wrapped up. He was aquitted as the three women who came forward were considered ‘deceptive & manipulative’ in their evidence.

This is where Ghomeshi should have enlightened the women as to what his sexual preferences are.  Now, some women may be curious, just as some men would be about trying something a little risky.

It is, however, imperative that if you know that your sexual preferences could be considered outside the ‘normal’ realm, then you need to convey this to potential partners.  Never mind that….we all need to talk to our partners!

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In short, each of us, men and women, have a responsibility to NOT make assumptions.

The other thing I want to discuss is the shame factor and the way by which women are still ‘blamed’.

I call it this because in many ways it is just that.  Phrases such as ‘she was asking for it’ come to mind.  Or ‘look how she was dressed’.

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If someone, anyone is dressed provocatively this is not an invitation to be sexally exploited.  If someone is highly intoxicated or on drugs of some kind,  then consent is really not possible.

Women are sexually assaulted all the time.  The majority do not come forward.  Many feel they brought it on themselves.  They’d had one too many and made a few really bad choices.  Choices that will unfortunately have an impact on them for the rest of their lives.

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And here we are in the 21st Century.  We’ve been to space and back and we’ve developed amazing technologies.  Yet when it comes down to interacting with each other on a fundamental level the great divide still exists.

Well time to get back to doing tax stuff.  Enjoy your day.

 

 

The Body Temple


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As I drove in to work today at 6:00 AM to have my morning shower the radio station spoke of 12 senior students at Lord Tweedsmuir Secondary in Surrey who have been charged with ‘sexting’.

It is a new thing regarding youth who take pictures or have photos taken of them in sexually provocative and/or naked postures then post them on to the internet.

The 12 students were in fact circulating these images through online social media; some of the images from 13 year old students having just entered the 8th Grade.

What happened here? What did we forget to pass along to our youth in this insanity?

From the Eaton's Room in the old bldg on Hastings

We have men and women on shows such at The Bachelor & The Bachelorette who are becoming ‘celebrities’?  Am I missing something here?

These days I see toddlers with mini iPads in hand playing ‘games’?  Is this a good thing?

Apparently these games will make them smart? Can’t say that I can really comment on this but what I do know is that because of technology, because of computers they are no longer teaching cursive writing in schools.

And that is just wrong!  You have now idea how much this saddens me.

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Youth today are being robbed in oh so many ways. Flashed with images of what some obscene bastard thinks we all should look like.

They pile into a restaurant booth then pull out their iPhones and begin to ‘chat’ without uttering a word.

Lost in translation.

Kids these days seem to go from toddler to highly sexualized being in the blink of an eye.

What happened to the growing up part? The life unfolding part? The mystery part?

Now is seems youth are obsessed with appearance, with gadgets, with sex?

And where, pray tell, did the little darlings get these ideas from? Hmmm.

I also heard on the news today that a town in Montana wants to pass a law that any women wearing ‘leggings and/or Yoga pants’ in public 3 times in a row be confined to prison for 5 years.

This was a total ‘WTF’ moment for me.

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We have our babies taking selfies of their selfies and then some and posting on the internet for the world to digest never considering the consequence of their actions.

Let me ask parents this. Did you sit with your child and tell them how beautiful it is to discover their sexual self on their own terms?  To explore the body temple, revere in its mysteries and hold sacred to their sexuality as it is revealed to them.

I’m guessing that you didn’t.

Does an image of a vagina or a penis define your sexual self?  No.

And sex isn’t just about having an orgasm either.

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But if you are 13 years old and taking selfies of your ‘private’ parts…what may I ask are you actually trying to convey in your photographic essay?  Or weren’t you told to consider this aspect.

As females, we all have vaginas and a clitoris and we all have breasts.  How these parts of being operate really is determined by each of us and our individual preferences.

A little overwhelming, yes?  Not really.  Listen to the body temple.  It will guide you.

Boys all have penis’. They are expected to be quite proud of them.

The mystery of your body though is your own journey. It will define and carry you into adulthood and help shape who you are.

Respect not just the body but the unique aspects of it that make you…you.

Now ‘Game of Thrones’ may have us all believe that everyone shaved their nether regions and their chests, and their legs, and their pits….

It’s just a show people. A good one…but just a show.

The hairless phenomenon, the beauty debacle and of course the skinny business.

We’ve convinced our children that to get anywhere in this world they have to look good.

Then through the most fucked up ad campaigns, we’ve convinced them that if extreme measures are necessary…then do it.

Boob jobs, nips, tucks…

Bleached out hair, botox and collegen shots.

Size Zero.

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Diet supplements dominate the market; this obsession with appearance on one side of the coin and on the other side is the indulgence that youth today are being assured they deserve.

Just where do think this will take you?

Beauty fades. All the plastic/cosmetic surgery in the world will not change this fact.

But keep in mind that beauty is subjective. It’s mysterious, evocative and it really is in the eye of the beholder.

I’m 57 years of age, gorgeous and fat as hell at the moment.

Would I undergo a tummy tuck to rid myself of the pot belly I currently have?

HELL NO!

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Surgery is no laughing matter. I just want to get well enough to start kicking it at the gym again, to run again. These days the restrictions of my physical body as a result of the car accident and the accumulation of all the other shit I’ve endured over the last few years (i.e. cancer) has me feeling rather frail.  And I appreciate the

Ah but youth…it teases you into believing that you’ll always be just as you are.

Sorry kids.

And to the parents out there, teach your children…teach them well.

Some life lessons are tough but in my mind…no preschooler should be playing with a technology that has unfortunately been so corrupted.

If seeing boobs and cocks rocks your world…then I must say I have sympathy for you. Not empathy…just a pause of why you’re not looking past the 2 dimensional world you find yourself in.

And kiddies…if you think photos of boobies, vaginas and cocks and their hosts is the epitome of sexuality then you are sadly mistaken.  Respect yourself first and foremost.

Put down the iPhones and talk to one another.

 

 

 

 

 

A Thing Called Trust…Scandalous!


October 31, 2014

6.  They're out for blood

 

It is Halloween in these parts and I have just safely made my way back to the homestead despite the streets crawling with ghostly goblins and ghoulish devils. Of course there were the tiny superheroes and dinosaurs traipsing about as well.

The adult variety began to hit the streets as the little ones slipped off to inspect their haul.

Well dressed leopards and debonair tigers walked hand in hand to local pubs and restaurants to celebrate some playful events that were underway. We have a Paddlewheeler boat that offers cruises up and down the Fraser River.

I went for a walk along the boardwalk and saw the boat decked out in webbing with an eerily lit backdrop. Catwoman, a cowgirl and a witch were having a debate of sorts.

I will be donning ghoulish attire tomorrow as I am attending a costume party.

It’s been a busy week at the office and I am convinced that the dot matrix printer they have is indestructible. Those things never seem to quit, do they? I’m looking forward to saying a fond fair well to the thing.

They never agreed with me and so you can understand my reticence at using them and yes, I admit that I am somewhat intimidated by the thing as well.

Make a mistake and there is no stopping them. They grind through paper horrifically sounding much like a buzz saw.

In any case, tomorrow is another day and I will have to summon up the courage to once again attempt to dominate the damn thing or at least get it to play along.

During dinner I listened to the news of the day.

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A scandal is brewing. A CBC personality, Jian Ghomeshi was fired a week ago. Apparently it has something to do with his sexual preferences, sexual play, etc., and the roughness of it?  Seems he gets off on choking and smacking women in the face.

In any case, Ghomeshi filed a $50 million dollar law suit against the CBC for the firing and wants his job back.  He also posted a 1,000 word defensive on his Facebook page. Hmmm.

He went on his Facebook page and stated that all his sexual encounters were consensual, and so on, and so on.

Jian states that he has been exploring BDSM. And that’s cool. I’ve no problem with that. Whatever two people (or three, or four, or…) choose to do is totally up to them, as long as it’s consensual.

Well, here we are five days later and nine women have come forward to claim they were subjected to demeaning and violent behavior that was not consensual. Some of these events occurred as far back as ten years.

Yet none of them filed charges.

Now personally I don’t fully understand the dominate and submissive relationship but in all fairness I will not judge anyone based on what rocks their world. And who am I to say what should or should not occur intimately between two consenting adults?

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I am currently writing my second book, a fiction, that is in fact exploring these very issues. I am actually quite curious about how we arrive at our sexual preferences. It is the ultimate human mystery, is it not?  I guess what intrigues me the most is the wide spectrum of avenues that encompass the sexual experience.

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We are all looking for the ulitmate Big-O. How we achieve this sexual peak is as varied as the mythological component of what it should in fact be.

Orgasms vary as much as our sexual appetites and they are never the same.   Sometimes they are amazingly intense and then they can be slow and subtle in their release.

Back in the 1990’s during a year long depression that engulfed me, I read over 200 romance novels. In truth, I don’t know why as I am not all that fond of romance novels.  In the course of that year, however, I gained a knowledge of this writing formula and began to recognize the pattern very clearly and came to understand why some stories didn’t work and why others were quite enjoyable.

Still what drove me a little nuts were the ‘love’ scenes.

Every fucking virgin in those books was impaled by the man she really hated but secretly wanted and had orgasms that were incredibly explosive. Oh, they saw stars and understood the secret to life in that moment and were inexplicitly tied forever to this man and he was in kind tied to her.

Did they live happily ever after? Well, first you have to ask your self does that indeed exist?

In my world, not bloody likely.

But we can debate that. To me happiness is a state of mind that comes in varying degrees. I do know that if you’ve experienced sadness and pain, you’ll appreciate happiness that much more. In fact, you’ll hold it so close to you that at times you’ll want to covet it.

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Happiness is and always has been what we all seek, yes?

And like everything in this life how that looks to each of us varies incredibly so.

So if you like your sex rough, enjoy the sting of a spanking then good on you.

More extreme?  That’s fine too.

In the interviews I’ve conducted in order to develop characters that are honest in their sexuality, what I’ve found is that the most important aspect in these relationships is trust.

Verbally what a dominant and submissive agree upon is really sacred between them. In fact, it is the key to their relationship.

If you stand back and take a general look at all relationships they are or should be based upon this principle.  It is key.

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Sometimes though when it goes sideways, we want so much for things to snap back to that beautiful beginning, that enticing moment that briefly had us believing that this was the real deal.  In fact we may well have hungered for it.  As a result we consequently stick our heads proverbially in the sand refusing to see that what began to blossom has now been lost.

Perhaps some of these women thought they’d like to explore this side of their sexuality.  It has that taboo to it.  It’s mysterious and to some degree, incredibly provocative.

We hear things and develop a curiosity. There is that wonder if we are in fact missing out on making the Big-O even better.  If we’re not experiencing these dynamic orgasms several times during our sexual play then surely we are missing something, aren’t we?

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Cosmopolitan magazine has been recycling the same information in their articles for years on how to pleasure a man and have the ultimate orgasm.

During my youth I read these articles and tried desperately to build the mystery of sexual prowess based upon such initiatives.

Sex education really didn’t exist in my youth and sadly many of us along with the younger generation are still very much  ill informed.

What I have come to understand is that through the intimate exploration of yourself will you begin to divine the truth of your own sexuality.

As my daughter began to move through the pains of adolescence to that of a young woman, copies of Cosmo began to litter the kitchen table. I would peruse the pages and yes, much of what I’d read at her age was still contained within the confines of the magazine though the words had been tossed about to make the ideas seem new and fresh.

Sadly, I found the deal for women even more challenging.

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The standard to be sexually desirable had risen to exacting standards.

What was happening to us?

And as the chains of sexual preferences began to loosen and we began to accept and even ponder more extreme sexual behaviours, many of us thought to explore this realm.

I can recall dating a fellow a few times in Edmonton. I was about 21 years old at the time. I didn’t have a clue about the dominant / submissive thing as this was still very much in the closet and personally, I’d never heard of such things.

So things were getting hot and heavy by the third date or so. A lot of kissing and heavy petting began to take place. We directed it into his bedroom.

The room was dark as we fell onto the bed.  He stopped then and rose to turn on the light.  The red glow of the bulb caused a shiver to run up my spine as I took in my surroundings.

Rubber sheets adorned the bed and one wall painted a dark brown was adorned with whips, cuffs, ropes, etc.

He asked if I’d like to explore this. I was rather horrified and offered up a flat out ‘No’ and I collected my belongings to take my leave. I didn’t have a predilection for this.

He was gracious and at no time did he try to force anything on me.

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The idea of someone hurting me for pleasure was not something I understood, nor did I want to explore these merits.

Now I come back to this Jian Ghomeshi thing.  Nine women have come out, not to the police, but through social media claiming abuse.

The police have launched an investigation asking these women to provide them with information.  No charges have been laid at this time.

And I’m pissed off.

Jian, get it together. If you have a preference…lay it out. Make it clear what floats your boat.  Is what you’re into really sexual exploration or are you just a sick fuck that likes to hurt and scare the shit out of women?

To the women, yes, I know he is a celebrity and he’s attractive. If you were curious about this experience and it went sideways then guess what?  You are like so many of us.

Then there is the shame factor. You know, I get it. I’ve put myself into positions that were frightening and hate to admit my gullability.

What I am trying to say is that we make mistakes. We find ourselves in the midst of something that was not anticipated and we don’t know how to respond.

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I must ask Jian this question.   You claim to be  ’50 Shades’ but much softer.

For the record in my opinion, ’50 Shades’ is a badly written romance, nothing more.

If this really is your preference then you really need to conduct yourself accordingly and show some respect for your partners.  And for the record, it’s not just about your pleasure.  As stated, if you get off on smacking women around, then you might well have a sadistic side to you that borders onto sociopathic behaviours and has nothing to do with sexual preference.

Those individuals that I’ve come to know who involve themselves in these activities are highly intelligent and loving.  They hold themselves to a very high standard

What I’m pissed off about is that Jian Ghomeshi  seemingly thinks he can have his way in every instance…and I’m pissed off that one of these women didn’t come forward sooner.

It strikes a bad cord with me. Are we, as women, still just fucking victims?

Is this when we feel empowered when some schmuck is spiraling downward? Do we now feel vindicated?

That Jian left so many women with this feeling of remorse and shame over their encounter speaks only to our disconnect and shows that we are no further ahead than we were 25, 35 or 50 years ago.

And for any woman or man for that matter, that finds themselves in a sexual encounter of sorts that becomes abusive and that they did not consent to, then leave and go to your nearest medical facility to be checked over and then file charges.

You just may save someone’s life.

 

**NOTE:  I’ve taken several of the images for this piece from the internet.  I Googled ‘images sexuality’ and was amazed by the number of book covers I found there.  It also struck me on how much of a mystery our sexuality still it. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sirens & Crows


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A thought begins to form and with it that intoxicating rush of what it may become.  Now the idea takes shape and I’m itching to get my hands on a pen and paper to jot down the rudimentary plot.

Fabulous words and phrases are slipping through the grey matter and I feel the panic rise. I’m in transit…still in my car.  Even upon entering the office, I can’t just commit to writing everything down but I can punch out a few key words.

My head is still a foggy, not quite awake.  I didn’t sleep well last evening.  The world outside my walls kept invading my nirvana.

At 3:50 AM crows were plaintively screaming an injustice outside my window.  Sleepily, with eyes still closed, I tried to reason with them.

You’ll find a more responsive and sympathetic audience if you just let us sleep!” I whispered to the cacophony. They failed to listen.

I had hoped to double up today.  Workout in the morning and run after work.  Sirens and crows played a major hand in convincing me to listen to the bed this morning and steal another hour of what had been sadly lacking during the night.

Strange things play out in my head on the cusp between these two realms.  Dreams invite the outside world in to dance with the images already engaged.

A drama is unfolding, though I seem to just be observing at this point.  A crow glides in beside me.  With an air of petulance he shakes his glistening black head.

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“You just don’t understand, you’ll never understand.”  Then he makes to fly away.

“Stop this!  I hate that when you do this.  Always you make your accusations then just fly away.”

I reach out and take hold of one of his legs.

“This is not the time.” he warns ominously.

“And when will be the time?” I insist.

“When the playoffs are over.” he hisses at me then flies away.

I woke then with a question mark etched on my face and in my mind.

Finally, I just gave up trying to go back to sleep.  I slipped from bed and prepared for the day.  I’ll run tonight after work.

My training needs to build gradually so I will keep at it.

As I was driving in to work I pondered dreams.  I thought about technology.  Wondered if they would ever develop a dream recorder.  Wondered if I would ever want to use it.  I don’t know that I would want to share such an intimate side of myself with the rest of this world.

Oh, I can talk about them.  Tell you bits and pieces or lay out the complete story.  That is my choice though. Still, you’ll never see exactly what I have.

Would there be benefits be of being able to record the images in your head?  For those who claim to ‘never dream’ would it shock or surprise them at what actually does go on in their grey matter?

It was recently noted that taking ‘selfies’ on a continuous, almost obsessive basis is now considered a mental illness.  Narcissism seems to be on the rise.  The desire to appear perfect is a multi-billion dollar industry.

I go through various stages of beautiful.  At the moment I resemble a fish called Wanda with a bit of Sebastian the crab tossed in for good measure.

How’s that for a visual?  A reggae singing crab crossed with an angel fish.  And you know, I think if I could just talk like a Jamacian, it wouldn’t matter what I looked like because I would sound so cool!

I seldom take my picture.  There are far more interesting things to look at than me. Everyone knows what I look like.  I update it from time to time.  For example, when my hair fell out during chemo and I had it shaved by my daughter.

What was funny about that was the concern my head would be mishapen.  I am sure I would have known this with the hair still on my head.  But again, there is that desire to look normal, to be attractive.

Like many of you, I want to feel beautiful.  And I guess that’s the key.  Feeling it is much different than just the visual.

For those who take selfies of themselves gyrating in front of a mirror with next to nothing on, who display their cleavage or who take pics of their penis’ I wonder at the reasoning for this.

It has gotten boring fast.  It has become vulgar.  There really isn’t anything mysteriously senuous about anything that the multitude of people doing this can offer.  Perhaps they think that they look better than anyone else.  I don’t know.  And if so, what does the idea of this notion do for you?

Let me ask you this.

Does the idea of a woman of 56 that looks half crab and half angel fish dancing with mop excite you?

Hmm!  I could be on to a whole new avenue of erotica here, folks.

My point being is that none of us has something that has never been seen before.  They are assembled slightly different on all of us which is rather cool in a way.  We all have assembled bits that are uniquely ours and we should celebrate this.

I shall go now and muscle through this day with the neurons that are fully functioning.

Peace out and enjoy.

 

 

The Race is On


 

Note:  This post speaks frankly about sex.

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It was still dark outside on the drive to the gym this morning as should be expected at this time of year. As I finished up my workout though, I had the extreme pleasure of watching a beautiful sunrise. Clouds were feathered gently across a canvas of blue.  I love the colours at this time of year.

I’m still experiencing some general aches and pains.  My physical self is protesting mightily  to exercise these days, but with each go round I do feel marginally better.

My running group did a track workout last night.  The weather was absolutely perfect.  Twelve laps in and I was asking my run leader, Kristen, “Is this the last one?”

“Nope.  We have to do the warm down.”

It was a tough workout but hey, it’s not supposed to be easy.

I’ve been enjoying getting outside and taking in Spring.  At lunch yesterday I grabbed some sushi and was leafing through a local paper known as the ‘The Georgia Straight’.

Pausing, I read the first paragraph of an article on the race to find the female equivalent to Viagra.  I could feel the ire begin to rise in me.

Do we really need this?

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I understand there are women out there that don’t have orgasms.  I understand that there are women out there that have issues becoming aroused, but do we really need a pill for this too?

The idea of being artificially turned on, to make the body more physically pliable as it were just smacks of a whole host of problems to come. Bet they’ll come up with a pill for the side effects too.

Hell, they now have pharmaceutical agents to assist with your anti-depression medication.  The side-effects list is becoming quite substantial and something about the phrase ‘may cause death‘ doesn’t sit well with me.

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And I have to wonder if perhaps all the other medications that are being fed to us isn’t messing with our ability to enjoy our sexual self.

And it’s not only medications but the foods we find in our grocery stores that are full chemicals, chemicals and more chemicals.

Could the fact that as the percentage of obesity continues to rise that this too could be a contributing factor to a lacking sex drive?

Then we have stress.  The great unknown.  Or is it?

Perhaps stress is where we need to begin.  Alleviate the stresses in our lives and maybe we will begin to see some improvement.

I was never envious that men were offered a pill for erectile dysfunction issues.  I can tell you right now I would not want to be with someone who had a hard-on for four hours.  (One of the possible side effects).

And there are many factors that will affect our sexual selves.  Smoking, drinking, lack of sleep, lack of exercise, poor diet…just to name a few.  Then you have good ol’ stress.

Stress is likely the reason why you are smoking, drinking, etc.

Of course, we’re now convinced if we are going to have sex, it better damn well be fabulous!

I remember when I heard about a book called ‘The One Hour Orgasm’ I was somewhat befuddled.  It almost sounded painful to be in a state of orgasm for an entire hour.  I prefer to have a few.  They really don’t have to be drawn out.

It also sounds too complicated and I’d have to coordinate something in the mix….wouldn’t I?

I mean, it might be fun to try.  What if you came in at 59 minutes?  So close to the one hour mark!  Arrrgh!

I am being facetious.

I guess my point is that perhaps we should be investing our time in improving the human condition…not trying to manufacture a pill that will do it for us or kill us in the process.

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I see these whacked out guys that are stepping up and commandeering countries and throwing the electorate’s human rights straight to hell.  That we are still fighting for so many women’s issues as basic as education and control over their own bodies in this day and age continues to confound.

At times, I feel as if we are all moving backward as a species.  Kind of like we had our ‘Ah Ha!’ moment then stuck our heads back in the sand.

I was watching or rather listening to a documentary the other day.  It was about frogs.  I kind of came into it about fifteen minutes in.  As I was making dinner, from time to time the dialogue grabbed my attention.

The narrator was telling us about how the local government had culled these frogs.  Killed them off….well, just the females as they didn’t want them to reproduce.  Seems they were being overrun by them.

Guess what?  The male frogs turned into females.  Perhaps if they didn’t want them mating they should have fed them alcohol, deprived them of sleep, fed them Kraft Mac & Cheese then offered them a smoke.

My point, if there is one, is the natural world will correct the imbalances that exist.

I’m watching as we pull further away from the natural world.  We want everything and we want it now.

At Delaney’s Coffee Shop this morning the coffee I wanted wasn’t quite ready.  I didn’t mind waiting.  I could chat up the staff and though of how fresh it would be.  Even the simple task of making coffee has become instantaneous.

We used to have ‘freeze-dried’ instant coffee.  Just add hot water.  Of course, you had to boil the water.  Then came the automatic drip coffee maker that was just as fast in most cases as boiling a kettle and tasted much better.

We then began to roast various flavours into the coffee.  Then came iced coffees and many other things that don’t really resemble coffee any longer.

Now we have Keurig (K-Cup) coffee.  Pop in a cup…and in 30 seconds you have your coffee.

I am appalled at the waste.  We have one of these machines in the office.  I don’t use it.  This is my form of protest.  The astronomical amount of waste produced is mind boggling.  A woman who works in the office beside ours rebutted that the K-cups were recyclabled.  I didn’t bother to go into the fact that the amount of energy being used to produce these, let alone recycle them could well be use elsewhere, and that the footprint this was leaving in the waste department was huge.

We don’t want to get old. We don’t want to get fat.  We want to have a great job and go on fabulous vacations.  We want beautiful houses with more rooms than we know what to do with and vehicles that will warm our bums and park themselves while a pleasant voice tells us how to get to where ever it is that we are off to.

You get the idea.

Now we want artificially induced orgasms because they are apparently better?  I don’t know.  If, in fact the equipment is not working properly, I am sure there are ways to bring about gratification.

I mean it is one thing if a woman has undergone the horror of female circumcision or some other form of disfigurement that has resulted in the nerves being damaged.  No pill will remedy this.

Sadly, I think about how many women say they prefer chocolate to sex.  Yet, here we are racing to make a pill that will set the stage for the Big O.  The artificial aphrodisiac.

Sadder still are the women out there having plastic surgery on their vagina’s.  Yup, now the vagina has look good too.

We need to start thinking about the direction we are going on this planet.  Really think about it, because as it stands right now, we are consuming our world at an alarming rate.

In any case, it is an extraordinary day outside.  Think I’ll go snap a few pictures while it still look like this.

Thanks for stopping by.

 

 

Just Checking In: What’s Love Got to Do With It?


The title of this series is ‘Just Checking In’.  I will be examining certain areas of personal growth that I’ve been working on where blockages still exist in an effort to finally move past them. Your comments and ideas are always welcome.

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We all want this in our lives.  We desire this and from an early age we are geared toward the goal of finding love.  It is without question the one emotion that over the span of time, throughout all ages and regardless of culture renders and defines us as human.

From the earliest forms of the written word and likely beyond songs and scripture are dedicated to finding and losing the love of your life.

Broken hearts have poured out their souls of their loss, just as those having been bitten by love and are drunk with it, espouse its beauty.

Present day love is a very marketable emotion.  Valentines Day looms ever closer and if you don’t get your loved one something on this day then surely, the relationship is doomed.  Having been single for the better part of an eon, personally this day is simply one of many. Still, it is an interesting and a curious notion that this day has been marked on our calendars to honour love, should we be so fortunate to have found it.

Of course, I have love in my life…just not THAT kind of love.

Have I been in love?  Oh yes, and well I remember surrendering to it.  Still, I never gave in to it completely, though I did not know this at the time.

Where does love start?  How do we learn of its nature? Are we born with it or does it need to be nurtured?

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It begins with the relationship that considerable studies aside, is deemed to be of the utmost importance in our development.  So important that it will likely set the stage and affect your intimate relations throughout the course of your lifetime.

I am speaking of the relationship we have with our parents.  The influence this has on us is paramount in many cases to our success in relations as we mature.

What happens though, when this relationship is not the safe and trusting space required for a child to build upon?

Sigmund Freud tore into human sexuality and love in a big way back in the 1800’s.  I am not certain if he was the first to look at love in a scientific manner.  Likely not, though he did and still does have an enormous impact on how we view these two elements.

I’ve read books and essays over the years by many in this field trying to understand just where my development, or lack thereof, placed me on this hierarchy.
From my own experience of growing up in an abusive home, I do believe that love is something we are born with.  I think it is embedded in our DNA along with a host of other memories and emotions, good and bad.  How we respond to our environment and what dominates our psyche varies for all of us, though there are generalities that can be markers in terms of stunted personal growth regarding our sexuality and how we view ourselves.

Despite my father’s abuses and rejection, I began at an early age trying to do things that he would find favorable in order to garner his praise.  His behaviour was directed at our entire family and not just myself.  It is how we react to certain occurrences individually that influence our choices later in life.

This pattern of seeking praise would develop into a heart-breaking scenario for me.  I would try in vain to become the woman I thought my love interest wanted.  There was no regard for self as I never really developed that sense nor was it nurtured.

Over the years I have been able to earmark when and where various portions of my emotional growth and well-being became stunted or stopped entirely.  Quite often when a trauma break occurs, if it is not remedied, then it will play itself out repeatedly in various forms.

Even in the workplace the desire to do a fabulous job and be praised for it has often come into play.  So that singular behaviour pattern that developed in my youth has had an incredibly negative impact on many facets of my life.  It impacted friendships at an early age as well.

For example, in high school I wanted desperately to be accepted so I started to smoke.  Not a good habit and detrimental to good health.  When I met other girls who I found really cool I would parrot certain behaviours wanting to be like my counterparts.  And I suspect that we all do this to some degree and that is simply an aspect of growing up on many levels.

For me, however, this behavioural pattern became exaggerated in my early 20’s and would manifest itself in at times, very dangerous actions on my part.

At the age of 28 I decided to walk away from love entirely.  I shut down my sexual self completely deciding that it was just not to be and I threw away the key.  I focused on motherhood, friendships and career exclusively for the next 25 years.  Along the way though, I began to seek out assistance and therapy as memories began to emerge.  Painful and devastating their impact was at times brutal.  Through this though, a woman with very tender sensibilities and a heart so full to bursting evolved and grew.

Today as ready as I feel am to enter into a loving relationship, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve left it too late and what should I expect. What I’ve come to realize as well, is that many people, despite having rough beginnings, go on to find deeply satisfying relationships.

There are those too, who have fabulous beginnings and yet they find themselves in a relationship that ends in heart-break.

Once cut, the scars for many of us are hard to heal.  While some of us learn from these experiences, there are those of us that repeat this pattern letting the scars build at times to the point where we don’t want to feel anything anymore.

What I do know as I close this first chapter of this series, is that I love the woman I’ve become and who continues to evolve.  And that’s where it starts really.

The last ten years of my father’s life, I really had no contact with him.  I was with him when he died though. I felt it was necessary let him know that I had forgiven him.

Forgiveness is necessary.  It is a balm that will soothe the battle scars surrounding the heart.

And sitting beside him as his life was drawing to a close, I told him that I’d forgiven him.  That I needed to do this so that I could move on.  Tears fell that day and an apology was offered and accepted.  I held his hand and he uttered those words that so rarely I had heard in my lifetime.  ‘I love you, girl.’

It didn’t make me feel wonderful, it didn’t even make me feel good.  In fact, it simply made me feel sad.  He’d never gotten to know me or is granddaughter.  He’d never really gotten to know any of his children.  Not really.  In truth, I never really knew the man either.

There was a time when wanting to talk to my dad about anything of a personal nature illicited such fear that I would at times begin to shake uncontrollably.   Too often that voice of mine, when it tried so desperately to be heard, was shot down by this man with contempt and ridicule.  The message quite simply was I didn’t matter.

His death left many questions that will never be answered and I can’t dwell on them.  I can only move on and continue to grown and accept the love that I know is there and am deserving of.

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What I need to work on is verbalizing my emotions.  I can write them down.  I’ve become accustomed to it and actually really good at it.  But to have someone standing before me, where I want to express myself, the words that roll off the tongue are often pitiful.  There is still that fear that I will be ridiculed for feeling what I do.  And that is one of the blockages that still exists.

Dealing with things on a daily basis has no script and so all I can do is push through.  I’ve done some excellent workshops to assist with this process and will continue to work at this.

Thanks for stopping by and enjoy your day.

 

 

 

 

Alone (Personal fears of a Cancer Patient)


Since this whole cancer thing started I have not had sex.  I am a single woman in my mid-fifties.  In just the last few years I had awakened to and began to feel comfortable in my sexuality.

I had been told not to have any sexual activity for 6-8 weeks after surgery.  Understandable.  All of my reproductive organs had been removed.  During that time I would lay in bed and wonder if I would still be sexually responsive after all of this had passed.

Approximately three months after surgery, I engaged in the natural release of masturbation.  There was a desperate need to know if I could still experience orgasm.

I can.

Some form of relief occurred.  This body of mine was undergoing a cruel assault and I could only try to ease this by caring for myself.  My mid-section was swollen for a time but I went for walks daily and continued a regiment of daily pep talks designed to stay in touch with my feminine self.

Then chemotherapy hit.  I came through it exceptionally well.  The feet are just slightly numb now at the base of the toes.  My hair is sprouting. It will be some time, however, before I have anything of substance up there.  And of course, I packed on about 20 lbs.  in my mid-section.

I am back in the gym and beginning to run again.  I have had awesome support from family and friends throughout this ordeal.

Yet last night as I finished up and made my way home I was very much alone.  The idea of having a relationship still seems so foreign and out of reach.  Even more so now as I washed up for bed and looked in the mirror the question teased me.

Am I desirable?

When the whole cancer thing consumed me, my choice was to put the quest of meeting someone on hold, not that I would have actually had the time to continue on in this vein.

These days I just want to feel and look ‘normal’ again.  Hell, I was just getting re-acquainted with my sexual self and bam!

“You’ve got cancer.”

I had been grappling with my inability to move to the next level of having a loving relationship with a man.  I was told to put it out to the universe.  I did….I think.  I was finding it far easier to talk to men and open up them.  Still, I think I was likely too open at times.

I have never really known how to flirt or how much information to offer up to someone I find attractive.  Furthermore, if there was interest returned, I just don’t seem to know how to respond in a manner that is inviting?  I have been told I respond too intensely.

Not quite sure how to temper that.

In any case, there I was last night trying so fucking hard to convince myself that I’m still so very feminine and that I am desirable.

It’s a lie.  I don’t feel this way at all.  In fact, I feel asexual.

Who wants to touch this?

I left the bathroom and came and sat on my sofa, curling up in a blanket, I surfed the channels on TV.  There are some really weird shows on television at 1:30 AM.

I got to thinking about why I go to public establishments to write.  It struck me then I go there to purge my fears of aloneness.  To write some of what I am feeling or thinking  in the isolation of my own home would somehow be suffocating.

Oddly enough to confess in a public space all my fears of being alone makes it somehow bearable, though no one is listening. There are living, breathing people around me though and this offers up some form of consolation.

Here at home, it’s just me.

I slipped into bed and closed my eyes thinking for the millionth plus time how good it would be to have someone to curl up to at night.  To have someone who could reassure that I’m woman, that I’m desirable, that I’m sensual…

I say this to the mirror each day wanting so desperately to believe it, yet sometimes this just seems to compound my aloneness.

Friends tell me the man who nabs me will be so very fortunate.  I’m still waiting to be nabbed.

I guess there are times when I feel that all the ground I’ve gained in this regard has just been removed and I am back at square one.

I don’t really discuss the fears that I have around the whole cancer thing and what it’s doing to me.  I really think my emotions would be far too intense, so I do what I have always done.  I fight the war with these fears alone.

I reach for the pen to help me alleviate these fears and to expel them onto the page.  And as this evening winds down it is an all too familiar one.

And at times likes this, it feels like it’s crushing me.

If there is one thing I have come to know,  I must give voice to these fears of mine in order to reconcile them.

I had a long conversation on the phone with a close friend last night.  She asked me why I didn’t take the time of work to focus on my recovery.  I have disability benefits that would have covered me during this time.  I simple told her it’s not in my nature.

Truth be told, I didn’t want to spend this time feeling even more isolated from the world around me than I already do.  I needed to keep my frenetic balance of normal moving.  I need to feel that somehow I belong to this world.

The thing about dealing with cancer, at least for this woman, has been the constant reminder of my own mortality and the threat, real or imagined, to take this life of mine from me.

For the most part I have weathered the storm fairly well.  So I will go for a run now and enjoy the freedom it instills and focus on my hopes and lay my fears to rest.

Peace.