The weather is crazy out there

And in here. How can a person be happy and sad at the same time?

I’m excited by the new people I’m meeting and the new experiences I’m having now that I’m single again.

But I’m also sad about losing my relationship. We look at each other as we interact with sad eyes.

Today she was in a hurry and her morning wasn’t going so well. I made her a piece of toast and a milo. It made her feel better. It made me feel happy to help. Tonight we are going out as a family. We will do this for our daughter and hopefully, because we are friends.

But she doesn’t want me to hug her anymore and that is tough. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to live with someone who has said, after 15 years, we are through. Not in any dramatic way – there is no cheating or lying to hang any anger off. Only confusion about what the hell happened.

My dilemma of course, is that Universal gut punches cannot be explained readily, but they must be noticed. Taken into consideration. Not ignored. I know it is for the best that we end our marriage. That doesn’t make it any easier for me or for her.

Meanwhile, as I move through these phases with someone who knows me very well, I meet new people who have never experienced me at all. And while I’ve met plenty of new people in the past 15 years, it feels a little different to meet people when you are single. There is a cool spot at the back where the warm used to be. There is the non introducing of ‘my partner’, ‘my wife’. However, in time I will get used to this and it will not be so noticeable.

We are all moving forward and it is wonderful and terrible, joyful and terrifying at the same time.

Shonda Rhimes tweeted something that I look at every day at work. It is a reminder of why I did this, why I made this choice.

Because I believe in being happy.

Simple but powerful words for me at the time, and every day since. I believe in being happy and I believe my happiness is just as important as anyone else’s.

So it goes on, the crazy weather, the sun and the rain, the wind, the storm, the stillness and everything in between.

Wishing you all the happiness the Universe can bring
A person

I’m addicted to you…

I’m fascinated by Twitter. You might have noticed I’ve posted about it before.

I guess as a person who is always looking for new experiences and new people, it is a treasure trove to me.

I came to Twitter quite late. I had Facebook for a long time, with people I knew in ‘real life’.

Then I found the porn on Tumblr and was instantly addicted. Somehow I’ve managed to get about seven followers on there – I’ve no idea why! I love my Tumblr because it’s for me. I post things that I like looking at. That inspire or turn me on or make me laugh.

Twitter (for me at least) is a tricky mistress. I’ve slowly climbed my way to over 200 followers. I sometimes post thank you’s to them because I’m pretty random. Like this blog, I post what I feel. I post my opinion. Sometimes I’m rude or naughty or angry or sad. Sometimes I’m political or maternal. I try to be funny if the moment strikes.

Twitter is a place where I’ve interacted with people all around the world. People I would never have met in my lifetime. People who would not have even noticed me if I was standing next to them at a bus stop!

These people have such varied and disparate lives to me. I’ll keep using the word fascinated but I don’t mean that in a patronising way. I mean that I’m genuinely interested in hearing their stories. I’m not sure they are all that excited about me, but I figure if they don’t want to chat all they have to do is … well … not chat!

I’ve had some very deep and personal conversations with people who I have never met. I’ve told them things, painful things. In return they have shared their painful things with me. I feel so blessed to have these exchanges. I hope I have many more.

Sometimes Twitter gives me the utter shits. Sometimes it is just so shallow and that doesn’t suit my mood. Sometimes I get hurt . Then I remember that it’s hardly about me. After all, I’m one of hundreds on these people’s feeds – sometimes thousands. You just can’t take this stuff personally. Well, not unless they tell you it’s personal!

I grew up in the 80s with a home phone that was stuck to the wall (or the buffet). The news was on at 6.00pm on three channels, maybe four later on. The newspaper did have a morning edition but I was a teenager – what the hell did I care about newspapers?! On Twitter I get news of a coup from the person who is in that country experiencing that coup! Holy crap!

I never met people on the other side of the world, even when I went there! I’ve been to Italy, France, the UK and (very recently) New Zealand. I did not make one connection with any person from any of these places. There’s a few reasons for that but still, you know?

So to have the experience of talking to people in middle America, Belgium, Canada or Thailand is a miracle to me.

I can see how social media is destructive. I can see how it is addictive. I can see how if you allow it, social media can harm people who have no tolerance for waiting; for rejection (real or percieved); for dealing with misunderstanding the written word (most communication is actually non verbal). Whose self-esteem rely on retweets or followers or conversations. Even for me, who has some self-control, it is difficult not to get caught up. Thank goodness I didn’t have this stuff eating me away when I was younger. I’m messed up enough as it is!

I know there are some tricky, not very nice, not genuine people behind some Twitter handles.

However, I’m putting it out there that I’m not going to meet them.

I’m only meeting people who want to share the same interests as me, or present me with a new one I didn’t know I’d like. I’m only meeting interesting people with real lives, like mine, who come to the conversation with a willingness to share and be real. Even if it’s just for a short amount of time.

So thank you Twitter followers and all those I follow. I look forward to hearing from you and your tweeting craziness!

I’d also like to thank you, dear reader! Whoever you are that pops in and out of ‘a person’s blog’, sometimes from Twitter or sometimes from other blogs. I’m happy to take comments here too, if you are prompted to say something about what I write.

Wishing you all the happiness the Universe can bring
A person

When it all wears away

I wonder sometimes what people think I’m doing, watching my rollercoaster go around and around.

I’ll tell you what I’m doing.

I’m self destructing; falling apart, brick by crunchy brick.

Ground down, minced up. Dripping, melting away from myself, my life, my days, my nights.

Atoms and molecules spinning and agitating. Blood boiling then clotting then running hot again through veins, pulsing, living, dying.

I’m being ground away, eroded, all my previous life is disappearing in importance, if not in reality.

I still have a job that I go to. I still have a bed to sleep in. I still get up every day. Even when I don’t want to. Even when I can’t.

But even as I’m decaying, I’m being reborn. Like a bloody infant I’m confused, squinting into the light. Where am I? Who am I? What am I supposed to do?

I don’t know.

I don’t know.

Like sand being blasted away to reveal the structure underneath, glints of hidden gems appear. Sparkling in the sunlight, teasing, whispering of the new world.

Once it’s done, once I’m gone, I’ll be back again. Clean, new, fresh.

But right now I’m like a zombie, stripped of flesh, wounded, bleeding, slowly marching towards the cliff. And I want that cliff. I want that fall. I want that oblivion. I want that ending…

Wishing you all the happiness the Universe can bring
A person

 

Reprise: the Sexynight NSFW

It was a rare day off, the sun was shining but the brunette had other things on her mind. She hadn’t seen the blonde in some time but their encounter was never far from her mind.

God, I’m so horny! She thought to herself as she wandered aimlessly around her apartment, picking up this, putting down that. Hmmm, she thought, with an arched eyebrow and a sly smile. No sense in wasting this opportunity. And then maybe I’ll be able to concentrate on something else she thought, heading to her bedroom.

Getting settled under the covers in the middle of the day felt decadent and naughty. She’d removed restrictive clothing, leaving only a t-shirt and some comfy boy leg underwear. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, letting the touch and smell of the blonde come back to her. That encounter in the semi darkness, the soft flesh of her ass, her rock hard nipples, the whimpering sound she made when the brunette had teased her wetness until the bisexual begged her to fuck her.

The brunette felt her own clit twinge pleasurably at the memory but it was too soon to go there, so she absently brushed her own nipples through the shirt as she continued to re-imagine plunging into the blonde. God, she was so wet, the brunette mused, remembering the slickness of her fingers as she’d pulled out of the blonde once she’d come. She’d tasted so good! The brunette smiled as she remembered how the bisexual woman had sucked her own juices hungrily, deep throating her fingers with a dirty, sexy look in those piercing eyes.

Mmmmmm. The brunette felt her clit call again; surrounded in the wetness she’d worked up, swelling and pushing against her underwear. Finally she allowed herself a touch, reaching inside the loose shorts. She moaned softly at how good it felt. The lesbian slowly teased herself, lightly flicking over the hood of her clit, tracing the drenched edges of herself, tipping her fingers inside just a little.

The brunette imagined it was the blonde with her delicate fingers probing, teasing, flicking. She pushed a couple of fingers into herself, just as the bisexual had done, eliciting a whimper. She imagined the blonde kissing her as she fucked herself slowly at first, occasionally coming out to massage her clit. She slipped off her underwear to get more room.

God damn that blonde was such a hot kisser! the brunette thought, remembering those lips, that tongue, the muffled groans from them both that day. With her fantasy so real, it elicited the same moans, lip biting and sighs in the brunette today.

Somehow during her reverie she’d switched hands and was working her clit, bringing herself closer and closer to the orgasm she now desperately wanted. Giving over to thoughts of the blonde one more time, the lesbian remembered how she’d been on the verge that day and the bisexual woman had cheekily slipped the tip of a slick finger into her ass, sending her into an intense and sustained orgasm.

Today she did the same to herself and cried out as the pleasure overwhelmed her. She didn’t hold back, alone and comfortable in her own place. Fuck yes! she managed to call out as her orgasm rolled into a second wave, involuntarily contorting her body in pleasure. When it subsided she lay there for a minute before going back again. This time she imagined the blonde down there, sucking on her clit, grunting as the lesbian gripped her hair and pushed her face into her rocking cunt as she tried to move the blonde closer while she came.

For the next hour the brunette simply pleasured herself, enjoying the freedom of choice to come or not, enjoying the power her own body gave her, relishing the pleasure of being a woman.

Of course the blonde was never far from her mind and as she got up to shower and head out into her day, the lesbian wondered what the other woman was doing…

First part is here if you need it…

Wishing you all the happiness the Universe can bring
A person

Dear celebrity – you’re hot and I want to sex you up

It must be so weird to be a famous person, right?

I mean, there are a whole bunch of people out there who watch you. Some casually, some passionately and some, well frankly are psychotic! And you have not a choice in the world about who those people are and what they think about you.

You can’t choose who thinks about having sex with you or what sex acts they might be. You can’t choose who might want to kill you, rape you or generally hurt you. You can’t choose who might like to just talk to you or walk with you or love you.

I mean, I’d love to know what they really think about it all. How do they cope? It must freak them out, which I suppose is why a lot of famous people get caught up in drugs/drinking or other self-destructive behaviour. You would go batty from looking at people and thinking ‘what are they thinking? Are they a good one or a crazy one?’ all the time.

Plus wouldn’t you always be wondering who was really your friend and who was along for the ride?

Funnily enough I’m not a celebrity or famous (I know right, crazy talk!).

But I wonder about what they think when we all go a little nuts on social media. I mean, most of what I see is pretty harmless but what they would see is an avalanche of negative, sexual, violent, rude, ignorant, stupid, nice, positive, ridiculous, silly, boring, whiny words about themselves. And a lot of it would be a great ego boost but some of it would be just awful. They are, after all, just people.

Just as I started this blog some time ago with an open letter to Jessica Capshaw et al. about not quite mature fangirls, I still wonder what the hell people are thinking when they include the celeb or celeb’s partner in their fawning, ‘I want to fuck you’ tweets. And then act all surprised when they block them!

Here’s a tip – don’t include the object of your desire in your tweet. And don’t tweet their partners about how much you want to fuck them or how hot their girlfriends/wives are. They know already how hot they are because THEY ARE FUCKING THEM ALREADY!

Which brings me to what I think about celebrities… I think, imagine being the person who does get to be with that famous person… Imagine looking down at that hot blonde or brunette hanging off the end of your dick and going, ‘yep, she is all mine!’ Damn, imagine that.

But I do have a dirty mind so, you know…

However, when I think about hot celebrities too much I try to remember that they are in fact, just people. They are no more or less important than me in this world. They do a different job to me, that’s it. They still have to eat, shit and sleep because if they don’t, they will die just the same as me. They are no doubt better looking, but if a tidal wave comes, it doesn’t give a crap how beautiful you are, it will wash you away regardless of looks. Or money, or fame.

So take heart if you are feeling a little underwhelmed with yourself or overwhelmed by a celeb. If you get stuck in an elevator with one remember, they will have to fart eventually.

Wishing you all the happiness the Universe can bring
A person

The things I learned about Twitter

Tw=Twitter
Tw is a world where you may or may not relate to people.
You will find people who you get along with.
You will find crazies.
You cannot take it personally if people don’t respond to you.
You can’t always manage not to take it personally because Tw ‘friends’ feel real after a while.
Tw friends might actually be real.
Tw will suck the time out of your day like nothing else, except maybe a kitten.
Kittens would be better for your health than Tw.
Sometimes your jokes don’t translate in writing or in other languages.
You can’t really know who you are talking to because you are only getting one side of a multidimensional story and the one who is sounding quite reasonable and sane on Tw could be the psychopath.
You will not know if it’s the psychopath until it’s too late.
I am not the psychopath, so don’t worry.
You don’t need to meet someone to care about what is happening with them.
Similarly, they don’t need to meet you to hurt your feelings or leave you feeling rejected.
The hurt and rejection are your feelings – they have nothing to do with the other person on Tw (most of the time).
It takes more than 140 characters to talk about Tw.
If you take your life validation from how many followers or retweets or celebrity tweets you get, you will be constantly disappointed.
Tough love does not translate well on Tw.
Tw people have assisted me when they don’t know me, have never met me and didn’t have to. I am grateful for them.
Sometimes Tw feels like a party that I haven’t been invited to.
Sometimes I despair at how vacuous Tw is and want to quit.
But then something nice happens and I am renewed.
Have fun on Tw but don’t take it too seriously.

Wish in you all the happiness the Universe can bring
A person

The swag or the dag?

One thing that I’ve always struggled with is my identity. Not really about who I am, but how I identify as a lesbian.

I couldn’t stand the word lesbian when I was coming out – it had plenty of daggy, off-putting meanings for me. I didn’t want to be called butch either. I didn’t qualify for femme. I eventually went with queer for a while, until ‘gay’ came along and sorted it out. Eventually lesbian became a word and an identity I could accept.

However, I’ve never really seen myself as butch, although I’m certainly not femme! I always say I have lesbian dag instead of lesbian swag. I’m not sporty, I’m not arty and I’m definitely not classy. Pretty much all that is left is daggy. That’s probably got nothing to do with me being a lesbian – just an unfortunate coincidence!

I’ve kind of looked at myself as a bit of a tomboy but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be a bit more girly. I’ve struggled to accept those softer, more feminine aspects of myself. I always felt ‘in drag’ in dresses! Trust me, I wish I looked as good as Laverne Cox in her smoking hot outfits! (And yes, I know LC is transsexual, not transvestite.) However, I never felt comfortable in them, even if I really liked them. Trust me, I’ve tried.

I guess it took turning 40 to give myself permission to branch out and do things that I’d been afraid of before, for whatever reason. Once you turn 40 you can say ‘stuff you world, I don’t care what you think!’ I hope dear reader, you can come to that conclusion much earlier than that!

Anyway, at 40 I started wearing a few more ‘girly’ colours to work. I got a handbag. I started to wear foundation regularly. I know right! Revolutionary! But I don’t even know what any of that means, except that I’m not scared to have a handbag anymore. (It’s a pretty plain handbag!)

For me, femininity was about crying, dresses and being needy, and none of those appealed very much. Since I’ve gotten a bit older I’ve let go of the ‘not crying’ thing, although it sometimes is difficult to let it out. But just because I’m not crying on the outside, doesn’t mean I’m not torn apart inside.

Butch has certain connotations that didn’t resonate with me for a long time. I was uncomfortable with it for a number of reasons – butch is not pretty, weak or womanly. It took a long time for me to realise I could be whatever version of it I wanted, and that didn’t mean I had to be a ‘stone’ butch or look like a man. Most of all, butches aren’t vulnerable, or at least I thought they weren’t when I was impressionable enough to care. And I never wanted to be vulnerable. That was way too girly for me.

When I was growing up and coming out, there weren’t really lesbians visible and they certainly weren’t feminine. Melissa Etheridge, kd lang (Constant craving was my permanent mood) and Ellen probably saved my life. But I wasn’t attracted to any of them.

All my friends were heterosexual, pretty, smart and funny women. To be honest, I was fairly good looking myself. I wish I’d known that then but that’s probably another post! These were the friends I grew up with through those constant craving years and these are the types of women I’m attracted to (well, aside from the heterosexual part!).

As an aside, I blame my Dad’s obsession with Olivia Newton-John for my strong preference for blue eyed beautiful blonde women…thanks Dad!

Meanwhile I dated boys because a) a girl has needs and b) I thought I needed to at least try to conform because being a ‘lesbian’ was way too scary for both me and my family.

I was thinking today about how I felt when I was in relationships with the male of the species. I did enjoy not being the ‘strong’ one. I enjoyed being the one who got wrapped around, who got driven around, who had to look up to kiss. (Maybe I should just try to find women taller than me??!) But I didn’t like being the one who always had to compromise or run around after him. And although I really wanted to have sex, I really didn’t want to be fucked. So dating boys was a fairly unsustainable course of action for me.

Today there are plenty of things I’d change about me but I’m a lot more comfortable about being called a lesbian and even joke around about being butch. I’m kind of a soft butch so I’m not sure how appealing that is to anyone. Although attraction for me is a lot about humour and kindness and quite frankly, chemistry, those things don’t tend to come together for me with particularly butch women.

Which is why I despair at ever finding someone again because the women I find myself looking at are feminine (and most probably straight). Lesbian femmes whine about their mistaken identity but a) why don’t they wear some sort of universal signal or something? and b) femmes seem to end up with femmes anyway, so c) I’m doomed.

I guess I’ll just have to make up a blue-eyed, blonde woman who is hot, funny, smart and independent and NOT straight to keep me occupied until a real woman comes along (and frankly, I won’t care what her eye/hair/skin colours are).

Wishing you all the happiness that the Universe can bring.
A person

Today I was a person

Today’s rollercoaster has been a wild ride.

Today I was good; I was bad; I was indifferent; anxious; horny; sexual; sad; angry; shitty; passive aggressive; kind; hungry; funny; guilty; ashamed; tired; loving; happy; snappy; confused; bemused; wise; stupid; selfish; hurt.

Today I was a person who was going through a break-up with another person.

I was a parent who feels guilty about breaking up her family and hurting her child’s heart.

I was an ex partner who was rejected, angry and guilty for feeling rejected, angry and guilty.

I was a child who was sad, frustrated and confused by parents trying to deal with their own lives, their own illness, their own daughter’s family imploding.

Today I was a person who felt hurt and joy, pleasure and discomfort.

Today I was a person just like you because everyone goes on these rollercoaster rides, every day. Not always big ones like breaking up your 15 year marriage or having a Dad with cancer. But a rollercoaster none the less.

I’d like to say that I remember that fact every time I meet someone – that everyone is on their own rollercoaster; invisible, terrifying, fun, scary. But sadly, I remember less than I should. I let their rollercoasters collide with mine and it all ends up a messy crash of twisted metal and body parts.

Wouldn’t it be good if we could remember that what someone is going through has nothing to do with us, but is their own messy rollercoaster ride? Wouldn’t it be good if we didn’t take things so personally all the time? Riding a rollercoaster takes all your senses, so mastering yours while minding others is challenging, but it’s not impossible.

So I will keep trying. And failing. And trying again because some days I can see other people’s rollercoasters. Sometimes I can help them on their ride. In the end, all I can do is my best in that moment. Sometimes my best is a little shitty. I’m sorry about that, I really am. I will keep trying to be better.

And all the time I am blessed by people who help me on my rollercoaster ride of a life. A smile, a hug, a laugh. A kind word or two. Maybe even a kick in the pants once in a while. The important thing is to let them, even though it’s so hard for me to ask. Hard for me to admit I can’t ride this bellowing, rocking, rolling and roiling beast on my own. Because I’m supposed to be perfect and I’m supposed to be independent. I’m supposed to not need any help.

Because I’m confusing and confused. Because I’m a person like you – smashed and broken and damaged and perfectly imperfect and beautiful.

Wishing you all the happiness the Universe can bring
A person

My skin is hungry

Yes, I have skin hunger. Not to be confused with the movie ‘The Hunger’, with Susan Sarandon, Catherine Deneuve and David Bowie. Which was actually the first time I saw two women having sex and went ‘HOLY WOW that is some kind of awesome’. Or something like that.

I had a lot of skin hunger back then too…it’s quite common in adolescents and young adults. Being all independent like and not wanting hugs from parents anymore, but not getting any particular affection from anyone else. No wonder teenagers are so depressed and mopey.

Skin hunger is our human need to be touched and held which makes people feel connected.

Yes I thought I should get a reference! And I liked this one the best.

But seriously, I learned about skin hunger from my last boyfriend’s mother. Yes, I had boyfriends but that’s a blog for another day. She was quite a wise woman and ‘alternative’ but looking back, not really that alternative. Just an alternative from my parents. Anyhow, she taught me about skin hunger and how to hug properly. (FYI – I’m an awesome hugger.)

It’s sometimes hard to be conscious that you have skin hunger because it often manifests itself as something else. Desire. Lust. Fucking hornyness that you can’t get out of your head.

Sometimes it’s hard to work out if you want to have sex or you just want a cuddle because if you’d had the cuddle, say from your wife of many years, then you probably wouldn’t be so horny. Which is probably why Mums who cuddle their baby all day don’t want to have sex as much (actually it’s probably just because their tired and they spent all day looking after another human being, but you know, it’s possible). All I know is, I’m not getting (many) hugs or (any) sex right now so my skin hunger is off the chart!

Skin hunger is actually a thing for older people, those who recently lost a partner and generally anyone living alone. No, I’m not saying they are all raving horny bears (that’s probably just me and the teenragers), but what they feel is a longing for the touch and reassurance of another person. Not having that can be quite depressing.

So if you get the chance to hug someone, then I say do it! You’ll both feel better. You might not be as horny (OK, I have no scientific evidence to back up that statement). Or if you still feel that way you can touch yourself. I hear that helps too.

Wishing you all the happiness the Universe can bring
A person

Reset

There’s a song called ‘Don’t hide’ by Tina Arena that I’ve been listening to recently.

It’s a song about being alone and not being afraid of that. It’s a song about being strong in the face of change. It resonated with me straight away. It’s not a sad song. It’s a song about owning your choices and facing what is ahead. About being strong, clear and true.

I’m going to try to be more like that song. Not sure how I’ve been doing so far but no point looking backwards. Facing forwards is the only way to go now.

We need to sell our house so we can move on and we need to sell some other properties too. Sounds rich eh? Not really, but we are very blessed to have what we do and I’m grateful for all the opportunities that we’ve had together over the last 15 years. I’m grateful for all the opportunities I’ve had, that I’ve been supported through, over the last 15 years.

There is another song on the Tina Arena album called ‘Reset’. It’s about, for me, recognising when something is over and moving forward with that. Not that I want to erase my past. I revel in all of it. It has made me. I regret nothing and I don’t want to forget anything. I think what this song means is to reset my heart to light again. Reset it to be giving and loving and generous again.

I look forward to that time but for now, I’ll just settle for believing that we will all be OK. That we will all reset our lives and will be better for it. Reset back to the love.

I also saw Maleficent today. It was a beautiful movie and not because of Angelina Jolie! The message it sent to me was this – when you get hurt, it damages you. That damage can affect you deeply and make you do things that you wouldn’t normally do. Then you get stuck in doing those new things because it’s too painful to go back. But if you let it change, your heart can open again. You can be new again. If you open yourself to it, whatever it is. Then you can be yourself again. Wiser, not as innocent, but yet true. But if you can’t let go of that damage it will destroy you. I can’t recommend the movie enough.

Wishing you all the happiness the Universe can bring
A person