Life is full of lessons to be learned. We start as babies, learning about ourselves and our bodies, then progress to interactions with others, then relationships, then stumble through romantic relationships, only to be sidetracked by lust. The trick is to treat lust as a mere fantasy, or at most, a quick pit-stop, brushing away our tracks upon departure. Being the object of lust and erotic diversion has taught me volumes about my own tendencies and the behaviors of those around me, and I think I have a pretty good read on what is healthy vs. destructive. This didn’t happen overnight, or even in the recent past. In fact, I wasn’t aware of the true degree of my evolution until, after nearly two decades, I ran into G.

15 years ago, I first spotted G in a parking lot and I can’t explain what happened in any other way except to say that our eyes literally locked. Some might call it past-life stuff, and others would just chalk it up to an instant, and very electric connection, but suffice it to say that we both knew at that very moment that we were both in the same place about three things: our lust for each other, our inability to ignore it, and our willingness to let it consume us at any cost. The feeling was much the same as when brides describe “knowing that he was the one”, only I always knew better. G was my one and only “bad boy”; a drop dead gorgeous, perfect specimen of a former rodeo cowboy- turned hard working stiff. His intense, cobalt blue eyes sparkled like mini mosaics of mirror and sea glass and his broad, knowing smile confirmed everything I already knew about his character, and his cock. It was only a matter of hours until we were off to the races and I was out of my mind with lust for a man with whom I could barely hold a conversation. He had this tigress by the tail and he knew it.

Our relationship, if you could call it that, was a powerful addiction. It lasted longer than some marriages, had the intensity of a freight train and was made entirely of raw, sexual energy, with no flirty fluff, platonic filler, or romantic substance. We would meet in strange, often semi-public places, clawing at each other’s clothes, clinging to objects for leverage in our fury to have one another at that very moment…then sheepishly gathering our clothes, and clearing the remnants of our not-so-sweet tryst gone primal. We would leave the scene, both knowing that we should never, ever cross paths again and that our lives were slowly being affected in such a way that casualties would inevitably follow. Our last time together was after one of the inevitable consequences of our affair came to pass, which propelled us both into reality and out of lust. It was also the only real conversation we ever had. I remember the look on his face and the relief I felt watching him leave.

I thought about G from time to time over the years and thought it odd that in Phoenix, a really big small town, we had never crossed paths after being on the same path for so long. I will confess to doing a little Internet search, but mostly because I wondered if he was dead. G was never really on my mind. After him, I swore off ALL bad boys and after I became a provider, all bad clients. Adrenaline is great, in moderation, but I’ve learned that those who crave the dangerous, unbridled experiences are, well… dangerous and unbridled individuals. I’d love to wax poetic and say that what I had with G was immature and carefree, and that I look back on it fondly, but I don’t..because I’ve grown as a person and as a woman and what we did, for as long as we did it, was mostly just irresponsible and an insult to all the good that we were otherwise doing with our lives. It was backward mobility from the start, eventually doing nothing but digging a great big hole in my soul and messing with what little pride I held at the time.

WOW! What a together chick I am.. but why write about it? Why now?

Because I recently saw G again. He was under my nose for all of these years! Not just at the airport, but working for my preferred airline at the airport! I saw him as I was being detained (once again) for refusing the x ray. I saw those eyes and that physique and he saw me. We exchanged some small talk, eyes locked like before, with the same intensity threatening our now, middle-aged loins, and nicely established lives. I told him I was now a provider and proudly disclosed my website. He offered the kind of canned comment that one would imagine an old lover, with no skin in the game, would produce. (He even repeated it twice.) Even all these years later, nothing had changed. Keyword: NOTHING.

I ran into G again at the airport a week after that, as I stood with friends, and I am pleased to report that there are those who can bear witness to the fact that I wasn’t looking for him! I do believe that there are no accidents, however, and G was too prevalent once for his presence to be meaningless. The lessons that resulted were too profound. He left a mark and is a reminder of a dark detour.

I choose to view the sighting of G as the universe checking in with me. Perhaps it’s a warning, or just a way to measure my progress, but I’m listening and I’m grateful.

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In honor of this day, I flew to Chicago. The airport was scarcely populated and the passengers were tense and quiet. Security was no more aggressive than usual and maybe even a tad less boorish, for which I am always appreciative. I watched the coverage of the events of 9/11/01 on TV this morning, paying special attention to the voices of the commentators as the attack unfolded in it’s complete and undeniable horror.

I had then not yet been to New York and thus, could not fully comprehend the impact of what I was watching. My mother had called to tell me to turn on the news. My husband stood watching as he dressed for work. I wondered aloud how they were going to put out the fires, and tried to imagine the chaos and picture the TERROR (before that word became so commonplace that its use held the same dull drone as a parent’s tiresome lecture on grades/ sex/ or curfew. ) Shortly thereafter, right in front of my eyes, the first tower fell. With tears rolling down my cheeks, and my heart pounding out of my chest, I called to my husband. He backed up from the mirror, stole a glance at the TV, pecked me on my wet cheek and left for work. In doing so, he demonstrated a lack of emotion so eerie that I concluded once and for all what I had begun to suspect; that this man had absolutely NO evidence of a soul. Ten years later, I remember the revelation that we were being attacked, and the realization that my husband was a prick with equal lucidity. Shortly thereafter we were at war, and I was getting a divorce.

Over the next ten years, we were to become simultaneously jacked-up and chronically desensitized to what would occur within our own nation.  In my opinion 9/11 left its biggest mark by diminishing our country’s ability to like itself. It’s only when we like what we stand for that was can stop living in fear, but the tragic progeny of 9/11 is that we seemingly can no longer figure out what it is for which we can stand, together. If you believe, like I do, that peace of mind is the absence of anger, fear, guilt, doubt, resentment, and worry, then the terrorists are still winning, and winning big. The crazies are slipping through the cracks and into our political system, banks have taken away the security of owning a home or getting a business loan, and the very web put into place to trap the terrorists is being used instead to “terrorize” the American people. We are being irradiated at airports, punished for using cash despite the crunch on our credit, and encouraged to distrust each other. We are openly disrespecting our President, and rewarding the bullies who refuse to get along. We have completely lost track of the cohesive nature of our country and how privileged we are to be here. We have scattered into parts, whereas before, the sum was what made us great. Instead of standing proud as a force to be reckoned with, we have become a nation of whiners and blamers.

Shortly after my divorce, I became a provider. I have seen much of the country  in the last 9 years, including New York. If there ever was a city with a target painted on its ass, NYC would be it, but you would never know if from the people who live there. I believe it’s from living in the actual “melting pot” before 9/11. New Yorkers never lost sight of what it meant to be an American in the first place. They understood that life came at them daily and their strong attitude and unwavering patriotism was something that was as non-negotiable on 9/10 as it was on 9/11. My wish for the next decade is that we rediscover our balls as American citizens with rights as opposed to “victims” of 9/11, that we park the egos and independent agendas long enough to use enough common sense and compassion to unite as a government, and that we be grateful, find peace, re-learn pride, and get back to the business of continually evolving as the greatest country and the envy of the world.

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My friend, R had had her breasts removed yesterday. She had succumbed to surgery with reconstruction a month ago, which led to infection. Now, although she has her nipples, she has no breasts. After fighting the battle her own way, using diet and unconventional therapies, her spirit is gone and her will to fight with chemo and radiation is negligible. R is close to my age, and was always one of those “sexy” gals who was not in the business of love, but rather, in the business of making those of us who are in it a whole lot sexier. She’s a stunning woman with long, blonde hair, big blue eyes, and an amazing figure, for which her luscious boobs and cherry nipples were a focal point.

I’ve known her for 9 years and we had a lot in common. We were “those” kind of girls; the ones that caused less secure women to clutch their husbands a little tighter in our presence and who radiated sexuality even after the initial impact of our cleavage had passed. We both developed early, and of course, attention followed. Fights ensued with our mothers over minimizer bras and boys lurking outside our windows. Being in sports, we initially disliked our bodies, then eventually embraced our voluminous femininity and ran with the look. We both showcased our lovely boobs to get us through school and then again as a financial supplement for our early, conventional careers. We joked about showing up in the same skimpy tank tops in the summer and the same ribbed sweaters in the winter. We were boom-boom girls and proud of it: confident, inviting, and socially irreverent. Walking ads for lust.

I sit topless as I write this. In fact, I’ve spent much of the day this way, observing the landscape of my body and trying to picture it radically altered. I’ve clutched my breasts and fondled them and thanked them for their presence on my body. I will no longer curse them when clothes don’t fit right or my shoulders ache. I’m built to hold my rack, but it’s also become part of my identity. I can’t put myself in R’s shoes right now–or maybe I can feel her pain all too well. I guess I’m just choosing to linger somewhere in between. In my world, a sexpot silhouette is so important that our boobs are even rated. But in my numbed contemplation, I now find it profound that there is no rating for other essential parts like ears, arms, or even minds. The true purpose of breasts are for feeding our babies, so I suppose survival trumps utility, but still, my mind wanders as to the equity of it all. I desperately want to be altruistic and tell myself that I would simply have to look inward for strength, but instead all I can do is I pray that I never have to find out where my boobs end and inward begins.

*** Like most women in the beauty business, R. is self-employed, and while she is fortunate enough to have some health insurance, she provides the major source of support for her family. Any donations (no matter how small!!) in the form of money, Southwest Airline gift cards (for her mother to travel for her care), iTunes, Trader Joes, or Whole Foods gift cards would be deeply appreciated! Please email me for how to get these items to her. Thank you.

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Tags: « body image - breast cancer - breasts - escort - mastectomy »
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As I write this it’s a cold, rainy day in Phoenix.  Even the computer keys are cold. I’m enjoying it because it’s probably the last cold day until fall. For a moment, my mind is pacing itself at a leisurely trot, processing information, but keeping it moving without worry or obsession. Given the mysterious absence of my “all or nothing” mental rut, which often squelches any creative thought, either by literary paralysis or time constraint, I have decided to write.

Although I am committed to moving forward in life, and not dwelling on the past or identifying too heavily with any sad stories that have occasionally occupied chapters in my life, sometimes I do look back. I thumb through the pages looking for lessons, signs of emotional progress, or even full stories that allow me to empathize with others. I’ve had a rich life, with the biggest reward being the kind of satisfaction that comes with pulling oneself up and over a wall that once in my younger mind, seemed so imposing that it simply disappeared into the clouds. My life has been a patchwork of wealthy and poor, hopeful and sad, angry and stagnant, then healed by unconditional love, and validated by accomplishment. It’s a tale of innocent, then not, then innocent again. We all have sad stories that have shaped who we are; stories in which we are both victim and culprit. What we’ve chosen to do with them is what’s important.

I’m choosing to see fewer people these days; partially out of opportunity and partly because for the first time since I arrived at double-digit birthdays, my mind’s insatiable cravings are screaming for attention as loudly as my loins’. I find myself attracted to sessions that are driven by a lot more complexity and thought. While I’ll always covet my mysterious blessing as an unapologetic nympho, I’m moving away from the somewhat scripted, prurient quality that is a requirement of the one-hour tryst [1] toward a much more advanced manifestation of libertine loving brought about by YOUR personal and TRUE desires.

I want to do more than ever before. I want to reset the bar and hoist this “fallen” woman to even greater heights in this business of down and dirty. My job is to give you what you think you need, and there is plenty of quantitative AND anecdotal evidence that I do it extremely well, but imagine if I knew EXACTLY what you needed? What if we had the time to figure that out? You feed me information—knowingly or not. I translate that into live, raw imagery and together we flesh it out bit by bit until the experience reaches everywhere that you need to go…because I can do that, and I’m willing to go there with you. The best part is that if it’s real for me, just imagine what it will feel like to you.

Keep in mind, I’m not a porn star, nor do I ever hope to gain that status, so don’t suggest flaming dildos just because Tori Black had one pile-driven into her ass and you managed to witness it and you thought it looked hot. Wrong girl. I want more from you, and I want you to want more from me!

Let me help you get started. Repeat one of these after me:

“I’ve always wanted…”

“I’m here because…”

“I’m secretly turned on by…”

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Recently, Las Vegas hosted two of its biggest conventions of the year: AEE (Adult Entertainment Expo and AVN awards) and CES (Consumer Electronics Show). AEE is a carnal Carnivale, where the porn stars are available to mingle with their fans and pose for pictures.  It’s also a great opportunity to visit with adult product wholesalers and retailers, and to see what’s new and fun. I found the perfect “hostess” gift for my couples, and a a few new toys (although I was also occasionally distressed to realize how large a percentage of all the products on display I already own!) On the general-public days, the men of CES pay the $90 admission to coyly amble on over to pay homage to their oh-so-personal favorite princesses of suck and fuck. It’s great how the timing of the two shows just works out…coincidence?? Hmmmm?

This lively week of fun and frolic always brings out the kinky girl in me and my inner porn star can barely contain herself! Last year I got my bad girl fix by being one of the “Eyes Wide Shut” girls. That was LOADS of fun, but this year may have topped it.

Outside the show I was surprised to be “recognized” as a porn star and hit up for autographs and photos while walking through the casinos! (Just for the record, I’ve never appeared in any non-private video.) I took it as a compliment, since I was dressed fairly conservatively…and to be fair, on one occasion the lovely AND talented Victoria Von Helkine (who has appeared in a few non-private and very sexy videos) was by my side. Together, I think we are tough to miss. Although I’ve never been in any porn per se, I have thought about doing short, painless and fun fetish clips, on a private-request basis. I like to be creative! No promises at this point, but ideas (and offers) are welcome.

So, what made this trip different? To begin with: Your gal, Sweet Sarah queen of couples, “The Provider’s Provider”, and card carrying bisexual-bon vivant GOT HER SOCKS OFFICIAL ROCKED OFF porn star style!  Now, I’m a nice girl (really!) so when a gentleman friend (who shall be referred to hereafter as “S”)  saw TER ads for his ATF porn star, Charley Chase and his ATF escort (me!) the same week in Las Vegas, he thought it might be fun to create the ultimate threesome experience. I was strangely terrified.  Because I am nothing if not prepared, I watched a whole lot of Charley’s porn. (Yeah..tough gig, I know) I got a pretty good idea of what my gentleman friend liked about her.  Then, I saw that she had worked with my favorite, and until now, the only performer that I really loved watching: Belladonna. Bella doesn’t do fake. Sarah doesn’t like fake either. I watched more and became VERY excited!

The big day arrived and I got a call from Charley herself. Now I have an idea what the guys feel.  I actually had hot little butterflies! After the call, I was, in Charley’s words, super stoked! I asked her what she drank, (Jager and Coke) and dutifully went to the store with a dumb smile on my face. S called to say that his flight had been cancelled and if he didn’t get a seat on the next one he was going to end it all with a plastic knife. Shortly thereafter, he called to say that he’d done something he’s not proud of to assure he got on the next flight. He eventually arrived, a little flustered but ready for action! While he was on his way from the airport, I headed out to get Charley because I wanted a bit of time with her alone. She was cool, cute, and really REALLY happy to meet me! She said, “Wow, people actually KNOW you and they really love you!”  That made me feel great.  After all, she’s the [porn] star!

We talked a bit about my profession vs. hers and our mutual and deep love of Hitachis, and she said she was excited to actually “get down” because porn was often about taking direction and not free flowing personal pleasure. (From watching some of her scenes, however, I think there is still quite a bit of personal pleasure going on.) When she is on the road, she doesn’t have the amount of sex she has while shooting, and she often finds herself in NEED!

AWESOME!

I once asked a gentleman what made a porn star worth the money. He explained that it was the fact that the girl onscreen with whom you pleasure yourself in private is now actually right there astride YOU in all her glory, and even if she is downright catatonic, it’s still THE GIRL from your fantasies and that counts for a lot. Perhaps a “duh” moment for me, but hey, even though I can be half a guy at times, I’m still a chick in many respects.  I was excited to see this phenomenon live with S.

We arrived at my condo just before him and when he walked in, Charley jumped up and wrapped her limber legs around S’s waist, much to his delight. He twirled her around and inspected her tattoos and piercings. Yup, same girl from the movies..just a lot smaller in person. She then eagerly stripped off her clothes, donned his fedora hat and perched herself on a barstool to drink her Jager and catch a little buzz. We all did the same, and then the fun began.

Now, I can’t really go into detail here, but let me just say that this experience was really what the score of 10-10 is about.  It was truly once in a lifetime and the few pictures S did manage to snap were so damn HOT and raw! No posing here!! I literally lost myself in this girl and her talents were absolutely unreal! Her kissing alone was enough to nearly get me there and between our fervent make-out sessions and a few deftly executed moves on the part of S, the all the towels we had diligently put down we crumpled on the floor, the couch was soaking wet, and we were all riding the cushions slowly towards the carpet. Sin City became Squirt City and we were the honorary mayors!

The party continued until we were all completely spent, and we took Charley back to her hotel.  Later in the week, she won “Best Unsung Starlet” at the AVN awards. I was truly proud of her! There is no video of my experience with Charley, but if you want to get some idea of my demeanor during my time with her, check out this video of her and Alexis Texas.  http://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=1647834671 Fast-forward to about the 50:00 mark (or watch it all, but pay particular attention at about 50:00!) Disregarding the anal, I truly felt what you see on Alexis’ face and what she was clearly, genuinely feeling at the hands of Charley!

This experience was an 11! It was that good, and I can’t wait to do it again! Volunteers?

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I love what I do and thankfully, the rewards and pleasures continue to consistently outweigh the concerns. That said, I sometimes wonder what life would be like a few steps back from the edge.  Right about that time, somebody thanks me from the bottom of their heart for hanging my tush out there and I get to relive that feeling of extreme certainty that I am exactly where I need to be…and it’s powerful.

I’d like to share a story of appreciation with you. This is for all of the girls who do what we do because we have a true calling in our hearts, and for all of the men (and women) who love us for exactly that reason. About the time I wrote the blog entry, “Imagine”, in which I called on people to not just let their lives happen to them, but to have a role in making them great, I met a couple who were doing exactly that: living life to the fullest.   The gentleman had miraculously survived a traumatic medical event three years back, which left him disabled, and dramatically changed his life and that of his family. He and his wife were medical professionals, but nothing had prepared them for what their lives now looked like.

Having always been adventurous, the couple (K and E) restructured to accommodate his disabilities and continued to travel and find ways to enjoy their lives. They made certain that their bedroom activities followed suit.  One of their private fantasies during the many years that they were married was to invite another lady into their bedroom.  I felt honored to be contacted by them, and after much anticipation, the three of us partied with great success!!  Our time together was memorable and they were sexy, kind, curious, and gracious.

On January 2nd, to honor 2011 and thank those who supported me in 2010, I sent out this letter:

My Dear Friends,

2010 was quite the ride!  In my personal life, there were many wonderful occasions and much to celebrate! I believe that my life is a great one because I made the conscious choice to live it that way!

I think we can all agree that life takes a huge toll when the ground always seems to be shifting.  There’s much that’s being said about the issue of spending and the return on our “investments”. My life lesson for 2010 was the value of investing in myself.

As you may know, my answer to the recession was to expand to Las Vegas, get a place there, and treat the back and forth from Phoenix as a “simple” commute. While the strategy worked, the process took a toll on me. I gave up my fitness coach and personal mentor for a month, then two, then six. I still enjoyed giving everything I had to my wonderful clients, but I was left with nothing for myself, and my fitness level suffered…NOT a good mix for this former athlete’s body, mind, or attitude. Three months ago I realized I couldn’t take it anymore, and knew I had to change things. I returned to my coach/mentor, and found a sane way to manage life in two cities.

So, here I am in 2011, significantly leaner, wiser and grateful beyond belief!  I’ve finally found a balance, and I feel incredibly optimistic about the coming year.  I look back and think of the immeasurable connections and inspiration I have received from you!  You have acted not only as fantastic lovers, but also as teachers and true friends!  I hope that the times I spent with you were relaxing, sexy, sensual respites, and welcome breaks from the ordinary and the crazy, and that you learned as much from meeting me as I did from you.

I’ve always felt blessed and honored by the generosity of those I meet, but from an economic perspective, 2010 was obviously different, and a challenge for nearly everyone!  I can’t thank you enough for helping make the year successful!  I like to think we got through it together!  I look forward to even better times (with you!) in 2011.

Warmly,

Sarah

I received many wonderful responses, but one I will never, ever forget.  It was from E.  63 days after I met them they were continuing the celebration of their life by sharing the Christmas holiday aboard a cruise ship.  On that cruise, K began to have problems breathing and passed quickly despite the heroic efforts of the medical staff. In her letter to me, E wrote,  “When I think about the last few years, we knew we were on borrowed time.  We chose to live that time as happily as we could.  Spending time with you was part of our accomplishing all the little things we as a couple had secretly talked of doing. I can’t think of anything we failed to do…”

My New Year’s wish to you is that you live YOUR life with specific goals for your future. Make time for pleasures in your life, be they personal, family-oriented, adventurous, or just plain relaxing, and know that you are deserving of them! Don’t let your hopes and wishes sit until they expire. Write them down, identify and overcome the obstacles, and today start the process of making the glorious events of your life really happen. It’s 2011, the time is NOW.

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…not because I am an Arizona native (albeit spending much time in politically-tumultuous Nevada), nor because it hit me as hard as it did everyone else, but just because I needed to express something more than just grief.  Then I read this, aired by Keith Olbermann on MSNBC on Jan. 8, and I feel like he said it all:

Finally tonight, as promised, a Special Comment on the attempted assassination of Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords of Arizona. We need to put the guns down. Just as importantly we need to put the gun metaphors away and permanently.

Left, right, middle – politicians and citizens – sane and insane. This morning in Arizona, this age in which this country would accept  “targeting” of political opponents and putting bullseyes over their faces and of the dangerous blurring between political rallies and gun shows, ended.

This morning in Arizona, this time of the ever-escalating, borderline-ecstatic invocation of violence in fact or in fantasy in our political discourse, closed. It is essential tonight not to demand revenge, but to demand justice; to insist not upon payback against those politicians and commentators who have so irresponsibly brought us to this time of domestic terrorism, but to work to change the minds of them and their supporters – or if those minds tonight are too closed, or if those minds tonight are too unmoved, or if those minds tonight are too triumphant, to make sure by peaceful means that those politicians and commentators and supporters have no further place in our system of government.

If Sarah Palin, whose website put and today scrubbed bullseye targets on 20 Representatives including Gabby Giffords, does not repudiate her own part in amplifying violence and violent imagery in politics, she must be dismissed from politics – she must be repudiated by the members of her own party, and if they fail to do so, each one of them must be judged to have silently defended this tactic that today proved so awfully foretelling, and they must in turn be dismissed by the responsible members of their own party.

If Jesse Kelly, whose campaign against Congresswoman Giffords included an event in which he encouraged his supporters to join him firing machine guns, does not repudiate this, and does not admit that even if it was solely indirectly, or solely coincidentally, it contributed to the black cloud of violence that has enveloped our politics, he must be repudiated by Arizona’s Republican Party.

If Congressman Allen West, who during his successful campaign told his supporters that they should make his opponent afraid to come out of his home, does not repudiate those remarks and all other suggestions of violence and forced fear, he should be repudiated by his constituents and the Republican Congressional Caucus.

If Sharron Angle, who spoke of “Second Amendment solutions,” does not repudiate that remark and urge her supporters to think anew of the terrible reality of what her words implied, she must be repudiated by her supporters in Nevada.

If the Tea Party leaders who took out of context a Jefferson quote about blood and tyranny and the tree of liberty do not understand – do not understand tonight, now what that really means, and these leaders do not tell their followers to abhor violence and all threat of violence, then those Tea Party leaders must be repudiated by the Republican Party.

If Glenn Beck, who obsesses nearly as strangely as Mr. Loughner did about gold and debt and who wistfully joked about killing Michael Moore, and Bill O’Reilly, who blithely repeated “Tiller the Killer” until the phrase was burned into the minds of his viewers, do not begin their next broadcasts with solemn apologies for ever turning to the death-fantasies and the dreams of bloodlust, for ever having provided just the oxygen to those deep in madness to whom violence is an acceptable solution, then those commentators and the others must be repudiated by their viewers, and by all politicians, and by sponsors, and by the networks that employ them.

And if those of us considered to be “on the left” do not re-dedicate ourselves to our vigilance to eliminate all our own suggestions of violence – how ever inadvertent they might have been then we too deserve the repudiation of the more sober and peaceful of our politicians and our viewers and our networks.

Here, once, in a clumsy metaphor, I made such an unintended statement about the candidacy of then-Senator Clinton. It sounded as if it was a call to physical violence. It was wrong, then. It is even more wrong tonight. I apologize for it again, and I urge politicians and commentators and citizens of every political conviction to use my comment as a means to recognize the insidiousness of violent imagery, that if it can go so easily slip into the comments of one as opposed to violence as me, how easily, how pervasively, how disastrously can it slip into the already-violent or deranged mind?

For tonight we stand at one of the clichéd crossroads of American history. Even if the alleged terrorist Jared Lee Loughner was merely shooting into a political crowd because he wanted to shoot into a political crowd, even if he somehow was unaware who was in the crowd, we have nevertheless for years been building up to a moment like this.

Assume the details are coincidence. The violence is not. The rhetoric has devolved and descended, past the ugly and past the threatening and past the fantastic and into the imminently murderous.

We will not return to the 1850s, when a pro-slavery Congressman nearly beat to death an anti-slavery Senator; when an anti-slavery madman cut to death with broadswords pro-slavery advocates.

We will not return to the 1960s, when with rationalizations of an insane desire for fame, or of hatred, or of political opposition, a President was assassinated and an ultra-Conservative would-be president was paralyzed, and a leader of peace was murdered on a balcony.
We will not.

Because tonight, what Mrs. Palin, and what Mr. Kelly, and what Congressman West, and what Ms. Angle, and what Mr. Beck, and what Mr. O’Reilly, and what you and I must understand, was that the man who fired today did not fire at a Democratic Congresswoman and her supporters.

He was not just a mad-man incited by a thousand daily temptations by slightly less-mad-men to do things they would not rationally condone.

He fired today into our liberty and our rights to live and to agree or disagree in safety and in freedom from fear that our support or opposition will cost us our lives or our health or our sense of safety. The bullseye might just as well have been on Mrs. Palin, or Mr. Kelly, or you, or me. The wrong, the horror, would have been – could still be just as real and just as unacceptable.

At a time of such urgency and impact, we as Americans – conservative or liberal – should pour our hearts and souls into politics. We should not – none of us, not Gabby Giffords and not any Conservative – ever have to pour our blood. And every politician and commentator who hints otherwise, or worse still stays silent now, should have no place in our political system, and should be denied that place, not by violence, but by being shunned and ignored.

It is a simple pledge, it is to the point, and it is essential that every American politician and commentator and activist and partisan take it and take it now, I say it first, and freely:

Violence, or the threat of violence, has no place in our Democracy, and I apologize for and repudiate any act or any thing in my past that may have even inadvertently encouraged violence. Because for whatever else each of us may be, we all are Americans.

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I recently read an article on what the author, Kate Bolick, refers to as “endangered arts”. Specifically she cites meaningful conversation, the handwritten letter, a do-it-yourself mentality, and the Renaissance personality. As I read, I realized that my favorite people to spend time with are those who actively and enthusiastically practice these arts. I also know from personal experience that I am happiest and most fulfilled when I allow myself to slow down, roll up my sleeves, and delve into projects like writing, painting (yes the Art Gallery page is all my work,) or cooking. Often, I am asked what I like most about my profession and what a wonderful encounter means to me. Interestingly, Ms. Bolick’s list mirrors my ultimate BCD experiences. (I wonder how she would feel about that!?) I will explain.

Meaningful Conversation

16th Century essayist Michel de Montaigne wrote, “The most fruitful and natural play of the mind is conversation. I find it sweeter than any other action in life.” I feel that conversation is essential to building intimacy…and phone just doesn’t cut it! Talking helps us learn and a face-to-face exchange forces us to really feel each other. Reading faces and emotions fosters empathy; a quality that researchers feel is on the decline. Based upon confidences I hear, I would have to agree. A meandering chat leads to all sorts of cool places, and offers clues to what we really need from each other. Therefore, seemingly innocuous banter can go a long way towards an intensely pleasurable end result. So, although the “one-hour” encounter certainly has its place, (especially in a touring situation), UNLESS IT’S A SIZZLING HOT, ONE-HOUR MAKEOUT SESSION, it’s really not how I choose to connect. What gets me off is learning about more than just your nether regions… Then being the girl who is THERE, completely present, acutely aware of your body’s signals, and customizing the experience just for YOU. The cool thing is that when those elements are seamlessly spliced and rolling in real time we gain our momentum as a couple, feeding (and sometimes feinding) off each other’s energy. The end result is the ability to JUST LET GO in the care of a trusted friend (and who doesn’t need THAT???)

The Handwritten Letter

Ok, so I’m going to cheat a little here and talk about e mail as opposed to pen and paper. I adore correspondence prior to our meeting! There are babes who can be at your door in 20 minutes who don’t require the warm caress of verbal foreplay, but I like it! Thanks to sites like P411, I can feel relatively safe, but still know very little about someone with whom I am going to soon be about as intimate as a lady can get. Whether the communication is witty or simply informative, I enjoy a thoughtful email or two, or even a few. Knowing your age, profession, a bit about your life, and maybe even an idea why (aside from the obvious) you think you would like to visit with me, is a turn on! It permits me to feel the thrill of anticipation, and from a more technical perspective, allows me to get my head in the game. Although I am all woman, I do love variety in my men! So, write to me! Once we have a scheduled date to look forward to, write to me some more!! You may even ask me questions as long as they are appropriate. I’m a living, breathing person, not just a live nude girl…and certainly not a nitwit cam-ham. (Read: this may actually be time well spent!) Best of all, I will write back! Which, in a roundabout fashion, leads me to Bolick’s next lost art…

A Do-It-Yourself Mentality

I have learned through correspondence with my sweethearts–especially those who enjoy great financial success–that on their “off” days they can be found in hayfields, on tractors, fishing boats, garages, gourmet kitchens, or in woodshops. Although their professions may involve handling money, these men also happen to be particularly adept at handling hot flesh! Their minds may embrace global economics, but their heads remain on their bodies and their hearts feel a bit bigger. Why? Because DOING things makes our world more intelligible and helps us restore a sense of order and rewards us directly for our efforts. In a world where we are never quite sure where we stand, being in charge of just one little corner of it is nothing short of Nirvana! For me, there is nothing more calming than painting. I am happiest when I am creating! The attentiveness gets me out of my head and into anything from a purely joyous place to Zen-like state. As far as I am concerned, anything that tears people away from their mobile devices, computer screens, and tiresome social networks is worth doing. With my deepest apologies to the day-glo porn junkies out there, lovemaking is a hands-on activity!

The Renaissance Personality

Like a lot of people, I worry way too much about the caliber of the wannabe politicians who are garnering the attention of the country. When the public defines “well rounded” to mean a lady can fire a shotgun while wearing lipstick, something is desperately lacking. It’s no wonder that these are the same people that, if given half a chance would completely eradicate music, art, foreign language, evolution, and any meaningful history from public schools. If knowledge = power, then ignorance is a very dangerous thing, and that’s just where “they” want us.

I am a huge fan of education, no matter how it’s achieved. It’s the process of learning that is important. Although I am overeducated, SO not a team player, and would undoubtedly be grossly underemployed in the civilian workforce, I’m not at all sorry I finished graduate school, travelled abroad, was a competitive athlete, and embraced the arts.

I love cultivated people! Being so takes many forms and I am fascinated with all of it. An individual need not attend college or the symphony to be cultivated. They need only to be in touch with how others think and feel, be open to ideas of others, appreciate beauty, and be thoughtful. Conversely I’ve known quite a few people who managed to become quite narrowly formed despite great educations and plentiful opportunities. In my experience, cultivated people are always aware of their character and that comes first. The uncultivated person goes straight for the prize. They want it all and they want it now. Moreover, they feel they deserve it. As a result, they become constant slaves to their appetites and desires. The cultivated person has the ability to see things from many perspectives, and rather than be a slave to his passions, he learns to control them, enhance them, indulge with minimal negative consequences, and distinguish true quality from flash.

So, it’s no wonder these guys ride high on my list of lovers. I adore those who do their homework and wish to exchange more than orgasms. I’m proud of my TER “curriculum vitae,” and feel that it sets me apart from my peers in a manner way beyond the quantitative. I’m elated when others find my body of knowledge as hot as my body because while, like most, maintaining my physique is hard work, my opportunities to enhance my mind are limitless, and yours are too!

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It matters not Who you love, Where you love, Why you love, When you love, Or how you love, It matters only that you love. – John Lennon

I decided to choose a quote to write about, and this one struck me. The world, or more accurately, “our” world seems like it has gotten completely out of hand. Lately, I have heard several conversations beginning with the words, “I’m not a conspiracy theorist, but…” You can imagine the rest of the conversation. There are a lot of hot topics to choose from, none of which are pleasant and all of which incite panic. I finally gained some insight as to the real reason why, and what we can all do to avoid getting pulled under.

You see, I believe that we can only feel positive about ourselves to the degree that we feel in control of our own lives. Conversely, we feel negative about ourselves to the degree that our lives are controlled by external factors. When the simple act of watching the news makes you want to run right out to buy a gun, and you can’t decide whether to keep it for protection against Palin proselytes or to put to your own head, you know something has to change…and the only change that anybody can TRULY believe in is change within THEMSELVES.

So take THAT Doomsdayers!! I’m not buyin’ your crap! I’d rather buy organic fruits and veggies than freeze dried survival kits, and I’m going to enjoy life, drive my convertible with the top down, love my depreciated home and even (HORRORS!) show faith in my country’s future by investing in companies that I feel do a great job to make my life better.

…and there’s another thing: We have a new baby in my family, and I love her.

I look at that little face and I have to believe good things about the world. So, I will do my best with what I can control, and continue to set ambitious goals to keep things lively. My life is charmed and I’m done apologizing for “surviving” the crisis. For that matter, I didn’t just survive it, I plowed through it, and you should too, even if doing so requires some sensory deprivation from the sounds of the talking heads and a conscious choice to be more positive.

…and finally, there’s love. Like Lennon said, it doesn’t matter who, where, why, when, or how. It just matters that you DO.

Start with yourself.

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