Sex fantasies and all… (#humor #sex #love & #sarcasm)

I don’t believe in love at first sight. I’m so easily distracted when I see hot guys, that chances are if I did fall in love instantly, I’d run him over with a truck. And if we are to base this on trial and error from the past, my history shows that every man I did fall in love with at first sight usually ended up being disposed of rather quickly and those I said I’d never date in a million years ended up in my bedroom. There are, of course, exceptions to the rule. I once saw a guy walking into a nightclub and decided I wanted him. It’s not so weird though given the week before I had written a long list of everything I wanted in a man (most notably that he should be a filmmaker with dark curly hair and speak fluent French) and this man fit the bill. Not that I could have known that when he walked in the door, but maybe I was psychic? Or maybe I created him if it is true we create our reality? However, the time I said I wanted to marry an American millionaire I ended up with two, none of whom I married. I simultaneously asked for my soul mate and the problem was probably that my soul mate wasn’t a millionaire. Yet. I can only hope he’s become one since.

Sometimes when I feel bad about my non-existent love life and my past escapades I retort to reading Sex and the City quotes, because if I fucked up at least I will be sure to remember Samantha fucked a lot more. That could, potentially, be seen as a depressing fact as well though, in which case I have to bring out chocolate to see things in another light. Chocolate, however, is not well-known for its sense of humor. For that you might need to grab a bottle of wine.

If the wine makes you sentimental, instead of giggly, it will remind you that the reason you dated fucked up men is because you were fucked up. This means you are suddenly overcome by an urge to work on your beloved business as a form of escapism, as it will remind you that there is passion in your life, even if it doesn’t come with an orgasm. If you really can’t get your head out of the gutter you pick up a cheap novel about ever lasting romance and convince yourself that if the fifty year old heroine who suffers from a lot more psychological issues than you manages to find some hot dude who swears his undying love to her, so will you. You try to disregard the fact that the book was written by a woman and has more illogical flaws to the storyline than any writer/director could possibly ignore. Especially the fact that the man in the story is hot, nice and faithful.

Then, suddenly, it dawns on you that you’ve become a sarcastic bitch to cover up the fact that your favorite feel good movie is “We Bought a Zoo” because Matt Damon as a single dad is utterly irresistible and your dream of having the perfect family is completely illogical when looking at your past endeavors in the dating field. So you decide to write a new list of what you want in a man that starts with “He gets me and he loves me…” and ends with “P.S. he can also dance and he does have a six-pack” “P.P.S. He’s not an addict, criminal, psychologically unstable, manic depressive, prone to snoring, bad in bed, living in a different country or with his mother permanently, fucking anyone I know, unfaithful, or prone to any other potentially damaging thing.”

It sucks having a gooey heart, protected by walls of sarcasm three stories high, doesn’t it? It sucks even more trying to let go of the walls and be like “Here I am. Matt Damon fantasies and all.”

Writing down all my dirty fantasies. I mean I’m sure Matt Damon had to take care of a lot of mud in that zoo….

Passionate reveries…

During childhood there were numerous asthma attacks, bullies, my mother’s death, my step mom’s somewhat peculiar sentiments toward myself and my sister and a constant shyness and fear of people thanks to my crushed self-confidence, but there was also the love of my father, sister and grandparents, as well as other relatives and friends, and there was the sailing boat and France. Later there was my best friend, dancing, cameras and notepads. These were my rocks, my pillars of strength. Of course there were also stories, as nine times out of ten I had my head stuck in a book, but they were a bit less animated (although plenty alive in my imagination). I believe you see the result of all those stories in this blog on a weekly basis – without them it’s unlikely I would have turned to writing in the first place.  The fact that I actually work as a writer today still strikes me as fantastical, but it is probably what people would have deemed most likely, as although I dabbled in all fine and performing arts, writing and photography are the ones that seem to possess me and which come together in directing. Stories and creative ideas tend to haunt me, which sometimes make me swear and stomp around in agitation, but I must confess that I have no idea of what life would be like without these passionate ghosts of mine. Empty is the word that springs to mind. As possessed as I may be by my own ideas and as much as I have spent lord knows how many hours in confused fury not understanding how to execute them all, I really, honestly believe my life would be nothing without them and hereby profusely excuse myself for all the times I have sworn over them (if that sentence doesn’t quite add up, don’t worry. I’m inventing my language).

One of my more recent ideas, as of this evening in fact, is the idea that I should write a blog about some of my pillars of support growing up, some of the greatest loves of my life. I had this idea researching an article about France, as I was faced with one of these pillars, namely France itself. My colleague at work last year used to laugh at me as I always switched to a French radio station during hours of stress as I claimed it calmed me down and it probably did. I can feel my blood pressure sink as soon as I hear the familiar and homely sound of French voices and French tunes, especially the older ones. The only thing that potentially raises my blood pressure is French grammar as I find it ridiculously difficult, but it still fails to tarnish a country that was always my second home, my place to return to. Just writing this I’ve already started taking deep breaths and relaxing.

I did not intend to write about France just yet though, as I still have paid articles to finish on the subject. What I intended to do was to talk about the fact that I intend to write about it. About France, my grandparents and sailing. Three very solid pillars in my childhood. Three things that no other influence managed to tarnish. Maybe it’s because my dad has just sold off my grandparents house and apartment in Sweden and although I live in Cape Town I still feel a pang of….of reluctance as I feel like one of my homes have disappeared. Two, if we shall be exact. A big part of my life has been erased. Their time share in Menton was sold already the other year, but luckily I did not invest my love of France into that one flat. My grandparents are, as you can now probably tell, the reason why I ended up loving France in the first place, although my dad has influenced me in that area also, as he picked up on their love (and a few French cheeses whilst at it).

I really missed my grandma the other day. Not her ability to correct my French verbs, although that was useful, but just…her. As I now looked up my eyes ended up on her old sewing kit, which I brought with me to Cape Town. God knows the old metal box has seen better days, but the sense of familiarity of having it around is akin to the feeling of France, the feeling of home. This week she crossed my mind as I was playing with one of my mentorship kiddos, little Mr T, one of the twins. He was in a weird mood and spent all day at crèche as close to me as he could get and at that time he was climbing on the swing/climbing structure and looking at him, the memory of my gran flashed through my mind and I desperately wanted her to see him, to experience the kids that are now such a big part of my life. I know she would have understood and been proud of me. She was always the one that got me, or maybe she made me me. It’s hard to tell which way the story goes. I’m now fighting tears which is the problem about writing about my grandma, because as much as I honor everything she gave me, I still miss her enough to cry a river. Not unlike my best friend, she’s in pretty much everything I do – as in she would have understood my sentiments exactly, but that doesn’t mean I always contemplate it. All the same I believe I need to start remembering her more often and come to terms with it. Not least because it makes me remember why I am loved. It makes me remember my good qualities and that in turn makes me forget to try to impress by being someone I’m not. Something well worth bearing in mind when new in town. You go through endless meetings until you have your support network formed and sometimes I find myself babbling hysterically to someone who couldn’t give two cents.

So ladies and gents, I will present to you a series of blogs about what made me, me. The lovely things that made me, me. I haven’t yet decided all they will entail, but France, my grandparents and sailing are currently topping the list. I have a feeling my best friend, my soul mate (of one degree or another, there are so many confusing soul mate theories out there), will make an appearance. Dance, the theater and filmmaking might also sweep by, with performances from jesters and fools. Cooking, Morocco and naughty magic as well as children in need and Africa (or untamed adventures if you so like) will potentially play various parts too. Let’s call it the passion project.

Parisian, oh so Parisian…

The ultimate sex fantasy…

What is the ultimate sex fantasy? Is it a certain thing? Or is it just to completely relax, surrender and let your heart take you exactly where you want to go without any holding back? Is it ultimate freedom?

I took two of the kids I mentor on an outing yesterday – I took the two boys to the library, an organic shop that has a Thursday market and Llandadno beach. One of them did not want to listen to “do not push any buttons and sit properly in the car.” The rule is if you don’t listen, get a warning and still don’t listen, you don’t come with on the next outing. That’s why the little girl wasn’t with this time. After all of them behaving really nicely last week, she played with her seat belt on the way back. I’m trying to explain to them I don’t make weird rules just because, but the rules we have is for their own safety. I don’t like adults exercising power over kids just because, or without explanation. You hear that a lot when out and about “don’t touch this, don’t do that, don’t ask questions” and they don’t necessarily point out why (they might in all fairness have pointed that out beforehand) nor do they always have a reason why themselves. Point being, taking care of these kids I often question myself – am I a good mothers figure? Are the rules I’m setting up OK? Are my reactions when I’m out with them OK? Am I still just “taming” them rather than making them think for themselves? Just because I can’t pay to feed them a proper GAPS and raw food diet, is that bad of me? Surely a whole foods diet is better than crisps, but am I not putting in enough effort with it? Am I perfect enough?

You see I always imagined that when I have kids around that I look after I’m living this perfect life in a nice Eco house, with a large garden and herbal garden, I have a lovely husband, I have a very scheduled day and I have proper traditions in place for everything, from hot chocolate Sundays, to Christmas and I will know all those educational games and crafts things we will do together. Well guess what? I’m neither rich, nor married, but I do live in a natural home with a garden and I have planted five herbs in it (so there, I do have an herbal garden LOL). I don’t have it all together, but I’m trying to put another piece of the puzzle together every day. No, there’s not fresh Kombucha on the table yet, but I have the ingredients and the jar ready to go (and Kombucha clearly is essential for a household…well, you know at least my dream household because yummy mummies have all those things they want to have all ready to go, always, no?! LOL). No, I don’t know all the amazing recipes I wanna know, all the educational games and the crafts project. I most certainly am not married. Single appears to be the notorious case of my relationship status and funnily enough I care less about it now. I guess I feel rather fulfilled, because as a matter of fact every day it seems I do more. I do learn new recipes. I do learn about education. I do work as a writer with decent assignments, if yet there are mountains to climb. I do work with underprivileged kids and I do have some that I mentor and who could become my family, should I choose to walk that path and raise the money to do so. And somehow this has all calmed me down and made me feel fulfilled. On the other hand, I don’t yet have a proper social life in Cape Town, so it’s sort of made me wake up to that as well, because I need friends and support.

There are other things as well I have been contemplating – my ADD habits and how bad I am at certain things. I’m blessed in some areas, a mess in others. Thinking of mentoring the kids kind of makes you think about what kind of role model you are. Like when I sleep in now I’m like shit – had, I had kids I could not have done that. Does that mean I’m not ready for this? Does that make me “bad?” I’m terrible with paperwork and time keeping, so clearly I’m not a responsible adult. I can fill out a form three times and still miss things and I mess things up in my mind all the time, so I’m bad right? I was always told I was bad because of this, so clearly I’m not responsible enough. Never mind that I try doing something about my bad habits, the one day I miss doing a work out, or fail and don’t live in “perfection” I get angry with myself. And of course I’m not perfect, so I fail all the time with sticking to things and oh my God. I don’t have a pattern of wanting to punish myself at all or anything. OH MY GOD I have a pattern of wanting to punish myself, oh now I’m really seriously bad…oh my God. When I was younger I literally wanted to run into a wall when I fucked up, I really hated myself for it and wanted pain, not that I ever did that, but seriously I had those thoughts and now I’m dealing with kids, seriously, I’m really bad. See what I mean? That’s my brain for you. And since deciding to deal with the kids I seriously had to face this oh my God I’m feeling inadequate pattern.

I was reading the Mommypotamus blog the other day and looking at eco houses and that’s when I really came to see this pattern. I had a freak show about not having everything “all together,” or rather discovering what a freak show I have been having and starting to unraveling it and letting go of it. And it’s truly bizarre because I probably have it more together than most. Apart from my ADD patterns and wanting to punish myself and judging myself, I believe I’m quite good. Actually. It’s just my perfectionist and not good enough belief that’s screwing with my head. Truly that’s the reason why I’m single as well. When I meet someone I like I’m so petrified I’m not good enough and perfect enough that I start disliking myself and the idea of going into a relationship or fall in love only to once more prove to myself I’m not good enough, not perfect enough hasn’t been appealing. I lose track of myself when I start caring about people’s opinions. So having come to the point where I’m fairly OK with myself when I’m with myself and friends, I kind of guess I wanted to keep the status quo, especially as whenever I ventured into trying I failed. I did only manage to prove I wasn’t good enough once more.

I guess I’ve always had habits I’ve used as an excuse to feel bad about myself. Fact is, there are some things I’m no good at, like filling in paperwork – last year when working as a sales manager I was always in trouble – I always missed something. Especially when I had read through it three times and was really proud thinking I’d done a good job. People would get angry that I didn’t concentrate, but thought I had my full attention on the task – and proof read it three times. Not to mention my own panic. I felt like I couldn’t trust myself, because for example – I would put everything together on my desk, preparing to leave and structuring my things so as to remember everything. Then I would happily leave without the envelop I had placed on top of my desk so as NOT to forget to post it. Now certain of these things I learnt to manage, because they were habits. If you always put the keys in the same place you will remember them, but all of life is not a habit. In an office there’s new things all the time and you can’t habitualize them.

I worked in an office for over a year and that made me humble, because I had to face my shortcomings every day and after a while I had to somehow try to kick myself out of feeling bad about them, because some things I couldn’t change and I became better at a lot of the things I could change. It was still trying, because I couldn’t trust myself not to miss details. Then suddenly I was working as a freelance writer and people loved my writing. That’s not to say I haven’t missed deadlines and mixed things up. Still happens. Still makes me feel bad.  When I was forced, due to an article I was writing, reading up about ADD I had to humbly admit to the fact that I have pretty much every symptom of it and I don’t even believe in ADD, because most people they say can’t concentrate can concentrate. Maybe just not in the same ways.  I came to realize some of us have brains that work differently and some of that can’t and shouldn’t be changed, because our brain works that way because it’s great with something else. As humiliated as I felt reading about all those symptoms and ticking off the list, I also felt relieved, because the anger I have had to encounter with the years and all those “you’re just not responsible enough” kind of felt less hurtful.

I’m learning to structure my days. I’m learning to respect and love myself. I’m learning to value my talents. I’m learning that I can’t and don’t have to be great at everything. I do have to learn to discipline myself in certain areas, but at the same time I have to appreciate what my somewhat chaotic mind manages to come up with. I will also have to learn to respect and appreciate others and not, if I’m having PMS, have a complete tantrum if they say they are against Monsanto and manage to eat GMO corn at the same time, or try to convince me they care about the planet whilst smoking cigarettes and feeding their kids non-organic meat with weird preservatives, because my perfectionist hysteria tends to have two pet peeves – health and nature and if I’m in a bad mood I believe people are personally insulting me by poisoning themselves and the planet.

I realized there won’t be a one year vacation when I build my eco-home, learn to cook all the perfect foods (raw foods and whole foods), finally finish writing my book and come up with ideas and educational games that will entertain the kids till they’re eighteen, so that after that year everything would be ready and good to go. Or maybe I could do that if I left my volunteer work and my gorgeous home, said goodbye to entertainment and locked myself up in a tiny room somewhere – then I could work non-stop for a year and take a year sabbatical afterwards. That’s not gonna happen. Even if I did I would continue to learn and grow, so perfection would never be achievable anyway. Only idiots believe they’ve learnt all there is to know and they can’t go further. Perfection is an illusion. We are evolving every day if we are only humble enough to acknowledge the mistakes of the past and learn from the lessons. Admit that we aren’t perfect. And maybe more so than anything you have to teach kids to learn. To grow. To evolve.

So yes folks, I have perfectionist issues, I’m rather messy with certain things and it’s no good speaking to me about Monsanto if I have PMS – I may not have a loud tantrum as such, but my world will fall to pieces and if you smoke you will have me in tears as my mom died from cancer and how could anyone wish that upon themselves, or force their loved ones to watch them die? I have a few scars in that department. Not that I would necessarily show you that, but that’s how I’d feel. But having said all that I have some amazing talents, I left to set up my dream life in Cape Town, I have a career that I enjoy, I live in a dream home, I work with kids which was always my dream, I’m fairly healthy and I really do my best to understand kids and how to raise them. I do my best to live from my heart. So maybe I’m like OK you know. Maybe I even deserve having a boyfriend and kids. Maybe getting my work in magazines and on silver screens too. Could give it a go I suppose once I’ve managed to structure my days to fit it all in. Mmmm. Maybe there’s hope for me after all?! Maybe I don’t have to be great at everything to allow myself to enjoy my life? Maybe I can just sit back and love…and step up and follow my heart. Without judging. Just follow my heart. Absolutely free. Maybe…

I see the irony in this, because I have to learn routine and scheduling, but at the same time the judgments, the holding back instead of letting it flow…that’s the adventure. Being stuck inside your ever so criminal mind, that’s prison. Heart is freedom. Following your heart, trusting you can do it. Setting yourself free to do that. Then the routines and schedules ou truly need will fall into place and the ones you have to feel secure, or the routine of breaking them to feel bad, will disappear. Freedom is your heart.

Healing by making love…

You can have sex with almost anyone. You meet someone at a bar. There’s physical attraction. You end up in bed. You don’t have to love them. Live with them. Accept their flaws. Help them. Be there for them. Grow with them. Have them see your flaws. You don’t even have to tell them what you didn’t like about the sex and how you would love to improve it. Nor do you have to listen to the tell you what they didn’t like and how you can improve that. No one will infringe on your ego. You don’t have to face infringing on their’s. There’s no relationship. The thing is though, the whole world is one big relationship and if we want to make a change, we will have to learn to make love, both with those close to us and those far away.

In the wake of the Boston marathon disaster I feel compelled to say a few words. Like most people I feel it’s a terrible act. It leaves me completely puzzled to think that anyone would want to go and bomb civilians having a good time with friends and family. That’s what people do in war though – they feel someone has attacked them and their values and so they attack back. Someone killed their family and friends, maybe in a more obvious act of war like a bomb raid to overthrow the President, but they still did it. And then they feel they have the right to bomb back at any time. An eye for an eye.

Obviously I don’t know who committed the crime yesterday. I don’t know why. The only thing I believe I know is that to stop these crimes from happening we have to come together in love. We have to teach each other love and respect. Instead of spending hours talking about how horrid the world is, how horrid the person or people committing that act are, we should stand together and teach love and respect.

If it turns out that the bomber is part of a religion, or of a certain nationality I hope that what we do is not condemn the religion, or nationality and spend hours talking about how bad it all is, but rather go out there as agents of change and talk about love and respect. What it means to love and respect each other.

Similarly, there has been a lot of shootings in schools in America and sometimes I’m compelled to talk about how bad it is and part of me really wants to ban guns, because I don’t think everyone who has them are responsible individuals. However, in Switzerland everyone carries guns and you don’t hear about these problems. Why? Maybe because they were trained to be responsible individuals. Maybe they were taught love and respect? Also bear in mind Switzerland is always neutral in war. Their mentality towards shooting is completely different. They don’t have the eye for an eye thing going on. In the States it appears kids want to kill their bullies, thinking it’s justice. Wouldn’t it be better to teach their bullies respect? Love and respect? But how do you do that if you feel like the underdog? Apparently some people believe it’s through guns. Guns make them the upper dog. It’s a natural reaction, but it’s not a wise one. And it does not teach respect. Just like the kids on the streets screaming “respect me bitch” aren’t teaching anyone to respect them. They are teaching people to fear them. That’s very different.

Imagine this: there’s a convention going on. A convention where people of a certain faith about how life is supposed to be lived have come together. You don’t believe their way is the way to live life. You believe what they do infringe on people’s liberty and happiness, but they can’t see that as it’s the way they have been brought up to believe is the right way. That they are condemned by their society, or God if they live in another way. So you walk in there to try to convince them there is a better way. What do you think will bring you the best reception?

Is it if you walk in there proclaiming that their beliefs and how they live their lives is all wrong?

Is it by understanding their values and beliefs as best you can and explaining through examples from your own life how you have embraced some of their values and learned from them and also how some other values have enhanced your life? Values they might come to benefit from? And maybe how you had to throw out some of your old beliefs and values to be able to embrace the new ones that changed your life around?

If you’ve never faced what it feels like coming to terms with the idea that your way of life is wrong, how can you teach someone else that their way of life is wrong? How can you understand what it feels like to give up your world view? How can you understand what it is like to take on a new world view? How can you teach through the heart, rather than the ego? How can you lead with love, rather than blame?

I believe walking in someone else’ shoes is one of the most powerful things you can do to understand that person and by understanding them and respecting them as a human being, rather than seeing them as a problem, you may, you just may have a chance of introducing them to a new way of life. You can tell a gang leader that gang wars are all wrong, but unless you were brought up in the midst of a gang war, how will you ever understand how that person felt seeing their siblings killed by the opposing gang whilst growing up? You can tell them all you like that killing is wrong and probably they know that too, but they reacted to a situation probably not feeling they had any other way to act. That there was no way out. And by you condemning their reaction as if it was their heart, you won’t get anywhere. Start learning to see the heart beyond their acts and maybe they will start listening to you. Imagine being ten years old and seeing your sister die. What would you do? Say killing is wrong, or pick up a gun to protect yourself?

The reason the Capulets fought the Montagues is because they felt the injustice of previous years. Because they could still remember how someone they loved had taken a blow in a fight, they weren’t willing to instigate peace. They could have peace any moment as they weren’t fighting over land. They could leave each other alone to live their desired lives, but they didn’t want to, because they remembered blood and wanted to take revenge.

If you are to move into a peaceful future you have to forgive the past and leave it in the past. If you are in a relationship with someone and every time you argue the other person brings up an injustice you did in the first year of the relationship, how would you feel? Or if someone rushed into your life and without explanation told you that the way you live is wrong and the way all your ancestors lived is wrong and there is a better way, without paying any kind of respect to your way of life, how would you feel? If someone ran in and robbed your family of their belongings and shot a few and a year later you were told the war is over, the borders are established, let’s forget about the past, how would you feel? It would be hard to teach your sons and daughters to love and respect them, wouldn’t it? But to continue to build peace, that’s exactly what you would have to do. Not respect their bad ways, of course, but respect the new way of peace. Their new way of peace.

Most people feel anger when crime is involved. Anger. Disgust. Sadness. The power lies in moving beyond that and teaching as many people as you can love and respect, so as to prevent the crimes of tomorrow. If we get stuck in the punishment mentality we will forever be like the Capulets and Montagues. You have to get criminals off the streets. Then you have to focus, instead of hatred towards them, love towards the world. It’s like with anything: you have to face the problem, then you have to focus on the solution. If you get stuck on the problem, you will just create more of the problem.

So what is the solution folks? How are we going to come together to stand up for peace, love, understanding and through that understanding respect? How are we going to foster this? What will we talk about with our friends and lovers? What will we tell our children? What will we do to make this world a better place? What will we do to remember the Mandelas and the Gandhis out there? Last night I fell asleep praying for a new Mandela. A person who did not condemn the past but created a brighter tomorrow. A person who didn’t shoot their persecutors, but who taught them love. A person who created true change.

Let’s come together like lovers – let’s kiss each others’ wounds better and heal each other with love and care. Let’s foster trust through our kind actions and willingness to help, rather than condemn. Let’s stand up for love. Let’s stand up for the human in all of us.

Nudity…exposed…

Life is so naked sometimes, do you know what I mean? Like you’re standing there suddenly feeling totally naked. Exposed to the world. I mean you can be completely naked without being naked at all. It’s so easy to throw off your clothes and run around naked on the beach. It’s so difficult to stand naked looking someone in the eye completely giving and surrendering knowing full well you may not be whom they will choose.

It’s a lot easier to be naked if you know you are loved. If love is filling you up. If your entire life is infused with love. It’s easier because love sustains you and you know that no matter what happens in one area, you have love in all the others. You will still be sustained without that one particular love. It’s also easier if you see yourself as a gift to the world rather than to that one thing, or that one person. In fact that will make you open up and blossom like a most fragrant flower. Because love is beautiful and if you share it willingly with everyone, you will be beautiful.

It’s hard to teach that to someone. It’s hard to get someone to understand that the more open they are, the more they give of their love, the more likely their life will be filled with love. It’s hard to tell someone that because often they will want to hide away. Escape. The fear of being heartbroken makes it logical to close their hearts, or so they think.

Maybe the hardest person to convince is yourself. Your heart. That thing beating inside of you. That thing that wants to close its doors. That. To convince that to stay open.

It’s so easy to play. To close the door. Open it a bit. Close it again. Become the alluring someone high up in the tower, just out of reach. So you can feel safe and they can keep chasing a dream. But being up there you never get what you want. Because what you want is down there. You want to open your heart and be loved for it. That’s why you are playing the game in the first place. You want to be adored. Every inch of your body. Every inch of your soul.

And you want to show your love. All that immense love you have inside of you, you want to set it free and let it flow freely to those you love. That’s why you played all the games in the first place. Because you thought they’d take you there and because it was scary to be down there. Scary to be present when you didn’t love yourself and your entire happiness depended on other people’s opinions. You thought love would hurt, when instead it was the lack of love hurting you all along.

So you decide in one breathtaking moment that you are going to be naked from now till forever. You shiver. And then you feel the freedom…

Naked in the night…

You close your eyes and you find yourself standing naked in the night. It’s only you and the night sky. Stars twinkling, moonbeams caressing your body. A moment of relaxation. Eyelids fluttering. Enter dreamland.

Dreams haunt you. Maybe that’s why they are called dreams? Because whenever you close your eyes they are there. Like a whisper. Like a soft-spoken voice from far, far away. You run. You move countries. You start all over again. But the minute you close your eyes, they are there.

They don’t leave you, because they have taken up permanent residence in your heart. Like your pulse you can always feel them. They are pumped around your bloodstream as much as any mineral you are made of. They are you. And like a crayon in your hand they are waiting for your expression. The crayon won’t ask you to draw for others, or become an image that’s better than you can paint. The crayon will simply ask you to express yourself. To love your own creation. To live the love you create, to create the love you live.

As sure as the sun will rise, as sure the dreams will be there just waiting for you to wake up and realize them. Dreams don’t leave you. And not unlike ghosts they will haunt you until the day you face them. Until the day you open your eyes and look them in the face. Acknowledge them. Look at them until you realize they are you.

Dreams are regrets until they are realized. They will not leave you alone. All they are asking for is your courage. Your courage to realize them. You see, dreams don’t care if they don’t happen quite the way they were planned. All dreams care about is to be acknowledged and treasured. Not unlike that treasure map you find in an old chest, dreams are waiting for you to find them in your heart and start walking towards their realization. The day you start that path, that’s the day you start your adventure. And they will smile with you. Sing softly in your ear. Hug you in your dreams. You will find peace again.

As you act out your dreams weird things happen. It’s as if you are finally you. As if the person you are looking at in the mirror has gone from being a puppet to a puppeteer. It came alive. It’s is creating instead of being created. It’s broken free to live its heart.

When you look at the stars at night and wonder what’s out there, the dreams are whispering “it’s about what’s in there.” Your heart beats and if you are lucky you will listen to your own heart beat and in it you will find a strange peculiar rhythm. Your heart rhythm. And as the night covers your body in its dizzying allure you might start swaying to the music. Softly, as you close your eyes, you will find what it was you were looking for. There, inside your heartbeat is the dream you tried to find. The music of your mind.

This picture was stolen from my favorite illustrator’s website…Delphine Lebourgeois.

That rings true to my butt!!!

Some people say this blog is outrageously sexy, borderline dirty…not sure what’s wrong with them, clearly they can’t see beneath the clothes and gather the true naked purity. Seriously.

So what was I pondering about writing about today? Nakedness? Clearly. Big butts? Absolutely.

Actually, I was planning to write about sex drive. Or well, not really. More like chemistry (I once turned something on fire in high school. Never do chemistry with a blonde. In fact, we were two blondes. Never do chemistry with two blondes.). My intention was not to blog about chemistry that involves rocket fuel and other explosives though (never did keep my attention), but chemistry between men and women. That always got my attention. Or more like it: got me distracted from everything else.

I was just chatting to a friend and we were discussing…men. So I was telling her that as soon as there’s chemistry I go for that. I fall for that. It’s like my wants are totally mis-wired. I don’t focus on whether the guy shows up for me, or not. It’s just the connection, the ability to talk, laugh… – our personalities match in such a way that I have a chemical reaction. Well I have chemical reactions to blooming chocolate too and I have no intention of marrying a chocolate bar.

And then there’s the next part of the chemical reaction – how my brain reacts. Now this is a total misfire because my brain decides it’s time to impress. It doesn’t understand the concept of just being. It has to “be” what he wants. But I wanna be loved for being me, not for doing a blowjob upside down whilst also managing to paint like Da Vinci with my feet. Simultaneously. Painting an orgasm.

And it doesn’t end there. To topple it off my brain decides (without asking my permission) that it must not have emotions (or at least confess to having them). That would be totally catastrophical. You must flirt. You must impress. You must be sexy and sassy and totally everything you could ever think a woman should be…just not emotional. That would scare men away. And if nothing else, it would mean you are weak (if he doesn’t like you that might mean something to you and he might figure that out and that would like be humiliating. Like you’re not good enough? Although that’s not true. You know that. Only your ego doesn’t know that and will have a fit, unless you manage to disconnect it and start living from the heart…mhm.). You have a romance bone (the size of the Mississippi river) in your body. You are a silly romantic. Disastrous. So in other words you are trying to hook a man by not having emotions, meaning you want to marry a man who dislikes emotions and so you can never show your love? Then you will be pushed away if you do show love (story of my life). That’s…that’s highly intelligent. Or you both have emotions but can’t show them. Oh the joy of that relationship.

What do I want from a man? A man who’s totally grounded, living from the heart. Has his confidence in his heart, not his ego. A man that sees life for what it is, yet creates from his imagination. A free spirit. A man connected to nature somehow. A man who cares about you and shows up for you. Who does random acts of kindness for you. A real man, who is also a romantic. A naughty man in the bedroom. A playful, outrageously sexy and curious man who dares to love you with all his heart. Someone who has your best intentions at heart and will always be there to clearly communicate how he sees your relationship and even if something goes wrong, would never fail to be there as one human being to another. And that’s when you realize that your strategy for getting the man you truly want is so far out in Tyrannosaurus Rex land that you should have been extinguished by now. And come to think of it you are. You are single. Your genes aren’t going to be brought forward. And your grandma is going to have a fit after praying for a miracle for the last ten years about you finally settling down. Oupsidaisy.

The fact is, we all have a couple of weird ass patterns we act out. I’m not particularly keen on my own, because they mean I attract people and situations that don’t reflect my heart. But the more I grow, the more I learn to value my own beauty, my own heart, the closer I get to living my dreams. Yes, it’s scary because it feels vulnerable, but it puts you in a lot less vulnerable position than when you act out someone you aren’t to “protect yourself” (usually without even realizing) and you end up in places you never wished to be.

I dare myself every day now to let go of these patterns and not have to be anything and instead just being. It feels really strange and I can’t say I don’t fall back into wanting to impress at times, but I feel so much freer.

Whoever you are, whatever path you are on…don’t give in to chemical reactions. They are only chemical reactions (I’m talking about the ones happening in our brain and make you want to act out strange patterns). Always keep asking what rings true to your heart. Let your heart be your guiding compass.

It’s all about what’s going on underneath the clothes guys. All about the heart. Not dirty enough for you? Well I apologize, but underneath my hooker boots (had to dump those in London) and short leather skirts, I tend to bake pancakes and get ridiculously excited about eco-friendly house holding tips. I do not apologize if I ruined your fantasy (…which was truly my fantasy, my idea of whom I should be…and I do still like hooker boots and leather skirts, I must say. So long as they aren’t a cover for another part of me that I don’t dare show.). I’m proud of my little heart, as you should be of yours! (OK, so that’s potentially a corny sentence, but it’s true, hey?!)

(If you thought this post was going to be about anal sex I must apologize for the misconception. I’m sure you’ll find something that’s about anal sex in the archives though. Metaphorically speaking. Naturally. Actually no – once I blogged about it not metaphorically speaking and I remember this because it’s one of my fav blogs of all time...I feel like a change…maybe I should become a lesbian???)

I want those jeans! And I want that photographer to take a picture like that of me! Hot damn!

Random acts of sexual desire…

The other day I was blogging about random acts of explosion…you know the orgasmic kind when the guys you actually like make you feel like kaboom! The day before I was blogging about random acts of kindness and how much they mean. This was because I had watched Benjamin Button and throughout the movie I was struck by how much kindness, a true connection with people and just simply the love in different moments mean to us all. The beauty of our lives when we interact in a friendly way.

Then what happened is that I came across a blog written by a woman who decided that for one year she was going to bake a pie to someone every day of the year, as an act of kindness. Now I don’t know about you, but this really inspired me. It made me think about what the world would be like if everyone did that. If we all gave each  other something every day and not just material things, but simply acts of kindness. When did you last reach out to a stranger? Apart from chatting someone up in a nightclub that is…

I also did this Facebook thing where you promised to make something handmade to the first five people who commented…not many people commented as they then had to do the same for their friends…but it inspired me. The way you can connect with people, reach out to one another. Share your hearts with one another. I guess that’s why I started this blog in the first place. Then that I never reply to anyone’s comments is a different thing…erm.

In any one moment in life we never know where we are going – we might know where we are aiming at ending up, but we never know where life will take us. We don’t know how long we have here, nor how long anyone else has here. We know we can call someone though. Or give them a hug, a pie, or simply take them to the movies. We know that much. And maybe we should. Maybe we should all do that. It would be kind of nice if strangers and friends alike greeted us like that. It’s a way of starting to build in community in a world that’s sorely lacking it.

Of course random acts of sexual desire are rather interesting too…so long as they come from a place of kindness that is…

Buying French porn…

Yes, I did that once. Buying French porn that is… Now let me explain, when you are all alone in Paris you need a little distraction…no, no…actually I was all alone in Belgium, I had decided to backpack through Europe…in the midst of winter. Not surprisingly I was alone. I also happened to have made the decision that I was bringing no entertainment on this trip, so as to clear my head. Belgium in winter with no entertainment. Ya…

So what happened was that one fine day in one city, which one I have forgotten, I decided I had had enough of being without brain stimuli and company, so I walked into a bookshop. One of those second-hand bookshops where you never know what you will find. I found a cute little French book (or at least it was written in French) and so I decided to buy it. It was from 1890 or something like that, all about a school for girls.

I then got back to the youth hostel, or a cafe, I fail to remember which and decided to read the book. Something along the lines of smacking naughty girls on the bottom with hair brushes. (I’m sorry to disappoint you all, it was not exactly two women and a man with an over sized penis… You must be terribly disappointed if you thought this blog would be about that…)

Now I find my book buying escapade rather innocent and as you may know I’m not the kind who thinks porn is a sin. I believe there are more tasteful ways of displaying eroticism, but anyway. So for me this is no sin, but to some it probably would be. Like the pope or something. Yet, I didn’t pick that book being aware of what was inside it. So if you thought porn was a terrible sin (especially the hairbrush spanking…) would you judge me for it?

For a fact we are all born into different places in this world. Different things happen to us when we are children, which often determine our world view and what we end up creating in life. Some people commit terrible mistakes as a result of that. They do things most of us would judge as sinful and downright nasty (I’m not talking about watching porn if you haven’t gathered that by now). It may then be that one day they wake up to the fact that what they have done harms others, themselves, or the planet and they regret it. They regret it because they see there are other ways of life that don’t do harm.

As people we change. Most of us because we discover something beyond what we knew before. Yet, we still have to live with our past actions, even though we have changed we can’t change the past.

Someone here in South Africa told me that Mandela stole some food or something in his youth and because of that they had mixed feelings about him. Now I don’t know much about that man beyond Invictus, but if someone spends that many years in jail and then go onto abolishing apartheid whilst trying to prevent the black turning racist against the white…would you still judge him for the mistakes he made in his youth? No, neither time, nor his other pursuits will make it up to the people he stole from, they won’t get their things back, but still – is the Mandela today to blame for what the Mandela seventy years back?

Sometimes I’m more ashamed of where I came from, than proud of where I got to. Can you recognize yourself in this at all? I never did terrible things, my “sin” was being petrified of people, not having self-confidence and generally disliking myself. I wasn’t happy, I was psychologically messed up and I’ve been really depressed twice. I never feel totally comfortable talking about that though, because I believe people will judge me for it. And I don’t want to be judged for it – I want to be seen for who I am today. On the other hand I truly want to share it as I hope that it might help others realize change is possible. Self-love and acceptance is possible.

I was given my childhood and safe to say I did not know how to interpret the world around me, or what happened to me back then. I drew conclusions that messed me up. I was unhappy. Very unhappy. I acted from that place of unhappiness and created even more unhappiness. But if you want to judge me for that, it’s kind of like judging me for buying porno in Belgium – I had no clue of what I was doing, I bought into something I did not understand. (I wish I had gotten hold of something raunchier at that time…but anyway…) I didn’t commit crimes though and most people would probably only judge me for being miserable and potentially pity me, but what if I had been born into something else? Like poverty and power greedy people around me? Who would I be today?

It’s my belief that we are all hearts. The rest is the topping – both the good and the bad (ego go go). We can shed the topping though, even if scars remain. It can be a bit rough for the ego though, as if you realize the bad isn’t you, maybe what you are proud of isn’t you either. Maybe we are all just hearts…

I don’t know if you can undo criminals – some minds have gone far, far away from their hearts and may be impossible to reconnect. And you have to reconnect with your heart if you are to live a happy life where you serve yourself, others and the planet. I believe you can try though. I believe in “thou mayest” as Steinbeck put it. I believe we have choice. If we are shown so. And that’s why I’m in Africa right now with The Wandering Tales. I believe Africa has a choice.

Choose…choose what’s underneath the clothes…that naked liberation of the heart…

Naked, or covered in lace…

Sometimes it’s nice to get dressed up in fancy lingerie, isn’t it? Adds a bit of an extra sparkle…

I believe my clothes (…including the lace…), my home, my work and the people I surround myself are important – I see them as a natural extension of myself, so I love to create things that resonate with who I am, under the clothes as otherwise I will feel out of balance. The thing is though, who I am is underneath the clothes. The rest is just decoration and if I am lucky and have managed to live in accordance with my heart, the decoration does indeed represent me and I feel at peace. Right now, even though I still miss L.A. I feel so lucky having found a home I love in a city that’s absolutely filled with natural beauty and where I work with charity and film. I feel at peace once again being surrounded by things that reflect who I am, rather than being stuck in London with a life that did not reflect who I was and was making me miserable. My life here could be taken away from me tomorrow though.

Life is who you are, the rest is decoration and decoration comes and goes.

Looking around me here in South Africa there are a lot of people who can’t afford lace. One of our clients at CARES is a woman who lost her children to social security years ago thanks to drug misuse. She joined CARES and became clean, now helping others to do the same, working for CARES. She got her children back and had two more – twins. I was playing with the twins the other day and asked if I could bring one with me home and keep it, as it was so cute, before realizing that wasn’t a good joke. She answered quite happily thankfully though that she was keeping them both. Now, over the holidays her home in the township burnt to the ground. She and her family – homeless. And that’s when I think everything else fades away. All the lace is gone and left is a human with a heart and you are looking at her, equally naked, through your heart.

I’m a fan of lace – I believe it…spices things up. I think I brought more lingerie than I did clothes to Cape Town, but if anyone decides to love me for the lingerie…well then they love a piece of fabric anyone could wear. And lingerie comes and goes. We are all hit in the face sometimes with losing everything around us. We can still remain beautiful though. We can face life with the attitude we choose. Mourning and longing after a loss is natural, but how we move forward is up to us. If in our hearts we are filled with love I believe we can create beauty around us once more. There are always people out there willing to love and care, if you are willing to share your heart with love. Personally I miss the LA I lost, but love the Cape Town I found and am at peace as life is, once more, a reflection of who I am. In the same way we lose people we love and although no one will replace them, others will bring as much love. Life is filled with beauty.

If you want to help our client rebuild her future, or want to get involved in our other projects surrounding helping prevent drug abuse and rehabilitate people from it, as well as creating a future by helping with education and life skills, please contact us on our Facebook page:https://www.facebook.com/CaresSouthAfrica You can also watch videos of the client speaking about losing her home.

I challenge you to buy as raunchy lingerie as your imagination would love…but I also challenge you to view life through the heart and live as naked as you wish…