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…

Fifty shades of a dizzy blonde…

I just had the most peculiar thought. I thought that I will miss myself the day I die. When I think about death I normally think about a plunge into the unknown, with the irrational fear that I might actually die. That the soul is not immortal. This thought is irrational, not because it may not be true, but because if it was I would not know. I would as a matter of fact, be dead.

This thought was peculiar because I have never before thought it. I was looking at my Facebook profile and my name looked back at me as well as a pair of big, blue eyes and I thought to myself that I will rather miss Maria Montgomery. If it is so that my soul travels on, which I tend to believe it does in one way or another, I will, presumably, lose my identity. I have never heard of anyone speak of being themselves in past lives. In fact many appeared rather different from their current identity.

The thought was also peculiar because I have spent so many years doing my utmost to get rid of the demons my early childhood created and my goal has sort of been to rid myself of identity and step as closely as possible into my heart and live from that space. Be a living expression of my heart. And I kind of believe that it is this heart we carry forth to the next lifetime, however different our circumstance may be as we are learning new lessons, facing our own karma and what have you…but I presume, that in my next incarnation, if such will occur, that I will not be a sex joke cracking maniac with a blog, who travels the world like a mad hatter. And I quite enjoy that sex joke cracking maniac and her gypsy/travelling entertainer lifestyle.

There are many things in life I don’t understand. I myself am a contradiction in many ways…I can see the “mitote” they speak of in native Indian practices (the thoughts you have, that are really reflections of what everyone else have told you and hence a reflection of their opinions rather than reality and often contradictory in nature…it is what they call “the dream”). And yet, I have a feeling that there is something underneath all that which is crystal clear and whenever I get closer to it, it feels real. Like a revelation.

It makes sense that one should die to lose one’s identity, as otherwise one would be too prejudice to move closer to that realness. There are far too many people stagnated in their beliefs when you look around. Just look at the US election – are they really serving the country, or their own beliefs? And by making out with Barack Obama in my dreams the other night, I was clearly serving mine…

I guess I realised how little time I have, in this incarnation, not just with everyone else, but also with myself. So even though as late as this morning I discovered a part of my identity I didn’t  agree with in the least I can just acknowledge that and act in spite of it whilst I keep enjoying the rather curious parts of my identity that continue to please me. I’m thankful. I’m thankful to be me.

My gran always told me to be proud of my legs and why not indulge in your own body whilst you can? And chocolate…definitively chocolate!

Showing skin…

I was once standing naked in a room, when a whole bunch of guys stormed in. Luckily I had read a lot of criminal novels, so I knew exactly what to do – run to the door they were entering from, press myself against the wall and sit down. I.e. be in the spot they were the least likely to look at. My stunt succeeded and they never saw me, as a bunch of angry (and dressed) girls chased them out of the room before they got a chance. I was ten to twelve years old and the idea of having a shower in the girls changing room never became the same.

When I was around eight or so I was at daycare one day, sitting with my friends drawing, or something in the hobby room. A boy walked in. A certain boy walked in. The boy every girl fancied. (Including my now best friend, but we didn’t know each other at that stage.) One of my friends burst out “Maria likes you.” He stopped in the doorway, turned to me and went: “Is that true?” The thought “It’s close to Christmas, you shouldn’t lie,” went through my mind. “Yes.” He looked at me a little longer, turned around and left the room.

When I was fifteen there was this guy who I had a lot of classes with. He was an arrogant bastard, but over summer he had turned…soft. He was really popular and had straight As in just about everything. So we used to compete on every test who could score the best. Or rather: he was competing with me and it infuriated me, so of course I started competing with him. He was rather nice sometimes. I remember him trying to explain to his best friend (who was in love with my step-sister for a while…that was a close call to getting an idiot in the house) why one shouldn’t bully people. His best friend did not understand his argument.

So having a competitive nature and all that, and probably thinking this dude was the only one with enough brain cells in a ten-mile radius, I fell in love with him. At first I didn’t really care that much, but then I told a friend of his who went to my class, to try to gauge if he liked anyone. Well, his friend obviously walked straight up to him and said I liked him, having sworn not to do so. And then a couple of interesting weeks of this guy staring at me and doing weird shit to talk to me ensued. So then a rumour started that he liked me. And one day I walked into a classroom when his friend asked him if this was the case, in front of the whole class and just as I walked in he went: “No one could ever fall in love with someone like her.” That was the day I died.

At sixteen I had left the village where I grew up, doing the International Baccalaureate program in another town, so I got rid of most people who considered me a geek and started a new life, where I was absolutely obsessed with covering up my past, especially my non-existing romantic history. Besides, most people at the IB were geeks as they had decided to choose the most difficult high school program that existed. We had to do tests to get accepted. That’s when I wrote about saving the kids in Africa. I did not see myself as the heroine of a romantic adventure, straight from my bookshelf, or anything like that.

Anyway, obsessed with the idea that no one should find out about my non-existing romantic history, I was still quite…me. I loved crazy ideas and stuff, so come Valentine’s I thought it a splendid idea to send a rose to a guy I thought was cute. And I didn’t even like him, he was just cute. But apparently people in Sweden are bit behind and thought this was the news of the century – a girl who joined us in the third year still got to hear this story. I think the poor bloke had never received roses in his life and I felt utterly humiliated.

Age seventeen and on the loose in Vancouver I was starting to feel like the biggest idiot in the world – who has never been with a guy age seventeen? Me. So I made out with some random American soldier who I found repulsive, and who proceeded to tell me about killing people during the war. I then ended up feeling even more ashamed because who is such a low life they decide to make out with a random loser just to make out with somebody?

My love life did perk up after this, but I had sworn on my mother’s grave, or something to that effect, that I would not have sex until I loved someone. And I had to wait until the night I turned twenty-one for this, at which time I had almost succumbed to the idea that no one would ever love me.

I then ended up in a very long relationship with someone, who, in the end decided, the last week, to cheat on me. Which is when I decided that if someone I used to trust with my life can cheat on me…then I’m properly fucked for life. I mean I knew he was cheating, because vivid scenarios played up in my head when he told me what he had been doing for a day – scenarios he was not talking about. I knew whom he had really been with and what he had been doing, but instead of thinking I was psychic, I thought I was going mad.

I felt really good after the break-up, realizing I had been in a relationship that was never quite right beyond the first few months, but I still had nightmares for about six months. And what left me the most scarred was the idea that I had allowed a relationship like that. How I could have accepted that into my life. Not like parts of it, but the end of it. And bless the man, he loved me and I can still happily say I love him, but we were young and we were both idiots in some aspects, including the fact that we stayed with each other for so long.

Fast forward two, or three years and I was just about to move to Los Angeles. Online I met this guy from LA that was just…amazing…and for the first time I felt like someone actually liked me . Truly liked me. A guy that actually turned me on in every way, as opposed to my ex, who never felt quite right. We would talk on the phone and on chat, for like eight hours straight. I let all my guards down. I was certain that was it – it was the first and actually still only time I had felt anything like that. He was simply so right in every way possible. And to his defense he really was looking for love, but I think he is the most emotionally retarded person and cheater I’ve ever met. And by lord I felt humiliated having believed in him. His bed though, was fucking amazing. There’s always a plus side…right? That bed and triple orgasms. Thank you God.

My self-confidence in the last, almost six years, since I was in a steady relationship, has soared. I have realized men chase me. A lot. I have realized I am beautiful and wonderful and amazing. I have more friends and love in my life than I have ever had. I feel so blessed finally setting off for my dream of Africa and working with film, theatre and people. And still, there is a tiny part of me that says I need high heels and an armour of steel to pretend I’m not vulnerable, I have no emotions and I most certainly am fine all by myself. And I need to be just a little bit more perfect.

When I feel hurt, or humiliated in public, just as I did as a kid, I want to shut everyone out and escape to Antarctica. Then I realize I can’t direct Leo Di Caprio in Antarctica and it all goes to hell…but, but…this whole vulnerable thing…I feel I have been doing a good job with it until yesterday. That’s when I wanted to pack my bags for Antartica. And that’s why I’m writing this now. Because it feels so, so cringy. And so real. And I want to be able to be that open. I want for others to have a space to be that real and open. And I really want to attract real and open people into my life.

The only way to attract and be with real and open people, is to be real and open. All this shit in my past means nothing. I still fear people will judge me for it, especially writing it on an open forum like this, but that’s why I want to do it. Because there are millions of people out there who have suffered much worse than me, who think because of their past they can’t be/have/do things. And it’s all utter poppycock, because all you have is this moment. And in this moment, I’m real and open. And the past? It’s gone. I’m a playful, open and honest person. I believe those nude shots proved it (if you missed the latest news, someone published some nude shots of me on Facebook yesterday as they misunderstood the term “only showing certain parts of my body” Well…there was a guitar covering my front… And that’s the day I discovered the difference of being naked in reality – no biggie – and online – biggie. I felt so vulnerable, knowing people could see me in a vulnerable state. “Miss Au Neutral I love being naked and celebrating the body” had a freak show.). Had this not been coupled by someone accusing me of having emotions, I’m sure it would have been fine, but rumour had it I had emotions. And this scenario of all those men went through my head as I saw the shots online. There is still an album on Facebook with a headline saying something like “I loved doing nude shots with Maria, such a natural and happy model, dream come true to capture the female body” and I still catch my breath, even if there are no real nudes in the album…and panic thinking I’m publicly humiliated…but I was just being vulnerable, real and open. Just as I would love.

Showing skin is cool. In every sense of the word.

Flash dancing…

That nakedly blonde moment, when you find yourself naked. In public. Literally.

I have finally figured out how to make money, thanks to my blonde self and the situations I get myself into unwittinlgy.You see, I have the best seller idea. Ready? A new e-book manual called: “What To Do When You Find Yourself Naked On Facebook In Front Of Your Boss, To Be Lover, Friends And Family.” Clearly bestseller material, don’t you think?

I love femininity. Feminism I was never into, but femininity…that’s cool. I was always a bit of a tomb boy, so I like both edgy femininity and beautiful femininity. I did always feel a bit weird exposing the softness in me though…you know that would show I had emotions, that I cared and would feel embarrassed if people didn’t care as much as I do. Count to about four public displays of humiliation in school when growing up around the topic of confessing to like certain boys and topple that off with growing up in a family where emotions are dealt with like…like businesses – you get an action plan…well, I wasn’t too fond of emotions. I thought they were a general display of weakness and totally irrational too – why on Earth be sad about certain things that are ridiculous and fall in love with idiots? Why couldn’t emotions just be…clever? Shut up and behave like I wanted them too?

I know I have talked before about disliking emotions and how much work I’ve done on it and how far I’ve come…so erm, yesterday someone talked about some gossip they had heard about me on the grapevine, including me having emotions and I felt panic swelling up inside of me, an instant urge to act cool and impress and wanna be totally fine.

Everything would probably have been fine had they not mentioned the words “in love with.” You see, I don’t suffer from the disease of falling in love with people. I like some people more than others. I even love some people, but I do not fall in love. That’s reserved for idiots who get abused, like I used to, as a kid. You only fall in love when you have a wedding ring around your finger and a man swearing his eternal love for you. That’s when you let your guard down. Otherwise, you are always fine. Composed. Fine. Really fine. It doesn’t matter if you find out that your former lover has cheated on you with five other women, it’s all fine. My best friend once tried to explain to one such man that, that was just not fine and I was seriously unhappy afterwards as my reaction was: “You shouldn’t have told him that. I don’t want him to enjoy the fact that he made me feel really bad. Clearly I’m not strong enough.” My best friend tried to point out that the man needed to learn manners and that his actions did cause grievance. I just still felt humiliated. And this man was so crazy I still dream nightmares about him…or how I could have been so naive to fall for him…like there must have been something wrong with me at the time.

So yesterday I had one of those moments of realization where you go “oups clearly I’m still not fine with the L word.” And in this case L does not stand for lesbian. Had I become a lesbian I would clearly already have proven I have no feelings for men.

I mean this thing wasn’t a big deal, only half of what they said were true, but that I reacted at all shocked me. So still laughing at this today, but also feeling edgy and in need of getting into a quiet, loving place to practice femininity and loving myself and everyone else, I was quite happy that I had some photos from yesterday to play with. Photos celebrating femininity and love and the human body. You see, myself and a buddying photographer decided  to do naked shots. And, I mean even if I did go somewhat aloof during times of the shoot, thinking more about the edgy cool woman in me, than the soft feminine side, I loved the photos of myself and the ones I took of my friend.

So anyway I got home after a driving class today and the other photographer and I were emailing ech other shots and deciding which needed cropping and what have you and I was like “fine you know, the ones you can edit so you don’t see my body, or what have you, just put them on Facebook and tag me.” And then she tagged me. And I realized there were some errr….very naked shots on there that I had no intention having on Facebook and I panicked so much I literally started shaking, but fine, the photos went down quickly. Then I realized they had been up since last night when we started the discussion on what photos to use where. And she had misunderstood what I meant with not showing too much. So now all her friends, and for the whole of 5 minutes, all of mine, have seen me naked holding a guitar.

I laughed till I cried, because I find it hysterical – I have no issues running around naked, but even some very tasteful shots that I have given full right for the photographer to use in exhibitions, I freaked out over on FB. And I was taking the piss of Kate Middleton showing her boobs in the press. I mean it’s just some naked shots. Who cares? Apparently I. And it’s hysterically funny, because working in an art gallery I’ve been selling nude shots all year, adoring them. I did think Helmut Newton was too much in some instances, but Leda by Ralph Gibson is like my favorite piece of work in the entire gallery. And the shots taken yesterday were shots I’d put on my wall, was I not the model.

So I’m just sitting here now going: I think I need to be more comfortable being me. Even if former school teachers have seen parts of my naked body, very well chosen parts of my body I might add, I should rejoice – hey it’s my precious, wonderful body! I am the preacher no. one of embracing your body, loving yourself and letting loose…so I guess I better stop being a fucking goose about it! …but seriously – Vogue would have been fine. But Facebook?

Once I signed an email “head of blowing men” and sent it to someone I was interning for. I mean, I didn’t write that, a friend did and I didn’t check it and off the email went. That was potentially worse. Worse than me naked in the garden holding a guitar…in the kind of photo I would have framed, had I not known it was me.

So right – one, two, three: “I love my feminine naked body. I love femininity. I love nakedness. I love myself.” I’m just gonna keep repeating that for the rest of the day…and successfully resurrect myself to love.

Later. In my core loving, feminine self.

Women in all their femininity…and erm, trying to handle weapons LOL

Helmut Newton style…

Leda, my favorite by Ralph Gibson. From Eyestorm.

Boobies and booty…it’s boot-y-ful…

I walked by someone who was on the phone today and had a bit of a start when I heard him say: “I’ve seen your tits.” It took me some time to grasp that what he in fact said was “I’ll send you a text.” I could blame it on a thick Australian accent, but yeah…welcome to the world of blondie with her head in sexy headlines, as opposed to in the clouds…although it’s probably up there too. I’m dreamer and all that…always coming up with stories, products and spectacles in my mind…

So that’s my world. A world of hearing things wrong, walking into things whilst looking at other things (men), doing one thing and forgetting another (dizzy)…my world is mine and it has pros and cons…some things I can change, some things I want to change, others are absolutely brilliant, perfect and amazing. What I absolutely love about me is…my humor (hey, at least I’m laughing!!!), my heart (so yeah, it gets me in trouble all the time, but I kind of like that because it proves I’ve got one), my honesty and straight forwardness – ask me a question and I will answer, my booty – it can dance and it is squeeze friendly, my love of performance, writing, creating…maybe that’s part of my heart, but I love that because there are so many things I love. I also love my intuition and connection with nature. Call me a witch (I’ll be quite proud if you do…), but I think there’s a lot to be said for staying in harmony with your body and the Earth.  And I love that I’m alive. That I’m here having a chance to experience this.

So my question to you is simply this: what do you love about your world? About being you? (Feel free to tell me what you love about me too…I mean, whilst you’re at it. I’m not against compliments. Or chocolate.)

Can a geek have sex appeal???

It so happened I was baking this weekend and as I was digging through gran’s recipe books I found one of the recipes I needed in a book she made for me as a present, filled with handwritten recipes and photos of me and my sister in the kitchen. Although I’ve always loved the book and treasured it much like a diamond, I used to never like the photos because I was wearing giant glasses and looking as I did back in the day – shy and frightened. It has been a part of my history I wanted to forget – the years of wondering why no one liked me and what was wrong with me. The years of blaming myself, of hurt, rejection, loneliness and sadness. Through all this I was surrounded by love from my grandparents and dad, but I never felt it as much as I could have, because I was too busy contemplating why I didn’t have many friends, what people would think if I opened my mouth and why I couldn’t be like the other kids. It was a nightmarish hell of a state of mind to be in, lightened up by books, doing creative things and the hope that one day things would be different.

Whenever I used to look at the photos though, what I saw was someone I was angry with for not having figured it out earlier. For not having been happy, open and living life to the full. It was photographic evidence that I, at some point in my life, didn’t have a clue and to topple it off felt miserable because of it. Years of pain were all summed up in a photo of me in giant glasses. Maybe more than anything, I was ashamed that I still hadn’t figured it all out. That I still had days when I wasn’t “all that.”

I had a close look at those photos when baking my cakes this weekend. I looked at a kid, whom if I met her today I would have taken under my wings, protected and loved. I looked at a lonely, lost and confused child. I looked at someone I would have pitied and wanted to love so that she could open up and show her sparkling beauty, so well hidden inside. I would have loved her, yet the little girl thought herself unlovable. Looking at the photos, for the first time, rather than feeling repulsed, I felt love. I still feel sadness looking back, mainly because of the scars I still carry with me, those that haven’t quite healed yet, but I also feel…peace. Understanding. It’s therapeutic, because by learning to love that little girl, I’m learning to love myself. I am that girl, although a lot has changed since.

I’m learning to appreciate myself and love myself. Rather than trying to be what I think others will want, I’m learning to love myself for who I am and showing people that person. I’m removing my many layers of fear and allowing people to get a glimpse of me. That’s not a perfect person. That’s not an A star celebrity. It’s just a tiny little animal filled with emotions, love, joy and laughter. An animal I feel for, just as I feel for a cat, dog, or another human being because they have emotions.

I guess I’m not trying to be so strong anymore. I’ve got scars. I’ve got good days and bad days. I’m ugly and beautiful and happy and sad. I do right, I do wrong. It’s alright. You are welcome to see all that. You can probably feel for her, because you can now see her. She isn’t a perfect doll – she has emotions and it’s those emotions you will feel and therefore feel for her. I feel for her, because I know her. I know what she’s been through and how that feels.

In the past if I looked at a bleeding animal, or a frightened little puppy, I wanted to rescue it. When I was bleeding, or frightened, I wanted to kick my own ass into shape and become perfect. Become beautiful and good at everything. A perfect doll, or robot – always in the right mood, always in shape.

In reality beauty isn’t a perfect life, or a perfect face. Beauty is real. It’s seeing a real person’s journey through life. It’s feeling them in your heart. Above and beyond beauty is seeing a happy, joyous person filled with love….I wasn’t that as a kid. I wasn’t that because I thought about how to be perfect for others and how I was failing. If I hadn’t thought of that, but rather just lived, I would have been a happy, joyous person filled with love. Funny how being perfect is being nothing.

Love yourself. You deserve it.

…that girl became…

…that girl…but I kinda believe in…

…that girl…

Sex in front of the Prime Minister…

I love taboos. I mean they are so ridiculous. Like we are all on this planet pretending to be someone, or something we are not, apart from with our near and dear ones, whom know the truth. They know what we look like naked, both in the flesh and soul, if we are lucky. Some people tend to want to keep their soul hidden even from those nearest to them.

People often live behind intricate webs of lies. I guess American Beauty captured that. We all go on pretending we are “normal” and we have achieved what society calls the ultimate goals, such as owning our own house, having two cars, a dog, 2.5 kids (in Sweden) and enough money to go on vacation to the sun once a year and to the snow once a year. No one gets depressed, fucks up, has STDs, drinks too much, or have gang bangs (unless you live in San Francisco). And for sure no one has an abusive partner, was ever abused sexually or otherwise, comes from a “bad” background, or committed a crime. No one has issues and no one lives a “frivolous” life (in whatever way, shape, or form).

The problem with this is that people walk around feeling shameful for who they are, pretending to be someone they are not. Some to the point where they feel unloved, or unsupported, as no one knows the truth.

Another issue is that people often don’t nip problems in the bud – they have gotten so good at pretending they don’t have them that they simply ignore them altogether. It’s easier pretending to the wife that you don’t wanna shag the girl at Starbucks than telling her the sex life needs spicing up. It’s easier pretending to your colleagues at work when they ask about the dark circles that you are going through a lengthy process of selling your house, rather than that your kid is addicted to coke. It’s easier to avoid making the phone call you know you have to make, than actually make it. It’s easier to start off with, but when the molehill has become a mountain and everything shatters around you, it’s not so easy anymore.

What’s more is that all these friggin taboos lead to people burying their imagination in some sort of rabbit hole somewhere and usually never venture down that rabbit hole. I personally never managed to get rid of my imagination and till this day it startles some people. People are so prim and proper about how things are supposed to be. For example, I always wanted to have a house with a slide from one floor to another, but you can just imagine people’s faces if I did?! People have set ideas about things, from weddings to career paths. Personally, I have never been able to follow traditional patterns, which for one drives my dad to insanity. “Can’t you just be normal and follow normal paths?” Erhm, no. And I get driven crazy by other people, when I think they have no imagination.

Because I was so frightened of others opinion, so shy, growing up I guess my sense of liberation is not just doing what I want fearlessly, but doing it completely sans attitude. Doing something not as a rebellion, or to impress, or shock, but because my heart wants it.

I don’t know, I guess I just think people a bit stiff, a bit caught behind their own attitude, whether that be the outrageous artist, or the proper banker. Like is that really who they are, or just a pattern they are trapped in? Like who are you without all that? And what would it be like to be honest for a day? Not in a mean way, but in an understanding way? I always thought that if we were a little bit more like ourselves and did a little more of what we like, maybe it would be a little bit more accepted. No one is flawless, but we all have a heart and we should do our best to allow it to live.

I came to think of all this again (I know I’ve blogged about it before) because I was on my way to an appointment yesterday and this guy tried to stop me in the street and sell some charity thing. I told him I was in a hurry to a meeting, but then started laughing as I carried on walking as really: I was in a hurry to have a Brazilian. And who doesn’t have a Brazilian? But who talks about it? It’s not like because you talk about it you will let someone see the job (then again, some guys have too good an imagination and I’m the first to avoid certain topics with certain men)! Nor, do you have to provide details, there are some things that should be private, just not shameful, or taboo, or whatever, because that leads to misery.

A former friend of mine was once having sex on the balcony, when the Prime Minister of Sweden happened to come out on another balcony and I found this quite funny, whereas I’m sure some would find it embarrassing, but you know…why not? Even the Prime Minister must have sex sometimes! I’m not advocating sex in the streets as I personally don’t wanna see everyone else shagging, I’m just saying that we all do it, just like we all have our strong points and our weak points and an imagination that maybe needs a bit more freedom…

Clearly, there is no one hiding in there…

I can do orgasms all by myself…

I think it’s supposed to be “I Can Do Bad All By Myself” but I’m not Tyler Perry and that’s not a suitable headline for this blog. I can do orgasms all by myself on the other hand is. The thing is though: shared pleasure is double (or triple) pleasure. That’s why this dizzy blonde is on a mission to open up, surrender and love freely and openly. To give of myself as much as I can, but also dare to trust that there are those that give to me and be OK with that. It’s hard to allow someone else to give you orgasms when you can do it all by yourself…it may be double pleasure, but you are then counting on someone else. And I guess I was never too good at that. Trusting. Believing others actually loved me enough to freely give of themselves to me. I am learning though. One baby step at a time.

More than anything I guess I was scared of others because I didn’t trust myself. I feared their opinion of me as it could bring me great joy, or great sorrow. I didn’t have self-love, so I was 100% relying on others love. If they told me I was great I felt great. If they told me I was bad, I felt bad.  Often, if I liked someone enough, I would just give and give and give, trying to please sooooo much, just to try to get them to tell me I was alright. It made me feel very, very vulnerable and I was often closed up like a clam.

Now, I have learnt to do orgasms all by myself. I don’t need to rely on my ability to give others orgasms, or their ability to give them to me for my own internal happiness. Even if others tell me I’m not enough, or I find that they aren’t pleasing me, things don’t have to go tits up because my bottom is still rock steady. I do believe though that being a rock, being an island, as the song goes, is only one part of happiness. The other comes from sharing that happiness with others.

The journey of being open and vulnerable on this blog has been fabulous – it was easy for me because I wasn’t sharing my feelings with this one person, who was in the room (desperately trying to please them at the same time), I wrote it for myself, it was about giving myself an orgasm, but the feedback in the last year and a half has been truly astounding – it seems I gave a few other people orgasms too (metaphorically speaking). To hear that my words in any way reach out to people and touch them makes me giddy with happiness every time. If I manage to make someone smile, laugh, see their own beauty, or find their own strength, that is simply beyond amazing. It’s totally worth having my heart and soul online for that purpose (and getting the odd punch for it) and it’s helping me because I’m learning to do the same in my own life: being open and loving, not to please but because that’s who I am.

Yet, blogging is also interesting because a lot of people know exactly what you are pondering and you have no clue of what they think of you. Everyone else can play hard to get, but my words are always there, accessible 24/7. “Hi Darling, I am very busy, I can’t take your call right now…but you won’t have a chance to miss me, because I’m all over my blog instead of all over you. You’re a mystery, I’m an open book. Literally.” Sometimes it feels very unfair indeed…maybe he will just have to give me his secret diaries?

And now I have a favor to ask…I would love your secret thoughts too… Basically, I’m submitting this blog to publishers and editors. I have gathered some of my favorite pieces that I am rewriting for that purpose. And to make it extra nice I thought it would be fabulous if you love this blog and you would be willing to write down why you love it…any random words from your heart about it…because then I can include those words in my proposal. Like my words in return for yours.

So yeah, I am asking for your orgasms peeps…well to describe them, if this blog ever gave you any…metaphorically speaking, as you know by now…please do not send me descriptions of actual orgasms. I know I talk sex a lot, but there are things even I can’t handle.

See I am doing it – I am asking for shared orgasms, even if I can do a book proposal all by myself…and a part of me is screaming it’s stupid because no one will write to me and it will prove…nothing. I am still getting an orgasm from my writing…and on that note peeps: enjoy your day – make it orgasmic!

When I met you, I was naked…

I have met a few people this year. Some which passed by without a stir and some which have shocked me greatly. I believe though, above and beyond anything, I have shocked myself greatly, because I showed up naked at times and at other times I would have been happy to be naked. No my darlings, I did not show up in the nude. I was just bare to my soul and happy to be so. Much more tantalizing, don’t you think? Nudity is an over exploited part of Hollywood and I abuse it in my headlines…

So anyhow…in all my nakedness I met a lot of people. Now the fascinating thing is I met famous people, I met rich people, I met personal development gurus and I met, let’s say, rivals in love (although I don’t really think you can have rivals in love…love is what it is and will be what it already is….the rest is just confusion – ego, thoughts, behaviors…whatever….but you may have to sort out the ego, thoughts and behaviors…). And as I stood there naked to the core, sometimes shocked beyond belief, my thoughts were: “I’m happy to be me.”

That I was happy to be me is the really, really incredible bit. I did not want to become like them, even if they had things I desired. I wasn’t floored and awed either. Me, little me that usually gape at successful people in awe, was not floored. Nor did I want to suck up to them in any way. Because I was happy I was no longer desperate to have what they had – i.e. I had no need to suck up to them – if I was going to get it, it would be on my terms and if that wouldn’t work…then I’d rather be single, penniless and unknown. Of course, I rather think it’s up to me to change all that, but I don’t feel inferior without it, or like I need it to be happy. To me that’s massive because I have spent a lifetime sucking up to others, wanting their approval, or wanting what they had, thinking “it would make me happy.”

I guess it was the realization that people who I have always looked up to, may not be that happy after all. They may have succeeded in one way or another, but their interiors are still a mess. And I wouldn’t want to exchange my new-found happiness for any of that. Nor would I want anything that isn’t in harmony, or resonating with that.

I still want to find fame (i.e. outreach), fortune (to be able to realize various pursuits) and love (dah), but it will be on my terms….or well – all things are two, or more energies coming together to form a third, so there will be co-operation. I’m just no longer a slave to where I want to go in life, or what I want out of life. The difference is simple. Say I’m in love with a man. I love this man. I 100% wanna be with him, but what he offers me in the form of a relationship is not what I want – whether he wants an open relationship, isn’t prepared to be honest with me, or just isn’t that into me (or whatever, we all have different wants). Then I won’t have it. I doubt I will be in love with a man who doesn’t offer me roses if I’m offering myself roses because of resonance, but you get what I’m on about. Either we settle on terms that are good for all, or we both sort out our internal roses and then talk about it, or we don’t settle at all.

In the past I would have gotten frustrated if I didn’t get what I want, now I look to myself, because I believe in resonance. If life isn’t offering me what I want, then what is it I’m not giving myself? Love perhaps? I simply believe if you love yourself and your heart is open, what resonates with you will come to be – in life, in business, in love. And I’ve never been at that point before because when I want something I want something and I’ve sacrificed myself to get it which has led to disaster after disaster, because obviously it wasn’t right, it wasn’t resonating with me. As my friend says: “Learn to use your hands and you won’t be desperate for a man. If a man ain’t treating royal P like royal P, he ain’t gonna get royal P.” This makes me laugh till I cry, but she has a point…

When I want something I give all of me – believe me neither man, nor business opportunity will pass me by without me giving my all (and maybe for the first time I am giving my all, not just my energy and determination, because I’m fine with who I am so I don’t feel a need to protect myself…or well, there are a few areas left…), but that’s it. That’s all I can do. I can’t manipulate events in my favor. I don’t want to. I want what’s true to my core to be part of my life. The rest is not gonna make me one ounce happier anyway. That doesn’t mean I don’t get angry, frustrated, or upset when things don’t go my way -  I can swear and sometimes for a long time, but it means I return to my core, to my calm, to love and to letting things flow. I go back to me and look at if I have to let go of ego, thoughts and behaviors. And I feel calm because I have faith that if I set myself free and I love, it will all be fine. When the time is right, the right things will enter. And in the meantime I’m just jumping around naked, happy to be me. You should join me – it’s like being a toddler again – total freedom.

Why I love sinners…

Behind each negative pattern, is a frightened child...

I don’t know about you, but it was a while since I lost my virginity….and then there were a few other things… Have you ever sinned? Have you ever cheated on anyone? Stolen something? Beaten someone? Wanted to commit suicide? Let someone down? Been a drug addict? Had abusive relationships? Been a tad anorexic? Had sex with half the world, by accident rather than by design? Then, you’ve probably seen some darkness.

Most people fear the dark, because it’s not pleasant not knowing what’s going on around you. When you “sin” you are in the dark, because you have no fucking clue of why you can’t stop yourself from doing what you are doing. You don’t want to do it, yet your desire to do it is stronger than your want not to.

Why we do “bad” things is individual. Some people were molested as children, have a guilt complex around sex and end up having “guilty” sex. They dislike themselves for it and to prove their own dislike, their own self-hatred true, they keep repeating it. They buy into the idea that that’s who they are, whereas really, that’s a learned behavior, a learned pattern – a set of emotions that get triggered and then acted out. Nothing to do with their heart, if in their heart they disagree.

For many people the idea that you can’t stop yourself from having sex with someone is absurd, yet they can’t stop themselves from something as simple as eating a chocolate bar. Of course, the chocolate bar appears more normal than having sex with people you don’t want to have sex with, unless your weight skyrockets to the point where it isn’t healthy at all. Yet, the person who frowns upon the yes sayers to sex may take into account that the reason they are eating a chocolate bar came from some mild habit, whereas the person that can’t say no to sex may have been under much greater formative influences, such as rape.

Whatever made you end up in a negative circle of “sins” was probably not your choice. I doubt you chose to be molested, have an abusive parent or a parent who wasn’t a good role model, making you think you were doomed to one day become like them, told you were worthless, get bullied, or beaten. I doubt you made a conscious decision to become a wife beater, or a drug addict, but you bought into the ideas the “mirror” (people and events) in your past showed you. And once it happens, once you take too many drugs, hit your girlfriend, obsessively steal other people’s belongings, eat till you are about to burst, or allow yourself to have sex with people you don’t like, you think that’s you, even if you don’t really feel comfortable about it. Well, good news is – if you feel uncomfortable about it, it isn’t you. You are just under a spell where you can’t say no to doing whatever it is you are doing. You do have a choice though – it just takes practice, determination and potentially help to hold you accountable. Listen to your heart – what is it telling you? Follow that voice. And if you can’t make yourself follow it – find someone who can help you do that.

Habits can be hard to detect at times. Sometimes there’s just some discomfort at the back of our mind, or a feeling in our gut, but we don’t stop to listen as life is happening and what we see in front of us gets our attention. Besides, we get used to ourselves – if you are used to feeling fearful before a date, you probably don’t even notice it anymore because it’s circumstance. It’s normal to you, so you don’t question it. Still, there’s nothing normal about being fearful for a date. A bit nervous, yes, but fearful – no. Why would you be fearful? Probably because you fear other’s opinions of you, not trusting that your own opinion should out rule theirs and that your opinion should be that you are nice. You love yourself. If that’s your opinion, you will act from that place, so you will be nice and loving. The thing is – if you are scared of people, your perceived idea about them is negative and that’s the place you are acting from, even if your heart disagrees.

I’ve had negative patterns with people, with food, with men, with health, with depression, with hurt, with love…I mean we all do – we all have patterns, whether good or bad. To me some of my negative patterns were so pronounced that I had to stop, I had to do something about it. I was messed up from my childhood. Yet, as I always say – thanks to the immense pain I went through, I woke up. Some people never do, because the pain never reaches that level, but I decided to change. I didn’t feel like I was a gray mouse in the corner who hated myself and wanted to destroy myself. I felt like I was a playful, naughty little thing with a sense of humor and a huge love of life and love. So I decided to become that woman. I had to set myself free. One thinking pattern at a time. And doing so I discovered thinking patterns I didn’t even know I had – I acted them out all the time, but I wasn’t thinking about what I was thinking about to make me behave like I did. Only when I stopped to listen did I realize what thoughts caused my behavior, where they came from and that they weren’t real. There was a me before that behavior ever started. A me that never agreed with those thoughts, those behaviors. A me that hadn’t yet interpreted events to color my view of myself.

If we love ourselves it will become impossible to hurt ourselves and therefore others. I have never met a person who hurt others unless because they were hurting. Ever. When you love yourself, even if people provoke you, you won’t get mad. You won’t resort to anger, to hurting others. You know they are deluded. You don’t have to suffer because of it.

People are quick to judge others on their patterns, after all, it takes time to get someone to open up and share their heart. And even if they do, they may not be ready to give up their learned behaviors. Their self love may not have reached those levels.

People have sometimes pointed out to me that someone has issues and usually they are right – most people have issues. Some more visible than others. Some more harmful to other people than others. You can still love those people though, of course you can. If you have seen more than their issues, if you have glimpsed their soul, you probably do love them. And if they love you, they won’t want to hurt you, but they may still do. For example, I believe, unlike some women, a man can love one woman and have sex with the entire world, still loving just one woman, but as he doesn’t love himself enough to respect himself, as he thinks he is bad, he acts badly towards her, he fulfills his prophecy, she is hurt, gets angry, kicks him out and all is the same as it always was – he thinks he’s bad, she thinks men can’t be trusted. (Then there is the idea that love is for all and we should all have open relationships allowing ourselves to love whomever we want. That’s another scenario.)

I don’t recommend you get involved with a cheater unless you are OK with open relationships, until the cheater has become a non-cheater. Nor do I recommend you withdraw your love from them just because they are a cheater. Love them. Just don’t put yourself in a position where you will feel abused. And the same goes for everyone who is involved in any way with someone who is, as yet, helpless to their negative behavior patterns.

The good thing about sinners is that they have seen the darkness and therefore, hopefully, have an extreme wish to see the light. They will see it more clearly and with more appreciation than those that have never seen the dark. And those that live in the gray zones may never question them, because it never gets to the point of do or die. Those that hit the darkness know. They know it’s do or die, because the pain, the guilt, the sadness, or whatever it is, becomes unbearable. They have to do something about it. Some sadly don’t have the tools, the support, or the love to do so though. They fail.

I hope in this life that I will never again abuse myself so much that I allow myself to put myself in a situation where I abuse others, or feel abused by others. I hope I will be strong. When my own “self-hatred” slips in, I hope that I remember love and rather than feeding my self-hatred by self-sabotage, or hurting others/putting myself in a situation where I allow others to hurt me, I will choose the love and act from that place.

What’s more, I hope that in this life I will never give up on loving sinners. I believe that somewhere in there is a heart. A heart that may even love you.