Archive | July, 2014

Fantasies

30 Jul

stretch
I used to not have fantasies, or if I did, they were very PG. I’d get really embarrassed even just thinking about sex. My relationship with BD began when I was 19, newly secular, with religious residue that made me very much a prude. So our relationship was a kind, caring, loving one, and sex was missionary and respectable. That did change some with time, but I was never entirely free that way.

As for being attracted to others, thinking about other men – that was completely taboo. For years, I’d never even notice if a hot guy passed me by. All my girlfriends would be drooling, and I’d be like – hey, what did I miss? I was a one-man-woman, in life, in my thoughts, even in my dreams – honestly, I’d never even had a dream about another man. In 13 years, I’d say that’s weird.

But in the past two years, since becoming single again, I fantasize quite a lot, and I love it. Anytime, anywhere, my mind can wander and just think about – whatever… It’s liberating. Actually, what’s liberating is the fact that for the first time in my life, I feel totally free of guilty or otherwise negative emotions surrounding sexual thoughts. It’s my mind, it’s my right to think whatever I want with it, to imagine whatever I want with it, whoever I want, wearing whatever I decide, doing whatever I please. That might seem trivial to some of you, but it’s a novelty to me.

And there’s more to it that just liberation, although that is a big part of it. Fantasizing makes me feel alive. Let’s face it, adult day to day life can wear you out. It’s getting up every morning, coffee, breakfast, putting the boy at daycare, work, lunch, more work, more coffee, picking up the boy, snack, play, dinner, shower, bed time, clean up, sacred time for me, sleep, coffee, breakfast etc… Obviously, there are many pleasures in this routine. And yet, the fact that I can just be sitting at my desk, and suddenly be somewhere else in my mind, somewhere exciting… That’s just amazing to me.

My fantasies aren’t always sexual. It’s really about daydreaming. Lately I’ve found myself having full on conversations in my head with people, playing them out like I’m writing a script, and enjoying them immensely. A talk with my boss turns into a huge promotion and shitloads of money and vacation time. In a talk with an ex who broke my heart, he ends up confessing he still loves me, and I get to say that I’m over it. It can be anything I’ve been wanting to happen, or dreaming about, as far fetched from reality as can be. And there it is materialized before me, for a few minutes of pure uncensored pleasure.

There I am, at the gym, I just finished my run and am high on adrenaline, laying down on a mat to stretch. That hot instructor that I am always staring at is suddenly approaching me. He wants to see if I need help, which I obviously do. As he leans over me, helping me stretch my legs, one hand securing my shoulder, I can feel the heat from his body, as his biceps gleam with sweat. We now realize we are alone at the gym (somehow – in fantasies it doesn’t really matter how), and our eyes lock as we sink into a…

Shit. Green light. I guess I should save this one for later 🙂

Real Woman

28 Jul

As usually happens when I’m confused about where my life is going, and as usually happens after hooking up with an ex (sadly that’s happened to me more than once in the past couple of years) I enter a melancholy pondering mood, which brings me to revisit former relationships and wonder about what went wrong and how somehow I was to blame for everything.

Even though I haven’t seen him in almost 14 months, my go to guy for memories of what it felt like to be in love, is still SG. So I was thinking about him, about how much I had allowed myself to open up to him and be vulnerable, about how he broke it off with me that morning, after having spent an incredible night together, how he’d said he loved me, but couldn’t be with someone who had a son.

SG was a kid, I know that now (In all honesty, I knew it then too). A 26-year-old Peter Pan type, who could not commit to anything, from high school, to military service, to college, to a real woman. His ambitions were out of this world, he was always in the middle of a huge undertaking, never actually following through with things to the end. That’s what I was to him. An undertaking. His childish omnipotence-fantasy blinded him and made him decide to choose me, despite the age difference, the marital status difference, the fact that I had a son. He was excited by the fact that I wasn’t another one of these girlie-girls he was used to dating, the thin, pretty, clingy, boring type. I was a woman. A real woman. Happy with who I was – most of the time. Confident in my intelligence and competence. Curvaceous and beautiful as a real woman often tends to be. Knowing how to show affection, how to make a man feel special. All these qualities that drew SG to me, that made him feel lucky that he was free at last from past meaningless relationships… These qualities were also the ones that made him leave me.

I am a real woman. And alongside the benefits of being such, are the problems. Real women do not have girlie-girl-problems. It’s not about getting a bad grade on a course, having a bad hangover or arguing with a girlfriend. We have all the benefits of real women, and we have seriously fucked up real women problems to go along with them. Toddler temper tantrums. Juggling personal lives and careers. Mending broken hearts and wondering if we will ever be able to trust again. SG couldn’t handle me. So he left. Just like he’d left high school, and the army, and college. Just like I don’t really believe he will ever finish that list of 200 books he’d decided to read in the next 10 years, or learn French, Italian and Russian, or start playing the piano.

You can’t hail a cab in life, to get you from one point to another. Often, you have to walk, through murky filthy shitty sewage water to get to where you want to go. If you’re willing to put in the time, the effort and the faith necessary for the journey, you might actually get there.

I’m just about neck-high in shitty sewage water in my life right now, but I have the stamina to keep putting one foot before the other and keep my mouth shut so I don’t swallow any crap. I’m not the type to give up. Real women never do. I’m taking my real womaness and the problems that come with that awesome title, and we’re trekking to a place where we’re going to be truly happy. In like a year. Or two.

Horrible Hookup Haiku

27 Jul

Night, sirens holler

Stupid Hamas, sad and scared

Sleeping with the ex

 

 

 

Do What You Can… (The Evolution of Ideas.)

21 Jul

I am always telling myself: when you can – work. This means, use any opportunity to work, whatever work is at that time: things you need to do for your job, for your home, for your family, for your relationships, for yourself. Sometimes, it is very, very difficult to work. There are times in life when movement and progression are extremely limited. That’s why it’s so important not to waste any opportunities. Circumstances will rarely be optimal, but they are often enabling – to an extent. So work, whenever you can. Be active. Continue striving to achieve the things that matter to you. Do what you can, with what you have, from where you are.

JamesRadcliffe.com

There is an idea, embodied in a quote that I recently read, which to my mind, is one of the most important and vital master keys to: living a life of joyeous productivity and achievement unhindered by unnecessary bullshit or false constraint.

It is an idea which has been battle tested by every single person throughout the whole of history, who has ever accomplished anything of significance.

It is fully timeless.  It is the internal foundation and impetus for all action.  It has been, and continues to be, of the greatest value in my own life.

Would you like to know what it is?…

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Good job!!!

19 Jul

Good-job

I’ve been studying this summer, very intensely, which is why I haven’t been writing lately. All in all, I can say that things are going rather well.

I ended it with B, the sensitive yet macho Argentinian broker I’d been seeing for the past three months. It just didn’t seem like it could go anywhere, and as much as I liked the notion of living for now (and as much as the sex was spectacular), it’s just not me to invest emotionally in something that I know in my heart has no future. I feel good about ending it. I mean, it sucked breaking up with him. And I was a terrible coward and did it in a very long WhatsApp conversation. But it was a good thing ending it. And he actually seemed to take it relatively well. I had been sending signals. He’s a smart sensitive guy, he saw it coming.

The main thing that was difficult about this breakup, was the fact that he really cared about me. He thought I was beautiful and smart and fun and a good mom. I got loads of affirmation from him on a daily basis. And I realized suddenly how difficult it was for me to give this up. It’s the best thing in the world to feel loved, isn’t it? But there was more to it.

In the teacher-training program I’ve been taking this summer, we’ve been talking about positive reinforcement. Everyone’s always talking about the importance of giving children constant positive feedback. In my 6 years of teaching, this is something I’ve always made a point of doing, and have been very good at. I give a lot of positive reinforcement to my students, as much of it as possible, and never empty compliments – but rather actual concrete feedback about things they’ve done.

Well, I’ve been reading my Maria Montessori, and apparently, according to her, us adults basically just have to shut up. Let the children do whatever it is they feel compelled to do, to follow their instincts, their “inner guide” that will lead them to meaningful learning, without needing to be taught, without needing us to tell them how well they’re doing. If we constantly give them feedback for their work, how will they ever learn to give feedback to themselves? Huh. Good point.

Most of my life I was utterly unable of giving any feedback to myself. Well, that’s not entirely true. I was horrible to myself. I was always criticizing and scolding myself for not being thin enough, pretty enough, quick enough, knowledgeable enough, fun enough and so on and so forth… It took a baby and a painful breakup to get me to finally acknowledge my own strength. To finally be able to tell myself: Good job!

I still don’t do it often enough. It’s still super difficult. And I yearn, constantly for the approval of others. But I’m learning. And maybe I’ll try to hold back a bit on the positive reinforcement with my students this year. And maybe next time my son builds a spectacular Lego tower and admires it in awe, I’ll just smile, and let him clap for himself and tell himself, with his limited vocabulary, how awesome he is.