I want chocolate and I want it now -
I'd even eat a chocolate cow.

A chocolate cow?  One made with milk.
And then I'd want more chocolate ilk.

A chocolate moose, a chocolate mouse,
And can't I have a chocolate house?

Where is the chocolate when you need it?
Give me a chocolate mouth, and feed it!

So I go into the bathroom and the toilet is full of, like 75 yards of toilet paper, and on TOP of that is a giant turd.  All of which, now, cannot be flushed without heroic measures on my part.

Damn heathens.

On the way home the other day I wrote a poem in my head
About how we met, our mythology, the rock quarry swimming hole
And you riding on the back of my motorcycle, over loose gravel
About how your almond eyes sparkled with un-named dares

But when I sat down to write it, it came out silly and childish
An empty shell, a story with no depth or emotion
So today, I composed a new verse, one about the last one
And how it didn't work when I tried to recapture it

And then tblog crashed

Why is it that I can hurtle through space with words in my head
That bring tears to my eyes?
And here I sit with no words, no poetry, no emotions painted on the page?

I wanted to tell you that I have always been here for you
Even if it seemed I was not
I wanted to tell you that we have always been "we"
Even when you felt alone and abandoned, without a true friend

I wanted to tell you that this, too shall pass, because we are together so much greater than the sum of our parts
I wanted to tell you that you and your almond eyes are in my soul
And I could not change that even if I were to try

I wanted to tell you that we are so rich, so blessed, so rewarded
And so blind that the truth is almost beyond comprehension
Because who we were and who we are are one in the same
Even if for so long we have forgotten

More on why we blog and what we are looking for from the act of blogging:

• I used to belong to another blog community.  I started blogging because I wasn't doing a very good job of keeping a journal, and I thought this would be more motivating.  The problem was, people weren't commenting, although my counter said that they were stopping by...


• Why even want comments at all if you are merely journaling?  Well, there must be a reason that most of us are here blogging instead of journaling into a notebook.  And if we were picking up pen and paper, it's unlikely that we would then stop by the local watering hole and pass around said journal for the enjoyment and comment of all.


• Imagine yourself at a traveller's inn some 400 years ago.  You will meet a variety of people, but your sojourn with them will be brief.  Also, they will judge you and be judged by you by outward appearances, which are often very decieving, especially if they are meant to be.  See that dark, brooding one in the corner?  You will not be able to push a button on him/her or any one of the patrons and read his or her thoughts and ideas, dreams and goals.  Sure, you could get to know the regulars over time - but the power of this forum of a blog community is undeniably more. 


• If I write something I think is important, I want affirmation. "Wow - that made me think."  When I write something I think is cute or trivial, I merely want acknowledgement.  "I dropped by your site - nice blog."  When I write something searching, desiring intercourse, I want opinions.  Opinions that differ, opinions that agree.   Opinions that bring up things, aspects that I never even thought of.  This is what challenges me, keeps me honest, and discourages me from fooling myself.


• There is another aspect to blogging.  For many, it seems to have nothing to do with journaling at all.  It is a social activity, and not even an academic social activity, like the aforementioned slumber party.  It really is a step into the inn with an armload of life experience, jokes, political views and controversial subjects.  Just there to chat, make friends, have a good time, drink lots of mead.  Maybe even join up for the wet t-shirt (corset?) contest or get that brooding guy's number.


• There's plenty of room for both the serious journalist and the social butterfly and everything in between.  That's what I love about this "Inn at the World's End" - we all have a story to tell.  A story to be.  And I love each and every story.

So I think I'll sit in my corner of the inn, listening to your stories and telling mine.  Some of you will become my friends and I yours.  Some will not be interested in me or what I have to say.

C'est la vie.

Oh my.  As the dust settles I find it easier to put my thoughts into bullet points than cohesive essay, so here goes:

• I knew Painted Bat had not had sex until she was 19.  She told me this on tblurt and it was a part of my impetus to discuss the new female "sexuality as empowerment" that I seem to be seeing develop.  I felt that it wasn't my place to mention this in my blog, but having not done so left out an important piece of the puzzle.  Now that Painted Bat has done so herself in her blog, I feel free to include it.


• I'm not obsessed with this issue, but it is very close to my heart.  I had sex at 14 and have many regrets.  I did not have a child until 26 and married.  My regrets shade my perspective and feed my desire to raise tough, healthy girls who know what they want and how to get it with integrity. 


• I am raising my children very differently than I was raised.  Anticipation, open discussion, hitting the issue head-on, pro and cons, honesty, proactive role-playing. 


• I was motivated to write "Grrl Power" because of SoMe's post about the power of the blog.  It crosses cultures and ages in a way that real life simply does not do.  With so many 20, 30, and 40 something women here, we have a virtual seminar of women's studies.  A slumber party, if you will.  With an endless guest list.


• I was left many comments (now deleted - oops!) from other mothers saying "Yes!  I have those concerns, too!".  But why?  What do we hope to shelter our daughters from?  Sex too young?  Teen pregnancy?  Regrets?  We don't let kids drive before a certain age, or drink, because they might get hurt.  Is that it?  Is there an age (such as 19?) when you are now officially mature enough to make these decisions and live with the consequences?  Is it because we have regrets of our own, or is it the same when we don't?  If you are a mother who felt comfortable with the age you became sexually active, do you feel more confident raising your daughters now?


• Keep in mind that my daughters are still young and not sexually active.  If my daughter comes to me at sixteen and (like my friend's daughter) says "I am active now, I need birth control".  I will deal with it the way we have planned, emotions be damned.  I just hope to have enough insight and wisdom stock-piled by that time to give her the guidance and insight she needs.

OK, well....so I went to the "My Comments" page, and it seemed like there were an inordinate amount of comments there....  So I thought "I have a bright idea!  *picture halogen 10-year energy saving light bulb here* I will delete the ones I have already responded to and only keep the ones that need follow-up or have information I need!" 

Um, yeah - well, as you all know, that actually deletes the comments from the blogs themselves.  So most of your comments are now deleted.

The advice I only took half of:

Camping With Henry And Tom
Mark St. Germain
Inspired by an actual event, Camping With Henry And Tom is a witty and thought-provoking comedy that explores the hearts and minds of three great historical figures of the 20th century: Henry Ford, Thomas Edison and President Warren G. Harding.

I went to see the above play yesterday and it was fantastic.  Lots of great quotes and many things I thought I could expound and blog on (if only I were taking notes - damn dementia!).  Anyway, the really exciting part wasn't even the play. 

Immediately after the play an older gentleman stood up and said to the actors: "I just wanted you to know that I knew Mr. Ford AND Mr. Edison, and you both did a fantastic job portraying them."  Well, needless to say, after the cast and the audience had picked up our jaws off the floor, they gave the gentleman a mike and the floor.  It turns out that he was Mr. Harold L Brock and that he has written a book called "The Fords in My Past".  He is 90 years old.  Mr. Brock worked for Henry, Edsel, and Henry II.

Mr Brock even worked with George Washington Carver in pioneering work involving the use of the soybean for alternatives to metal automotive parts.  The work they did never really resulted in any dramatic changes in the auto industry, but it laid the groundwork for future soybean studies and applications.  Mr Brock felt that Henry Ford and Mr Carver never got the credit they deserved for that little-known piece of scientific history.

Mr Brock also had insight into Henry Ford's political asperations and his apparently well-known (but also white-washed) anti-semitism.  Mr Brock did say that Mr Ford came to see the error of those ways prior to his death.

At any rate, this was a night that I will not soon forget.  If you get a chance to see "Camping with Henry and Tom", I highly suggest that you do.  If you find Mr. Harold L Brock in the audience, then you are truely blessed.

WARNING!  THIS BLOG CONTAINS EXPLICIT AND POTENTIONALLY OFFENSIVE MATERIAL.  PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK:

OK - yes I am slightly obsessive about being the perfect mom.  I want to be just the right balance of cool and authoritative.  My 13-yr old thinks I have it right.  The problem?  My 13 year old daughter's favorite singer is Marilyn Manson (OK, I got over that, sort of).  She weighs 10 lbs more than I did when I got pregnant the first time at 25, her bra size is bigger, and the girl is jaw-droppingly beautiful.  Around the house she wears the most eyebrow-raising lingerie-inspired "costumes" and she has recently been experimenting with eyeliner "accents" to her eyes.  (Think sex-kitten harlequin or Death's eye enhancement curlicue in "The Sandman" series.)  Not only that, she's an independant thinker who says JUST what she thinks, and an accomplished artist who draws astonishingly sexy nudes.  She's also smart.  So I have to trust her - right?  "teach them right and trust them".  The scariest part?  There are four more beautiful, unique, vulnerable and precious grrls following her right up the ladder to adulthood.  Sometimes I don't know how I can stand the suspense!

And then along comes a site like "PaintedBat" (see link).  Painted, you bring a very interesting aspect to the concern of young female sexuality. When I first saw your site I was shocked that you wanted to be a "suicide girl".  But everything I read said that you were a smart, articulate, confident woman.  And your reassuring honesty on the IM was mature and insightful. 

I was born in '64.  "I am woman hear me roar", Gloria Steinham, "Bring home the bacon, fry it up in the pan".  Nobody told us that we could be sexually aggressive, too.  OK - We could pay our own way on dates, we could even ask men out on dates, hell, we could even NOT date (THAT'LL show 'em!). 

But embrace our own sexuality?  Everyone knows that pronography degrades women, right?  And if a woman were to engage in any aspect of the "sex trade" - photos, movies, dancing, whatever - then wasn't she a victim?  Someone being abased and exploited by men?  Even real statistics will show you that  a very high percentage of women in this line of work were sexually abused as children.  So isn't the very concept of self-exploitation a sign of self-abuse?? 

Hmmmm.... "self-abuse"...  Doesn't that phrase mean something else?  Oh yeah - Masturbation!  And everybody knows masturbation is bad for you, right!  Makes you go blind and all that.  (OK - I really am kidding here - but that IS what they thought in the 50's!)   If masturbation has become embraced as healthy and appropriate, then what is nudity?  Nudity exhibited for the sake of sexual aesthetics?  Is that porn?  And what if it is?  Is that a crime against women?  A crime against humanity?

After the first "The Apprentice" series aired, I recall reading an article about how the female candidates used their sexuality to sell shots in the bar and various other challenges to beat out the males.  (Sorry - I didn't actually see it)  The article went on to ask some of the questions I am asking, too:  Do today's women have a new-found power in their sexuality?  Is it appropriate for them to use this power as a tool to get ahead, to get what they want?  Is it even effective for them to do so, or could it be counter-effective?  Are we seeing some tangents with the prominant older-famale, younger-male relationships in the news?  Isn't this just the same thing men have been doing (using any and all advantage they have) for eons?  But now women are using their OWN tools, not trying to adapt to fighting with a man's tools in a man's world...

Whew - So ultimately, what I am finding is a generation gap of sorts.  Even my friends who are 30 are comfortable with a type of sexuality that I never could have been.  And the girls who are 20?  Well, the times, they are a-changin'.  And I think it's important for me to monitor and understand these changes, for they will affect me 5-fold.  

My friend who is in her 30's was approached by her 16-yr old daughter, who had had and was going to keep having sex and (per their previous agreement) was now going to her mother to be taken to the doctor for birth control, protection and advice.  Leaving the exam room for privacy, my friend suddenly found  herself in tears.  What is it about mothers?  We were so comfortable being young lovers in our teens - but we want so much MORE for our daughters.  Besides the very real and serious disease factor - it's more than that.  But I haven't quite put my finger on it.

If you've read this far, please comment.  I would like to hear your opinions.

This is the song I wrote for my daughter Ceci one day while we were hangin' around hugging.  We sing it often to each other, but I've never written it down, so I thought it would be fun.  It is sung in a dee-da-dee-da-dee cadence.

I love you like the ocean loves the motion of the waves.
I love you like the sky loves the wind on windy days.
I love you like the clouds like to float so high above.
I love you, little Ceci, like only your mom can love.

She has also written other versions back to me.

• A week before I turned 40, my ex-fiance whom I had not seen in at least 9 years sent me an e-mail.  He had done a search on my name and found a link with my e-mail address.  I was fine with him contacting me, but I found the timing to be disconcerting.  I was just going along in my happy oblivion embracing my 40th birthday as a symbol of maturity, accomplishment, even serenity.  His e-mail caused some second guessing and self-doubt.  Did I really take the right path?  That lasted a couple of days and then I got over it.  (Just to be clear, this is a catch-up and visit contact only.  I am friendly with all of my exes as long as their spouse is supportive.  Mine is.)


• A recent survey asking men and women "If you could be immortal, what age would you choose to be?" resulted in the answer of 43 for women and 38 for men.  I have no idea of what the ages of the people surveyed were, but I was impressed with the results.


• I like looking much younger than I am.  I enjoy telling people that I am 40 and imagining that the surprise on their face is caused by my youthful appearance, and not my astonishing lack of maturity.


• Just over the last few years I have finally started to feel comfortable in my skin - less insecure, not needing to be perfect or right so much.  To me, being 40 is a signal that I am still treading that path and it's only going to get better.


• And finally, I am not in the best of shape, about 20 pounds overweight, and being "only" 40 still gives me hope that I will get this turned around and embrace a life of fitness while I've still got plenty of time.

I felt like sharing the wisdom of Goethe today.  I hope you enjoy:

• The first and last thing required of genius is the love of truth.


• Once you have missed the first buttonhole you'll never manage to button up.


• We must always change, renew, rejuvenate ourselves; otherwise we harden.


• To be pleased with one's limits is a wretched state.


• We are never deceived: we deceive ourselves.


• After fifteen minutes nobody looks at a rainbow.


• To have a positive religion is not necessary. To be in harmony with yourself and the universe is what counts, and this is possible without positive and specific formulation in words.


• Being brilliant is no great feat if you respect nothing.


• If you start to think about your physical or moral condition, you usually find that you are sick.


• Everything is simpler than you think and at the same time more complex than you imagine.


• Everyone hears only what he understands.


• You don't have to travel around the world to understand that the sky is blue everywhere.


• He who moves not forward, goes backward.


• He alone is great and happy who requires neither to command nor to obey in order to secure his being of some importance in the world.


• Mysteries are not necessarily miracles.


• A vain man can never be utterly ruthless: he wants to win applause and therefore he accommodates himself to others.


• If you would create something, you must be something.


• Nothing is more revolting than the majority; for it consists of few vigorous predecessors, of knaves who accommodate themselves, of weak people who assimilate themselves, and the mass that toddles after them without knowing in the least what it wants.

I did not just lose the last 20 minutes of typing about my ProVigil experiment!!  Apparently I do not know how to use emoticons safely!

I am so disappointed that I am protesting.  This is my protest blog.  If you read this blog, please add a protest comment.  In the spirit of free and open speech, and due to my great level of frustration (severely masked by the positive side effects of ProVigil) I will welcome any and all subjects of protest including (but not limited to) religion, politics, and the opposite sex (or the same sex) - hell, any sex.

My week started off with an arm in the middle of the highway.  It was 7:30, Tuesday morning.  How strange that a kid can wake up in the morning (or stay up all night) and jump in his car to travel to work, and then end up as various pieces of meat on the road.  His family and friends all grieve - but what does it matter to him?  It was over almost literally before he knew what hit him.

Wisdom, it is said, is the ability to recognize that every day is a miracle.  Every day is a beautiful day.    But wisdom cannot be taught, can it?  It cannot be drilled into the heads of children like so much "Karate Kid"?  If it can be taught, certainly it is true that the lecture method is useless.  If wisdom can be taught it must be  through training and practice only.  And even then - does it really take?

If I can embrace wisdom now, if I can breathe it in, incorporate it, assimilate it, what then?  Can I take wisdom with me like a fat wallet to spend in my next existence?  Or is wisdom a temporal tool to be used as a means of traveling in this plane?  Does it help me reach a goal, a jumping off point, will I start out precocial in the next round? 

Of course, it doesn't really matter.  Wisdom is, by definition it's own reward.  What comes after, comes after.