I completely lost control. I am not sure if it was because I needed a distraction, or that too many things had pushed me too far, but the other day, I started a two day Facebook argument about choice after I saw the illustration to the left appear on my FB thread.

Many of you might say, "you didn't start it, this picture did," and you might be right. But the other part of this was that this charming illustration was posted by a man who I know, and I knew at the time, would never ever change his mind. I know this because I know him well enough to know that his particular religious leaning precludes him from seeing women as anything other than reproduction machines. 

But, this illustration infuriated me. I felt condescended to, I felt lectured, and more than that, I felt quite invisible. Our argument took us down the path of inconceivable truths; arguing choice with a person who sees you as a baby maker is the fastest way to get nowhere. He accused women of using abortion as a get out of jail free card, he asked me what the baby would say if I asked if it wanted to live, and for my part, I gave him quick synopsis of what it means to be a woman in the world. Other people chimed in, one man in particular even went so far as to threaten, believe it or not, another woman who was arguing the pro-choice point. I am pretty sure he addressed her as "girly." I mean, it got pretty heated. For two days. On Facebook. 

And I could not stop. I was checking for his answers. I would become enraged when he clearly demonstrated that women were not anywhere near the top of his "list of worldly concerns." Then yesterday, at about 5 pm, I remembered why I started arguing in the first place, what I was hoping to accomplish, and instead of arguing my point, I told him that his post was mean. It was insulting, and it was condescending. I told him that I did not remember him that way, that I remembered him as a considerate and respectful person, and this illustration was neither. And that is when he apologized. Then, we wished each other well. And that was it.

I am not going to change minds. I am not trying to tell anyone to live a life any differently than the one they have chosen. I will not attack you for your religion, no matter what it is. I won't insult you to prove a point. In that same vein, I expect the same treatment. I really don't feel it necessary for anyone else to tell me about my body. I have no use for people, institutions, or governments which treat me like I cannot make a decision based on the breadth and depth of my life. 

But it is hard not to argue. It is hard not to feel every moment of every day that I have to deliberate on what I have to do to be safe. It is challenging for me to forget that I have to consider physical threat in almost every decision I make about how I move through the world. My life is chock full of deliberations regarding the safety of my body and mind, and it is this way because generally speaking, men are a threat. Not all men; but statistically, there is more than a slim possibility that harm will come to me at the hands of a male human. 

It is also difficult to argue. Difficult because rape is under reported. The statistics on rape are staggeringly incorrect. Why? because of the social stigma rape places on the victim. Because any time a man hurts a woman, the go to response is, what did she do wrong? Because many women are afraid to accuse because they know when they do, they are, at the least, immediately suspect, and at the most, in greater danger of further harm.

I have been sexually abused. Most of the women I know have, at one time or another, had an incident where they were assaulted, raped, or threatened by a man. This is not an exaggeration. This is a truth. This world does not value or protect women. We are targets, every one of us, all over the world. 

This is why I argued. Instead of starting with telling my friend that this post was insulting and I believed he was better than that, I started with defense. I started with outrage. I started with the anger of a person who has had to strategically move through the world in order to be safe. I started with the profound sadness of a person who has listened to countless women tell me of their horrible and traumatic rape/abuse/exploitation. 

I cannot, in good conscious, excuse it. Not after the pain I have felt and seen. It is hard for me to listen to you go on and on about the value of a human life after I have lived 46 years of not being valued. It is in every sense of the word, an outrage. 

Politicians push cases of rape forward as a way to justify abortion, and while it is valid, it also feels hollow, because I should be able to make this very challenging decision about my life and my body even if I am not raped. The idea that people other than the mother think they can overrule her on this very important decision is in itself a violent and invasive act. Like rape, it is a product of the violent world we live in. 

Pain begets pain. Violence begets violence. The point, finally, is not rape. It is not ending a life. The point is that we live in a world that is so broken that it believes collectively that violence is the answer to every big problem. All this, rape, abuse, legislating women's bodies, is a product of a mindset that does no one any favors. It is the mindset of anger, of thoughtlessness, of fear. 

It is the mindset that forgets to ask, what are we doing to men, collectively, that pushes them to do such horrible things?

"It is so nice to get a good morning text, you know? It is nice to get that from someone!" I am talking with a friend of mine who is happy that she has started dating someone who says hello in the morning via text. We talk about our shared experiences with this for a bit, though mine with morning texts are just a bit different.

As I explain to her what I do every morning with four or five people, she starts to laugh, and so do I. Every morning, I send out a naked picture to several special acquaintances, and then, get some form of gratitude back, ranging anywhere from, "nice one,: to lines about my sexual magnetism, my physical beauty, or what have you. It is wonderful to get that. I adore this morning ritual of mine.

I am aware that these sentiments are different than the sentiments from someone who, just out of thinking of you, or wanting you to know that you are being thought of, sends you a good morning text. This uninitiated form of affection is a wonder. When that one person you are thinking of, that one person who is special to you, lets you know that they are thinking of you too, it feels like magic.

But, I have set myself up. In my actions, I have requested note. I have beckoned attention. I have set it up so that I am guaranteed to receive some form of appreciation. Sometimes one or two of the men I send  a picture to do not respond. Sometimes, I get a request to cease and desist. Sometimes, though rare, I don't have time to send one.  But I want to make sure that the men I like know I am thinking about them, and frankly, I want them to think of me, though I know this is a relatively low stakes game.

There is a flip side to this which has become a bit of a growing concern for me over the last months, not because it is just now starting to trouble me, but because I have just become aware of it. Within this pre-arrangement, I have set it up so that I am requesting attention. Because I am requesting attention, I have come to rely upon it. I have set myself up for it.

In itself, there is nothing wrong with this scenario, unless you are a person, like me, who prefers to see herself as fiercely independent, needing no one, and asking nothing. As I said, I like to see myself that way. Unfortunately, this practice has led me to see that I am anything but. Well, maybe that is hyperbole. What strikes me is that against the backdrop of this low stakes game, my mood is sometimes quite affected by not getting a certain type of attention from one person in particular. And this DRIVES ME CRAZY. And the fact that it drives me crazy DRIVES ME CRAZY. 

This is in stark contrast to my casual attitude with other of the people with whom I share intimacies. My fella is the center of my life and this sometimes bugs the shit out of me. It bothers me to no end that not getting attention from him when I want it bugs me. I want it to not matter. I want to not care. I want to be indifferent when he does not respond to my texts or my questions or statements. But I am helplessly dependent upon his approval and I fucking hate that. 

I see that I have fooled myself into believing that I can have all these lovers and not need them...not really. They are a distraction for me for when that one person who matters does not pay me attention. Why do I do this? Because the flip side of all this is that I need my space. YES. It is true.  I like having time to myself. If I don't have it, I am not kind. I am not compassionate. I am not, as they say, "my best self." So really, spending more time and energy with him would also drive me crazy. It would in fact, probably push me to crush him utterly. Not physically, of course; this is just metaphorical hyperbole. It turns out, to my great dismay, that I am not the kind of person who can actually get what I think that I want. I am the kind of person who cannot handle sharing the space required to receive the attention that space sharing would provide. 

When I write my posts, I generally know where I am going. I generally have some type of answer or process that I demonstrate which helps me to deal with my specific form of freakish behavior. Well, I am at the edge of this particular cliff, and I am not sure if I want to jump. I am not sure if I want to back away from the edge. I am not sure, finally, if I want to stand on the cusp and breathe in the sweet air of freaky, letting it filter through my lungs and inform my blood and heart of their destiny. I am, in a word, paralyzed on the edge because who I want to be is fighting desperately with who I actually am, and it is driving me to do and say some pretty unnerving things. 

I completely understand my predictament, I just have no idea how to handle it, so I will leave you with this quote from the movie Moonstruck, spoken by Ronny Cammareri to Loretta:

".........love don’t make things nice – it ruins everything. It breaks your heart. It makes things a mess. We aren’t here to make things perfect. The snowflakes are perfect. The stars are perfect. Not us. Not us! We are here to ruin ourselves and to break our hearts and love the wrong people and die. The storybooks are bullshit!"

Yeah.....the storybooks are indeed bullshit...but I have known THAT for quite some time.

"You have the right to have just as much sex as a gay man, Sara." I was laying in bed with one of my playmates, talking about my plans to have a playmate in every city I visit on my travels. I was telling him that recently a prospective playmate asked me how many other people I was having sex with, and I underestimated a bit. I didn't want to deal with the judgment, which, in retrospect, was a good call because even with the underestimation, he still withdrew from our conversation. 

There are certain conversations I like to have before sex, like the last time I was tested, using condoms, and other disease-related topics. I don't ever feel the need to have the discussion about how many other people perpspective playmates are having fun with, because frankly, I don't care that much. I mean, in a way it is kind of fun to talk about, but really, how much does it matter? It really only takes one mistake to ruin your life. As long as the person I am playing with is using a condom and responsible with testing, I am good. I mean, yeah, maybe a good ball park number, but really, isn't it enough to say, "I am active?"

Up until roughly three or four years ago, my sexuality was something I tried to keep on the down-low. I believed that there was something wrong with me, that my sex drive was a sign that I was some kind of a freak.  So, I quietly had sex with lots of people. Well, as many as I could. But that is not safe, keeping one's sex life a secret, for many reasons, and on a whole other level, if I keep anything that I do a secret, I am sending myself a message that I am doing things of which I should feel ashamed or embarrassed. In actuallity, a healthy sex drive, and the momentum and vitality to achieve satisying it is something to be proud of.

It is said that youth is valued in this culture because of its inherent beauty, but I honestly wonder if it is not prized because young people are so easily manipulated into feeling shitty about their natural impulses. So easily convinced that there is something wrong with them. So easily persuaded that in the end, it is better to conform. By the time you are forty, you start to see much of that stuff for what it is; a way to get you to buy shit you don't need in an effort to become something that you are not.

You start to see, at a certain age, that it is not the end of the world to not fit in, and in fact, it is much better if you stand out. It is much better if you reject the message that your feelings of awkwardness or fear are normal, and that it is something to sit through and understand instead of deny or reject as wrong or immoral. At a certain age, you realize, hopefully, that your body is amazing, and that the messages that you are fed about how you should look are at the very least, wrong, and at the most, horrendously damaging. 

After I started working on loving my body, sex became better. Sex was in fact a way to finally be free and express myself fully. I could never have done this when I was feeling bad about my body, when I was concerned about my hips, my butt, and my nose. For me, there is a direct relationship between how comfortable I am with my body and how comfortable I am having sex. As in, when I am in a place where I am loving and valuing my body and myself, I am also in a place where sex is mind-blowingly spectacular. This is not an exaggeration.

This practice also led to another significant realization. After many years and many monogamous relationships, I came to the realization that monogamy might not be in my wheelhouse. Not that I was always runnin' around on my fellas, but there was always a moment, or three, in every relationship, where I was thinking to myself, "is this going to be it? For the rest of my life? Really?" Where as being in an open relationship feels more natural to me. I feel less like I am suffocating, and more like I am liberating, myself and my fella. That is a feeling I love, and one that I want more of. 

As with all other of my posts of self-discovery, I am in no way suggesting non-monogamy for everyone or even, anyone. I am just saying that through learning to really accept, care for and love my body, my whole world opened up. My life transformed. I stopped feeling like I was some kind of a freak, and started feeling like, well, myself. I never would have felt like that, like myself, if I hadn't tried. I can see the way my life would have gone if I had never gotten to feeling comfortable being me, and my goodness, it is like, half a life! It is nothing compared to the full and wonderful thing I have now, which is sometimes scary, sometimes exciting, and all the time, very real.

This is why I promote body positive, sex positive, and self-love above all; because I know it is transforming, and that going through the process of accepting and loving your body will change you into a person who is you. That maintaining a practice of self-love and acceptance will keep you loyal to yourself, will cultivate a courage within you that you had never before known, and will add more to your life than you could ever predict.

I suppose, if you look at the way most people feel about their bodies, I am some kind of a freak. I am the kind of freak who will bare the brunt of ridicule and derision in order to be more me, to be loyal to myself, and to find, on a daily basis, how much more I am capable of. I will endure the haters because I know this message is dire. Loving yourself, including your body, will transform your life. Guaranteed. 

The great secret about being a freak is that it is hysterically and wonderfully fun. It is one big, "I don't give a fuck," about consumerism, conformity, and capitalist culture. It is anarchy. It is revolt. It is a way out of feeling like you are not enough. Once you start getting to know and love yourself, you will see that you are boundless, that you contain multitudes, that if your were a melody, you would be a classic, a masterpiece. You are not only enough, you are EXCEPTIONAL.

So, yeah...I am happy to be a freak if this is what freak life is like. Happy to be a freak if I can be me. 

there is nothing better, even if it does make me a bit of a freak. 

“I was wondering, are you working toward any fitness goals that you need help with?” This message comes at me a few times a week from people I follow on Twitter and Instagram. I mean, I get it. Everyone is trying to run a business. Everyone is trying to get another client, but, as someone who relies partially on the income from the art and books she sells, it is clear that selling on a social media platform full of sellers might not be the way to go.
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The other thing is, and this is a fact of my life which I am very proud of, my fitness goals are not the kind I need help with. They are not the kind I need direction on. They are the kind that I have created for myself because they are fun. I know that if I am not having fun in some way while I am moving my body, I am going to stop moving my body. That is why one of my fitness goals is handstands. One of them is bike riding. One of them is arms-only planks. Because all this stuff is fun to me. It is play.

This is one of the dangers of becoming an adult. You forget how much fun it is to play. You get real serious. Everything is work, or a goal, or some kind of strategic plan to get you from where you are to where you think you want to go. That is why I don’t do it as often as possible. How many times have I seen people working out, running, or whatever, who look absolutely miserable? More often than I see people looking ecstatic to be moving their bodies.

When I am playing, I get the best ideas because my mind is not focused on any particular goal. So whenever I need a good idea, I go to yoga, or on a bike ride, or I do a bunch of handstands. Sometimes I mow the lawn, but that is a special kind of freaky that I know a lot of people don’t really understand. The point is, people ask me all the time what I do to stay in shape, or to get the muscles I have, or whatever, and the answer is that I have fun. I engage actively in my life. I do not let devices do my work for me.

For instance, I am making folk art posters right now. I am drawing every one of them, though some people have told me there is a program I can use that will do the same things. It would be faster, they say, and more perfect. Um… yeah..then it wouldn’t be folk art. Then, it wouldn’t be punk rock. Then, I wouldn’t be actively engaging in an activity which brings me more joy and personal development than anything else I do. 

But this is ME. I would never tell anyone else to live the way I live, get fit by doing what I do, and eating what I eat, because this is my special brand of freak, and I get off on it. It is mine, and I love it.  When people ask me for help, I make the assumption that they want help being them, not being me. 

That is my most important goal, being me, and in so doing, trying not to not be like other people. Part of that is not telling people how to love themselves, just how to maybe get to a point where they want to and to get to a point where they have the courage to sit with the shit, where they can look at themselves and be relieved to see who they are.

The thing is, there are a million things about every single person that are amazing, but it is difficult to discover those things when you are following a prescribed and well-trodden path that a million other people use. Getting off the path and bushwhacking to get to who you are might be slower going, but you see and experience way more interesting stuff. Stuff that most people NEVER SEE. 

This is the reason I even started this blog. I saw a need, and I thought my experiences would inspire others to have their own experiences. The more I am curious, the more I decide not to accept what is presented as the way things are or the way they should be, the more interesting the world becomes.

You could fall in line and do what everyone else is doing, you could set your own goals and use other people's road maps to get there, but a lot of the fun is in the figuring out. A lot of the fun is in the attempts after the failures. The fun and the true success comes through your own efforts, your own decision making, and your own determination of value.

Your life is an opportunity. Don't waste it letting other people tell you how to live it.