Here, I give vent to feelings, thoughts,
ideas, dreams... or babble incoherently. You are invited to read this
online diary, respond if you wish, or simply sit by, a voyeur to my
fancies, whims, and lunacy.
I have two blogs, one
here on my site, and another at
escortblogs.net. I try to keep the two different,
although there is some overlap on occasion. Each blog
has it's own feel; I encourage you to explore them both!
I've also just added a
new feature to the site,
Beverly's Bookshelf. It highlights books from my
enormous personal collection, but the entries are not
only about the books, but about me -- kind of a cross
between blog and a book review. Just another way to get
to know me!
And while
you're here... welcome. Pour a cup of coffee. Pull up a chair
by the warm glow of the screen. Make yourself at home!
love and lots of kisses,
Thursday,
October 23, 2008
It's been way too long! I just got over a terrible
flu bug... among other hassles. It's nice to be getting back online
and getting back to work, seeing my friends, blogging, all the good
stuff. I am VERY behind on my email, so apologies to those who have
been trying to reach me. I'm trying to catch up! LOL... story of my
life.
I've been wanting to blog on a few specific
subjects for a while now, so I thought I'd dive in with one of those
tonight. I've put this one up in both of my blogs. I'm actually thinking of turning this one into an article,
but we'll see. Anyhow, for now, it's a blog. I hope you enjoy it!
Pleasing the Experienced Woman
Once in a while, either overtly or subtly, I've
had the sense that some gentlemen are slightly intimidated by my
sexual experience.
In short, they're a little afraid to see me, because they're not
sure they're capable of pleasing me sexually. A woman with too much
experience makes them feel a little nervous.
A 40-year-old woman, who is also a provider, can't help but being
very experienced sexually.
So these men seek out younger girls, new to the hobbying world, or
they troll Craig's List looking for "non-pro" women.
I suppose that, in the minds of these men, these relatively
inexperienced women offer an encounter that feels more "real," or
there's less pressure to perform or please.
But pleasing the experienced woman is far easier than they imagine
-- and far more "real" than they might expect.
Why?
When I was 23 years old, I was all about sexual technique. Could my
lover perform well with his tongue? Did he know just what to do with
his penis (and was that penis a decent size?)? Did he know how to
make love to me, to perform foreplay that would leave me breathless?
Or was he just a boring lay?
Further, when I first started in the business, basically still
"non-pro," I didn't understand fully how to make my partner happy. I
didn't understand that part of becoming a business means making my
partner happy -- so I pleased myself, and ended up making a few
people unhappy into the bargain ("I know I said we could do it
twice, but I really don't feel like it now. Sorry.").
Things are different, now that I'm an experienced woman.
I've learned that I can totally be myself, be utterly "real" with
someone, and focus on their needs *and* my own. I can relax and have
fun with a new friend, giving the best of myself, receiving the best
of my partner.
And yes, I've also learned some things about sex. Okay, a *lot* of
things about sex. Here are some of the things I've learned:
Truly great sex is really only 10% skill --
and 90% enthusiasm.
A willingness to succumb to passion, to let
yourself go and just feel the delight, wonder, and excitement of
sharing physical touch with another, is a big part of what makes
sex magical.
Every woman experiences pleasure differently,
enjoys different kinds of stimulation. So every man, when he
makes love to a woman for the first time, will not know what to
do. But if he's lucky, he'll be with an experienced woman who
will not feel shame in *showing* him what she likes.
I used to think it was a man's job to please
me, to *give* me an orgasm. Now I know that I own my orgasm.
It's mine, and if I want one, I need to give it to myself --
either through pleasuring myself, or showing my partner how.
Orgasms don't have to be the goal. When you
take a road trip over several states, if all you do is focus on
the destination, you miss so many wonderful things along the
road.
Pleasure comes from giving, sometimes even
more so than receiving.
I am your equal. You don't have to be in
charge of my pleasure, responsible for pleasing me. I will take
care of myself, and help you help me.
Because I know a lot about sex, I'm able to
help you. I'm able to show you things that can make your sex
life better. I'm able to reassure you about things you feel
unhappy with. And I'm okay with being imperfect, myself.
I don't expect you to be a perfect lover in
every way. Because in the end, what matters most to me -- as an
experienced woman -- isn't penis size or hardness, tongue
skills, or any other "stud" requirements. What matters most to
me is that you are a kind, good person. And that emotional,
intellectual bond is the foundation of what makes sex good for
me... and thus for you, too.
Sex isn't just a physical act -- or, it
doesn't have to be. For me, it's about making a deeper
connection. And there are no rules or expectations for that.
Just simple appreciation of another human being.
Pleasing an experienced woman is easy. All you
have to do is be yourself... and be willing to let go and enjoy.
I usually try to keep my various blogs separate,
but this one is important, so I'm including it here as well as on
EscortBlogs. Why? 'Cuz I love those troops. :)
Over my years in this business, I've seen clients
from every branch of the military, plus the Coast Guard, the
National Guard, you name it.
I've seen active service members, and veterans too. I've had clients
who served in World War II, Korea, VietNam, Desert Storm,
Afghanistan, Iraq -- men who have fought for our country all over
the globe.
All escorts have their soldiers. We love our military friends. I
always joke with them, thanking the U.S. military for teaching men
to go see escorts. :) It's a joke, but it's kind of true, too... you
get lonely young men, far from home in strange lands, and the
comfort of a woman for the night is a precious thing. And most men,
once they've tried it, keep doing it. :)
I have always offered a discount for active service members and
veterans, and I encourage my friends to do the same - not just on
Veteran's Day, but any day. Not just because many of our soldier
boys don't make a whole lot of money, and not just because they are
sweet, kind, and clean, and treat us well. No, offering them a
discount is just one of many things we can do to say "thanks" for
all that they do.
In this election season, I hear a lot of people saying "support our
troops!" And that's a great thing. But when you ask them how
they are supporting the troops, the answers get a little vague, or
are tied to politics.
Supporting the troops is more than just putting a yellow magnet on
the car.
So what can we do? Besides offering discounts and making them feel
happy all over, of course. :)
Here's some good links:
Cell Phones for Soldiers
http://www.cellphonesforsoldiers.com/
Donate your old, funky, out of date cell phones. They'll be
recycled, and the funds used to buy calling cards for soldiers.
The USO
https://www.uso.org/
Donate money to the USO. Not only do they cheer troops and boost
morale with their celebrity shows, but they distribute phone cards,
care packages, and much more.
Adopt A Platoon
http://www.adoptaplatoon.org/new/index.htm
You can adopt not just a platoon, but a single soldier as well. Send
letters and care packages, be a pen-pal - even send clean underwear,
suntan oil and bug spray, or pillows.
Also, I'm including two links for sites that have extensive lists
and links to other organizations that will help you support our
troops. For example, some of these links include ways to buy
groceries for military families in need; or even provide foster care
for the dogs and cats belonging to soldiers, giving these furry
friends a home until their Person returns.
Finally, the best thing you can do to support the troops is to VOTE.
Whether you vote Democrat, Republican, Independent, Green, Whig...
doesn't matter. It's all about doing it.
Hundreds of thousands of American soldiers have fought and died so
you could vote. There are people all around the world who are
fighting and dying now, hoping that one day, they too can vote.
Voting is a sacred privilege. And when you do vote, thank a soldier.
Or better yet, meet up with him after the polls close, and pursue a
little happiness. :)
I'm so excited! I've finally put my Summer photos
up on the site... 30 of them!! I really wanted to get a wide variety
of photos this time, so I've spend most of the month of July doing
photo shoots. I want to give a special thanks to my friend T. who
took many of my favorite shots in his home studio.
I did photos in the library, Denver's civic center
park, T.'s studio, a private home in the foothills, and an amazing
magical location in the mountains above Central City -- we followed
a trail to a gorgeous triple waterfall, with plenty of privacy for a
bit of nudity! :)
The results are great... I'm so happy with these
photos. I hope you like them, too!
I'm also really excited about a new feature on the
Gallery page -- Beverly's Wallpapers! These are free wallpaper
graphics for your iPhone, Blackberry, or computer desktop. I'd love
to be spread out on your desktop! :)
I've also created all-new banners, using the new
photos, and I'm really happy with those, too. Please email me if
you're interested in a banner exchange!
I was recently exposed to a fun website, and I
just had to share it here. It's a comprehensive, 3-D animated list
of sexual positions. Check it out:
http://www.sexinfo101.com/sexualpositions.shtml . As you can
see, you can embed the animations in your blog... pictured here is
my favorite position, which they call "Jockey (Inverted)." I just
love it. It works best if you start with traditional missionary, and
then have the man carefully slide his legs over the woman's. The
result is that, with my legs clamped together, all of my internal
muscles clamp down on the gentleman as well. Further, because of the
angle, every stroke hits the clitoris... absolutely the best way to
bring me to a screaming orgasm! The heat, the sensations... it's
fantastic.
I also found a few positions I
haven't tried... and I would love to! Some of them require
acrobatics, and I'm not sure I'm up to that... but I found some
intriguing ideas! I liked "Amazon" and "Reverse Amazon," and while
I've done "Cross," I'd like to do it some more. I also enjoy the
"Scissors" position, but need to do more of it! "Teaspoons" is a lot
of fun, too, and more intimate than traditional doggie, I think.
While I've done most of these
positions, it's fun to have a reminder of all the incredibly cool
ways two bodies can come together. Variations on cowgirl, doggie...
it's all good! I
The site is a lot of fun. There's
something hypnotic about the animations, too. You just keep staring
at those almost-explicit bodies bobbing back and forth. Which one is
your favorite? Which one would you most like to try? Send me an
email and let me know!
A few rambling notes... I get my stitches out of
my leg tomorrow... it's healing well, no sign of infection, so
that's great. The antibiotics did their job, but now I've got all
kinds of new problems. Strong antibiotics have all kinds of
interesting side effects. Hopefully I'll be back to normal soon!
I'm trying to get my new Summer photos done...
there are some really nice ones. I wanted to do another shoot with
one or two different outfits, before I declare myself finished with
this batch... I wanted a lot of variety this time. We'll see how I
do! In the meantime, there's one of the new photos on my homepage.
I'm also going to add a fun new feature to my
photo gallery... it's a surprise! But I think you'll like it. :)
The situation with my leg put me further behind on
my email than usual, so please be patient with me... and if you
haven't heard from me, please write again. I've found a couple of
perfectly good emails in my spam folder, so please do write again.
Finally, everyone needs a good smile, right? Allow
me to introduce you to Snowball, a dancing bird. Click on the video
at the right and enjoy! Snowball rocks out to Queen -- ya gotta love
it. Be sure to watch it to the end... because Snowball loves
applause, and really knows how to take a bow.
Well, I had quite an adventure this past Monday
(the 7th). This is the first chance I've had to get online since
then. I'm sitting up here in my office, with my right leg propped up
on a box and two pillows, my calf wrapped in an ice pack. It's kind
of awkward to type this way, but I'm sure my email is completely out
of hand by now. If you haven't heard from me, I'm sure you'll
understand why.
On Monday evening, about 5:30 or so, I'd just
stepped out of the shower. I was utterly naked, save for a towel on
my head. My teenager was in the midst of an argument with my
housemate, and it was escalating fast. My daughter stormed into her
room, and I was talking to her through the door. She started
mouthing off (as only teenagers can do) and I started yelling. She
said something (I don't even recall what, now), but whatever it was,
I was just plain furious. I threw open her bedroom door with all of
my strength, marched up to her, told her off (parental finger
wagging), and then turned around and walked into the bathroom.
My leg hurt, though not too badly... I figured I'd
scraped it on her door. The bottom hinge on her door is not
connected (due to previous slammings on her part, in various fits of
teenager pique). When I'd thrown it open, the door had shifted
diagonally, connected only to the frame by the top hinge. I guessed
that had been when I'd scraped my leg.
Well, standing there, naked, in the bathroom, I
looked down and saw that my entire lower right leg was a mass of
blood. There was blood everywhere. Pools of it. There was a huge
six-inch gash in my leg, about an inch and a half across, and an
inch deep. I was shocked, but I reached down and tried to hold my
leg together, calling out to my family that I needed to go to the
hospital. Immediately.
I went into my room and lay down on the bed,
knowing that elevating my leg and keeping pressure on it were the
smartest things to do. My daughter was in a blind panic. She was
totally freaking out. Every time she looked at my leg (which I was
trying to simultaneously put pressure on, and hold closed), she
began to hyperventilate.
My housemate took one look at my leg and dialed
911. I wanted to drive to the hospital myself, but he flat out
denied me. It is true that it's possible I'd severed an artery, or
done nerve damage, or a million other things.
I lay there, stark naked, trying to get my
daughter to calm down and breathe, and trying to point out where she
could find a dress I could pull over my head, so I wouldn't be lying
there buck naked when the paramedics arrived. I fumbled in my purse
for my cel phone, in order to call my appointment for that evening
and let them (a nice couple) know I wouldn't be able to make it. My
daughter was horrified that I was lying there bleeding calling and
canceling an appointment (she thinks I'm a dominatrix, by the way,
another long story, but a somewhat socially acceptable job). I
pointed out that I was supposed to be at the appointment at 6, and I
didn't want anyone waiting wondering what happened to me. She just
shook her head.
It is funny, really... I'm the one lying there
bleeding and naked, and I was the only one who was utterly calm. I
calmed my daughter down, found a dress and got it on, called my
appointment and told them what happened -- I ended the call saying,
"oh, dear, the paramedics are here, I have to go," and then suddenly
my bedroom was full of people.
The paramedics were quick and efficient. They
wrapped up my leg, and in no time I was on a wheeled stretcher,
riding to the hospital, my daughter in the front seat. My housemate
followed in the car. I spent the ride reassuring my daughter that
this wasn't her fault (she was blaming herself for making me mad --
and while she certainly does know how to push my buttons, and while
I certainly was angry, the whole thing was just an accident, due to
the door). I also spent a portion of the ride freaking out
(internally; outwardly I was calm) about how the hell I was going to
pay for all of this. I don't have health insurance. I'm still trying
not to think about it.
Well, the emergency room was much like the
emergency room always is, for just about everyone -- an endlessly
dull multi-hour adventure, punctuated by brief visits from nurses,
x-ray techs, and doctors, but mostly filled with hours of monotony.
However, one point of amusement repeated itself,
over and over -- people who worked in the emergency room were amazed
by my wound. The x-ray tech asked if he could bring his co-worker in
to look at it. A nurse asked if she could show my leg to another
nurse. Three techs who weren't working on me kept peeping in, just
to marvel at it. In short, I injured myself so spectacularly, that
even people in the damned emergency room were impressed.
At some point they gave me a shot of Dilaudid,
which is a morphine-based painkiller, along with an anti-nausea
medication (most hardcore painkillers make me very sick). So I was
loopy and relaxed. I kept looking down at my leg. I reminded me of
luggage. Yeah, luggage. You know, when you have a duffle bag that is
so stuffed full of clothes, that you need help to zip it closed?
Like, you pinch two sides of the zipper together, and then someone
else zips it up? Well, when you have a duffle bag which is that
full, when you unzip it, it gapes open and all the clothes pop out.
My leg was like that. It was like someone had unzipped six inches of
my leg, and it was just gaping open. It was really, really gross to
look at. Horror movie gross.
Amazingly enough, I didn't sever an artery, didn't
have any nerve damage (I can still wiggle my toes and even walk),
and didn't do massive damage to my muscles, either. It's astounding
that I could have a gigantic laceration like that and be, well,
basically okay. But it was profoundly disgusting. You could look
into the wound, and when I flexed my foot or wiggled my toes, you
could see the muscles move inside.
At one point, we were all so bored, my housemate
went home and got the camera. He documented the event. I've put up a
few of the photos here on my site, if anyone would like to see them.
Though they really are extremely gross, so if blood and gore bothers
you, don't look at them. But I do think they're interesting. The
body is a unique machine, capable of doing fantastic things. To
experience something like this, and still be alright, is amazing.
At any rate, if you'd like to see the gory photos,
click here.
So two doctors were consulting about what to do
with my leg. After the x-ray showed nothing inside the wound, and no
bone damage, they were debating whether to do some internal
stitches, before stitching up the outside. The doctor was poking
around, and he must have found my nerves for my foot, because I went
sitting bolt upright, screaming, while every nerve ending in my foot
and toes was like electric fire. And that with the painkillers, mind
you.
They decided (much to my relief) to skip the
internal stitches and just do the external ones. They explained that
if they did traditional tight little stitches, that they would more
than likely tear out and cause infection, due to movement and the
taut skin on a calf. Stitches on the face or even the finger are
usually on soft skin, which isn't taut. So they decided to do a few
loose stitches, give me tons of antibiotics, and hope that it would
heal without infection.
Hours later, I was home. Right before I left, they
gave me another shot of Dilaudid... but they forgot the anti-nausea
medication. So I was sick, sick, sick, sick, for the rest of the
night. Nice choice: violent nausea, or pain.
We examined the door and discovered what caused my
injury. The culprit was 1 1/2 -inch long brass screw, sticking out
of the unattached hinge on the door. It still had a chunk of my
flesh on it. It was also bent, near the head of the screw. I
bent a screw with my leg.
I spent all day yesterday on the couch, with my
leg propped up on pillows with ice-packs. My leg looks like
Frankenstein's head. I was told to keep it elevated and iced for
three days, to have my primary care doc have a look at it, and to
return if there was any sign of infection. I'm taking these huge
antibiotic horse pills, and they gave me lots of painkillers which,
thankfully, so far, I don't seem to need. I'm surprised it doesn't
hurt worse than it does, but it doesn't. Heavy doses of ibuprofen
seem to be working fine.
Tonight I'm back to my email at last, though
typing is awkward with my right leg extended off to my side. I've
had to make a difficult decision. I'm canceling my Chicago trip. My
stitches have to be removed on the 17th, and I would have been in
Chicago then. Further, I'm trying to take very careful care of
myself and follow doctor's orders, and that would be difficult, if
not impossible, while visiting Chicago. And finally, if something
does go wrong, and this thing becomes infected, I need to be here at
home with my doctor and hospital.
I can walk on my leg, and I plan on keeping
appointments scheduled for the weekend. I'll just have a big bandage
around my leg -- not terribly sexy, but on the other hand, I don't
need to use my calves much during sessions anyhow, LOL.
I'm actually kind of glad I'm staying home. The
whirlwind travel schedule gets to me after a while. So now I have an
excuse to slow down a little, take it easy. And that's a good thing.
Normally I keep my different blogs pretty
separate, but today is a special day, and I want to share my
happiness with everyone!
So the other day, my housemate and I were driving
around and talking about adopting another dog. Our Graffiti has been
gone for a while now, and while we still miss her very much, it
seems kind of lonely with just the one dog (and two cats) for
company.
Tish, our yellow lab, seems lonely and constantly wants attention.
Anyhow, my housemate and I both strongly believe in adopting rescue
animals. We want to bring cats and dogs into our lives who need us.
So in talking about it, we decided that if the right dog came our
way, we'd go for it. We are firm believers in serendipity, and we
knew that when the time was right, the dog that needs us most would
appear.
That very night, I was out with some girlfriends having a drink. I
stepped outside for some air, and found myself drawn to the jewelry
store across the street. It was closed, but I figured I'd window
shop. They did have some lovely things.
Next to the front door, taped to the glass, was a flyer. The flyer
was about two dogs, Champagne and Sugar, who had been dropped off at
the Adams County animal shelter. They were desperate to find homes
for them.
No one wanted to adopt these dogs.
The dogs are nine and 14 years old. They wanted to adopt them out
together, because they'd spent their whole lives together.
Most shelters have a hard time getting people to adopt two dogs, and
an even harder time getting people to adopt old dogs. Sugar and
Champagne had been in the shelter since last February.
I grabbed my cel phone and called my housemate. I already knew what
he'd say. Then I called the number on the flyer, and spoke to a lady
named Margie.
So yesterday, the whole family trooped down to the animal shelter,
met, and fell in love with, Champagne and Sugar. Two of the sweetest
old girls.
I didn't even know they were both female, until we got there. All of
our animals have always been female.
Turns out Sugar has arthritis in her hips. For some reason, I had
saved Graffiti's arthritis meds, and also the Glucosamine powder to
sprinkle in her food. I don't know why I saved it, I just did. I
guess I was waiting for Sugar to come to our house.
The shelter, it turns out, had just reached capacity, and they were
going to have to start euthanizing the animals they couldn't adopt
out.
As we were leaving with Sugar and Champagne (and it seemed everyone
in the shelter knew who these girls were), an animal control officer
came in. The woman who was helping us, Kelly, told the officer that
we were adopting the dogs. Her face lit up and she hugged me. The
shelter even gave us a two-for-one rate on the adoption, which we
did not expect or ask for. They also said we could bring the dogs
back in a month or so, and they'd clean their teeth for cost.
We're just so happy that we live in a house with a big yard, and can
offer a home for these sweet old girls to spend the rest of their
time on this planet being spoiled, sleeping in soft places, chasing
squirrels, sleeping in the grass in the sun.
Sugar is a sweetie, a little shy, happy to be here, but still
adjusting, I think. Champagne is very, very smart, and chock full of
energy and affection. She acts like she already owns the place. Tish,
our lab, is happy to have playmates, though she is a little jealous
sometimes. There's definitely a hierarchy that's being established,
and it's going to take time.
The cats are freaked out, and Champagne likes to chase cats, so
we're working on that. Graffiti used to be the same way, and we
eventually brokered a peace deal. :)
It's so nice to have so many wonderful furry friends in our lives.
And while these two might not stay as long as others, we can already
tell how glad we are to have them in our home, no matter how long
they stay.
I hope everyone who reads this blog, if they are planning on buying
a puppy or kitten, please reconsider. There are so many wonderful
older animals who desperately need a home. If you're looking for a
shelter near you, please check out
Pets911.
It's been ages since I've blogged... but there's a
good reason for that. I've just completed a whole new section for
this website, which I've been working on for a month now. It's
called Beverly's Bookshelf (link above, and also below).
I'm an avid reader, have been since I was very
small. I collect books -- I currently have almost 3,000 in my
collection. I also collect first editions from my favorite authors.
Books have always been treasures. Sharing a book with someone else
is especially exciting, because you're not giving someone an object,
but knowledge, an experience, an adventure into their own head.
I am sometimes asked to recommend books, and it
occurred to me that I could do that right here on my website.
SO... as if my site wasn't already utterly vast,
I've added the Bookshelf. At least at first, I won't be putting a
link to the Bookshelf on my main menu -- most will enter here,
through my blog, though I may have random links where appropriate
throughout my site.
There are currently five sections: Sex, Fiction,
Non-Fiction, Science-Fiction, and Miscellaneous. In each section (to
start with) there are at least two books so far. Each book is
accompanied by a review/blog. The reviews talk about the books, but
are also very experiential, like a blog. I talk about myself, my
thoughts and feelings, my opinions and beliefs.
Thus, I haven't blogged in a while... because I've
written basically 15 new blogs, plus designed the pages. I wanted a
different look and feel for the Bookshelf, separate from the rest of
the site. So I basically had to design an entire new website,
including hundreds of graphics, and accompanying text for every
page. It's been a lot of work, but I'm quite proud of it... I hope
you enjoy it.
I think this video -- at the right -- has got to
be the funniest damned thing I've seen in a long, long, long time. I
laughed so hard, I actually had tears in my eyes.
The original version was taken at some event, in
some European city, with lots of techno music, and people on the
streets. Some clever fellow put captions to the original video, and
I have to say, it's a total riot.
One of the things I love about this guy is that he
is one tough, bad ass motherf*cker... he stands up for women, he's
superbad in every way... and he likes to DANCE. And he's good at it,
too.
Just goes to show, you can still be all-man, and
dance too. Nothing pansy about this guy! (Not that I don't like
pansies too, but you get the point.)
So I'm sitting in a bar recently. It was a live show,
and everyone was having fun, drinking, laughing, dancing. It was a
good crowd, the music was great, and I was relaxed, happy, enjoying
myself.
And then I saw HER.
My mouth went dry. My heart started pounding in my
chest. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I just couldn't take my eyes
off this woman. She was beautiful. Achingly, heart-stopping
beautiful.
Maybe no one else might have noticed her. She
wasn't like a supermodel; she wasn't wearing perfect clothes, didn't
have perfect hair. But she was perfect, for ME. It was love at first
sight. It wasn't just lust... for I was attracted to more than just
her appearance. She was so confident, her posture relaxed, but so
sure of herself, comfortable with who she was. Her smile, her
laughter, bespoke a woman who enjoyed and celebrated life.
I can still see her, more than a month later,
perfectly reproduced in my mind. She had thick, glossy brown hair,
cut simply in a crop just past her chin. Tie-dyed t-shirt, cropped
khaki pants, tennis shoes. Sparkling brown eyes and a blindingly
gorgeous smile. She was friendly, smiling at everyone around her.
I couldn't stop staring. It was embarrassing. I
kept forcing myself to look away. I could imagine what it would feel
like to kiss her, to feel her arms around me, the softness of her
body against mine. To spend a whole life laughing and talking with
her, a whole life enjoying listening to her thoughts and dreams, and
helping bring them to reality. A whole life that wouldn't happen.
And I knew I'd leave that bar, and she'd leave
with her friends, and I would never, never see her again.
Now I'm not talking about just a casual
attraction. We all move through our days and nights, encountering
people we find attractive physically, even mentally. We smile at
them, enjoy looking or even talking to them, but then we move on,
without really giving them another thought.
No, I'm talking about how sometimes, very rarely,
we are somehow struck so deeply by another person that, for a little
while, we truly feel love at first sight, that deep desire to be
with that person in a way that transcends the physical. We somehow
feel as though we were meant to be with this person, that perhaps
that person is the ONE, the one we've been searching for. But we
move on, and in minutes, they are gone.
Now I'm bisexual (obviously), but overall, I
prefer men. I've had this "love at first sight" feeling only once or
twice before in my life. There was a man on a bus once. I can still
see him, in my mind's eye, just as vividly as in that moment. He was
beautiful. His hair just brushed his collar, he was tall and
slender, his nose rather pronounced (typical of my male
attractions), but his eyes were like looking into the depths of a
soul that was so strong, so deep, so profound... I wanted to look
into those eyes forever.
I think this "love and first sight" thing is very
rare. I've known others who have felt it too, but it doesn't happen
every day, or every year. And I wonder why it happens. Attraction is
a normal, common thing. We find people who are attractive to us all
the time. But what is this "love at first sight" experience? It
seems to go far deeper than ordinary attraction.
And it seems cruel,
somehow. Are we being cruel to ourselves? Surely it's just a fantasy
that this person is somehow special, or someone who could be
precious to us. Logically, we don't know them at all, so how could
we have this depth of feeling for them? Why do we carry their image,
the sound of their laughter, in our heads for years afterward?
Am I just lonely, or crazy? And yet I wasn't
looking for something like this to happen. I was happy, content. It
comes out of nowhere, this feeling. It happens to us when we are
already in happy relationships. But we turn around, and are
blindsided by this painful desire. Why are we struck so profoundly
by a stranger?
But many of us experience it. British
singer/songwriter James Blunt even wrote a song about it -- click on
the video to hear the song "You're Beautiful." It speaks to an
experience that I have had, that maybe you have had -- the bittersweet joy of love at first
sight.
So I think I'm actually kind of cool. I mean, I
have finally arrived at some remote semblance of coolness, a
heretofore unexplored degree of my personal hipness.
Really. I mean, like New York cool, which, as
everyone knows, is actually far cooler than Los Angeles cool. And
definitely extremely, profoundly cooler than Denver cool, which is
actually kind of lukewarm.
I speak not of temperature, but of cultural
degrees. Where you can be both cool and hot at the same damned time.
Why?
Because this awesome woman, Audacia Ray, who is
the editor of $pread magazine in NYC, has published a new book,
"Naked on the Internet: Hookups, Downloads, and Cashing in on
Internet Sexploration."
The book explores the effects of the Internet on
sexuality, primarily women's, covering everything from online
dating, to webcams, to escorting.
And I am quoted in the book! And a link to my
website (this very fabulous website you're visiting now) is in the
list of important URLs! I have arrived! I am cool!
And, if you think about it, you found this website
without the help of Ms. Ray's book, so that surely makes you just
hip as hell in your own right.
Okay, admittedly, I only have one quote in the
book. And it's a very tiny little quote, just one rather pathetic
run-on sentence, which was, sadly, taken slightly out of context.
And Ms. Ray, while quite enthusiastic and verbose in her
descriptions of many of the websites, was rather brief in her
description of mine ("Beverly Fisher - Denver-based escort and
writer.")
But surely she didn't say much, because, well, I
mean, what could she say? How do you describe coolness as profound
and intense as mine? Words probably failed her. And the quote was a
mere sentence because if she'd used more of my interview, well, I
might have outshone her own obviously amazing brilliance. Yeah,
that's it!
Forget the details. The most important thing to
remember here is that I AM IN A BOOK BY A COOL NEW YORK WRITER.
That's the main thing to stay focused on, here. Everything else is
just details. We'll let my publicist handle those. When I get a
publicist.
Anyhow, if you'd like to order your very own copy
of "Naked on the Internet etc."
Just click here to go right to Amazon.com and buy a copy. If you
want, you could even do a review of the book on Amazon. Just be sure
to put "Out of the tens of thousands of sentences in this book, I
liked the sentence by Beverly Fisher the best."
I assure you that I will not let my newfound fame
and ultra-coolness go to my head. I will always be the same, sweet,
down-to-earth giver-goddess that I have always been. Yes, you may
touch me.
I love the First Amendment. It's my favorite. It
grants us all the right to any religious belief we desire -- even
the unfashionable ones; it grants us the right to peacefully gather
and protest; and it gives us freedom of speech. As a writer, that
means more to me than anything.
I found this graphic online, and it totally
expresses at least part of the reason why I quit my last newspaper
job, and why I will never take another newspaper job working for a
big corporate-owned newspaper. Besides, Rupert Murdoch owns
practically all of the newspapers anyhow, and he's a dick. Who wants
to work for dicks? I ask you.
Seriously though, it does drive me crazy
sometimes... when I mention to people that I'm a journalist,
inevitably, I run across people who make some snide comment about
the "liberal media."
Well, if by "liberal" they mean "not as
conservative as Fox News," then yes, the media is a bit liberal.
But, if by "liberal" they mean Bush-hating, communist, peacenik,
godless pagan atheist, secular humanistic horndogs,
homosexual-agenda-pushing, freeloading big government leeches,
illegal-alien sympathizers, bent on destroying everybody's hunting
rifle and destroying their families, religion, and way of life....
then, no, the media is not liberal.
There is a reality that fits in between these two
stereotypes. And, as someone who has worked for the media, I can
tell you -- the reality slants to the right.
Because the traditional media -- newspapers,
television, magazines, and most online outlets -- are about profits,
and about advertising.
One of the magazines I worked for counted Proctor
and Gamble as one of their major advertisers. Proctor and Gamble is
strongly pro-life. If you see a magazine with a Proctor and Gamble
ad, you can be quite sure that you will never, never see an article,
editorial, or letter that in any way is pro-choice. It's not so easy
for an editor to say, "well, we just won't take their ads!"
Advertising dollars are the lifeblood of a publication. I'm not
trying to promote a pro-choice stance, but instead trying to point
out that it's hard to be "fair and balanced" when you're not allowed
to talk about one side of an issue.
And corporate ownership is a big part of this. How
many huge, multi-billion-dollar companies are "liberal?" How many of
those corporations are going to allow their writers and editors to
print stories that make their interests look bad -- no matter how
truthful? The oil companies want us to buy big gas-guzzling SUVs;
car companies want us to buy big gas-guzzling SUVs.... profit has
become more important than what's right, or honorable. Years ago, we
had an embargo against Iraq. American companies were going around
our own embargo, selling weapons to Iraq. Because profits were more
important than patriotism, more important than what was right. And
how many major news outlets reported that? Surely the "liberal"
media would have jumped on that one, right?
To be a hugely successful publication, you have to
have big, big, big dollars behind you. And all of us know how things
are, when we take money from someone. We have to give them something
back. It's up to us to decide how deeply we wish to sell our souls.
Me, I chose to become an outlaw, and keep my soul.
One of the many amazing things about the Internet
is that mere individuals can publish different ideas, and develop a
huge following. But there are still millions of Americans who depend
on traditional media to inform them of the truth... or, at least,
the truth put to a spin we can all swallow. And as we've moved into
a nation that lives for sound-bites and scandal, a people that can't
read more than a paragraph or two before they move on to the
funnies, much of the real news is lost. (As a humorous aside, the
latter type of person will not have actually read this far down in
my blog.)
I believe passionately in freedom of speech.
Recently, there was a hate-monger coming around on my other blog
site. He was so obnoxious that the admin banned him. He was
incensed, insisting that we were denying him his First Amendment
right to freedom of speech. He was, of course, a total jackass.
Freedom of speech doesn't mean that you have the right to say what
you want, anywhere, anytime, to anyone, and they are required to
provide you a forum. Many bulletin boards and sites have rules about
what is and is not allowed.
But freedom of speech does grant you the
right to start your own bulletin board, your own newspaper, your own
site, write your own book, and say whatever the hell you want (see,
I'm doing it now!). You can write a "white power" book about how
great it would be to kill everyone who isn't white and diagrams for
starting your very own Master Race. You can write a book about how
much you love Osama Bin Laden.
And while I personally would hate those books, and
the horrible nastiness that passes for thoughts and ideas that they
espouse, those people have the right to say them. And further, I
would fight to my last breath to protect their right to say it.
Because to censor free speech sounds a lot like living in Iran.
Over the 231 years since the United States became
independent, thousands and thousands of soldiers have fought and
died, in order that we might have freedom of speech, and all of the
other wonderful, amazing freedoms granted to us by the Constitution
and the Bill of Rights. To start eroding those freedoms, whether in
the name of security, or merely corporate profits, is to spit on the
graves of each and every one of those soldiers. Fighting for our
rights, freedoms, and civil liberties is not only the heart and
spirit of patriotism, but is the ultimate meaning of "support our
troops." It includes all of those brave men and women who died that
we might be truly free, and say what we choose.
Ah,
it's a bad night to be a geek. I'm sitting here at 12:31, listening
to music, knocking back copious amounts of Diet Mountain Dew, and
editing my registry key. It's touchy work. I find editing my reg key
reminds me of playing "Operation" when I was a kid. You know that
game, where you pull objects out of the patient using little pair of
metal tweezers... and if you make a mistake, BUZZ! You lose!
For my non-geek friends, the registry key is kind
of like the brain of your computer. It's full of a zillion
mysterious files, and if you delete even one by mistake, you risk
crippling your entire system. And yeah, I have a backup. :) But
still, it has that same touchy "Operation" feel to it.
So why I am I sitting up late at night, playing
Operation on my computer, when I should be answering my email -- or,
better yet, sleeping, or having sex, or writing, or fifty million
other fun things to do? Because last night, while searching for a
definition for the word "basiparachromatin," (that's another story)
I clicked on a site that had a big ugly popup, normally blocked by
my browser. The sick thing is, I know how some of the more malicious
pop-ups work. If you click *anywhere* in that pop-up -- even if you
click "cancel" or the "x" in the corner to close the window -- bam!
That's it, they've got you... and they download crap onto your
computer. Well, like the rocket scientist I am, I clicked the little
"x" in the corner.
Well, now I'm fighting what they call "rogue
software," which basically means companies offering so-called
spyware/malware protection software, but in reality they themselves
are the malware. Their program is automatically loaded into your
system, and often the "scans" they do feature faux threats to keep
you scared, or to convince you to send them money for the full
version... and frequently, their programs also track your activity,
and send information out, details about everything you do.
I thought I deleted this stuff last night, but
when I switched on my computer tonight, the damned thing
re-installed itself on my system. It's particularly virulent. It's
called "MalwareDestructor v4.5" I had to do research online to find
out how to kill it, and it's been a long, grueling, tedious process,
finding and deleting one file at a time. I'm still not done, but I
needed a break. Playing "Operation" for hours is tense work. The
only thing fun about it is when you find one of those files... and
slam your finger down on that "delete" key. Really, I wish there was
a key on my computer that was a bit more violent, with better
special effects to herald the destruction.
[sigh]... this is what I get for trying to improve
my vocabulary. Who uses "basiparachromatin," anyhow?
I normally try to do different things with both of
my blogs, but this one seemed like something that I wanted to share
everywhere.
Reverend Beverly's Temple of Divine Creativity
Most people don't know this, but I'm an ordained minister. I am not
pulling your leg, I'm serious. I was ordained through the Universal
Life Church, a non-denominational, interfaith church, several years
ago. I've even done a couple weddings.
You can be ordained, too! Just go to
http://www.themonastery.org/ It's as simple as that. It's free.
The ULC believes that everyone has the right to define their own
faith, and to share that faith with others -- whatever they believe
in. I like the idea that every person, whoever they are, is no
better, and no less than, the most celebrated leader of some huge
television ministry.
I know this may offend some of you, but I ask you to think about
why. Why does one man have the inside track with God (or whatever
you choose to call God), and another man does not?
I became ordained initially as a joke, back in college, but
afterwards I started really thinking about it, thinking about what I
believed, and what I would share with others, if I could create my
own church.
And I started thinking about a little temple, that would be open and
welcoming to people of all faiths, all religions, all creeds. That
what I believe in does not exclude any belief system, but instead
adds to them.
Maybe
someday I'll have the time to start my little temple online. I call
it the Temple of Divine Creativity. The simple mission of my temple
is best summed up in this quote from Julia Cameron:
"Our creative dreams and yearnings come from a divine source.
"As we move toward our dreams, we move toward our divinity."
That's it: That if you have even the smallest spark of creativity
within you, whether you write, paint, make music, knit afghans,
design websites, do faux finishes on your living room wall, doodle
cartoons, cook, write code, do karaoke, build custom motorcycles...
whatever it is, you MUST express it.
To deny that creative spirit within you is to cut off a precious,
divine gift. To deny that creativity is to deny the very essence,
the spark that gives you life.
To deny your creativity means that you aren't fully living your
life.
And what I've found is that, when you do start allowing your
creative self to shine, amazing things happen. Your life changes.
You are happier. People around you notice a change in you. Life is
better.
I recently found an old friend I hadn't seen in years. He was a
musician, played guitar. But when I met him again, he told me that
he hadn't played music in over ten years. He was in a miserable
relationship, and a miserable job. His miserable live-in girlfriend
had told him that he couldn't play music anymore in the house,
because it was too loud (and she undoubtedly would have to miss one
of her television programs, her only occupation).
I told him he had to make music. That it was a part of him, a gift.
I told him that it would be tragic to deny that gift, and urged him
to find a way to make music.
Well, he took my advice. He took up the drums, and started taking
lessons and going to drum circles. And his life has changed. He's
happier than I've seen him since we reconnected. And he started his
own business, which is flourishing. He's got a new girlfriend. His
whole life is different. Now, I don't know if that's all a result of
his decision to embrace his creative self. But maybe it is.
When we honor our creativity, we are honoring a part of ourselves.
And when we feel good about ourselves, we can do anything.
On my recent trip to Hawaii, Mr. Fisher, my dear friend, told me
that he had piano lessons for ten years, through high school. I was
staggered. Here is a man I've known intimately for two years, and he
had never shared this piece of information with me. He had mentioned
waking up in the morning sometimes with music in his head, but I had
not realized the import of his morning music.
He said that when his house was built, there were plans for a place
for a piano, but he had never purchased one. I felt like crying. How
heartbreaking, to have such a gift, and not to use it! As with my
other friend, I urged him to make music. Even just a little.
And then, just to be wicked, I sent him a Hannukah gift: an electric
keyboard.
He loves the gift, far more than I thought he would. And I am
excited for him. I'm also curious to see what will happen, now that
my sweet Mr. Fisher begins to let his creative genie out of the
bottle. What will he do next?
I need to give some form and substance to my own creative gifts as
well. Blogging and posting endless diatribes on hobby boards is all
well and good, but it's time I applied a little of the discipline I
learned studying journalism, and returned to writing in earnest.
It's been too long, and my life, in some ways, has an emptiness I
can't fill. I need to take my own damned advice.
So here's my challenge to everyone who reads this blog:
Are you exploring your creativity, giving it time in your life? Do
it. Please. Even if you just paint for 15 minutes a day, a week.
Sing. Write. Cook. Dream. It will lighten your spirit. Who knows
where it might take you...
What is your creative gift? How do you feel when you give yourself
permission to indulge it? Wouldn't it be amazing to feel like that
all the time?
Uh-oh.... I've found something new to play with...
widgets! I'm only just exploring... but I have a feeling this could
effect the rest of my site in some geeky way... It's a bobble-head!
Wow, it's been a busy month! My big 40th birthday was
November 15. My sweet friend Mr. Fisher took me and my little family to
Hawaii! It was incredible. I hope to have some photos from the trip up
in the gallery soon.
It's late and I'm sleepy... but I found something
fun I thought I'd share.
On my blog site, escortblogs, a lot of the ladies
are getting into these quizzes, which can be found on BlogThings. So
one of the ladies posted a link to a quiz that I thought would be
fun... so I'm sharing it with you! Take the quiz, then email me with
your results!
So I thought this quiz was kind of fun, and I
thought the results were actually kind of accurate! Here's my
"Seduction Style":
Your Seduction Style: Ideal Lover
You seduce people by tapping into their dreams and desires.
And because of this sensitivity, you can be the ideal lover for
anyone you seek.
You are a shapeshifter - bringing romance, adventure, spirituality
to relationships.
It all depends on who you're with, and what their vision of a
perfect relationship is.
I have to say, that feels right to me. I really
believe that I have so many different facets, so many different
parts of myself, that I'm able to relate to most people. From casual
to fancy dress, from blue collar to billionaire, Three Stooges to
quantum physics, and everything in between. I truly love people, and
every person I meet just gives me more ways to relate to others.
A familiar face... maybe too familiar. Periodically, I
am recognized in public. I once went to a play at the Shakespeare
Festival (I don't have season tickets, but I wish I did!). The next
morning, I had an email from a gentleman, asking if I'd been at the
Festival the night before. Once I was recognized at the airport. It
doesn't happen that often, but a week or so ago, it happened twice. Once
at the post office, and then again at Circuit City.
After the Circuit City adventure (I was with my
housemate at the time), I was joking that perhaps I should go out
and buy a pair of faux glasses. It worked for Superman. One little
pair of glasses, and suddenly Clark Kent was completely
unrecognizable. My housemate
laughed, and pointed out that the problem is my distinctive, massive
red hair. I suggested a wig, which is silly. I can't wear most hats.
My hair is so thick, they don't fit. I can't imagine how I'd cram
all this hair into a tiny wig cap. I started envisioning myself like
Britney Spears, leaving the house in a black wig, hat, and
sunglasses. Hell, that doesn't fool the paparazzi, and they aren't
known for their smarts. But after we laughed about it, I began to
feel uncomfortable.
It's an eerie feeling, being recognized... having
a stranger know who you are, when you don't know who they
are. It's also kind of funny. I'm no one, nobody. In the real world,
no one has any idea who "Beverly Fisher" is. But in this strange
little "hobbying" world that I occupy, I'm well-known. As one client
put it, my advertising is "ubiquitous." My face is everywhere.
And while, for about ten seconds, being a
micro-celebrity is kind of flattering, after those ten seconds are
up, it's a bit disconcerting, perhaps even a little creepy. I'm
still just not sure how I feel about it... part of the reason I
decided to write about it, perhaps to sort out my thoughts.
There's some debate among escorts about the wisdom
of showing your face in your ads, on your website. And I've found
that those on the "don't show your face" side of the debate can
sometimes be a bit superior, even
judgmental, of those of us who have chosen to reveal our faces. I
once had an email from one woman who basically intimated that I was
a bad mother for showing my face on my site. Others just have this
attitude, a supercilious smile and shake of the head, indicating
pity for my lack of intelligence.
And honestly, I can see their point. I know of one
lady who shows just part of her face on her site, and when she tried
to retire and get a straight job, her boss recognized her from her
site and said that he wasn't comfortable having her work there, in
the event customers might recognize her.
And there is the whole notion that someone at my
kid's school -- parent, teacher, student -- might happen upon my
site... and then what?
Well, that's a good question. Then what? If an
adult recognizes me, odds are they aren't going to say a damned
thing, because to tell someone they've recognized me would also
require explaining just why and how they found me in the first
place.
But another student... that gives me pause. On the
other hand, it's probably getting close to time I explain the truth
of the whole thing to my kid, anyhow. I don't think what I do is
wrong; I believe that my work is positive, loving, and even healing.
I debate over whether my kid already knows, anyhow, and just doesn't
say anything. The kid is smart; but, like most teenagers, utterly
obtuse about lots of things, and totally disinterested in anything
that doesn't involve anime or iPods or books.
As I said, I'm not ashamed of what I do. But I've
held off telling my kid, because it just seemed inappropriate. One
should be able to develop as a sexual being on your own, without
having some big huge sexual philosophical debate dumped on your
head.
As for the rest of my family, they already know
all about me and my life. I am very open about myself, my life, my
choices. I refuse to hide, to keep my life secret, like it's
something to be ashamed of. It's not. I spent too many years trying
to be something and someone I'm not, and hiding my life from others.
I choose not to do that anymore.
Further, I don't plan on having a "straight" job
ever again in my life... I'm heading in a different direction.
This all started years ago. When I first began
advertising on the Internet, I didn't even understand the concept. I
guess I thought it was like advertising in the newspaper, except
that people could see it on their computers. I didn't understand
that people outside of my little community might be looking at those
ads. I didn't understand how things on the Internet have a way of
sticking around for a long, long time... that photos can be saved,
re-posted elsewhere. Ditto for the content of websites. I just
didn't get it.
And by the time I did get it, it was pretty
much too damned late. Now my face is everywhere, truly "ubiquitous."
If I decided to stop showing my face now, I'm not even sure I could
find every website that has a photo, a banner. I had a friend
retire a couple years ago. We combed the net, trying to find all of
her ads and banners, and have them removed. We did fairly well; but
I still find banners and links for her once in a while. And she
didn't have nearly the presence I've got.
I don't know. Even if I tried, I think removing my
face would negatively affect my business, too. And I think, what
would I be doing it for? What am I afraid of, what am I ashamed of?
In the end, it comes down to this: I don't want to hurt my kid. But
how do I know that being an escort will hurt my kid? I think we
assume that such things would hurt a child, because we believe that
there is something wrong, or shameful, about what I do. But then,
conversely, even if the kid knew the truth, and understood that
there was nothing wrong or shameful about the work, the kid would
still be forced to carry the burden that I carry: that while there
is nothing wrong with my work, the vast majority of others believe
differently. And fighting against the prejudices and stereotypes of
others is a painful, difficult thing.
And yet, the truth is, I've already made my
choices, I can't un-make them. At some point, the kid is going to
have to deal with the truth of mom's life. It's just how it is. So
then the question is, not if, but when?
I don't know. Am I kidding myself? Am I being
lazy, selfish, egotistical? I feel so conflicted, and helpless. I
want to do the right thing. I don't want to be afraid. I don't want
to be ashamed. I want to make all the right choices, and none of the
wrong ones. Life is like that.
For everybody.
I didn't know what I was doing when I got into
this business. I didn't know what I was doing when I started
plastering my face all over the world. I made uneducated choices
that had, and continue to have, far-reaching impact. I can't undo
what has been done... so I must move forward, take what I've got,
and do the best I can with it. Try to turn whatever negatives I've
created into positives. I must embrace my life, in order to give it
meaning.
All I can do is have faith that I'm doing
something good, something loving. And I have to believe that I'm
doing the best I can as a parent, too. And that means being as
loving to that child as I know how to be. Love is big. Love is huge.
Love is infinite. The ups and downs of life and day to day living
mean nothing, in the end, when love is present.
Too much to say... I wanted to give more details about
my amazing Boston trip... and then I left for California, and that was
amazing too (the sound of waves crashing on the beach as I drift off to
sleep in the moonlight... heavenly!).
But that's all just a lovely
travelogue, and tonight, as I sit in front of my computer, swilling
diet mountain dew in my pajamas, listening to Tom Petty -- You Don't
Know How it Feels...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Ceg2wPUGDI& -- I don't
know. I'm not in the mood to relate the minutiae of my travels. Not
tonight.
Tonight, I want to talk about love between
strangers, and joy. I want to write about music, the death of love
and Freddy Mercury, immortality and grief. I don't know if any of
these things are related, except that all of them are about love.
And I'm really, really into that.
I saw a special friend a while ago, perhaps a
month. Like myself, he's into Tantra. But his depth of knowledge and
understanding, and his spiritual awareness and progress, are truly
amazing. To spend an afternoon with him, and say I'm into Tantra, is
like a kindergartener saying they're into graduate-level physics.
Yet it didn't seem to matter. What was exciting to me, as we enjoyed
our time together, was that I was not in the teacher role, nor was I
really in the student role, at least not overtly. Instead, I was
spending time with someone who spoke a language I understood.
Our lovemaking was amazing, intense, and
passionate. But what was interesting was that it was not perfect.
There were moments that I might normally think of as awkward, silly
little things that happen whenever two people make love. But it was
not only okay, everything just felt right. Perfection was not
necessary, and yet, because imperfections were okay, it had a kind
of perfection of its own.
At one point during our encounter, I was feeling
so amazing, so energized, so sexually charged... and I opened my
eyes, and he was looking down at me. And the expression on his face
was so startling to me. He was smiling at me... and normally, when a
lover smiles down upon you during lovemaking, his smile is one of
passion and lust, happiness, yes, but definitely filled with sensual
overtones. But this man's smile was different. It was as though his
face was filled with light. His smile was one of pure joy, and utter
delight. It was truly the face of ecstasy, but not necessarily in a
sexual sense. It was a smile of love, unconditional, unfettered by
expectations or demands of any kind. And I recognized it, and smiled
back. Because I have felt that joy, that sheer delight, in sharing
pleasure with another person -- even one I've only known for an
hour. The gift of your pleasure, brings me joy. Sexual excitement,
yes, but more than that. Love. Yes, yes, yes... you can truly love
every single person on this planet. And to share physical pleasure
can transcend into something even more wonderous.
I don't know why I was thinking of this tonight.
My housemate and I were talking about music, and we started watching
Queen videos on YouTube. One of my very favorite Queen songs of all
time (and I do love them all... I used to strip to Queen a million
years ago, back when I was 18 and dumb... you haven't lived until
you've seen a girl strip to Bohemian Rhapsody).... anyhow, one of my
favorite Queen songs is Who Wants to Live Forever...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zo52T7uKOJU ... the song is
amazing, beautiful, and painfully bittersweet. Freddy Mercury wrote
the song for the movie Highlander, the tale of an immortal. The
story goes that after seeing the movie, Freddy was so possessed by
it, that he penned Who Wants to Live Forever in the limousine on the
way back to the hotel.
What possessed Freddy was a small part of the
story... in which the immortal Highlander finds love, and then
experiences the true horror of being immortal -- that you live on,
while you watch the one you love die. And while we are not immortal,
we can all relate to the pain of watching someone we love die. And
yet there is this hopeful power in the song as well, the paradoxical
feeling of immortality that love gives us. When we love, and love
deeply, we truly feel as though we -- and our feelings -- will live
forever.
The music always brings me to tears, not only for
the amazing writing, lyrics, music, orchestration... but because
this song, out of all the Queen songs, makes me think of Freddy
Mercury's tragic death in November of 1991. I cried when I heard the
news. We have lost so many wonderful people to AIDS, and losing
Freddy was just a twist of the knife for me.
In 1993, I traveled to Seattle with my female
lover at that time. We spent a day wandering around in an openly gay
neighborhood, bustling with shops and bars proudly sporting the
rainbow flag. We delighted in the fine weather, the boisterous
atmosphere, and our ability to hold hands freely in public, without
fear of reprisal.
At one point, I realized that I had not brought
enough tampons with me, and that it would be a good idea to purchase
some more. There was a drugstore, and I went in, wandering about the
unfamiliar store, looking for tampax. I headed over to the pharmacy
area, usually a good bet for finding such things. And as I looked
around, I noticed something, which at first didn't strike me as odd.
I should note here that many stores, even large
chain stores, vary their stock depending upon the neighborhood. At
home, I know the grocery stores in neighborhoods with large Hispanic
populations are the ones that will have the best selections of chile
peppers, and the really good homemade tortillas. This grocery store
in the upscale white neighborhood will have the best selection of
really good imported cheeses and wines. That kind of thing.
So with all that in mind, I first noticed that it
was very hard to find tampons in a predominantly gay male area. And
when I did find them, the selection was small. But what I did see
was something interesting, at least at first. They had this huge
selection of Depends undergarments, and similar things. They had
several different kinds of rails you could install in your bathtub,
or on your toilet. There were many different brands of latex gloves.
Here was a small store, but with a huge selection of items designed
to care for the elderly. And I'm standing there, in front of this
towering wall of incontinent undergarments, scratching my head. I
thought how strange this was, because I really hadn't seen any old
people in this neighborhood.
And then, of course, the horrible truth hit me. It
was like a physical blow. I staggered back, tears coming to my eyes.
I'm crying now, as I write this, remembering. Because I realized
that I was in a neighborhood full of people who were dying. Young,
wonderful, smart, funny, loving, good people... who were dying of
AIDS. What's more, the volume of drugstore goods could not be
denied. There were lots of people dying. Lots and lots and lots and
lots. Truly, an epidemic, as vicious and deadly as any influenza or
plague.
But because those who were dying were
marginalized, on the fringes of acceptable society -- like
prostitutes murdered by serial killers -- their deaths in huge
numbers were going largely unnoticed.
And so tonight, I'm thinking of all of these
things, instead of telling you how nice the sunsets were in
California, or babbling about how many orgasms I've had this week.
I'm thinking about death, and immortality, and love. And I'm
realizing that immortality is the gifts we give to others. Freddy
Mercury has left us with his amazing voice and music, a thousand
love songs to the world. And I'm realizing that love is what goes on
forever. I give my love to others, and they carry it, and hopefully,
share it. And pass it on, and on, and on.
I can't live in grief and sadness, even when faced
with death. This time on earth is what I have, right here, right
now. I choose to appreciate and love life, for it is so very
precious, and indescribably beautiful. And I want to reach out and
give as much of that away as I can.
I've just come home from my Boston
trip... I had a spectacular time! I always enjoy my visits with Mr.
Fisher. He is so much fun... he has a wonderful sense of humor, and is a
kind person. And, of course, he's also very sensual... always
important!!
[I paused here, to put in a New Order
CD, and to remove my bra. You know, when you wear one of those
damned things for more than 12 hours, it's just damned
uncomfortable.]
I did have so much fun. Mr. Fisher wanted to treat
me to a real Fall in New England experience. The trees were
gorgeous, though the leaves hadn't turned as much as is usual for
this time of year. Still, those that had changed color were truly
spectacular. The most vivid shades of red I'd ever seen. And I
learned something new... probably a silly thing that everyone knows,
but somehow I missed it in my education: the fall colors that we see
on leaves are actually the true color of the leaves. The green is
chlorophyll (which I did know), but it's not the base color of the
leaves. They wear the green in the summer, then in the fall, they
lose the chlorophyll and their true colors are revealed. I'm not
sure I explained that well. Anyhow, maybe everyone knows this, but I
didn't know it. I thought it was interesting. Also, the embarrassing
part is that I learned this fact from a 17-year-old. Geez. Just goes
to show you, you can always learn something new, even from
surprising sources.
We went apple picking. It was a kind of surreal
experience. We went to this orchard, and it was a regular fall
festival, with tons of people... and a crazy band playing old
standards, and jars of homemade jam and apple butter (I got some
apple butter... I love the stuff. My grandma used to make it). I
can't begin to describe this experience, at least not quickly. And I
need to go to bed... I'm so tired.
My flight home was just plain nightmarish. I was
squeezed between a businessman and a young father, who was holding
his 5-month-old son on his lap. The baby screamed periodically
throughout the flight... I couldn't sleep... I had to keep my arms
pressed against my sides to keep from rubbing against these men...
it was just awful!!! That will teach me to show up at the airport
less than two hours ahead of time. Never again. I want a window
seat!
There's so much more to mention. We
toured Mark Twain's house in Hartford, Connecticut, which has been
one of my dreams since my early days in college. We also explored
some shops on Newbury street in Boston, and I saw some just plain
fantastic antique sculptures, art, and jewelry. I'll write more
about these things tomorrow, if I can. I'm so excited to share... it
was truly a wonderful trip. And it was capped off by some lovely
romantic moments, too. :)
Too much to say, not enough time... I
must catch up on some email and get to bed. I'm exhausted. More
tomorrow!
It's so quiet here tonight in my tower...
the world is sleeping, and I'm feeling peaceful... and then I think
about tomorrow, and I start to feel a little blossom of panic in my
belly. Surely you've had days like this. A nice, relatively normal day,
rounded off with a lovely mellow evening... but then you take a look at
your appointment book for the following day, and you feel exhausted just
reading it!
Tomorrow I have to: visit my cel phone service
provider, and look into one of those wireless Internet cards; do
laundry; pack for my trip to Boston; pay the bills; get my nails
done, and go to the drugstore. Three of the items on my list must be
done before the close of business, and each of the three are going
to be time consuming. So I've got to get to bed! It's already almost
1am on Thursday (but you will note that I dated this blog Wednesday
-- as far as I'm concerned, if I haven't been to bed yet, it isn't
morning).
Those of you who know me know that I'm a very
nocturnal person. I just don't do mornings. It's one of the many
reasons I love being my own boss, and I love doing this job...
because I can sleep in! I've done the early morning job routine, and
it was always incredibly difficult for me. Now, I don't have to
fight my natural inclinations. Life is good!
I'm really looking forward to my Massachusetts
trip. I'm going to spend some time in Boston, as well as a small
town near Worchester (which is pronounced Wus-ter, and I can't tell
you how long it took me to get that right. Reminds me of this Monty
Python episode, regarding a man whose name was spelled Raymond
Luxury-Yacht. Here it is, for your amusement:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RI-1G1vVXus .... He asked me! He
asked me!) We'll also be visiting Mark Twain's house in Connecticut,
which is something I've dreamed of doing ever since my early days in
college. I'm so excited!
Okay, okay, I'm being good. I'm off to bed.
Kisses!
Sitting here in my office (my "tower"), swilling diet
Mountain Dew and listening to music (currently listening to "Mary Ann"
by Alice Cooper). It's been a good day. I spent the day putting together
the galleries of all my older photos, and the art gallery. It was fun,
and amazingly easy and quick. I'm really delighted with this new method
of doing galleries... it's easier, faster, uses less bandwidth, and
looks cool too. :)
I'm trying to catch up on all the email I've
neglected while I was working on my website... I'm so behind, but
I'm realizing now that this is a constant state of affairs, and I
may as well just get used to it. No point in whining! :)
No clients today... I love my Sundays. Much as I
love meeting new and old friends (and I do!!!), it is kind of nice
to have a day that's just mine, to do with what I will. Especially
because this coming week is going to be busybusybusy! In addition to
seeing a few new friends, I'm flying to Boston on Friday, spending a
few days with Mr. Fisher (and for those of you who haven't met me
yet -- no, Mr. Fisher is not my husband... just a special friend!).
I return to Denver on Monday the 8th.
Is it just me, or has this year just flown
by!?!? Oh my gawd, I am so excited. You will note that the first
sentence of this paragraph, which was an exclamatory question (or
was it a questioning exclamation? Well, whatever.), ended
with a series of question marks and exclamation points. Well (and
look, I gotta warn you, this is amazingly supergeeky writing stuff)
back in the 60s, the head of an advertising company created a new
typographic symbol, which combines the exclamation point with the
question mark, for sentences such as the one at the beginning of
this paragraph (which, by all rights, should not be part of this
paragraph, as its content has nothing whatever to do with the rest
of this paragraph... but I'm using it for an example, so perhaps
that's excuse enough to leave it where it is. But I digress.)
Anyhow, so this new symbol was created, and they called it the
interrobang. You know... "interro" as in "question" and "bang,"
printers' jargon for an exclamation point.
Anyhow (that other paragraph was getting really
long), I just adore the interrobang. Sadly, its use never really
caught on, and it all but disappeared. Only a few fanatics like me
cared. Well, in the past few years, the interrobang has seen
something of a resurgence. It's still not really used anywhere,
mostly because if people saw one, they'd say, "What the hell is
that?!" Ironic, huh? But it seems that some fanatical interrobang fans
are adding the darling little symbol to some regularly used fonts.
People still won't know what it is, but those of us who do will
smile.
So depending on which fonts you have installed on
your computer, you may actually be able to see the cute little
interrobang that I'm placing at the end of the next sentence (a
minor revision to my earlier sentence).
Is it just me, or has this year just flown
by‽
Isn't it fantastic‽
Oh, dear, I can't stop.
At
any rate, if you can't see the little interrobang, don't feel bad.
Here's a nice big picture of it, just for you... and a link to the
Wikipedia article, in case you're fascinated with weird little facts
like I am, and wish to read more about the lovely, clever
interrobang.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Interrobang
I am so excited about my new, improved, re-designed,
updated website! I have been working VERY hard on it... I think I've put
in over 100 hours (at least!) so far... the problem is, of course, that
the site is huge. Enormous. Gargantuan. Even after getting rid of
superfluous junk, it's still just massive.
I decided to re-design the site for several
reasons. First, because the old site was the very first website I
ever designed, and while I always received many compliments on it, I
also felt that I'd learned so much more about design since I created
it, I just wanted to make it better. I especially wanted to get rid
of the frames, as they make navigation for visually impaired people
difficult -- and I want my site to be accessible to as many people
as possible.
Also, there were many pages with dead links, and
inaccurate or outdated information. Rather than go through the old
site and do re-writes and corrections, it seemed to make more sense
just to create something fresh. Further, I put up the original site
in 2004. I've not only learned a lot about web design since then,
but I've also learned a lot about myself, my sexuality, my business,
and (most importantly) my clients. I feel that my approach is
different, these days, and I wanted my site to reflect that subtle
change in attitude.
Finally, I wanted to re-design the site simply to
cut down on the huge volume of clutter on my server. Imagine if you
have a cluttered house. Every day, for three years, you keep adding
new stuff to the house, and never remove anything. My server was
like that -- three solid years of growing clutter. I found silly
photos I wasn't using in one folder; failed attempts at buttons and
other design elements; whole web pages that I never use, and aren't
linked anywhere... that sort of thing. It would have taken hundreds
of hours to go through the mess, trying to determine which of the
objects are still in use, and which could be deleted. It just made
more sense to create something new, and simply delete all of the old
(with a backup on my hard drive, of course!). I took special pains
to ensure that all of the new pages carry the exact same name as
their old counterparts -- that way, if anyone on the web has a link
to the Rants (for example), that link will still work, despite the
fact that the page itself has changed.
I think the new site is easier to navigate, has
more visual appeal, is easier to read (especially the blog and
rants, which heretofore featured white text on a black background --
hard on the eyes!). I think it's more elegant and stylish, while
still maintaining some of that down-to-earth, "hippie chick"
mentality. :)
So... here I am! I'm just so happy with the work.
While my changes are site-wide, here are some of the things I'm
especially pleased with (so you don't miss 'em!):
Rates and
Services page: new design allows you to go directly to the
services that interest you most, instead of reading the entire
page (though I would love it if you did!). The page also
features a lot of fun new graphics, which I think add some great
visual interest.
I've also re-designed and re-written the
Tantra and Sacred Sexuality page, as well as the
Sensual Domination page.
I've added a brand new page,
Sensual Teachings for Men, featuring some of the sacred
sexual practices without the spiritual component (I'm very
excited about this one). Additionally, couples sessions are
back! Finally, everything has been updated, including incall
information.
Gallery page: I am
especially proud of the new design of the galleries. Pardon me
while I geek out for a moment, but I found this killer dynamic
HTML script, and now the galleries have this wonderful, elegant
look to them. Rather than click, you simply mouse over the
Monday,
July 28, 2008 
Monday, June
30, 2008 
Ah,
it's a bad night to be a geek. I'm sitting here at 12:31, listening
to music, knocking back copious amounts of Diet Mountain Dew, and
editing my registry key. It's touchy work. I find editing my reg key
reminds me of playing "Operation" when I was a kid. You know that
game, where you pull objects out of the patient using little pair of
metal tweezers... and if you make a mistake, BUZZ! You lose! 
Maybe
someday I'll have the time to start my little temple online. I call
it the Temple of Divine Creativity. The simple mission of my temple
is best summed up in this quote from Julia Cameron:
At
any rate, if you can't see the little interrobang, don't feel bad.
Here's a nice big picture of it, just for you... and a link to the
Wikipedia article, in case you're fascinated with weird little facts
like I am, and wish to read more about the lovely, clever
interrobang.