Category: Growing Up

I Love You, But Hate What’s Coming Out of Your Mouth

Do we have to believe everything our friends believe? Do we? Why? Isn’t it our differences that enrich our lives? It seems that no matter what we are talking about lately, it almost always turns to the current climate of divisiveness. People take sides, get offended, and usually (it seems to me) everyone is ticked off at the other side. Being on opposing sides is nothing new, but it wasn’t that long ago that this country was apathetic. Now we all have opinions and we want you to have our opinions. Why? Why is it so important that we agree on everything? Just because you are offended, doesn’t mean it is offensive.

I have a large group of friends. My brother calls them my army – ha! Two of my friends are sisters. One of them is the other pea in my pod. She is who I call when I want my own opinion given to me. We agree on practically everything. Her opinions make me feel supported and right. The other sister is more like a sister to me than a friend. I call her when I want an opposing, but well thought out opinion, from a completely different place with completely different experiences – you get my drift. Her opinions make me think and I learn from them.

I may not have an army, but I am definitely a friend collector. Every single one of them has enriched my life in numerous ways. I have atheist friends, good Christian friends, Mormon friends, Catholic friends, a Buddhist monk, and crazy religious friends. I have friends who shop at thrift stores and friends who never leave Nordstroms. I don’t want to lose any friends, ever. Do I need to lose the ones whose opinions are opposite mine?

Years ago, after my mom’s best friend got the first divorce, she started dating a windbag. A rich, good looking, fun, smart, arrogant, loud mouthed blow hard. We were celebrating one of our holidays there around the time of the OJ Simpson ordeal. He was going off on some sort of rant that closely resembled racism. I looked over at her and inquired, “how do you deal with that?”

She replied, “What do I care what he thinks?” What? What did she just say? This was news to me. Of course you care what someone thinks. I still think about that statement. She was right. Who cares what someone thinks or says? Beautiful, wonderful people have been known to say horrific things. Even the lowest of the low says something beautiful now and then. Actions speak louder than words. Maybe he was walking the racism line (that generation lived during the civil rights movement) – but, I never saw him treat anyone with anything but respect and dignity.

Then, years later, I read Eckhart Tolle – thanks, Oprah. Because it seemed so esoteric and mind blowing, it took forever for me to wrap my head around what he was saying.. He taught me that we are not our thoughts. What? We think those thoughts, therefore they must be ours and therefore an extension of us. Right? Having murderous thoughts doesn’t make me a murderer or even violent. How often does something pop into your head and you think, “I wonder where that came from? I don’t think that way.” It happens to me frequently. Of course, writer’s curse.

I’ve noticed as I have aged, that there are so many things that divide us from our friends and other people we love. It starts when you begin to make friends, you lose friends occasionally based on who your other friends are. Then boyfriends. Then kids. And, then, old age. Fuck me.

I know not everyone is interested in such an eclectic group of friends. And, sometimes I have to separate friends and referee fights on FB. Okay – it’s not that bad. It was just one fight. But, I do keep some of them separate – for me, not for them. I don’t want to hear anyone go at it. I like peace. I just don’t always want to be the one to make it. I have learned that not everyone is like me. Not all of my friends are going to like each other. All of my friends are going to say or do things that I don’t appreciate. So the fuck what? The opposite sister up there – about once a week she says something and I think – “who the eff are you and where did you get that ridiculous opinion again?” I just move forward. I am not going to be changing anyone’s opinion anytime soon. And, nobody is going to be changing mine. We need such diversity.

I find that their diversity enriches me. It broadens my views. And, I get that too – not everyone wants or thinks broader views are a goal. Life is short. Experiences are many. Life changing experiences are few. Life changing people can happen every day. For that, I am thankful.

 

What a Drag it is Getting Old

My dad had emergency surgery a few weeks ago. He is on the mend now, but it was a hairy few days. I had to fly out of town. I haven’t wanted to write about it because everything is resolved, and because it wasn’t very funny.

I can’t even think of how to make it funny.  I thought my dad was going to die. Truly he has been dying in pieces for years. He no longer sounds like my dad. He is an older, frailer, less dynamic dad than I know. That’s okay, I love him and and thankful for the time he is here. While I am getting used to the idea that he won’t always be here, I don’t really like it. The memory loss and confusion make it more difficult to resolve things or even bring things up – which takes a toll on what has been a very open relationship. While I was getting through my days at the hospital, I had other hurdles I didn’t see coming.

He and his lovely 80 year old wife wanted to whisk him out of the hospital to their lovely home as soon as he got out of surgery. Which I understood, but he needed to spend a week in the hospital and then some time in a rehab facility – not that kind…but, one for occupational and physical therapy. But, no. They thought it would be best to go home and rehab. So, you see the dilemma. Without getting into specifics, lets just say…this is another thing about growing up that sucks.

I had to tell his wife that  if they went home and he went down and took her with him, 2 broken hips and they would never see each other again. That made her cry again. Me too. But, c’mon these people are stubborn. And, I get it. You spend your whole life growing up, doing and not doing things because you have parents, then kids. When you finally get to let loose….well, you may not be able to be on your own anymore. This couldn’t sit well with anyone of any age. I earned my wisdom and the ability to make my decisions. And, because I am not married, I no longer need to get anyone’s approval to do anyfucking thing. (That is delightful, I tell you. I try not to laugh out loud with glee when my married friends say, “I have to check…”)

I would be terribly resentful and angry at anyone who was trying to take that away from me.  And, what makes me think I know anything about it? Well, I don’t. But, I know what it feels like to need to be in control to get through your day. And, when you can’t be in control – major suckage.

And, then in the middle of all of that, while you think you are coping, your parent says something like, “This isn’t worth it.” I get that too. When you have spent most of the last few years in doctor’s offices, with no end or relief in sight, you get tired. And, when you are upwards of 40, you are already always tired. They have lost several friends and family members in the last few years. My dad is the only remaining sibling or spouse in his family of 14. It sucks.

As if this wasn’t difficult enough, all of this reminds me how old I am. How if I sit too long, my hips get stiff. How I don’t really sleep through the night. How I can’t get comfortable and can’t sit, stand, or lay for too long.  I can’t see. I can’t hear – I think it is actually time to go get a hearing aid or two. But, WTF? How did I get here? Hearing aids? Okay, sure, some of the hearing loss is organic and some can be blamed on my propensity to listen to my music very loud. But, I am still going to shows. I laughed when I read about Brian Johnson turning the mic over to Axl because he didn’t want to damage his hearing further. Not very rock-n-roll. But, I get it now.

So, it gets me thinking. My writing career and all that encompasses is the brain exercise I am doing to keep that part working. I get some exercise, but really should hit the yoga mat a few times a week and walk a ton more. A renewed commitment to keeping busy. Less TV, more reading, working, writing. A renewed plan for physical health. I have already upped my diet to be more vegetable/fruit less crap.

The last few years I have been downsizing my things. I have also been downsizing my wasted energy. I don’t want to waste any precious time on dumb stuff. Funk the dumb stuff. And, almost everything is dumb stuff. I left my large pile of shit to do and took my kids to the coast. My heart and soul are renewed.

Suddenly, some things don’t seem to matter anymore. Excellent – more time for the things that do.

 

My Childhood is a Liar

My childhood was a lie. A big fat lie. Like a lot of kids, I couldn’t wait to grow up. I couldn’t wait to get away from my parents. I couldn’t wait to make all of my own decisions. What happened to the “doing what I want when I want how I want and where I want” adulthood I couldn’t wait to get to?  What happened to that? My childhood was a big fat liar.

I’ve gone on and on about a lot of things that are surprising as we age. Well, I was surprised, anyway.  If last year was the year of children related horrors, this year is shaping up to have a completely different focus.

One of my best friends and favorite people lost her mom last week. She held her hand and loved her until she slowly slipped away. I kept her company with daily texts and support as she was there for me when my mom died. She also remembers the tiny shit show that happened after. We were going to get together at my favorite wine bar a few days ago and raise a glass to our parents and share memories. She had to bail as she had funeral arrangements to handle. I called another friend. When she arrived, she announced she had just come from her Stepdad’s funeral. We spent the evening discussing her trials. Then this morning, another close friend has lost a parent.

This is another ugly chapter in adulthood. While I can usually find the silver lining, it kind of sucks. You spend all this time growing up, getting a job, getting married, building a family, getting a divorce, building a new life and you are just about to enjoy your adulthood, when all hell breaks loose.  I was making plans for a fun retirement, and I may be caught up in a few things that will impede that fun. And, chances are, by the time I am done with all of that…I will be ready to attend the funeral I have already picked the music for. Yes, I have really chosen the music for my memorial/party, whatever. Have you heard some of the crap that plays at funerals?  If I hear Bette sing about being a bird again, I might lose it. And, while some of the other traditional songs are beautiful, they are just not my style. Besides, why on earth would I want the same songs from everybody else’s funeral?

My dad’s health is failing and his memory is going, going, almost gone. He has lost his will, I think and that is the hardest thing for me. Who can blame him, he has no siblings left and most of his friends are gone? His closest relative is his cousin and both are in such poor health, it is unlikely they will see each other again. He is in constant pain and spends many hours “doctoring.” He no longer resembles that Dad I had, physically or mentally. I’ve been grieving him a little bit for a long time. I’m completely okay with his decisions and plans. And, if he is ready to go, I must let him. He has taught me so many things in life, I guess now he is teaching me to die. Even though some of the best lessons he taught me are how to live.

I know this is a normal occurrence. I do. Your parents should die first. I am lucky to have had my dad for so long. But, now is the ugly stuff: dying, death, funerals, wills, estate settling, and a long (hopefully) future without any parents. I have never been “Daddy’s little girl.” I wasn’t spoiled like that. But, we have spent most of my adulthood very close. Who will I call when I don’t know what to do? The tears just started…so, done with this line of thought.

So many things have turned out be be lies. Next, I suppose, you will tell me that my face won’t freeze that way and I can get sick from not wearing a coat. 

I have started 20 blogs about the last few weeks. But, I can’t seem to get everything organised. So, I’m just going to throw out there where I am. And, oh yeah, I need an assistant.

Grandma Was a Stripper!!!

Today is the 20th anniversary of the death of my mom. And…before you start the boo-hooing….thanks, but, I’m good.  My mother was a complicated person. Had she been born about 20 years later, so many things would have been different.  She would definitely have benefitted from Prozac and Oprah.  And, wine…..she totally missed out on wine……well. Not really….she was quite fond of Sutter Home White Zinfandel. It’s okay to laugh. Because even I remember that Sutter Home White Zin (because that is what the hip and cool kids called it) was what all the cool kids drank. And by, “cool kids”, I mean the parents of that generation. I don’t know anyone today who calls that “wine.”

Mom married young…..mostly, her childhood had been hell so she got pregnant early, got married, and moved away from that. She really didn’t get to be a kid and she had to grow up fast.  She had 3 children before she was 20. And was a Grandma when she was 34.  (Ouch…..I had my first kid in my mid 30’s.  She was a young “Great Grandma” too.) Her husband, my Dad….worked military contracts, so we moved. A lot. This was hard on her too.  She wanted to settle. She wanted to have a home. And stay there.

She was way under 10 when she started travelling all over the Bible belt with her parents….along with some weirdos, hucksters, animals, and tents.  My mom was a carny. Well, to be honest….her parents were.  While I am thrilled to have this piece of Americana in our family history….mom was ashamed of it. (I mean, hey….if we didn’t come over on the Mayflower…..we’ve got this)  Which is why I never heard about it until after my mother and both grandparents passed. Okay, that isn’t the only reason.

Not too long after my mom passed, I was helping my dad go through all of Mom’s things. It was late, I was getting ready to head home. Dad and I started to discuss the fact that Mom kept a lot of her past to herself. Or, away from her kids. I think it hindered any relationship any of us would have had with her. And Dad quietly said, “you know why she didn’t talk about it, don’t you?”  Um…no….even though I am in my 30’s you still treat me like a kid….so, no I have no idea. Dad said,……”Your Grandpa ran the strip show.”  “WHAT?”  WTF? – but, we didn’t say that 20 years ago.  And while I was still trying to wrap my sheltered, naive ears around what he just said, he drops another bomb.

“And, you know who was in the show?”  Okay…..every single one of you knows the answer to that. But, sheltered and Naive says……”Who? Mom?” because that would be preposterous. (My poor dad…must suck to realize how stupid your kids are.) When he told me it was Grandma,  I don’t think I stopped laughing until I had to actually breathe.  This is the BEST thing ever!  And my sisters are 3 hours later than the midnight it is now….I have to wait until tomorrow to tell this story!  Maybe I should have been embarrassed too….but, no.  All I could think was….how much did she take off?  This was the 40s…Bible belt.  What did she leave on?  Did she have those nipple tassels?  Could she make them rotate the opposite way?  

2 things occur to me…….1. Why am I surprised I write erotica when those are the questions in my head? And 2…..I should have known…those were my mom’s parents…who had never married. A story for another blog.

I miss and love you, Mom….I wish we could share a bottle or 2 of wine…discuss my new life….and tassells.  What great blogs she and I could write together.

Is This What I have Become?

So…it happened today. I was writing a blog post….a simple, funny story about paper towels. About paper towels in the bathroom. At work. The post was G rated in content, R rated in language……until….I had reached the build up (look…..it is happening again…used “build up” instead of something less sexual) and was ready to deliver the punch line. And, instead of a funny story…..thoughts of sex and nakedness and spanking and punishment started to wander into my mind and onto my pages.

Aaaahhhhh.  I am an average woman with a private Catholic school background and a mostly vanilla history. My “foray” into writing erotica was a fluke. A complete accident. I didn’t set out to write or even publish it. And, now……now……that is all I can write? Not sure if that makes me laugh or, or….okay….laugh is my only reaction. Because this is the most preposterous thing….EVER!!!!

Until about 10 years ago….I didn’t enjoy the sex written in books. Most of what I read had short, boring scenes that usually started and ended with “and the lights went out.” I sped through those passages like it was an Olympic event. And, that is if they had sex scenes at all. I fast forwarded most sex scenes when I was watching a movie. I didn’t watch porn. I have always felt that whatever was done between 2 (or more) adults was up to them. I don’t care. I don’t judge. And I really don’t want to know.  When I was younger, a friend of mine returned from a safari trip. Her dog sitter had left one of her personal sex toys behind.  Where did my friend find it? I don’t know. What kind of toy was it? I don’t know. What color was it? I don’t know. What did my friend do with it? I don’t know. Do you know why I don’t know? Because recalling the story as she told it to me made me blush for years. I never asked. I don’t know and I didn’t want to know. And then a lot of random stuff happened. Each and every occurrence dancing me one step closer to Erotica Writer Extraordinaire…….  And, now…..well, you know…..I want to know where she found it; what it was; how she gave it back…….

So….here I am…..erotica ebook publisher and blogger of sex. How did this happen? When did it happen? And how long is this conversation going to bring giggles to my lips? One thing led to another. Tiny little steps or circumstances that gave no indication of where the path would wind to. And, at the time, the path had no direction. There was no “goal”. It was just life. Get a divorce. Get a job. Get another job. Write a love letter. Write a story. Write a book. Because you are having a little dry spell, write about sex. And, the rest is just a slippery slope of being open to new experiences and new opportunities.

It is true that with age comes wisdom….well, it is for me.  I know now that you should just “do” stuff. Try it. If you like it, do it again.  If you don’t, stop doing it. But, it is in the learning of new things or the path less traveled or the “open attitude” that brings the greatest enjoyment. Every experience, every conversation, every decision shapes you and challenges you to change with it. I have been embracing every single opportunity for a few years now. I no longer cringe at the thought of change. Now, I run towards it. I have become a happier, more fulfilled, more joyous, more content, more enthusiastic liver of life than I ever was.  And, that is fucking fantastic.

Today, though, I had to pause. Have I become a part of this world that I am teasing at the edges of? I don’t mind the writing or publishing of what could be called pornographic material. But, I never wanted to become part of the “business”. Is that what I am now? Part of the business? My younger, reluctant to change self, would have spent the next several days agonizing. Wise, experienced Bianca says…….FUCK IT. Don’t waste the worry. You are not going to become someone your children won’t recognize. I have been though some life and know that I will do only what makes sense to me. I am aware I don’t want to degenerate. So, I won’t. Simple as that.

If I had any lingering doubt, I put it out with this…….who am I? What have I become?  “I have become a happier, more fulfilled, more joyous, more content, more enthusiastic liver of life than I ever was.  And, that is fucking fantastic. ”

Fuck yeah it is.

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