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Join me in figuring out "what now?"


Yikes! I am remiss in writing on this blog. I guess I was waiting for something to write.

I miss passion. And sex. I was watching an old movie that had the most passionate love scene that really, in most people’s estimates, was very tame. But what was there, what the movie did a good job of portraying, was passion. The way that you might throw your head back when something feels too good, the way your body moves in a rhythm of its own, how you can lose yourself in the warmth and the moment and the way that it just feels oh so good.

To indulge in the sweat and the smells and the heat that bodies generate just from being in close proximity. That touch that almost isn’t that brings a shudder and raised skin when his fingers glide gently along your arm, your leg, the small of your back. When the hours vanish in the blink of an eye, when you breathe together and moan and every little movement is a single note of an orchestra,

As I have gotten older, I knew that passion (and sex) would be less frequent, a more wandering moment than a regular event. The more things don’t work like they should – knees and backs and legs and arms – that make the truly good sex more difficult to have. You never think that in the throes of passion that this might be your last, that once completed, never to begin again. Or how that passion begins so very much before you are ever close enough to one another to touch. To wonder of the thing, of lust and passion and desire. To see him across a room. To lock eyes for the first time. To sense that it is what you want, he wants, and you both want from one another.

Yes, this movie has portrayed this all to well. At least to me. How is this something that has escaped me? Has been too long from me? I think that I may have purposely kept myself from the situations that may have preceded the desire; avoided the disappointment, or inability.

Perhaps I need to change it. Either understand it or stop watching these damned movies.


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Way Up High or Down Low

When did it become too late for passion and love and heat and romance and sex? Seems I am rolling along getting to experience all the highs and lows of the intricate dance of a man and a woman and then one day, listening to music, you realize that you no longer experience what is being sung about. No more, do you do “the dance”.

Does it happen in a single moment? Like crossing some horrible black finish line? Or does it just come on slowly and gradually so that all of a sudden, you realize like I did, that it is just – poof! – gone?

God I used to love the feeling of falling in love. Or was it the feeling of lust? That sensual attraction that makes you want to have your hands and your mouth and your lips and your body on another person? To be near that person? To hear their laugh, their anger, their joy, even their silence?

Is that just a natural end-to-life? You’ve passed the point of procreating and even raising your babies and now, all of a sudden, there is no need (for the one that has been around) to be around anymore.

I was working in the garage this morning and listening to music. The song tells of a love of a man who wishes he had done it differently – “If I could, then I would; I’ll go wherever you will go, way up high or down low, I’ll go wherever you will go.”

Boy do I remember feeling so hopelessly entangled and endlessly in love that I would have walked on water for a man (or men) from my past. To feel so strongly and to care so little for myself, it was like an addiction to the strongest drug in the universe and you keep looking for that initial “high” over and over.

Maybe it is what my mother experienced once her children were all grown and she looked around and saw that the ‘spark’ of what makes life worth living was gone and why suddenly, she announced one day that she was ready to go. Can it be that life is not worth living without that rush and heat and flush? That once the passion is gone, it takes with it the passion for life?


Read more: The Calling – Wherever You Will Go Lyrics | MetroLyrics
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An Ending To A Great Week and Other Musings

So, if you haven’t heard the news, I started a new job last Friday. I ended up getting a week off between the last job and this new one. Finally, for a change, I was the one who was pursued and it felt pretty damned good. I received a pretty healthy bump in pay, no $5 an hour on this one! And best yet, I have a Mac PowerBook, an iPhone and an iPad to do testing with! Yay! You cannot imagine how happy I am about this awesome turn of events.

I have, once again, been terrible about writing in this blog – actually both my blogs (if you’re interested in seeing my creative musings, please head over to OnMyCreativeSide blog). I’ve been using what little free time I have trying to finish my garage makeover, to be better able to use the space I have in my garage to share both my vehicles and be a space for working my crafts. I do a fair amount of large work – dressers, cabinets, desks and dollhouses – and have a nice little array of tools that tend to take up space (and make a mess) and leave me nowhere to park my cars inside. Well, it is being chronicled on my other blog, although until I actually make a real effort to complete it, the writing won’t be finished either.

I’ve been experiencing some symptoms of menopause lately, most notable a thing often referred to as “hot flashes”. Mine seem to be anything but a “flash” and rarely “hot”, but rather minutes of terse sweating like I’ve never known before. I can be reduced to looking like I stepped out of shower fully clothed, my hair soaking wet. This is not the kind of thing that I care to have happen at work, much less anywhere else.

The worst is the realization that my love life has come to a screeching halt. It isn’t that I don’t want to or that I cannot, it is just that with age and the menopause and two bad knees, the prospects are few and far between. If someone were to know that the last time you opt for a little love making was the last time, would you make a more special effort? Make it somehow more memorable and something to be cherished and looked back upon. How does one know when the last time is the last time? At least, for me, it wasn’t the last sour relationship that I had, but a friend who someone was there when he was needed.

Something in me still yearns for something new, something better, something adventurous. Nothing really keeps me tethered to this particular place and there is more than a little gnawing that makes me want to liquidate most of my belongings and head somewhere new and unknown, waiting to be explored and meet new people and friends and where I could start the last stage of my life. More than anything, I think, is the desire to learn something new. I have become much to complacent and accustomed to routine and route that I believe this must be the kind of life that eventually leads to slow and torturous death. I liken this state to the last few years that my parents experienced, a bit like waiting for each day to pass just to greet the next day with the same apathy.

I have in the back of my mind to give learning to speak German another honest try. I think that once I stop learning and challenging myself, is when I get the most yearning to seek out new adventures. My new place of employment is once again, very close to Longview College, where I took my last language class. It might at least temporarily satisfy my longing and wistful nature.

The other thing that I have driving me forward is a long laundry list of improvements and upkeep to the house, including painting the house and building a new, more elegant deck across the back of the house. I’d like to do a bit more landscaping in the back, as well, including planting a tree for Ashla, our forever puppy we lost around Christmas last year. A small tree grew in the rocks in front of the house and I have transplanted it and will nurture it until it is a little more set, sometime later this fall. It will be planted along with Ashla’s ashes and puppy print shaped stepping stones in the back yard. Neither The Kid nor I can bring ourselves to bring another dog into the house, way too much like trying to replace her. The house is definitely more quiet and less affectionate with her being gone.

Weekends just seem to last but a few minutes lately… so I’ll not dally more.MacCupcake

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