Sitting on Faces, Babies, and Doorknobs

So I was reading my best friend's blog and I thought I would look around to see who else is posting to Blogger. I clicked "next blog," and found this.

And this.

And this.

In fact, in over 30 blogs browsed, only 9 were not a personal account of someone's kinky sexual exploration. (And those 9 were almost exclusively about babies, but more on that later.)

The fact that so many people are blogging about sex - and fisting/spanking/donkey sex at that - leads me to think that there must be an awful lot of sexually repressed and unfulfilled people out there.

There's also a lot of people who are into some weeeeird shit.

Sexual fulfillment is so important, but its more than just the frequency with which you fuck. Sometimes it's less about the orgasm, and more about what you get out of it, whether it's an exhibitionist thrill, an intense emotional connection, or a pass from doing the dishes. With all the shit out there that tells you what you want, there is a lot of pressure to stick to the script. But it seems that the people who claim sex is as simple as putting a dick-in-a-box are the ones who come out years later with a fetish for doorknobs, a collection of men's thongs, or whatever this is. So it's probably better to be honest from the beginning about what you want (MUCH easier said than done.)

Side note - does anyone else find it odd that Fox is covering the Tiger Woods debacle as news when there are earthquakes in Haiti to worry about?

In the name of full disclosure, I should admit that I've got sort of a weird relationship with sex myself. Growing up in a religious household with a super overprotective mother, sex was the one thing that was off limits, no matter how broke or horny I got. I knew I would smoke some day, I knew I might try drugs, but I was NOT going to have sex. Ha.

In hindsight, I hope my parents can see that the whole "abstinence thing" never works out well, especially for curious girls with a rebellious side. I mean, I'm no donkey-girl, but I still feel like I have my own shit to sort out in the sex department. I guess when it comes down to it, I'd rather be spilling my secrets to someone I can trust, rather than sharing my shit online. But who am I to judge? They're just looking for a way to fill the hole. That's what she said.

Here's the Thing . . .

It's been weighing on my mind lately what I should do with my life. Up until a certain time in our lives, we don't control the steering wheel. Yes, we choose our classes in high school, choose friends out of our hometown groups and associations, and have some say regarding the college or vocation we go into, but there is a lot of hand holding (at least for us lucky ones) from teachers, counselors, parents, along the way. Once you graduate college/enter the real world, are financially stable, and have tied up the loose ends from childhood, you take a second to stare down the horizon, and realize that there are no more flashing lights directing you where to go. You have complete freedom to realize your dreams, pursue your goals, fall in love with whomever and whatever you want.

You also have the freedom to do nothing. To be alone. To wander aimlessly. To fail.

One of the biggest realizations I've made so far in life is that freedom is scary. Maybe not for some people, guided by convention and the "shoulds" and "should nots" of life, but for people like me who see a truly blank slate, the only thing keeping you from failure or propelling you to success is you. It's exhilarating to be sure, but it's scary as hell.

I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, but it's interesting to me that one of the things I crave most is what causes me the most anxiety on a day-to-day basis. If the dark underbelly of freedom and independence is fear, I'll still take it, but sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one who gets it, and who is scared to death about which way to go.

More thoughts on this to come.

Our Nature Lies in Movement

It certainly does. At least my nature.

Even as I write this, my leg is shaking, I'm tapping the keys as I reflect upon the next word I'll put on the page, and a quarter of my brain is considering getting up to take a trip around the building to see what's going on. Call it ADD, but I prefer to say that my brain has a high-processing speed. Sometimes I feel like the rest of the world is moving way too slowly, and that my time is constantly being wasted waiting for it to catch up.

Movement is important - it's one of the things that sets us apart from the dead. But along with physical movement, I think emotional and psychological movement are important as well. I believe that ending in a different place than where you started is inherently combined with growth as a rational and enlightened being. The more you do, the more you see, the more you MOVE, the more your brain will start to make the connections necessary to grow.

With that in mind . . . I have decided to pick up and move. To Europe. To experience life for 2 months as a broke European vagabond. This will DEFINITELY force some movement on all three fronts given:

I aim to cover at least 10 different countries in 2 months (if not more)
I never do anything by myself
I am a huge control freak and experience extreme anxiety when I have no control

Here is my initially proposed route (major cities/sites along the way):

Month 1

Copenhagen

Amsterdam

London

Brussels

Berlin

Prague

Vienna

Croatia

Month 2

FLY TO Munich

Meet up with D-bo in Munich

Switzerland (Driving through the Alps)

Romantic Road, Bavaria, Rhine River Cruise

Venice

Florence

Rome

Cinque Terra

Nice

French Riviera

Barcelona

Ibiza

Paris

Is this an ambitious plan? Probably. Will I have one or several freak-outs or plan readjustments along the way? Most definitely. The necessary ambitious savings schedule I've implemented is already freaking me out.

For me, the deciding factor was Grandma P. sitting on her couch upstairs, watching "Explore Europe" dvds and talking about all the things she'll never do. And that is the most terrifying thing in the world.