on sex...

I am a sucker for sexy.  It feeds me and makes me feel alive.  Some people crave mountains and fresh air.  I crave the intertwine of limbs, fistfulls of hair and the stealing of a breath from my lover's mouth.  I dream of skin, tangled sheets, sweat and moans.  I love moans.  A moan can communicate a whole paragraph at a time.

I didn't know, before recently, that my thoughts on sex might be anything but normal.  I thought everyone imagined getting friends and aquaintances naked, even innappropriate ones and blushed when they had to share a car ride or line up for coffee.  It doesn't mean you love someone.  It means you lust for them.  There is a real difference, if you care to admit it.  Who knows what truth actually lies between someone's sheets. There is a part of someone that you can only ever get to know, when you are sharing pleasure. 

I've always deeply understood most men when they discussed libido and thinking about sex all day long.  I've never flinched or questionned; I related.  And whenever a woman spoke about her lack of libido, or her ability (or worse pride) in going for days and weeks and months without sex, I thought she was exaggerating.  Why would you want to go without something that feels so good.  There have been exceptions...an occasional female who was like minded...or an occasional male who had low drive, but these have been my experiences so far.  There is a whole other post about about my past relationships to sex and control and abuse, but it's not what keeps me up at night.  Sex and everything surrounding is what sets my mind on fire at 4am.

My relationship with sex keeps evolving.  And I keep seeking to understand it on a more philosophical and emotional level.  I now own my desire. I share it with those I trust, or those I choose.  I now see that sex has power and can be used as a drug, a shield or as a weapon.  It opens doors and reels people in.  It reasserts control or pushes people away.

Except that really and truly, there are times that sex doesn't do any of those things.  I only want it to do all of those things.

So that is one more thing I have learned about sex.

on playing roller derby...

I play roller derby and it consumes almost every part of my life.  It's not a bad thing, please dont be mistaken.  I choose this.  But it is hard to understand if you aren't involved. Some people think about it like a cult.  I prefer to think about it like a lifestyle.  You become a derby girl (or guy) and things change.

It all started about 3 years ago, when someone casually mentionned it on my gym's website.  I am the cliche girl who had recently seen "Whip It" and wondered (out loud) if it was something I could do.  I quickly dismissed it because there was no way I was that cool.  Only cool people played roller derby.  Also, roller derby would never happen in my small town.  Also I had no skating background.  Also, again there was no possible way I could do something so cool.  Yet somehow, amidst doubts and neurosis, I ordered skates, I trusted myself to try it and now I play, alot.   

The first time I laced up, I was terrified.  I had no knowledge about anything skate-related.  I just trusted a friend who did.  My (then) husband joked about my inability to properly stand, or even stop.  It was more than true. I threw myself on the lawn the first time I wanted to stop.  That was my baseline. I was that girl.  Playing and skating with other people seemd almost impossible when I needed my front lawn to safely stop.  Yet somehow, despite my extreme anxiety, I showed up to my first practice.  It wasn't pretty. 

Little by little, I learned to trust my legs.  I started to training off skates, with a view to improving my skating.  I learned that while I am not fast, or agile, that I am solid and strong and can work on improving my weaknesses.  I learned that girls of all backgrounds, shapes, sizes, colors, beliefs and experiences could form a great pack, if they were all dedicated to the same goal. 

I have learned that my body can do amazing things, even pushing 40.  I have learned to trust my instinct and my heart. I have learned that people can astound and surprise you, in the most beautiful of ways.  I have learned that aggression and elegance can coexist on a circular track.  I have learned that I can sometimes do what once seemed impossible.

The thing about roller derby, aside from the practices, the dry land training, the bouts, the training camps, the committee work and the emails....is that it creeps into your heart, when you aren't even looking.  It takes up residence in your thoughts and in your social life.  You soon start to make plans around it.  You one day start to daydream about it. You eventually start to think about little else...and you are strangely ok with it.

This weekend...just a little over three years after buying my first pair of skates, after countless hours of practice, a dislocated shoulder, a concussion, many tears, many beers and more laughter and fun than I can remember having since my teenage years...I am lacing up as Captain of Team Disciples in a co-ed roller derby game.  I haven't yet decided or committed to playing another season, so this could very well be my last game.  And if it is, I can think of no greater way than to end on this note.

Roller derby saved my soul. 

on fear and hope...

There's always too much noise, followed by too much silence.  Days and hours spent shushing, chasing, comforting and consciously trying to not check out followed by darker days which are filled with silence, alcohol, solitude and bad choices. 

My son is still so young and so alive...and deserves so much more of me than I ever seem to be able to give.  Turn down the radio in the Jeep.   Talk to him.  Leave that phone on the table.  Turn off the TV.  I repeat these things silently to myself half of the week.  Sometimes I get it right, other times I don't.  This time is short. Everyone else can wait.  I can also wait.  I tell myself this frequently when days get hard.

He senses that I am lonely lately and asks me sometimes whether I will have a wife or a husband one day. His eyes always seem bluer to me when he asks these questions.  He has been asking with increasing frequency lately.   It seems, on some days, that the color of his eyes can penetrate my soul. Why are his eyes so blue, I wonder?  I fear the day that he realizes his power over me.  When he gazes directly at me, I can't withhold any of my truths.  It feels like a punch to the gut, every time.  I always stop and look at him directly and say that I don't know, but I surely hope so.  I surely hope so.

I look around at the world, thinking that I can do this again.  Want.  Desire.  Trust.  And some days I almost convince myself that I will.  There has been a girl who taught me that my mind was beautiful and my body worthy of respect and appreciation.  She reminded me that love was patient and kind and I almost let myself fall.  Almost. Only I didn't, before it was too late.  There was a boy, cocky and brash, who reminded me that I could laugh and roar and that freedom was something worth celebrating.  He made me feel invincible and sexy.  And I almost let go, except I didn't.  And there have been others, some short lived, some continuing, who's mere words or gaze, tempt me to crack open my rusty heart, to try again. Only so far I haven't.  But I think about it. I continue to think about it.  

For now I remain scattered between noise and silence on so many things.  There is a child who relies on me to be his light and during that time, there is no room for continual darkness.  Fear and hope.  Noise and silence.