I gotta talk to you for a minute about Andrea Gibson. I’ve got talk about her, because I don’t know if I have ever, ever been so moved by the work of a single individual.

Andrea Gibson is a master of spoken word, an award winning slam poet.

“Gibson is also among the nation’s most admired and emulated poets. Her verse is at once personal and political, concrete and abstract, feminist and universal, filled with incinerating verbs and metaphor and delivered with gut-punching urgency. You can hear the ache in her soul every time she utters God’s name, and even her inhales sound desperate. It’s not uncommon for audiences to gasp at some of her turns of phrase or rise to their feet when she finishes a poem.” MATT PEIKEN

She is a woman of uncommon passion, her performances lit by an internal fire that powers her through her poems with the force of a freight train, slicing through lines with the sharpness and precision of sword. She spits her words out like bullets – hitting me right in the gut, and in the next second changes course and breaths out her message with a gentle caress that makes her words drift to my ears like leaves falling softly to the ground. Every word carefully chosen, unflinchingly delivered, cutting through bullshit and convention with the energy of someone determined to create change but also with the tenderness of someone whose heart is so big she has to hurt more than most of us. She performs with ferocity and with compassion and with so much feeling that I am left raw and exposed by the power of her honesty.

I want you to watch these videos. I want you to close your eyes and absorb her words, her passion, her activism, her fire. I want you to feel her work with every fiber of your being. I want your toes to tingle and your heart to pound and for you to feel changed by what you hear. I don’t know exactly why I’m telling you this, why I think you need instructions or set expectations. I can’t quite imagine that you could listen to these words and not do all these things. I don’t know that it is possible to be fully present and aware and NOT be wholly moved by the spirit and soul of what this woman creates in the performance of her art.

Blue Blanket
I am moved by every single piece I have heard her read, but this one – this one more than any other – brings me to my knees. It slams into me and makes my breath feel tight in my lungs and my heart thud in my chest. If you have ever been violated, if you have ever sat and held a woman who has been violated while she cried or sat in horrified numbness, then you will feel this poem with every last cell in your body and the final line will remain a part of you long after you have finished listening.

I do.
Love poem and political statement all at once, this is just one the millions of reasons why it matters that love just be love, without restrictions, or inequality or limits on who and how and why.

“i never needed more
than the stars on your grin to lead me home
for fifty years you were my favorite poem
and i’d read you every night
knowing i might never understand every word
but that was okay cause the lines of you
were the closest thing to holy i’d ever heard
you’d say this kind of love has to be a verb”

Dive
Life dosesn’t rhyme. Paradox, irony, mirrored reflections - it’s all the beautiful grey between stark black and white, it’s the ambiguous spaces between absolutes where the brilliance of life resides.

“”it’s your worst sin saving your fucking life
it’s the devil’s knife carving holes into you soul
so angels will have a place to make their way inside
life doesn’t rhyme
still life is poetry — not math
all the world’s a stage
but the stage is a meditation mat
you tilt your head back
you breathe
when your heart is broken you plant seeds in the cracks
and you pray for rain
and you teach your sons and daughters
there are sharks in the water
but the only way to survive
is to breathe deep
and dive”

Say Yes
The world needs us right now more than it ever has before…this poem is hope - empowering, uplifting hope. This poem is the life I want to live.

For Eli
This is how I feel about war – not just the one we’re in now – but every last one of them.

““one third of the homeless men in this country are veterans
and we have the nerve to Support Our Troops
with pretty yellow ribbons
while giving nothing but dirty looks to their outstretched hands
tell me what land of the free
sets free its eighteen-year-old kids into greedy war zones
hones them like missiles
then returns their bones in the middle of the night
so no one can see”

Check out this link for a few more artists

Once again, thanks to the divine MLC for pointing me directly to brilliance and inspiration.

No words needed, these videos speak for themselves.

..

***This blog post really has nothing to do with the sex scenes in this video, but still - you should enjoy them. I know I did.***

The latest episode of The L word ended with a series of particularly….um…shall we say inspiring scenes. Playing in the background was a song I’d never heard before, and the words ‘everything is perfect now’ were repeated over and over again. As often happens, the song somehow got under my skin, and so I downloaded it when I got home that night.

Everything is perfect now. Yes I thought, wouldn’t this be a perfect song to have playing in the background when everything comes together? If I were creating a movie soundtrack for life, this would play at that magical moment when the universe aligns and everything falls into place; when the sun is shining, the birds are singing and (of course) I’m getting a toe-tingling-earth-stopping kiss from the girl of my dreams. I played the song a few times and daydreamed about all those so-perfect-they-sparkle-around-the-edges potential future moments. But of course, as happy as thoughts like that are – they also create this vicious little melancholic cycle – ‘cause I’m not there yet.

When I connect with a song I often set itunes to ‘repeat one’ and let the tune play over and over and over again while I eat, write, sleep. As I do this, the music permeates my soul on a different level. It becomes part of the backdrop of my day and knits itself into the fabric of my conscious and unconscious mind.

And as I was lying in bed the next night, listening to the song for probably the hundredth time, it suddenly came to me…I had it all wrong. ‘Everything is perfect’ wasn’t about some maybe-moment in a far off future. It’s about right now. This moment. This breath. This now.

Not because my life is exactly as I want it, not because there isn’t loss or pain or confusion or fatigue or stress. Not because I’m not wishing or dreaming or yearning for things I don’t yet have. No, everything is perfect now because in this moment, everything is exactly as it should be, as it NEEDS to be, as it MUST be.

The point is not that everything is PERFECT now. It’s that everything is perfect NOW. As it is. Every blissful, joyful, transcendent, orgasmic bit of it. Every screwed up, fucked up, stressful, bewildering, heart wrenching second. Every profound and meaningful or random and pointless interaction. Every moment of bitter loneliness, and every moment of soul-connection. Every first kiss and every last goodbye. Every single emotion we are experiencing. It’s all perfect because it is what IS. Because what IS is exactly what needs to be. What has happened is exactly what needed to happen to get us here, and where we are is exactly where we need to be right now in order to move forward.

And what could be more perfect than that?

My spirituality has evolved considerably in recent years, and the core of my belief system is grounded in a soul-deep understanding of universal energy. That every person, thought, word, deed, object, circumstance, event and place is created from, composed of and guided by this energy. Some of you call this energy God/dess, or fate or karma or destiny or the source, but I believe with my whole heart that we’re ultimately all talking about the same thing. It’s that force that is beyond us and outside of us, but that is also deep within us and, indeed, is us.

I believe this energy to be infinitely wise and undeniably powerful. The times we get ourselves into the worst messes are the ones where we are fighting this energy with everything we have. Unwilling or unable to surrender, to let go, to relinquish control, we fail to accept and embrace. We are unable to exist from a center of gratitude and abundance. We struggle and doubt and wallow in self-pity because we are focusing outside the moment, beyond our reality. We forget that everything is perfect now.

The inimitable Jen Lemen recently interviewed “Momma Zen” author Karen Maezen Miller, and asked her the following question: “When do you feel most happy?”

Miller’s response was a perfect example of profound simplicity…”Now. What other time could there possibly be?”

Now is the only moment that truly exists. It might sound naively simplistic or annoyingly zen – but it is true. What is done is done, and what will be will, ultimately, be - but when it comes right down to it, now is where it’s at. Now is where we are. Now is all we have. Now is all there is.

Of course there are days when I want to pull up the covers and hide in bed, and days when I want run from demons relentlessly chasing me. There will be moments where I’m pissed and stressed and angry at the universe because things are not going according to my plan. I will still struggle, and I will still fall and I will exist in a place that is the very antithesis of enlightenment. When I’m in that space NOW feels as far from perfect as I can possibly imagine. But in those moments I just have to remind myself to come back to the moment, back to my breath, back to my own, personal, undeniable NOW and re-center myself around what is, and not what I would like to be. And as I give myself permission to relax into this, to believe this, to know this as truth, I am filled with peace, serenity, gratitude and joy.

Yes, it’s true. Everything is perfect now. How could it not be?

ellen page ranks right up there with pink in my ‘i sure as hell hope so’ category….

This is not an ode to any one particular woman, but to all women who love women. Enjoy.

[This is what I listened to while I wrote this, so of course I think you should listen to it while you read it. One of the sexiest songs ever.]

there is something
about a woman

something about the way
my hand slides
along the smooth curve between
her ribs and her hips
and settles along her waist
and curves around to the small of
her back
to pull her closer

something about the way
our lips meet
and pull away
and electricity pulses
and our eyes connect
to share a million secrets
and hands become entangled in hair
and bodies fit against one another
like pieces of a puzzle

something about the softness
and the firmness
and the perfect alignment
of parts
and about that magic spot
right
on the inside of
her hip bone

there is something about the
familiarity
of intimately knowing what
and where and how
and why
it all works
and that, in our shared feminine experience
there is undeniable connection

something about the
the way we meet as equals
and the safety of
exploration
and the vulnerability of
opening
and the freedom of
surrendering
and the bliss of
coming back to earth in
her arms

something about the feel of her arms and legs
intertwined with mine.
and the sound of her
voice in my ear
husky with desire
like the wind, or the waves
or a lullaby
before falling asleep.

there is something about
the way my body reacts
whole, instantaneous
passion awakened
need overtaking
and spiraling
and roaring
in my ears, in my heart
and in my very soul
till I am dizzy with my yearning for
her

and, oh yes
there is something about
the way friction becomes
something far more exquisite
than I ever fathomed when I was
sitting in physics class.

and there is certainly something
about the heat and the sweat
and the sound of her ecstasy
as she climbs and crashes
and the way she moves
inside of me
and of reaching down to feel
the slickness and wetness
of our desires
mingling together
and the almost unbearable
sweetness of the rhythm of moving
as one
and the scent of her on me
surprising me when I least
expect it.

something about the way there
is no ending or beginning
just the endless experience of
being
something about the stopping and starting
and whispering and laughing
and traveling to the edge,
and back
and back again.

yes.
There is something about a woman.

Another Sunday night, another episode of L word.

This week started off on a good note when my new friend M (I told her this week she’s my L-word bitch) walked in the room and, as threatened, I jumped up on the couch and yelled out…

“You messed with the wrong bitch, bitch”

‘Cause like I told you, I’m crazy cool like that. And I’m sure that everyone else at the bar agrees completely….me, totally cool. Obviously, yes.

After that kind of kick-off, only good things can happen, right?

Okay, I’m not going to recap in chronological order, because I’m a little spacey and fragmented today (just today mind you, I am normally a highly concentrated individual with a sharply focused mind).

Most important development: Bette and Tina.
Oh.My.God. Bette and Tina. Tina and Bette. Bette getting topped by a newly aggressive Tina. Oh.My.Hot.

I’ve never been a huge Tibette fan, but you’ve got to admit those two have chemistry. After five seasons, I think we’re all just rooting for them to make it. Their sex scenes have always been undeniably fabulous (the scene where they were baby-making, and the crazy wild sex after Tina found out about Candace for instance…need I say more?)

But this week….Um Yeah. Just watch, is all I ask. Even you straight girls out there. Just watch.

[…as an aside, watching the L word when you’re ovulating but don’t have anyone to have sex with is dangerous. At one point during one of the above scenes my cell phone vibrated in my pocket, and I seriously thought I was going to have to leave the bar and find a way to relieve some tension. Ask J…I’m a quivering ball of sexual energy right now. Seriously…]

Okay, on to Jenny.
Confession Number One: I might lose some credibility by admitting this, but I think that the more outrageous Jenny gets, the more she grows on me - in a hate-to-love-her/love-to-hate-her kind of way. She’s utterly ridiculous and utterly delicious all at once. She annoys me and amuses the hell out of me at the same time – and I rather like that in a girl. (but seriously, those nails have to go. What lesbian has nails like that?).

There were many brilliant Jenny moments this episode, but the opening scene takes the cake. Jenny is directing the actresses playing Bev and Nina in Lez Girls in the scene from season one where Nina tells Bev (or Tina tells Bette) that she is ovulating. The two actresses playing Bev and Nina are clearly straight girls, and totally awkward and uncomfortable. Jenny, with that perfect look of calculated arrogance and studied ennui, is attempting to explain how the sex scene should go…*

Jenny: “This is what I want you to do — you are going to look at her — and you’re going to TAKE HER — and you’re going to THROW HER UP AGAINST THE SINK — BAM! And you’re going to look at her with passion and then you’re gonna and you’re going to take her, and you’re going to kiss her — with tongue. And then I want you to reach down and then I want you to finger fuck her and give her the best fucking orgasm EVER…”
Bev: “Oh — you mean — with my hand?”
Jenny: “Yeah … unless you have some other apperatti that i don’t know about?” …

I’m crazy impressed that they managed to work the word apperatti in there – because seriously, every sex scene needs some apperatti, right? It gets even better when Jenny tells them she’s going to hire a lesbian sex coach so they can learn to get it right. A lesbian sex coach. I love it, I love it, I love it.

Jenny: “You guys really don’t know how to fuck women, do you? You guys are going to learn how to fuck…”

She Bar Bitches
Confession Number Two: I am rather ashamed to admit this, but I kinda think that Dumbo is hot. Sure she’s a bitch, and her put-on ghetto-fied speech and mannerisms are aggravating as hell. But just to look at. Um yeah. Hot.

Lover Cindy though, I could do without. The loyal sidekick with her perfectly coiffed blonde waves and utterly vapid stare…ugh. Annoying. Automatic Straddle got it totally right when she called her Disco Barbie. Shane, however, gets props for trying to make amends, very adult of her. Shane’s hair though, needs some assistance.

Oh – who am I kidding. I’m as hot for Shane as anyone. Who cares if she has stupid hair, really. I can get past it.

Best quote of the scene:
Dembo: “What can’t you do Shane…other than make my girlfriend come?”

Seriously? Lover Cindy was unsatisfied by her encounter with (um…cheesy seduction of) Shane? Highly doubtful.

The scene was made for me, however, by the Peach Pit reference. For a girl who went to high school in the early 90’s, 90210 references can only make a good show even better. Come on, didn’t you ever hope Brenda and Kelly would get it on in the Peach Pit bathroom?

Oh, and how many times can Dumbo say “It’s On”. Really?

Alice and Tasha.
Deep sigh, sniff, sniff.

As my new girl M. said (with a slight hint of panic) during the scene:
“Where are you going Tasha? Where is she going? Is she going?”

I refuse to believe that this is it for Alice and Tasha, because anyone can see that they are perfect for one another. And Tasha has to stay on the show, because otherwise who would I swoon over? Because her cheekbones and her eyes and her smooth creamy skin and her smile and her beautiful flat stomach and those strong arms and…

Oh wait a minute –where was I?

Oh yeah.

Don’t go Tasha. Please don’t go. Didn’t you see Alice crying in bed? She is broken-hearted without you, and I know that beneath your tough exterior you are broken-hearted without her. You two are meant to be together, and besides, I have a serious need to watch you have sex again. So come back Tasha. I’m begging now. Don’t let me down.

Clothing:
All I have to say is Jenny and Tina – get some new clothes. Now, please. Those boots, Jenny? That bow, Tina? All those puffy shirts and strange dresses. Really? Yikes. Life is too short to dress that badly.

Alice gets a little more leeway to wear somewhat odd outfits, ‘cause she’s Alice, and she’s so dang cute I could never judge her for anything. But Jenny and Tina, you’re not anywhere near that adorable, and I have to hold you to higher standards.

Look at Bette, the girl has got it going on. She rocks her power lesbian wardrobe, and the lady can work a white tank top like nobody’s business. Shane has a look that works for her too (that black see-through shirt. Whew. It got to me. See ovulation comment above), but you two are struggling. Once Adele (see below) starts dressing better than you, you know you’re in trouble. Just try a little harder, is that too much to ask?

Adele:
I love to say I told you so, so I’ll say I told you so. That girl is trouble. Now that’s she’s gotten her Jennified ‘What Not To Wear’ makeover and has gone all Single White Female on us the storyline is beginning to take shape. I’m starting to get an idea where this is going, and I don’t like it one little bit. At least Max seems just as wise her tricks as I am – and I’m feeling fairly confident that he’s going to take care of business. You go Max, watch out for my girl Jenny - she’s a little clueless on her own, no?

Final Miscellaneous Comments:
I loved Phyllis’ comment that she didn’t want her daughter to think she was a ‘debauched promiscuous lesbian’. I get where she’s coming from, I mean I don’t want my daughter to think that either. But honestly, is there anything wrong with being a debauched promiscuous lesbian? I want to know; because there is a slight chance I might consider becoming one, at least if this ovulation business goes on much longer.

My other favorite line was the bit about the faux-protesters (lead by Dumbo herself) saying that they didn’t want their neighborhood “portrayed as a hotbed of lesbian sex and salaciousness”. Dumbo’s personal vendetta aside, all I can think is, damn – I wish my neighborhood was a hotbed of lesbian sex and salaciousness. Right?

And next week – lesbian Turkish oil wrestling…

Hells yea.

It’s On!

*Credit for the scene goes to Automatic Straddle. The best (and funniest) L word recaps on the web.

…this time it’s my dear MLC who shared a video that I had to steal and post over here.

I’m a fan of the Colbert Report any day, but this is especially amusing. Love it!

Anyone watch the L word last night? J. and I went a local bar that shows the episodes on the big screen every Sunday night. I think this is going to be a weekly date for us, so much fun to watch with a bunch of lesbians yelling at the screen! Gay girls take this show personally and rather seriously, it seems.

I loved last weeks episode – when Bette and Tina kissed you should have heard the place break out in cheers, and Alice and Tasha…be still, my beating heart. Unfortunately, this week was kind of lackluster. As J kept saying “too much talking, too much talking…why all the talking?”

As if we watch for the dialogue! Please.

Still, the whole pot brownie, lip syncing scene that ended with Dawn Dembo (LA’s fictional lesbian scene’s newest answer to the Wicked Witch of the West) yanking the cord out of the stereo and yelling Shane….now that was priceless.

“You messed with the wrong bitch, bitch!”

Aside from the sex scenes (which were actually rather uninspiring this week), lines like THAT would be why I watch the L word. I so want to find a real life situation where I can use that line. Seriously. Just to be cool like that. ‘Cause I could pull it off, I’m sure.

I could have done without the male full frontal shot. (wow, could I ever have done without that) and really, I could have definitely lived without watching Jenny having sex with ANYONE (who are they kidding with those nails. ouch). And what is with Dumbo’s ditsy girlfriend, with her fake boobs and one piece demin shortall jumpsuit? Not cute. Surely Shane can do better…

Still, the promise of more Tibette in the future, the way things are heating up with Tasha’s situation, and the fact that I’m very curious to see what happens with Adelle (she cannot be trusted, I predicted that from the beginning) means that there is still much to look forward to this season.

And, in news unrelated to the L word – there was a very, very attractive soft butch at the bar last night. She seemed to be a friend of A (my first kiss, think I will write more about her soon) and so I asked if she was single. Apparently A. has a big mouth, because she told her I was asking – and M (that would be the butch girl) asked A to arrange a hang out. My goodness, it seems my social calendar just might be filling up…

Nice!

I found this video today (on the girl’s myspace page – she added me as a friend - good sign, yes?) and had to share it. It seems rather cliché to say I saw the story of my life in the youtube version of a Shel Silverstein book, but I imagine that is part of the appeal– we can all recognize ourselves and our journeys in the simple line drawings and quietly powerful message.

The missing piece. That was me through my teens and twenties. Searching, seeking - always desperate to find the thing that would complete me. Not just in relationships, because that yearning didn’t go away with my marriage. Not just in my life passions, because it didn’t disappear when I discovered my birth work and photography. Not just in my need for friendships and community, for not even with the creation of those bonds did the constant feeling of seeking and searching ever totally relinquish the hold it had on me. I would often think I had found *it*, that magical piece that would quiet the yearning – and then I would get frustrated life changed (or I changed, or they changed) and things no longer fit quite right.

It’s only in the past six months, in discovering and owning MYSELF that I have found I am no longer looking for the missing piece. In finding the strength to say “This is who I am, and I’m finally willing to risk everything to live my life with authenticity.” Not by changing who I am, but by BECOMING myself.

I’m still very much in the “lift…pull…flop…” phase – but I can feel it now, that my edges are beginning to wear down. My journey is getting smoother, and I’m learning how to roll. On my own. I’m also learning that it’s okay if I want someone to roll with – a friend, a dance partner, a date, someone who might become something more at some undetermined point in the future. It’s even okay if I want to roll with a few pieces at the same time, or if I get different things from different pieces of my life. It’s okay, because this is all part of figuring out what shape I will ultimately take.

I don’t feel any longer like there is any one person or thing that will complete me – because I am learning, slowly but surely, that I complete myself. And that, my friends, feels very good indeed.

So, I wasn’t looking. Nope. I swear I wasn’t. Holding the space, working on my own personal development, defining my new existence. All that good stuff. I’m solid and standing strong on my own. Yup.

[You’re a smart group of folks. Pretty damn sharp from what I’ve been able to reckon thus far. Not much gets past ya’ll. Can you guess where this is going? If you’re the betting type, I can hook you up with a good bookie…]

Last night I went out with J, and let me tell you – we had an utterly fabulous time. We hit the country bar again, and I two-stepped with some great dancers (the difference between tripping over my feet like an idiot and working the floor like a pro, I have discovered, is choosing a partner who really knows how to lead. A strong lead makes all the difference in the world). I even tried a little line dancing (Tush Push anyone?). I’m pretty sure I looked like a complete ass, but at least I was as ass who was having fun.

[Here, let me hook you up with some music to set the mood for the story. Every good tale needs a soundtrack…]

I know, I know, it sounds cheesy as hell (and lets be real, it absolutely is) but I always have a good time at this place. It’s low pressure, completely unpretentious, great random mix of people and pretty chill, without that sleazy bar feeling. Besides, I think that (much to my surprise) I’m developing a liking for girls with big belt buckles and cowbody hats. What’s not to like about that?

So, there was a girl there, but I bet you already knew there would be, because – like I said– you’re smart like that.

[Of course, being that it was a lesbian bar, and that I set up the story fairly well, I suppose it was a pretty safe bet…]

Yes indeed, there was a girl.

I actually met her a few weeks ago, and liked her immediately – but it was just a few days after things went down (or downhill, perhaps I should say?) with e. I was quietly hoping she would be there last night, and actually got a little jolt of excitement when I saw her.

[Her name begins with S, but since there is already an S. who features rather prominently in this blog, I’ll just call her ‘the girl’]

We chatted a bit, and danced once I think– and then J. danced with her. When my dear friend got off the dance floor she looked at me sheepishly drunkenly and confessed that she might have accidentally purposely told the girl that I thought she was hot. Apparently the girl said that she thought I was hella cute, and J. (dear friend that she is) told her that I was also hella single. She responded that she was also hella single….and with that helpful lead-in there was eye contact, and smiles and more great dancing and conversation.

And she kinda asked me out, and I kinda asked her out, and we exchanged the all important myspace page info and let me tell you, I was a little giddy. It was fun to feel that way – things with e. began with intensity and ended with intensity and there was no lighthearted giddiness to be found at any point. This was a reminder of how fun and totally without pressure or seriousness the very beginning of anything can be.

After the bar closed J (on the power of three jagerbombers, damn Red Bull) decided she wasn’t ready to go home. There was a brief discussion of after hours dancing at a gay boy country bar, but ultimately we all decided to head to Gay Denny’s to get our grease fix (yes indeed, we have a Gay Denny’s – or Jenny’s as it’s called by those in the know). Everyone should have a Gay Denny’s.

All was well until J started talking about her children, and I mentioned that I have kids as well. And maybe I’m being paranoid, but I think I felt a shift in her attitude. I might have been totally imagining things, and I hope I was.

For the first time I really started to consider the fact that my kids might be an issue for me and some of the women I would like to date. They certainly became an issue for e. in the end – and I’m sure it won’t be the last time the fact that I am a mother affects my dating potential.

Let’s be honest, if my children are an issue – what of my entire situation….

“Hi, I’m Jen. Not only do I have two young children who take up much of my time and energy, but until six months ago I was still pretending to be straight as an arrow. I’ve kissed just two women, and only slept with one in an utterly drama filled quasi-relationship that just ended on a bad note– but what I lack in experience I promise I make up for with enthusiasm. Yes siree. I’m enthusiastic. Oh yes, you should know that I still live with my husband. Not my ex-husband – we’re still totally and completely married and likely to stay that way for a while because I currently don’t have a visa that will allow me to stay in the country if we divorce. But don’t worry – we don’t share a bedroom…anymore. That was so last month. We’re just like roommates, except we had sex for 11 years and made two babies together. Oh…before I forget, I don’t actually have a job, or any source of income – and once I’m sugar daddy stops supporting me, I’m pretty much up shit creek….”

Clearly, I’m a real baggage-free catch. What woman wouldn’t want me?

But I think maybe I could like this girl. She’s cute as hell. She has a great smile and kind eyes. She’s an amazing dancer. Her favorite book is Dostoevsky’s The Idiot. She loves poetry. Her skin is amazingly soft. I don’t usually react to people that quickly – but I had butterflies when I first met her, I had major butterflies last night, and I have butterflies today wondering if she’ll still call.

Obviously, if a woman is turned off by the very fact that I have children, she’s clearly not the woman for me. I am not wholly defined by my children, or by my role as their mother. I am a strong, intelligent, bold, funny, talented woman with so much to offer to a relationship – but my children (and my past) are a part of the package. I know this, and the people I am really meant to date will recognize this as well.

At the very least I think I’ve met someone who could be a fun friend, and a kick-ass dance partner, but I’m hoping I get the chance to see if it might be a little something more.

I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.*

*On that note. God - I can’t believe I’m dating again. I last dated when I was 21. 21 years old, people. I was a babe in the woods. And I was dating boys. I’m 32 now. That was a LONG time ago and this is a whole new world, and we’re talking about a really cute girl here. I don’t remember how to do this. When do I call? Do I wait for her to call? Will she call? Shit. I think I’m too old for this craziness.