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Musings
Category

  • Death, Doughnuts, and Defecation

    Returning to my blog is kind of like coming back to an ex lover. I know I can eventually get off, but it’s gonna take work to get there. Mostly because I already know how everything can go terribly wrong.

    The month I was filming my movie was intense. My cinematographer and DP is a vampire who doesn’t sleep, so he insisted we film at sunrise because blah blah blah magic hour zzzzzzzzz. I’m the kind of lady that leisurely wakes after the last rooster has been slaughtered at my command, so I would have preferred if we just drank the blood of virgins instead.

    We got into a groove and became increasingly manic as the days went on. If we happened to have a break in the filming schedule, we would make a short film, or a music video to pass the time –we both entered into a frenzied state of hysteria. The seduction of the muse was so alluring that I think we became the bottom in a BSDM relationship with creativity.

    Retrospectively I realize that a huge part of my impulse to create is because it anchors my mind. It gives me something to think about, and having that structure helps me stay sane. When I listen to music I envision dances in my head. When I have no one to talk and nothing to distract me, I daydream about scripts I want to write and stories I want to tell. But when I don’t have anything creative going on, my mind wanders into a land of anxiety. I think about the past, conversations I wish I had, future events that will never happen, people I can’t control… Thinking about my actual life is way more boring than thinking about the made up lives of characters in my head.

    My creative drive keeps me on the road of mental stability, even though most of the things I create are mentally unstable.

    In the midst of filming my grandmother died. My mom called to tell me the news, and I realized I was eating a doughnut the moment her spirit traveled into the other dimension. It was a delicious treat, but it felt kind of strange to think that the person you owe your heritage to can die while you gingerly enjoy a yeasty delight. Then I had to continue moving forward with the filming because I had been planning it for months so what could I do? It’s kind of surreal how quickly life moves on. I was like “oh she died… and scene.”

    My grandmother had been sick and was suffering quite a bit. One of the last times I saw her she told me “I don’t want to leave the party, but I don’t like the way I am dancing.” We both agreed this was a pretty amazing metaphor, and congratulated her on her poetic phrasing. I have a lot of respect for a person who even when they are in their weakest time; they still have the strength to recognize their own epic quote. She was right though, the party will go on, but what’s the point of being there if you can’t get down?

    I don’t think it’s a tragedy when an 89-year-old person dies, yet I did feel sad. Not the kind of sad that elicits an outburst of emotion, but more a subtle sorrow. She had been my neighbor for the past 6 years so I saw her all the time. I didn’t have any regrets, or anything I wish I had said. I felt like I had closure, and genuinely learned a lot about life through her process of dying. In a way it’s a great gift to experience the end of someone’s life. It’s of course hard to watch them physically and mentally deteriorate, but at the same time I had this rare exposure to what she thought about during her final months.

    My grandmother’s mind was totally preoccupied with feelings about relationships – she had 6 kids, 9 grandchildren, 2 husbands, many friends, and a big family. She reminisced constantly, both about good times and bad, and didn’t care about much else. When we are dying I think we tend to think most about how we treated those we love. When our minds go lucid, memories of people are what will traverse our consciousness. Yes we all have ambitions, ways we distract ourselves, superficial concerns… but it’s our connection to others that will have the greatest pull in the end. The more strings you tie with care, the more your heart will feel secure as the spaces between the beats grows longer.

    The Munch would visit her great-grandmother a lot during her final months. Munch wasn’t fazed by my grandmother’s oxygen mask, the wheel chair, the fading ability to communicate, or her increasingly frail physique. Munch was lighthearted about it all, and saw my grandmother as a “legend that would always live on – like ‘My Little Pony’.” A week after the death my friend asked Munch how she felt about it. Munch just looked into her eyes for almost a full minute then said, “I didn’t want her to die.” I think we all feel that way. We knew death was going to happen, but we didn’t want it to.

    The death hung over me for the rest of the film shoot, but in a way it also protected me. I didn’t really have to process it because I was so overwhelmed with the task at hand. When the movie was done, it was like I had given birth, and lost a lot of blood. I was exhausted and all my life force had been drained out of me, but unfortunately I didn’t have any placenta to make soup out of ☹

    The crew was gone and because no one was around to film me I started to have a hard time appreciating life. Everything felt so meaningless. I would watch my daughter run through a field of wild flowers at sunset and feel so much regret that I wasn’t recording it. What was the point of this beauty if I didn’t have my camera to capture the moment!!?? Look at all these sun flares – am I just supposed to remember this perfect lighting and not show it to any one else while I edit in more reds??!!!

    I knew I was supposed to “relax” and take it easy, but it’s not relaxing for me to relax. It takes work!! I would sit outside under a shady tree and spend the entire time waiting for it to be over. It was really stressful.

    I figured I should go see my hippy healer and get some healing done. That would put my soul at ease right? And maybe that would have been a good idea, but instead my healer told me I had parasites. PS…. THAT WAS NOT WHAT I WANTED TO HEAR!! She put gave me some herbs and I left her place looking forward to shitting out worms for the next few weeks.

    I took my new age tinctures and went to bed dreading the next morning. It was a living nightmare – wondering what was going to crawl out of my anus the next day. Every bowel excretion I envisioned an army of critters having a mass exodus out my ass. I was so afraid to look… but OF COURSE I DID ANYWAY! So far it’s been two weeks and I still haven’t seen any serpents in my feces, but maybe that’s because I didn’t poke around enough.

    Look at these fucking sun flares!!!!!!! And am I seriously supposed to drive around now and not have a reflector to catch the light?

    toni abner elise family filming

    abner filming toni

    July 21, 2016 • Musings • Views: 536

  • Taking a Break to LIVE MY DREAMS

    Holy shit you guys! It’s been 6 years that I have been writing Toni Bologna!! Who would have known I had so many vagina jokes in me! I can’t believe it!

    For the first time since the birth of this baby I am going to need to take a break. I am already sad. The thought of this just gave me hives and anal leakage.

    The reason why I am taking this hiatus is because I am going try and live my dreams for a moment and make a feature film.

    Holy shit… writing that makes me feel like a crazy person who is mostly likely delusional. Hold me!

    I will be back in exactly 3 weeks. In that time here are my predictions of what is going to go down.

    1) I will think of the most amazing joke involving labia and then weep terribly for I will have no venue to express myself.
    2) Donald Trump will resign from being the republican nominee and form his own political party called “Orange You Glad I’m Gonna Take Over the World.” Bernie Sanders will lose the democratic nomination because of super duper pooper-scooper delegates and also from his own political party called “Kale Today Gone Tomorrow.”
    3) I will finally come up with the perfect metaphor involving the shedding of uterine lining and the corporate take over of the lizard elite.

    I will see you guys back in JULY!!! Please don’t forget me. The thought of you not thinking of me just disrupted my colon so deeply that I may or may not have just shat out my mouth.

    break-blog

    June 9, 2016 • Musings • Views: 890

  • Learning To Live With your Inner Demons

    If you see a bug in your house, how do you react? Do you kill it? Do you trap it and release it outside? Do you call it a monster and shame it so severely that it’s self- esteem crumbles and it commits suicide?

    I have done all of the above. There was a point where the fear of an exoskeleton was so great that I would murder it viciously with a shoe, book, or in one case a used condom – drowning it in my misery. Then I started doing yoga and became all newagey and one with the universe or whatever the fuck, and I started capturing all of god’s creatures and freeing them outside to live their destiny while gifting them with my positive intentions. Looking back on that time, I realize that it was actually the same spider that just kept coming back in over and over again.

    Now when I see a bug in my house now you know what I do? Nothing. I just acknowledge its presence and hope it doesn’t crawl into my mouth while I’m sleeping and lay eggs.

    I feel like this is all a metaphor for my personal demons. There are many ways of which I deal with, or try to cope with the darkness inside me. Yet no matter what my strategy, there are going to be insects of my self-destruction crawling around inside my consciousness. The common solution to an infestation is to have an exterminator come and bomb your house with chemicals, and maybe that is often what we do to ourselves? We often rely on substances to free us from the contamination of our thoughts. I guess all that acid I did in high school was an attempt Raid my mind? And the coke I did later… and ecstasy… and the one or two times I tried meth. YOU GET THE GIST!

    There are desperate times when I feel plague ridden with vermin, yet in my attempts to create a manageable ecosystem where my psyche is not overrun by parasites, the solution is not to kill everything in sight. The more reasonable idea is to get the numbers down.

    Bugs are part of nature’s plan no matter how gross and yucky their gnarly crunchy little bodies are, much like the shadow side of our humanity is part of our experience on planet earth. We can’t poison all the bugs without killing all of life, much like we can’t ever truly get rid of the negative thoughts and still be alive. Unless you are enlightened, chances are if you are breathing air, every one in a while your mind will come up with some shitty shit.

    I live in the country so I have to co-habitat with many bugs. Yet when I see their creepy little physiques I think how we are not that different. I force myself to accept that I can live with them because they are the physical manifestation of my journey to become an evolved person and how I will come across plenty of creepy-crawlies inside myself as well.

    Well, well, well… so we meet again.

    demons-blog-(i)

    June 1, 2016 • Musings • Views: 660

  • Is There Magic in Your Life?

    I remember times in my life where everything felt like magic. I would see signs all over the place and convince myself there was so much meaning to them – no matter how far fetched the connections “Oh look! That bird eating a Dorito means I should totally go on a trip with that dude I just met!” Coincidences would happen and I was convinced the cosmos was speaking directly to me, suggesting that my life’s quest was on the right track. I would howl to the wolf mother knowing that the universe’s intentions for me were not only deliberate, but that Gaia herself was orchestrating my existence.

    Now however… not so much.

    Maybe it’s because I’ve become older and jaded. Too many stories have happened where I believed that I was being directed towards a certain path, and I wasn’t. Everything would fall through in the last minute, and I would be left with my limp soul in my hand. I had believed so much that there was a guiding force guiding me towards something, but the outcome was never what I had expected it to be.

    I began to feel the universe was kind of cunty.

    Yet part of being in the magic of life, is being open to it.

    I don’t want to become cynical from disappointments. I’m trying to observe the world around me and fantasize how maybe reality is a construct. Perhaps I’m not only the narrator of my life, but also the architect? Maybe part of the problem is looking outside of myself for the magic, and forgetting that I am the magician.

    Quantum physics suggests that we project reality onto the world, and that the power of the observer dictates the outcome of how molecules behave. So many New Age guru types have become convinced that we can manifest our destiny through our thought patterns. I want to believe that, but I struggle because there is so much that I’ve tried really hard to “manifest through my breath” or whatever, but it just didn’t happen. Much like you don’t want to use deodorant made only of good intentions, it’s also hard to base your life philosophy of them.

    I have to believe that it’s possible, but if I am trying to convince myself to believe then isn’t already impossible?

    My plan is to really try and be aware of the world around me, and allow possibilities! But then I realized something so goddam depressing.

    IT IS REALLY HARD TO NOTICE THE MAGIC AROUND YOU WHEN WE ARE ALWAYS LOOKIG DOWN AT OUR PHONES!!!

    So often we stare at our phones to avoid boredom. Why wait in line at the grocery store and make eye contact with sexy strangers when you can just look at your Facebook feed?! If you feel uncomfortable in a social situation, or your friend leaves to go to the bathroom, instead of looking around and being open, we close ourselves off and look at our phones.

    Every time you look down at your phone you are not looking up to see the magic. You are not going to ever find signs on your screen. If we want to feel like we are living in a magical world we actually have to live in it.

    GET OFF YOUR DAMN PHONE TONI!

    toni on phone

    May 26, 2016 • Musings • Views: 444

  • In Your Mother’s Arms

    The first home you ever had was inside your mother. Of course, she eventually evicted you, but her uterus was your apartment – complete with psychedelic posters and tapestries.

    After you were birthed into to this cold dark world, her arms then became your home (assuming your mom stayed in your life). It was there that you felt safest. As a child we run into our mother’s arms for comfort, we collapse inside her hug for security. To experience this kind of embrace with your child is profound. It makes up for all the complexity of pregnancy, birth, breastfeeding, and the unique pressure women face of living up to the role as “MOTHER.” That moment when your kid melts into for solace is truly priceless.

    Yet eventually your child gets to know you more, and realizes how you damaged them in one way or another. Then the arms of the mother are no longer their salvation. There is this thing between you – the mistakes, arguments, resentment, and annoyance that your Mom is always yelling at you about using the last of the toilet paper. The purity you once felt for your mom eventually gets clouded. She is not the goddess you once perceived her to be that was the answer to all your problems, but a flawed person who is doing her best… most of the time.

    As a child you want your mom to be a function of you. You assume that she was born onto this planet solely to be there for you. But as an adult understanding motherhood I have to admit that even though The Munch is a priority – she’s not my ONLY priority. Sometimes other things are more important than her. Like wanting to dance, or be with my friends, or work, or be creative, or eating the last cookie I know she was saving.

    The relationship we have to the MOTHER is as much personal as much as it is societal. There is an image of THE MOTHER that we are all conditioned to expect from media/stories. We have a tendency to compare our mothers to the narratives we are given. When I was a kid, all I wanted was a suburban stay at home mom. They kind who knitted, did crafts, and baked cupcakes. Instead, the mother I got was ambitious, anti-conventional, and would threaten to pick me up at school wearing her Magnum Condom T-shirt.

    Even though my mom wasn’t my ideal, as a grown up I very much like her as a human. She is way more fun than the Joan Cleaver of my childhood fantasies.

    Last night my mom came to New Hampshire because her mom has been really sick. There was a scare, and we all thought that this could be the end… but as soon as my grandmother heard everyone was coming, she perked right up and went downstairs to have a roast beef sandwich. My mom and I got into bed with my grandmother that night to keep her company as she slept.

    So there we were, 3 generations of mothers all entangled in each other’s arms as my mom and whispered to each other about mothering while my grandmother snored.

    My Mom: I know I wasn’t the mother that you wanted, but I was exactly the mother that I wanted!

    Toni: Well even though there were these ways you parented that felt traumatizing in the moment, I also think those very same things I wished were different made me a stronger person. I felt abandoned as a kid because you gave me so much independence, but now I’m a really emotionally independent person – and I like that about myself. Even though I may have wished that I were coddled more, I am glad I wasn’t.

    We all tend to parent in reaction to our parenting. We become the parents we wish we had rather than the parent our kid necessarily wants.

    There are a lot of similarities in the way I parent Munch and the way I was parented by my mom, and there is a lot I do that’s in direct reaction against the way I was parented. I have to constantly remind myself that Munch is not my inner child wanting to be healed, but her own person. I have to constantly observe and adjust my approach to her, and not get lost in trying to re-imagine my past.

    I will never the exact parent Munch wants me to be, but I can at least be open to her feedback. I want to build the kind of trust where she always feels at home in my arms, and comforted by my embrace. That way I can be sure that when I am super old she will jump into my bed with her daughter and talk about me behind my back while I sleep.

    toni munch painting

    May 19, 2016 • Family Drama, Mommyhood, Parenting, Relationships • Views: 498

  • The Only Advice You Will EVER Need

    Let me give you some advice. Don’t take people’s advice.

    And don’t give advice.

    My problem is that I can’t even take my own advice about not giving people advice. I’m an advice giver! I can’t help it! When someone talks to me about a problem they have, I want to save them from whatever’s tormenting them. I want to solve their crisis because the solution seems so obvious from my outsider’s perspective. Isn’t everyone else’s life so simple compared to our own? We are too clouded with subjectivity and confused emotions to see clearly most of the time – which is why we may think we want advice – but in truth we really only want to hear what we want to hear.

    Most of the time people have no interest in taking your advice, they just want to know you care about them enough to give it. There sometimes may be the illusion that they are following your advice, but that’s usually because your advice happened to coincide with what they were going to do anyway. It’s more likely a coincidence that you thought they should do what they were already thinking of doing.

    I know all this, yet my compulsion to tell you what to do is stronger than my rationality of knowing you don’t want to know what I think. I get this from my mom, as she is the exact same way as me. Ironically every time I’m telling her about something that upsets me and she tries to give me advice… it SUPER annoys me!! Of course she’s just doing what I’m doing to everyone else, but really all I want her to do is listen to me. Yet when she is telling me her problems, all I want to do is give her advice!

    Recently I’ve started a personal habit of asking someone “do you want my advice?” when they are telling me something. At least that way they are welcome to say “not really,” and for us both to save the energy. Because when you give someone advice, isn’t it kind of insulting when they don’t do what you suggest? It’s like “why was I thinking so hard when you were going to just do what you were going to do anyway!? DO WHAT I SAY!!!!”

    I’ve also tried to notice how I feel when someone gives me advice that I don’t want to do. Do I not want to do what they are saying because they are wrong? Or because they are suggesting the RIGHT thing to do, but it’s also the harder choice, so I don’t want to do it. My practice is to force myself to follow the advice I don’t want to, because maybe they are seeing something I can’t? Maybe the advice I give my self is exactly what I shouldn’t be doing, even though the advice I give other people is exactly what they should be doing!?

    Even though advice is mostly useless, our culture is obsessed with giving it out. The problem is that there isn’t a lot of consciousness around what we do with it once we receive it. There is a whole industry around self-help: parenting advice, health advice, relationship advice, even some forms of therapy are basically just getting some therapist’s advice on how we should live our lives. In a way, it’s kind of a total waste. Most of us only truly change because of the results of our actions, not because of someone suggestions.

    Yet as I am saying all this, I am rendering myself totally insignificant! If people don’t need my advice then I will have no meaning in this world! Who would read my blog!? Who would care about me!? WAIT! Stop taking my advice about not taking my advice because I know you’re not going to anyway. Instead let me give you some advice about all the things you’d need advice about so you never have to take advice again! Unless it’s mine of course!

    Parenting advice: No matter what you do, you are going to fuck up your kid somehow. It can’t be avoided, so do what feels most right to you in the most conscious way possible, but get ready to cause some primal wounds and traumas. The only thing you can really do is preparing yourself to confront it at one point. Your kid will grow up and realize how their conditioning damaged them and if you can acknowledge their pain that you unintentionally caused, they may change your diapers when you need them to later.

    Relationship Advice: You are either going to be the object of worship, or the one doing the worshipping. Which one do you prefer? If you are being worshiped you will feel more secure but less lusty for your partner. If you are doing the worshipping you are going to feel more lusty but less secure. Pick your poison.

    Health Advice: Eat whole foods that don’t have chemicals. Cook everything you can for yourself. Move your body. Mediate. Get enough sleep. Be experimental. Investigate the emotional messages of your pains. Believe you can heal.

    Sex Advice: Don’t fake orgasms. Be honest about your desires. If you don’t like something, don’t pretend to.

    What you will learn in therapy: Your parents fucked you up and they are the root of all your problems. But they are just people who had fucked up parents who fucked them up – so be forgiving.

    advice-blog-2

    May 12, 2016 • Musings, Parenting, Relationships, Sex Stuff • Views: 524

  • My Life is Turning Out EXACTLY as Planned! How About YOU?

    I’ve always envied the type of person who knows exactly what they want out of life, and takes every logical step to achieve their goals. Say someone who wants to be a doctor. They’d study science in high school, make a conscious choice to go to a college that is acclaimed for pre med, and then spend 7+ years at medical school / a residency. After all that focused effort would then earn them a position as a doctor, and they’d maintain that career with satisfaction for the next 40+ years. You never see a doctor switching their attention mid way, and saying “I’m sick of proctology, I’m gonna do heart surgery now instead.” NO! Once a doctor commits to finger-blasting assholes for their life, that’s what they do – and they don’t question it.

    But if I’d wanted to be a doctor, this would’ve been the path I’d have taken. Study drawing in high school, go to a college that specializes in poetry, drop out of said college then attend another college that’s famous for it’s French literature program – but graduate with a degree in Confucius. I would then move to an ashram in India to write my dissertation on crowd psychology, but instead make a movie about what dirt tastes like. That would be where I would meet a contortionist who I fall madly in love with, but leave him to become a trapeze artist. After this great heartbreak of my own induction I’d get my pilot’s license, but end up driving a school bus – all the while insisting that I probably could do your brain surgery because I have been training to be a doctor after all.

    I feel like I’m one of those people that life just happens to. An opportunity arises, and I see where it takes me. If I look back at the last 20 years of my life, there have been many incarnations of the different people I have been. The model, the failed model, the sports fanatic, the philosopher, the magazine owner, the bartender, the political activist, the event planner, the businesswoman, the restaurateur, the professional skate boarder, the reality TV producer… non of which obviously took off for me.

    Why can’t I be like, “I wanna be lawyer!” and then become a lawyer? That plan is so reasonable, yet so beyond me. Or like those gymnasts in Romania who know when they are sperm that they’re going to the Olympics. When I was a kid I wanted to be a psychiatrist and I didn’t even become that. I don’t know what that says about me, but maybe it says I needed a psychiatrist!

    The best things in my life are things that I didn’t plan at all. I never wanted to be a parent, and was even told by the doctors that I could never have children because of the pituitary tumor in my brain – looks like those “doctors” should have studied Voltaire and had more affairs with circus folk am I right?! WHAT DO THEY KNOW!

    In truth I feel super corny saying Munch is the best thing in my life because I don’t mean it like you think I do. It’s not like the love I feel for her is unparalleled to anything else or she has given my life a meaning it never previously had. Of course you love your kid and they are meaningful, but I’m not hanging my relationship to my identity on her back – because she’s still pretty weak. Like she can’t even give me a shoulder ride. It’s more that every once in a while I witness her innate kindness, which is by far the most inspiring aspect of my life because her authenticity gives me hope for civilization.

    For instance the other day we were leaving my friend’s house, and I was carrying a bunch of stuff while trying to slip my socked foot into my Birkenstock. Munch observed my effort, and instead of saying “Mom, this fashion statement of socks and sandals is such a clothing crime that you might as well tattoo “I give up” on your forehead,” she instead bent down, and helped me with my shoe. I didn’t ask her to do that, but she instinctively wanted to help my struggle – not aesthetically but practically.

    I have these moments with The Munch where I am so emotionally moved by her sense of humanity. This isn’t something she was necessarily taught, but rather a natural disposition that drives her. When I am faced with these instances, I’m over come with the belief that maybe we are all going to be okay. That perhaps mankind does have a chance to evolve into beings of higher consciousness? But then I see Ted Cruz try to hold his wife’s hand, and the nihilism takes over yet again.

    The other part of my life that gives me immense joy is my dance studio. Now again, I never planned for that, it just fell into my lap and I happened to plié into it. DANCE JOKE! Amazing work their Toni. It’s not like I’m the best dancer on planet earth. Far from it! But choreographing and creating feeds my spirit body in the most profound way and I am eternally grateful for the community we have created. Without my studio there would be no reason for me to change from pajama sweatpants into my daytime dancing sweatpants – it’s my reason for getting up in the morning.

    Then there is my career – my writing / movie making ambitions. This actually is something I’m trying to plan out, but let me tell you, it’s an eternal effort with zero potential for satisfaction. Even if something good does happen, it’s only good for that brief moment until it’s not good enough anymore and I have a new goal. No matter what success I have, it is clouded by the reality that it’s such small step towards a totally insane goal. My ambitions are outlandish, and the probability is basically impossible. Yet I keep moving towards them because I can’t stop myself. Yet the insanity of this path is looming over me, and the only way to deal is by fatalistically not caring while at the same time passionately wanting.

    It’s not that my life is bad, but it also doesn’t feel within my control. Everything I desperately want I never really get, and things that I didn’t know I wanted – I do? All I know is that when I watch NOVA and see archeologists digging in dirt for 70 hours a week looking for traces of the Vikings in North America, they seem more content. Like they understood from an early age where they were heading, and went there. Or quantum physicists who talk about string theory. They just seem like there life went exactly as planned!

    Maybe I would have been better off if I’d lived my childhood dream of becoming a psychiatrist!

    What about you? Is your life turning out like you’d planned!?

    toni head back

    May 5, 2016 • Musings • Views: 652

  • Why Men Fall Asleep After Sex

    Sex is the most ancient and essential building block of life. It’s as old as time. To assume that there are rational explanations for our sexual behavior is as absurd as claiming to understand dark matter. We just don’t. We can have theories, but there is always going to be a mysterious impulse that suggests you masturbate into your neighbor’s shoes while listening to your grandmother singing “Old Macdonald.”

    Considering the fact that there are people who actually enjoy being shit on – that is enough evidence for me to know that when it comes to our sexuality, there is a LOT that can’t be explained.

    Men and women also have very different relationships to sex. For example if I were to use the date rape drug roofies, it would be so a guy wouldn’t try and have sex with me. Instead, I would just prop up his body next to me and watch Netflix – maybe use his hands to do my dishes so mine don’t get all dry.

    Yet for men, rape used to be a reward for war! Sure you would risk your life to invade this village, but if you win, feel free to rape and pillage till your hearts content!!! Rape away soldiers – that’s your prize!

    When women are in relationships and their man is always trying to touch their boobs, they get annoyed. It’s agitating when you’re focusing on chopping vegetables for a salad and someone comes up from behind and cups your tits. I would say things like “this is my body, it’s not your property!” Or “how would you feel if I kept trying to grab your penis randomly when you’re trying to wash dishes?” And he would then answer, “yes, please. Do grab my penis.”

    It’s not that men like sex more than women, they just have a different relationship to it. Yet the idea that women enjoy sex is terrifying to society. In almost every instance when there has been a case of sexual misconduct, the woman gets blamed. Monica Lewinsky is still being shamed for blowing Bill Clinton, and Hillary still called a shrew for letting it happen. Personally I think Hillary is brilliant for outsourcing BJ’s, and what 20-year old intern wouldn’t let the president of the free world finger-blast you with a cigar? That’s the best hookup story of all time.

    Remember how Janet Jackson got all the blame for Justin Timberlake showing her breast at the super bowl? Or how about most of literature? The entire plot of the Crucible, or the Scarlet letter? There are countless stories of how the scandalous woman is the culprit of what was actually a two party sexcapade.

    The only woman that ever got away with a sex scandal was Mary. Somehow she was considered virgin after getting pregnant without sleeping with her husband, which is the ultimate coup. But we also have to remember that she was 14 ad married to a guy in his 40’s, which also explains a lot.

    There is so much missed messaging when it comes to women and sexuality that it’s impossible to keep up. Shakespeare’s originally quote from Hamlet was actually “to be a slut, not be a slut – that is the question.”

    There is a myth from ancient Greece that tries to uncover what gender enjoys sex more. So a god turned himself to both a man and a woman to experience it. Teirresias the prophet was watching two snakes coupling and had a premonition that women had much more explosive orgasms then men. He was then turned into a woman so he could see for him self, and prove his theory right.

    Despite all our conditioning and culture assumptions that suggest men are the more sexual creatures and women are passive recipients, there is a lot of evidence that proves otherwise. When we look at biology, I think I agree with Teirresias’ investigation. Men have one orgasm, where women can have many.

    So this all leads to my personal theory of why men fall asleep after sex. Once he’s passed out, then the woman can go look for another guy to fuck if she’s still in the mood, or wants some stellar sperm competition going on inside her. So back in the days of early man when Crog was too tired after his orgasm, Pog could mosey on over to the other side of the cave and get it on with Cronum. And that’s evolution guys… everybody wins.

    Get out of there girl!! There is another guy who is ready to rock!

    564ceddede9d7

    April 21, 2016 • Musings, Relationships, Sex Stuff • Views: 669

  • What’s the Difference Between Reasons and Excuses?

    When I was in my 20’s I would say yes to everything. If you asked me to go somewhere with you, my answer was a resounding “YES!” I’m a people pleaser, so I didn’t want to let anyone down by saying “no.” I would commit to things I didn’t even want to do just to avoid disappointing someone. Which is probably how I ended up sleeping with a guy I wasn’t attracted to just because I wanted to go home. Funny now to think that grinding genitals with someone felt LESS awkward than just being like “So… I’m outta here.”

    There are many problems with saying “yes,” and not truly connecting to your own desires. One thing that I found myself doing was waiting until the day of some commitment, and then changing my mind about going. Other plans would be more appealing – like taking bong hits and eating 3 lunches. I would then give some excuse about why it wasn’t going to work out. I think this strategy was wayyyyy more annoying to people than saying no in the first place. I remember a good friend telling me that I flaked on her all the time, and how much it hurt her feelings.

    From that moment forward I made a promise to myself. If I said yes to something, no matter what the circumstance, I would follow through. My thinking was that if I used excuses to excuse myself, then I would keep unconsciously saying yes. But if I knew that I was going to keep my word, then I would eventually teach myself how to say no.

    This is fucking harder to do than you think! Especially when someone is like “can you come to my wedding April, 24 2019? I know I currently don’t have plans that far in the future, but come that date, I am sure there will be a thousand things I would rather do than go to your dumb wedding. I mean, celebrate the glory of your eternal love.

    Of course there are moments when you have a genuine reason that you can’t do something you said you would. I may have said I would help you move, and then can’t because hurt my back. If that is true, then it’s a reason, but if it’s a lie, it’s an excuse. PS my back actually does hurt, so no I can’t help you move anytime in the next 60 years.

    When you give someone an excuse, you still act like it’s a reason, and hope they don’t pick up on the fact that it’s actually an excuse. But energetically we all know when someone is giving you an excuse. You just feel it in your bowels.

    Which then begs the question, what is the difference between a reason and an excuse?

    An excuse makes you feel bad about yourself, where a reason makes you feel for the other person. A reason is when you authentically WANT to do something but can’t. An excuse is when you really DON’T want to do something, but don’t know how to be brutally honest and say, “I just don’t want to.” A reason is when you really can’t, an excuse is when you are choosing not to.

    Like when someone answers an email after a few weeks and starts off with “sorry to take so long, been super busy.” Okay no. President Obama has time to respond to emails if he wants. No one is that fucking busy. The truth is, you didn’t FEEL like responding because you’re subtly letting me know I’m not that important to you. YEAH I GET THE HINT!

    I think we would all be better off if when we don’t have a reason for doing something, just owning the fact that you would rather watch a documentary about people who are addicted to watching documentaries. It may make the other person feel like a non-priority to you, but maybe their not, and it’s okay for them to know that. Or you are close enough as friends to know they will be around for the rest of your life… so fuck it. Instead of coming over, I’m going to sit on my couch and not come over because that’s what I feel like doing. And I got too high and ate too many dinners.

    Sorry girl… I would hang out with you, but I would rather let my social anxiety take over instead.

    toni and bridget

    April 6, 2016 • Musings, Relationships • Views: 470