I Died At 40 and My Pubic Hairs Are Gray

When I was in my 20s, I had the energy of a teenager. I was on fire! I was beginning my career, I was enjoying life, I was head-over-heels in love, I had spiritual peace and I found strength being a mom. I learned a lot through the daily hustle and bustle of keeping up with my children, teaching them new things, watching them learn about life and the world around them, "listening" to them grow. I was fortified.

In my 30s, I still had the energy of a 20-year old. I was back in school, still learning, still teaching my children, still loving love and confronting my spiritual views. I got a kick out of being the "oldest" student in my class, but instead of feeling out of place, I felt empowered, capable. My classmates enjoyed learning from me. They wanted to hear what I had to say because my knowledge flowed. My professors enjoyed the challenge from me. I became a dancer again.

I didn't want to change the world, but I was determined to get the world to open their eyes and think, one magazine article at a time. My mind was reeling with ideas and invention. Between the kids' nap time and dinner time, I developed strategies to make them all a reality. I also cooked, cleaned, did laundry, dusted, vacuumed, had sex, wrote, had more sex, picked up toys, read to the kids, got them bathed and into bed, then had more sex before I wrote one final time.

Living was great! Sex was priority. Several times a day, unthinkable times a week. I was in my bubble with the people and things around me, within me that I love, fulfilling me. I was proud to be a stay-at-home/work-from-home mom. I practiced until I learned how to be a devoted mate. I developed.

I noticed the first gray pubic hair when I was 33. I found it amusing. It was an indication that I was maturing. I was arriving! If I could have worn pants with the crouch out to show the world I'm a mature woman, I would have. It was exciting. It was my right of passage; my badge of honor. It was sensually revealing. It was like wearing that one earring that screamed, "I'm different; mysterious." So I walked around smiling all the time. Brilliant.

By 37, there was a small patch. I thought it was cool. Eclectic. So, I got a bunch of meaningful tattoos on my body. I was looking for and finding my natural, eccentric self. I was rad. I stopped getting perms and continued my vegetarian lifestyle, inventing and creating wonderful, scrumptuously, palet-pleasing dishes. I took naturalism to the next level. No pills, no traditional doctors. No insurance. Just me, nature, healthy foods, my naturopath, herbs, natural remedies, wholesome sex and an all around healthy lifestyle.

I lost 50 lbs. by walking and doing 200 jumping jacks, 3 times a day. My energy level was amazing! I was a teenager again. I found Green so my kids and I walked to the grocery store instead of driving. We played outside, went swimming often, we turned cartwheels. We danced. We had wonderful conversations. I was the cheermom for my daughter and the team mom for my son, and I was preparing to send one off to college. We were busy. I checked my patch of gray pubic hair often throughout the day to remind myself that I'm every woman.

I had sex outside on a blanket when it was chilly with just us and the moon. I had sex in the car right outside my door. I had sex at the club when everyone was gone. I wore tastefully revealing clothes, walked with my head a little higher and my career was at its peak. I glowed.

But somewhere between 38 and 40, I guess I stopped looking at my gray patch, because now, there is no black and I have no life. I'm dead.

At 40, I wake up with no purpose; I go to bed with no plan. My mind has the energy of a 20-year old, still. But my body..it just does nothing. There's no sign of life. This is not what I envisioned 40 to be. I always synonymated myself with the likes of Janet Jackson, Mary J. or Halle. The looks, the energy, the success: getting it in at 40 like Beyonce at 27. They problem is, they are. I'm not.

I'm not sure what happened. Most days it feels like I'm walking backwards, away from civilization into a cocoon. The wind currents are taking me back fast. I'm in "Nightmare on Elm Street" because I want to wake up, but I can't open my eyes. They're glued shut. I can't get a grip.

The dreams are still there, but the plans to make them reality are a blur. There's no energy to sort them out. I don't know where to start; how to start. I'm out of sync. I'm off-balance. I'm mortified.

My kids are just humans now. While I still enjoy watching them grow, I find it quite silly that they're going one way one minute, then like a flash of light, they morph toward something strange, different. Odd, I guess. But I'm sure my parents felt the same way about me. Probably still do. They definitely still do.

As one of the most romantic, sensual, sexual people that I think I know, my sex life no longer exists. Strangely though, this part just ceased fire over the past few months--well into my 40th year. So something must be up there. There's no more affection. No more cuddling. No more consideration. Just seems like obligation. Or habit.

Maybe that's an indicator that the relationship is over after all these years. Maybe it was only supposed to last from babies to college. Or could it be that the 60 pounds I gained, the full-blown gray pubic area and my natural d0 is not that appealing. Who the hell knows? Do I even have the energy to care?

I guess I should since my energy is not spent on anything else. I'm not sure, but I don't think I'm cooking, cleaning, socializing or hoping anymore. I'm just not sure. Although...I have to be eating and doing something: I'm fat, my house is not too shabby and I catch a movie once or twice a year. That's social. Right?

My career is...laughable, at best. My life is a rhombus. People are passing me by. Life is passing me by. Success. is. passing. me. by. My brother says I'm like Jay-Z. Great for 40. That is amusing.

I'm not real sure how to tame this nothingness that I've become. I want to, but..but what? I'm out of sorts. And if one person tells me to turn to God again, I'm going to scream! God and I are out-of-sync, right now. He knows it. I know it. The solution is not turning to Him. He's still right there. He's letting me do it. So spare me. Or not. Maybe the right person hasn't given the right advice. I think I go for the profound before I move.

I just have to be still right now because I'm searching for something and I won't know what that is until I find it. Hinduism fascinates me. Buddhism intrigues me. Scientology scares me. Kabbalahism impresses me, then pisses me off. So I'll keep studying.

But for now. I'm dead and my pubic hairs are ALL still gray. Maybe I should just cut them off. Maybe I should just stop looking. They're no longer my muse.

But I will rise again.

Or not. It just sounds dramatic; climatic. I probably won't though.

...until next time.

WTH?! IM LOL @ MY DAP: Teens & Technology

What the hell?! I'm laughing out loud at my dumb ass parents.

With technology wrapped securely in peer pressure, cyber-sex, communicating and conniving is extremely easy for teenagers today. As parents, we can guide and teach our children to do right from wrong, but it's challenging when you're up against technology to raise teenagers these days. We can shelter and mold, but eventually, your teens will go "outside." And when they do, let' hope the safety shields we've erected around them don't break.

During my generation as a teen, our parents thought it was hard to raise us. There were no cell phones, iPhones, iPods or any of the other techology that's available to teenages today. But somehow, my parents always managed to find out what I had going on.

It was that damn village! You know the village: "the one that it takes to raise one child." Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Taylor. Yes. That one. No matter where I went, by the time I got home, my mom and dad knew of my every move. Prying eyes made it extremely difficult to even think about kissing, let alone having sex.

I begin to take notice of the realness of technology when, on one ocassion, I took my daughter's phone thinking I was punishing her by temporarily cutting off her connection to "her world," but soon enough I realized it didn't matter. There are so many other ways to "stay connected."

You can text on the iTouch and on a Wii. At school, although they claim to install filters and blocks, social networking sites, IM, e-mail and chat technology are accessible because teenagers know how to "back door" their way around the filters. Note: additionally, schools are becoming so Web-based that failing is almost a guarantee without liberal access to most areas on the Web!

Then there's dating by way of technology. (Dating? I call it fucking.) When I was in school, love notes went something like this: "Do you like me?" And at the bottom, the Yes or No check box would glare at you like the sun on ice. Today, MMS, social sites and Web cams makes it too easy to show a guy or a girl what you have to offer before they decide to give away their "cookies."

Monitoring your cell phone bill to keep track of who and what they text is no help. Sites like Text4free and other online phone systems help them out with that! You can turn off the radio and TV, but they can get movies and radio on phones, computers and iPods. And forget about when they go to school and use their friends' phones and pods too!

For now, it's an uphill battle. The best methods I've found so far is to spend as much time with them as you can and expose them to more positive things and culture. We take our teens' phones at night. After school, they go off between 5 p.m. and 8 p.m. to make time for homework, family time and chores, then back off and in our room by 11 p.m. for the youngest and Midnight for the oldest.

Lucky charms, meditation and prayers to you parents!

PS-relying on that village is gone. Try to call a parent about their kid these days and the parents will come after you! Beat your kid and the cops come after you! *Sigh*

Until next time...

The Writer's Way Pt. 2

Follow the Rules or Else

I'm having a hard time processing this whole "friends and family writing is free" theme that is trying to rob me of my livlihood.

I'm not sure whether my friends and family think because I'm a professional writer I'm obligated to write for them for free as their "hook up." Or worse, if they just don't respect what I do because I'm not a clock puncher, and don't take my career seriously.

Regardless, if you have a writer friend or family member, here are some etiquette, rules, guidelines and/or procedures that can help you remain respectful of the writing process:

1. Writing is our career. Please do not ask a professional writer to write for free. Writing is our business. Consider: would you go to work and work for free? Probably not, so please don't expect us to. Instead, tell them your budget up front and work out a payment plan.

2. Respect our time. Self-employed people wear many hats: bookkeeper, sales person, collections agency, project manager--on top of having to do the work you're designed to do. So, while it may seem that working from home or having your own office is easy, it's not. So please, hold the sighs and sarcasm when we say, "we can't."

Rule of thumb: An organized writer will have their day planned out and shouldn't have a whole lot of time to do work for other people, and especially for free. (Writers, if you do have loads of free time, something's off. There's always opportunity for business building and marketing.)

3. Be understanding. There's simply not a lot of productivity in social networking media if you're not promoting yourself or your work. So if we don't e-mail, text, chat, Facebook, Tweet or MySpace back immediately, please understand that we're probably checking business e-mails or sending out business-building messages to generate business that will ultimately pay our bills.

There. See? That's not so bad is it? There's only three rules. Follow.

The Writer's Way Pt. 1

Just Say No

Recently, I found my "To Do" list filled with time-consuming writing projects that I was not getting paid to write. Suddenly, the majority of the work I did was for a friend or family member--free! And because I'm a self-subscribed perfectionist, whether I'm writing for free or charging, I tackle all assignments like I'm getting paid.

Writers, you know the drill: you sweat bullets because you find yourself staring at a blank page for hours; you hear time ticking away really loud while the rest of the world is in suspended animation except your clock, and finally you question your ability as a writer when you've suddenly let the deadline sneak upon you which means you'll have to pull an all-nighter, only to realize you had another day.

I'm not sure how I let it get so out of control, but things had become so miserable, I'd started avoiding calls from everyone I know. Instead, I welcomed "Unknown" calls because I struggled with telling people no. I knew that I had to find a solution when a friend insisted I write her blog for her on a weekly basis for free! WTF?!

I was too out done. So here's what I did. I created a few "sound bites" that I've rehearsed and belt out like an automated operator whenever someone asks me to work for free. They go like this:

1. Sure I can do your resume! I only charge $[insert rate] and I can have it to you within two days. You can even pay on my Web site!

2. Of course I'll help with that essay. I usually charge $[insert rate] for essays, but for you, I'll only charge $[insert discounted rate].

I lost quite a bit of my "clientele" after that, but I was no longer stressed. Now I know that when I sit down to write for someone, PayPal will notify me that "You Have Received New Funds!"

Rihanna: A Good Girl Gone Badass? Or Bad Ass Girl Gone Worse?

She's stunning. Beautiful. Breathtaking even. Powerful. And let's not forget talented.

The thing that bothers me though is Rihanna is a walking oxymoron.

She goes on a national news program to talk about having ended her relationship with Chris Brown because of the profound message that staying with him would send to young girls that look up to her.

Yet, she appears to dispel everything that America has been trying to teach young girls and boys since the beginning of time about education, success, image, sex and most of all...grace.

She did not graduate from high school because as she says she got too busy for school (it shows in many of her responses, by-the-way); she has tattoos of guns on her body promoting violence or a violent notion; she's using her nakedness to promote her..image..album (??), and she claims to want the "Chris Brown" thing behind her, yet she reopens the wound by slandering a man on national television who had already been "beaten" by public criticism.

It seems like Rihanna's toying with the notion of being an example to young girls as a publicity stunt to boost her image (whatever that is) and sales, and it appears to be working. So if that's her idea of being an example to young girls, she needs to think again.

She neesd to quit using her night of abuse as a free pass to be irresponsible in hopes that your fans and the public will take pity and cry, "Oh, look what she's resorted to as a result of Chris Brown beating her." If she doesn't, young girls all over the world will indulge themselves in anti-social behaviors, then cry, "my situation is a result of my actions" when they come under fire for them.

From domestic abuse and drugs, to teen parenting and illiteracy, and as a topper, the economy, anti-social behaviors among teens is too big of an epidemic to toy with for personal or professional gain.

Call to Action: Rihanna, if you're sincerely concerned about the integrity of young girls, why not create opportunities to show them how sexy success looks fully clothed. It's doable.

...but wait. Did she mention what kind of an example she wanted to be? Did she say positive? Wait..gotta go re-read the Diane Sawyer transcript.

Thanks for spending time with me!

If you have any topic suggestions or topics you'd like me to research and blog about, please e-mail me at thawriter@thawriter.biz.



Until next time...

So You Want to Write and Publish a Book...Can You?

Lately, it seems like a lot of people want to write a book, or are looking for someone to pen what they believe is the most brilliant book ever. If you're either one of these people, let's chat.

So, you want to write?

Have you ever had your writing published? And not necessarily traditionally. I mean do you blog frequently? Have you ever published a newsletter? Have you ever written short stories or poems that you've shared with others for critique?

If the answer is no, how do you know if you're qualified to write a book? How do you know you're a good storyteller or that your story is a good one to be told? There is the rare occasion where some people just know. I was one of those people. I don't write well because I've had formal writing training. I write well because I can. But not everyone does. And that's what you need to find out.

Start by writing something and having it critiqued by someone other than family and friends. Family and friends always want what's best for you and usually offer encouragement and support instead of honest feedback. Instead, join a writers or critique group and/or attend writers workshops and conferences to get honest feedback on your writing.

Worried about being embarrassed? Think about this: would you rather other writers like you embarrass you with the truth so you can improve, or would you rather invest your time and money to be published, only to get the ultimate embarrassment: no one buys your book?

So you want to hire a writer?

Why would I (meaning readers) care about your story? Be prepared with a good answer to that question because it's exactly what a professional writer is going to ask--if he or she is good.

Many people believe their story is a good one; it may be. But before you try to publish, find out if 1-the story has already been told, and 2-what will move me about your story?

For example, if you're a cancer survivor and I am too, why would I want to read your story? I already know it. I know all you had to endure and/or sacrifice. Or, if you're a cancer survivor and I lost a love one to cancer, do I really want to hear about your triumph when I lost so much?

You have to make sure that your story stands out. What is your "X" factor? How can you write a story more unique than the next story just like it? Will your story affect me? Move me? Impact me? Shock me? Scare me? Encourage me? And if either, why or how?

If you can't find these elements, you may need to simply journal or keep a diary.

When you've answered all these questions and you're ready to hire a writer, make sure they're capable to do the type of writing you need. Compare their rates and ensure their availability and talent.

Be careful of writers that specialize in a specific writing category. Would you want a scientific writer to write your romance novel? If they're capable, why not? But usually, excellence is not an act, but a habit, and what you do the most is what you'll do the best. So if all their experience is scientific, then probably not.

Just make sure you see samples, look for a Web site or portfolio with testimonials and if available, references from past clients.

If you have a writing-related question, send an e-mail to thawriter@thawriter.biz. Thanks for spending time with me.

i write for the very reason i breathe...

Birthday Parties and their Meanings

I used to always wonder who made up the idea of birthdays and birthday parties. I loved them as a kid, but when I got older, all the sole attention embarrassed me. So, I wanted to find out who "invented" them so I could find him and kick his ass! (I'm sure it was a man..bday parties have been around so long, I'm sure a woman didn't have the balls to tell someone she invented something so brilliant--ouch!)

So I did my research. A long time ago in Europe, people believed that evil spirits were attracted to people, but moreso on their birthdays (go figure). So, for protection, friends and family would gather with the birthday person to bring food, drinks and gifts, and spread laughter and good cheer, which would ultimately scare off the evil spirits (really..).

And those candles on the cake? Once upon a time, people prayed over the flames of an open fire so the smoke would carry their thoughts and requests up to the gods. Of course today, it is believed that if you blow out your candles with one breath, your wish would come true!

Wow.

If you have any topic suggestions or topics you'd like me to research and blog about, please e-mail me at thawriter@thawriter.biz. Thanks for spending time with me!