Category: Writing

Many around the world had feared that the coming of the second millennium would be a technological doomsday that was going to throw us back into the dark times of…the pre-computer age. On New Year’s Eve I had full tank of gas, bottled water, canned food, and I had spent the night with some friends just in case calamity broke out and I had to help form a new tribe.

Since humankind didn’t come down with the millennium bug, I had another special reason to celebrate the year 2000.  That was the year I turned 30, Mom turned 60 and her mother, Mama Bea, turned 90.

A 30-60-90 triangle has special properties, such as the ratio of the length of its sides, which is 1: . Mama Bea, Mom and I have our own special ratios. Our age ratio is 1:2:3. Mama Bea birthed 6 children, Mom birthed 3 and I’ve birthed none.

Early on, Mama Bea and her switch taught me not to boo-boo in my britches. Mom and her belt pretty much taught me all the rest. Say what you will about spankings (or whippings as my family calls it), but as an energetic, creative child, I usually gave plenty of motivation for whippings. Throughout my childhood, Mom often said that if anyone ever kidnapped me, they’d bring me back in a hurry. As a matter of fact, several of Mom’s favorite Teresa stories were those that ended where either she or Dad disciplined me or as she loves to say that one of them “whipped Teresa’s little tail good!”

Yet, who can blame me? I’m the third generation of hyper energetic, intelligent women. Mama Bea was the first Avon Lady in the Cascade, VA area. We, her grandchildren, thought of her as the “Original Ms. Prissy.” She kept her money straight and conducted her business with the grace and elegance of a sweet-smelling, well-dressed woman with a beehive hairdo and vintage bejeweled cat eyed glasses—before that style actually became vintage!

Mom briefly dipped her toes at being an entrepreneur, but spent most of her professional career as a bank teller. I’m quite thrifty with money myself. Although I’ve had rare occasion to write a check these days, I’ll never forget an important checking lesson Mom taught my sisters and I: just because you have checks, doesn’t mean that you have money! And of course, that leads to one of my favorite banking analogies: don’t let your mouth write a check that your ass can’t cash.

Now, no decent Southern woman worth her salt would dare show her face in public without knowing how to cook. My earliest recollections of Mama Bea took place in her spacious, aroma-filled kitchen. When my grandparents marked out the rooms of their future house, the contractor consulted my grandfather about the enormous size of the kitchen. Papa basically told him that if Bea marked out a big kitchen, he’d better build it.

Mama Bea had two deep freezers full of homemade sausage, chicken, creamed corn, green beans, various other greens, yams…well you get the picture. Out of all the savory Southern cuisine that Mama Bea cooked in her cast iron skillet and antiquated oven, fried apples with buttermilk biscuits was my absolute favorite.

Now don’t get me wrong. Mom also knows how to cook. From fried chicken, to pork chops, potato salad, cole slaw, barbeque, Thanksgiving dinner and Christmas brunch, do you know that Mom’s favorite meal in the world is hot dogs? HOT DOGS! As well as my momma knows how to cook, she’ll break for a hot dog and a cherry slurpee in a heartbeat.

Mama Bea, of course, was ol’ school. I remember one time a big group of us went out to a wonderful seafood buffet. Once everyone had fixed their plates and the blessing had been said, Mama Bea looked to her left and her right and said, “Lawd, look at all these people too lazy to cook.”

Unlike my grandmother and mother, I didn’t grow up knowing how to cook. I had a mother and two older sisters for that. I didn’t learn how to cook until I was in my twenties. In the beginning, I was amazed how I could buy fresh food, “cook” it and end up with edible poison. When I’d consult Mom about how to cook some of my favorite dishes, she’d just get this big smile on her face and say, “Well, y’know I don’t MEASURE. I just go by taste.”

One of the things that I treasure that I inherited from Mama Bea and Mom, other than intelligence and beautiful skin, is my gift for storytelling. Sitting at the knee of those two entertaining women, usually during the preparation of food, the breaking of bread and the settling of a meal, I listened to their personal stories and stories of extended family. Their daily dramas no matter how serious or tragic, were seasoned by humor with an aftertaste of a life lesson.

The fictional stories I write, follow the same recipe—with a dash of sex thrown in! Yet no matter how extensively I’ve traveled the world, how many academic degrees I’ve earned or how many books I read, I’d be an educated fool, as Mama Bea would say, if I ever forgot the influential women who raised me, protected me, and shaped me.

Mama Bea stood no taller than 5’2” and Mom stands about 5’3”, but I dwarf in the accomplishments of those two women. Perhaps one day, if I’m lucky, I will stand as mighty as they have.

As much as I looked forward to hanging with my fellow capoeiristas at a birthday barbeque, I did not anticipate the sheer joy of witnessing a group of adults playing a game from my childhood.  Now, when I was a kid, I remember being somewhat entertained by most games.  The more energetic, the better.

Yet as an adult, I’ve put away most of my childish things or at least evolved to more adult pursuits. Last night reminded me that by adding adult rules to a kid’s game, a new pizzazz could spice up an old favorite.

There was the usual shenanigans such as the caller making up what the spinner actually says. With a bunch of capoeiristas playing though, the game appeared to be a very slow-moving roda with three people playing instead of two. Replacing the soul-stirring capoeira songs, we joyously heckled the hell outta those tortured souls who chose to contort their bodies in ways that would have been light entertainment for kids, but kind of raunchy for adults. 

Nonetheless, the three games that were played were the only times I chose to take pictures since I don’t know when will be the next time I get to witness partially inebriated adults put such a marvelous spin on a kids game. Unless of course, my suggestion of having a bigger mat with the participants wearing sumo wrestler suits actually gains traction!

“Drinking in church, but not on a Sunday. I’ll truly find salvation come some day.”

I wrote those preceding words to a poem that I’m currently working on. Like all poems that I write, the spirit must truly move me to complete the task.  Usually it’s more like spirited emotions that need to be vented in a healthy manner that drive me to poetry.

On this particular occasion, I was in a repurposed church that is rented out for parties, normally wedding receptions. In this case, the yoga studio where I practice bikram was having its annual party to celebrate all the challengers.  These “crazy” people attended yoga class either 30, 60 or 90 times in that number of days. For me, my challenge has been to attend yoga three times a week. Just practicing that often has yielded wonderful results as far as weight loss, back health, circadian rhythm, allergy relief, strength and flexibility. (One woman who recently learned that I practiced bikram so often, credited bikram for the smoothness of my skin. I had to add that beautiful skin runs in my family.)

One thing that was revealed at the celebration was that a 90-minute bikram class burned as many calories as running 3.75 miles! Which is a great relief since I surely couldn’t stand running for that distance. Running may be a good conditioning exercise, but it’s hell on the joints–my joints are already challenged enough.

While listening to one of the three bands that played that night, I got the sudden urge to add the opening lines to the poem that I’d been working on.  Apparently, this poem will be written a little at a time, from one event to the next. I’ve never written a poem in this manner before, but the overall theme of it will be getting rid of the crap in my life to make room for all the wonderful things life has to offer.

I shouldn’t have any trouble ranting about stuff.  I just don’t want to come across as whiny. At the same time, the poem has a good rhythm that I plan to maintain even if I’m adding a few couplets at a time. As long as it’s finished by the time my next spoken word and poetry event rolls around, I will have accomplished my mission.

Looking back over my life, I realize that my “happily ever after” began the day I was born. How fortunate was I to be born into a family where my parents loved each other and had practiced caring for children already in the form of my two older sisters.

Despite the socialized and hormonal growing pains that I went through, which weren’t as unique as I had originally thought, I’ve lived a happy life, punctuated only by the occasional pitfalls and nonchronic touches of depressing moments. What I have discovered is that the unhappiest times of my life were when I felt a tremendous loss of freedom. Whether the loss came from my parents’ strict rules or some asshole boss limiting my abilities to teach the way that I felt would best serve my students, I felt trapped.

As far as my lovelife is concerned, I now realize that in addition to no one, family nor academics, had ever taught me to sustain a loving relationship. I’ve always wanted to maintain my sense of freedom, but be in a monogamous relationship. For years, I’d been told that I was too picky, but what I’ve learned about myself is that I’ve lacked empathy–even with myself.  Of course, that’s not the full story. I’m still a strange bird for not wanting to marry nor have children and none of that can be explained away by my heterosexual orientation.

Nonetheless, as I research for my latest fiction novel about a college dropout turned stripper who finally becomes a restaurant manager, there are very real society pressures that limit a woman’s autonomy. I’ve done well by being educated and being able to control whether I he children or not, but the remaining aspect in my life that’s been haunting me is finances.

Traditionally, a woman was to marry so her husband could pick up taking care of her where her father left off. Even though that’s an antiquated idea, it’s still a viable and expected option for many women. What’s so insidious about this is that every woman can potentially reduced to trading sex for financial security.

I recently shared with a male friend the fact that I was saving up money so I could live for at least 6 months without a regular paycheck. He applauded my foresight and financial discipline. Immediately following that compliment, he offered living with him if I needed to.  In the next breath, he said that if I lived with him, he’d be late for work every morning since we’d have sex that regularly.  Then it was my turn. I informed him that mornings were my writing time. Who knows if he noticed my look of disgust as I witnessed him first praising my intelligence for saving up money to my downgrade of being his in-house prostitute if I wanted his financial support, which I’d never asked for nor hinted at.

Once again, I’m equating the possession of money together with the correct set of priorities as a vital key of happiness. Guarding my freedom is another key to happiness. As long as I have viable options to stay true to myself, I’ll continue my happily ever after lifestyle.

There are so many distractions in life and billions of people with different agendas. Freewill, combined with a myriad of life choices, means that there is a jungle of opportunity out there and it’s every human for herself! Of course, if your target is the ever-elusive “happiness” then you must be vigilant for it can get away from you while you’re battling with a competitor or fleeing a predator.

One of the obstacles to capturing happiness is not recognizing it for what it truly is because you’re not present in the moment. Another common obstacle, which can be downright debilitating is allowing another person convince you that no matter what you do, you’ll not have happiness. Usually these people are spinning a web of deception in order to use your time, energy and talents for their own agenda, which could be little more than feasting upon your broken spirit. The very worst of these people can be yourself.

One of the best beginner strategies for capturing happiness is to go in together with a band of like-minded people. That way, you can strategize together, divide up the work and reap the mutual benefits. You need not confine yourself to just one happiness hunting party. You need one for work and others for every social outlet you enjoy. And if you engage in one particular hobby more than others, then you especially need a group who are organized and motivated.

Once you’re a more experienced happiness hunter, you’ll realize that even with or without your hunting parties, you’re ultimately responsible for capturing it yourself. You know your strengths, weaknesses and inner desires. Therefore, you’re the best judge of what will make you happy and if that happiness target shifts in another direction.

Yet, hunting happiness isn’t like hunting other big game. You can have it while pursuing it and on the other hand, you can have it while not actively pursuing it.

How can you tell when you’ve captured it? It’s that general good feeling that causes you to light up a room when you enter. It’s the reason  you smile for seemingly no reason at all. It’s why you can fall asleep easily at night, wake up feeling refreshed and interested in starting your day.  It’s having a clear, receptive mind for innovative ideas that an unhappy mind struggles to conceive.

Once you’ve captured happiness, never let it go!

Around 2006, I started taking a 2-hour painting class on Saturdays just to have something creative to do in addition to writing daily, teaching, bellydancing and later drumming. OK, so I was already pretty creatively occupied; so this was pretty much of a “why the hell not?” move on my part.

Nearly 7 years later, I still find myself painting, but I’ve stepped up my game. I’ve discovered that the thinly pressed frozen food cardboard boxes make pretty good cheap “canvases,” especially given my painting abilities. Plus, for the past two years, I’ve taken those paintings, cut them up and made them into greeting cards. Not only did the little paintings look better, but gave me yet another creative outlet over Thanksgiving break. Besides, most amateur painters need a healthy way to jettison their practice paintings while only retaining the rare few for prosperity’s sake.

The current novel that I’m working on, The Adventures of Infinity and Negativa, is going to be part graphic novel.  Although I’ve reached out to several graphic artists, none have sustained their interest in working with me. I completely understand since I’ve not offered any money. At the same time, I have a feeling that I’m going to be the artist I seek. The thought of having to learn computer graphic design nearly stopped me until I went to a Christmas bazaar where a painter had taken high quality pictures of her paintings and printed them on cardstock to make greeting cards.

I was so impressed by the quality of her work that I felt imspired to retrieve a blank 16″ x 20″ canvas from my storage closet and plot out the opening chapter of Adventures. My writing philosophy is to do a little every single day and I toyed with the idea of doing the same with this painting.  Reality of my usual busy schedule got in the way, but every step of progress that I make, I take a picture of and document the progress.

                                                                                Day 1 was merely getting the canvas out of the storage room.      

                                                                                              Day 2: I plotted out what would go in 9 spaces.          

Day 3: I sketched out how to divide the canvas  into 9 spaces on a post-it note.         

                                                                                                        Day 4: I divided up the canvas.               

                                                                                     Day 5: I outlined the spaces in masking tape.                                                         

    Day 6: I created a simple top-middle-bottom and left-right grid in the opening space.        

                                                                                                        Day 7: I sketched out the bar area.                              

Day 8: I sketched out one of the public dining areas.

I’m really taking my time with the sketching. Since drawing/painting are my strong suits, I’m relying on pictures that I google and I’m basing the two main fantasy characters that are featured in the graphic part on my cousin, Linda.  Getting my family in NC and VA to send pictures of her to help me out has been a minor challenge, but they’ve come through.  Now, I just need to continue taking things one step at a time.

            Fellatio. Sounds like an Italian Shakespearean character, doesn’t it?  I’m sure the Bard could write a five-act tragedy with Fellatio as the protagonist. And the antagonist? Men! The well-kept secret is that most women actually don’t mind oral sex EXCEPT for when men make it such unpalatable thing to do.

            In preparation of writing this essay, I surveyed some friends during a ladies’ night out. The group of unscientifically chosen participants consisted of single, college-educated women who all train capoeira, a Brazilian martial arts. Some were currently in long-term relationships, some were mothers and at least four different ethnicities were represented.  Collectively, we came up with twenty-eight fellatio turn offs, which I conveniently grouped into six different categories: health considerations, timing, attitude,  atmosphere, eye appeal and entertainment factor.

Health Considerations

            Starting with what should be the most obvious; we all agreed that men whose health status we did not know were not going to receive fellatio—at least without a condom. And a man announcing, “I’m clean!” does not count as a valid test screening. We also agreed that smelliness was a huge turnoff.  If it stinks, it’s dirty. As one woman stated, “Anything I can get sick from, I’m not gonna do!” After all, if men want their sex organ orally pleasured, it should not smell like a toilet. Some of us suggested that in addition to a man cleaning his penis, he should spread chocolate syrup or honey on it, but not all women agreed. 

            Another health consideration one woman mentioned was that fellatio potentially flared up TMJ. 

Timing

            Asking a woman “Can I come in your mouth?” or “Do you spit or swallow?” in the first conversation that he has with her is very bad timing. While those are excellent questions to ask once she’s already in the mood and has consented to have sex, a man will come across as an absolute asshole to ask such questions before a sexy mood has been established.

            Another popular timing issue is when the man takes too long to finish. As one woman pointed out, “It’s called foreplay, not THE play.

Attitude

            As with most things, attitude is very important. Any man who comes across as pushy or selfish is not helping his cause. A woman doesn’t want to feel obligated. Instead, she should have the feeling of “why the hell not?” 

Once women decide to do the deed, the worse attitude men can adopt is calling them bad names for doing it.  What kind of encouragement is that? Men have to move beyond the Madonna/slut complex that stymies them from maturing into fully realized sexual beings. No woman wants to be demonized for knowing how to sexually satisfy a man. So, if you’re one of those men who use derogatory sexual language against women just realize that you’re actually sending the message to all women, “Don’t blow this bro’.”

When a man finally puts his desire where her mouth is, he shouldn’t jeopardize future fellatio by giving too much instruction, too little instruction, unwanted thrusting or expecting a woman to reenact some unrealistic porn trick.   And to all you men who think oral sex is a one way street: remember, you gotta give some to get some!

Atmosphere

Another consideration is the conditions under which the deed will be done. Regardless of whichever act of sexual acrobatics one feels like engaging in, the setting has to be right—again, not porn fantasy ideal, but doable. 

There cannot be any weird energy between the man and the woman.  A man will have a much more enjoyable, sexual good time if he does his homework and establishes good foreplay rapport. As unimaginative as it sounds, clear communication goes a long way in both time and energy.  After all, there’re nearly 7 billion people in the world. Surely, there’s a woman who wants to satisfy you. Why waste time with the ones who don’t. And if you’re having trouble finding that one, a little introspection and self-analysis may just help with your pursuit of oral sex happiness.

A sexually smart man who establishes a good rapport first will also avoid the passive-aggressive woman who feels annoyed at giving head and does the classic tooth rake.

Lastly, distractions such as phones, kids and pets should be minimized.

Eye Appeal

Most women know within 3 seconds if they’re sexually attracted to a man.  So don’t turn her off when you drop your drawers. Every real estate agent knows the importance of “front door appeal” and so should you. As one woman who I surveyed said, “If you expect me to visit your house and play in your yard, make it look presentable.”  Now, no one’s suggesting that men start getting a Brazilian wax, but an unkempt forest is not most women’s idea of a sexual playground.

Unfortunately, there’s nothing a man can do if the woman evokes the Goldilocks Principle.  All of us women agreed that we didn’t like penises that were too big or too skinny.  It’s gotta be just right. On the up side, size is a relative thing; so you gotta find the woman who believes you’re the perfect size for her.

Entertainment Factor

Another consideration is to make it fun for the woman since many women don’t find fellatio very entertaining after a while, especially if a guy disrespects her gag reflex or tries to put too much in her mouth. Remember, unless a woman is especially trained, her vagina’s probably the best place to accommodate you entirely, depending upon your size.

For some women, the entertainment factor lies in the fact that the guy’s a new boyfriend. These women are motivated to win their new boyfriend over.

The Up Side

Now, my unscientific research did reach a happy ending. One of the participants realized that we’d been talking for hours about the bad side of BJ and admitted that things weren’t ALL bad. There are some entertaining aspects about fellatio such as it goes well with showering together. Some women desire doing it during ovulation. It’s more fun for the woman when she ambushes the guy, especially at time when sex isn’t allowed. At times, it’s a power kick for the woman or a good substitute when menstruating or in post pregnancy. When on vacation, it’s part of hotel sex. Or for more practical reasons like getting lubed up for some more adventurous sexual performance. Other times, fellatio is a good way for the woman to build credit for the near future and not just a sexual favor in return, but for getting the guy to complete some other boyfriend duty. And lastly, we women just want to do it for the hell of it. So guys, try not to blow it.

Lately, I’ve been reading books about fostering creativity and this past Tuesday I attended a “meeting” for business women.  It turned out to be more of a travelling pep rally for women who want to pursue their dreams. The event started at the yoga studio where I take classes three times a week.

I felt sacrilegious wearing my boots in the actual yoga studio space, but after we watched two champion yogis, who were also instructors, we did some breathing exercises and one posture.  Then came the moment I’d been waiting for although I didn’t know it at the time. The inspirational speaker for the evening told us her story of being fired, then leading a small class of ten women through an exercise bootcamp.  She had her clients use a piece of equipment during the bootcamp, which she kept bugging the company about making 100% green.  She bugged them about this so much that they told her that she should buy the company.

So she did!

With all the power and energy her tiny stature could muster, she encouraged us to follow our dreams, think wildly and never give up. It was something that I knew in theory, but needed a booster.

We travelled to a nearby beauty salon, received more free goodies and I took the opportunity to network, passing out Austin Writers Roulette flyers like crazy to everyone who I spoke with.  At our last stop, which was a restaurant, I had my opportunity to speak with the guest of honor in person. She was so warm and attentive that I felt self-conscious about taking up so much of her time, but one thing that she corrected me on was something that had been holding me back for a while.

Although I visualize a packed room for every roulette, there’s always this nagging fear that I’ll never make money from my creative efforts and will be condemned to work for other people, not necessarily enjoying what I’m doing.  She pointed out that as long as I thought that way, I’ll remain in my present situation. She told me that I should think of my dream as a huge tree that needs to be planted in a large area rather than in a small pot. 

That fuelled me just in time for today’s roulette.  I know that I’m more prepared than ever before.  We’re at a new location. I don’t need to set up a lot of stuff. I don’t need a team of volunteers. I’ve lowered the overhead. I have a wonderful line up. Everything’s in place. All I have to do is follow through, follow up and adjust my game plan to maximize future success.

After all, I’ve been on this path for seven months now. I know far more than I did seven months ago. By the close of January, I will have spoken publicly on three occasions, which is three times my original spoken presentation goal last year. Just being the organizer of such an event means that I’ve helped bring a creative space once a month that did not previously exist.

Once I figure out how to sustain it and grow it, then I’ll be in the position where I want to be. And it all starts by thinking creatively, wildly and fearlessly.