Attention shoppers! Looking for last-minute gift ideas for your favorite blogger? Okay then, how about for me?
(I know, that was subtle, right?)
My holidays are going to be fairly low-key this year. A little piano playing, a little caroling, a lot of figgy pudding. I'll be sticking around the house and not really going anywhere. Given the hectic month I've had, though, it'll be nice.
But I want to hear about your plans! In the comments, tell me what you guys do for the holidays. If you're going on vacation, let me live vicariously through your plans. If you're doing something elaborate, enlighten me! If you're just staying at home like me and watching a double feature of Meet Me In St. Louis and Love, Actually with a box of Kleenex at your side . . . well, there's no shame in it. I want to hear about what you're going to do!
Of course, if you're planning to fuck your brains out on Christmas Day, share photos. Lots of them. Dirty ones.
Let's get to some questions from formspring.me.
If you knew the pain you'd have because of your feelings for Spencer, would you, if you could turn back the clock, do things differently so you'd never have known him? In other words is it better to have loved & lost or would you prefer to have never loved at all?
I knew right from the start how very difficult it would be if I gave my heart to Spencer, knowing full well I'd have to leave him when my house finally sold.
I knew that I loved him the moment he left my bed, the first night he came over.
I knew that it was folly to have feelings for someone when I could be leaving for the east coast at any time. It was stupid, in fact.
Yet I dived in anyway, because I firmly believe it's better to have the experiences that life offers than it is to avoid them just to shun pain. One learns how to cope with pain and disappointment. They become part of the rich mix of memories we have about the people and times we've loved.
I'd rather look back on my life and think of all the amazing people with whom I've been close, tinged with regret and sadness even, than live a sterile existence in which I never took a chance with anyone, and no one reached out to touch my life.
We know your mum died & you were close to her. If you could say one thing to her what would it be?
My mom passed away nearly twenty years ago. She and I were very close on a number of levels, so I really felt her loss at the time. It took nearly a year for me to come out of the depression, after.
My mom spent most of her adult life afflicted with chronic illness, and one of the things on which she was truly adamant was that life is sometimes cruelly short, and that we never, ever really know how much time left we have. Therefore, nothing truly important should be tucked away to be unaired and unexpressed. She felt very strongly that it was important to tell the people we love how we feel about them—whether they're friends, family, or romantic interests. As massive a grudge as she could hold, she also believe that rectifying wrong-doing was important, and that apologies for misdeeds should be made quickly and sincerely.
I'm glad to be inclined to my mom's philosophy this way. I can honestly say that when she finally passed away after a very long and lingering illness, there was nothing I'd held back. Nothing important I'd left unsaid. No I-wish-I-hads to haunt me. She knew I loved her and admired her accomplishments. I felt very good about our relationship when she passed. There were family members who'd not followed her example and had a very, very rough time afterward.
My only real regret—and it's nothing for I could really have done anything—is that all my career success came after my mom's death. Since I only entered my career with her encouragement—and since it was in an area of the arts in which she'd had aspirations when she was young—I'd simply want to thank her for believing in me even when I'd given up on myself.
What countries have you had sex in & if not Australia why not?
That would be Canada, Mexico, the United States, the Dominican Republic, Haiti, and several not-so-Virgin Islands.
I haven't had sex in Australia because none of you guys down under have sent me the plane tickets yet.
Why do people think of casual sex as a negative thing?
I know that you were simply musing on the question. I'm kind of extrapolating that you've had your feelings hurt on the topic, though—or you're open-minded enough that you see casual sex as something recreational and you've found your views are bafflingly too advanced for those around you.
My reply to anyone who asked me this question would be, why do you care what people think about something you do in your private life? How do you feel about casual sex? If you're fine with it, then fuck what other people think. You don't have to follow a course in life based on approval from the masses.
Behave the way you want other people to behave. Set an example, instead of following the crowd!
If you had a perfect day, what three things would you have done?
1. Made love to someone. Not just fucked. Made love.
2. Had a really, really good dinner (preferably one I didn't have to cook, but I'd settle for not having to do the dishes after).
3. Achieved a good balance between creatively working and mindlessly relaxing.
I have a lot of near-perfect days.
What were your summers like when you were little? Did you camp? hang around, read? work, visit relatives?
My parents were great believers in keeping kids busy during summer vacations. We typically didn't travel or go on any vacations during the summer, so instead my mom and dad would sign me up for all kinds of enrichment activities. I was taking immersive Spanish and French classes during the third and fourth grade, and remember having to take a video production class in the fourth grade as well. There were summers I took creative dramatics classes and worked in community theater productions, and other summers where I took courses in crafts. I did Cub Scout camp in the summers when I was young, until my mother and father decided that the Boy Scouts of America were reactionary fascists and pulled me out of the group. (And they were right. Thirty years ahead of their time, my folks.)
Starting in middle school, I started having to do all kinds of athletic activities as well. After I learned to swim, I was enlisted in courses on diving, competitive swimming, and eventually lifesaving. My dad was a huge tennis player and somehow got it into his head that I should be on my eventual college's tennis team (I wasn't), so in middle and high school during the summer months he would drag me out of bed at the ungodly hour of five in the morning so that we could hit the courts.
A lot of the crap with which I was saddled was supposed to look good on my college resume. I certainly wouldn't have signed up for Model U.N. on my own, or volunteered for the Young Democrats, or sat in a summer school classroom with a bunch of college kids learning introductory Russian or Biblical Greek. (I have a hazy memory of the languages being my idea, maybe. I used to be good at them.)
But as structured as these courses sound, they usually were over with by the early afternoon; I really had a hell of a lot of free time during my summers for the rest of the day. I spent a lot of time reading books from the library outdoors, or biking to the tiny locally-owned drugstore for a nickel ice cream or a handful of candy, or for playing with friends. I didn't really have a curfew, so I stayed out late and relished the hot Virginia evenings.
When I was in my teens and had discovered sex, I spent most of my free time divided between whoring and reading, my two favorite activities.