Sex, feminism...that sort of thing.

So I’ll have to give another little rant later on, in regard to something I read online. It’s a doozy, and personally it gave me an outraged OMG! But that’s for later. First thing’s first:

Okay. It was a bad night, especially since when I tried to go to sleep the skin of my skull moved (stretching while laying my head on the pillow) and set a headache into a mad frenzy. I was literally cross-eyed for a moment and had to get up to walk it off before I could take a painkiller and finally, very carefully, lied back down, taking great care not to put pressure on anything that wasn’t really necessary.

Not an easy feat, I’ll admit, but I did manage it in the end, drifting off to sleep, only to awaken several times during the night before the morning finally arrived…with sunshine for a change. This has been the wettest winter we’ve had in the two decades since we’ve been visiting and living in Spain. In about four days there was a downpour of approximately 1 cubic meter, which is astounding for this area, for as far as I know. Heck, we’ve been on the edges of full blown hurricanes, or so I’ve heard.

The sun is actually sparkly bright, however, blinding me, and making me stumble back with the reminder of last night’s little problem, brought to the fore with a fierce pounding on both my temples. Great! That’s just great.

I take my time with the morning rituals, sluggishly going through them until I can no longer postpone starting on the day and head for the house with the dogs scattered about, since they get distracted by the nice warm weather.
Chaos is lagging behind, Knight II is already waiting at the gate and Bommel is studiously finding his way by memory, rather than sight. The rest of the pack is just dashing back and forth, doing their very best to evade the crazy Monster Boxer’s feinting attacks with benevolent disinterest.

There are some chores to be done, laundry, some kitchen cleaning, breakfast, and then the fun part; cleaning Tika’s cage. It’s a mess, and we need to clean it out before we release the big pack from the patio.
Tika, our big eclecto parrot sits on her perch when we take the cage down from the ceiling, looking curiously at the few dogs that are seated around the table on which her cage is now set. The dogs are literally trembling with their need to hunt, but obey the frequent commands and warnings we utter as we work. Tika twitches her beady black eyes, walking back and forth on her stick with apparent amusement as she flutters her magnificent wings in challenge.

After she’s had her shower, and the cage is once again clean…as well as the table…the dogs are released from the patio and big brother and I set up our computers.
While big brother starts working on “Calamity’s Luck”, one of the romances I’ve been writing on for that past few years, I open up the latest project and add two more pages to yesterdays scene. That one done I start writing another one for a new scene.

The computer alarm goes off, at the end of the page and it’s time to get ready to head for school, as is our biweekly schedule of late. We arrive at the appointed time, and get busy both on the computers as well as the paper tests.

Though I’m occasionally bothered by the sporadic pounding in my head, the tests go well enough, making me feel relieved that if we had gotten any of these 200 or so questions we would have passed our exams.

Afterwards we take a quick detour towards the home improvement store and then head for home where the dogs and dinner is waiting.
After some relaxation in front of the TV with a recorded episode of “Life” to enjoy, I turn on my computer and start surfing the Net for the latest news and chats, only to come upon, what I can only describe as a new trend in the romance book scene.

Here’s my rant:

Seriously, I’ve read blurbs, excerpts and have come to the conclusion that the so-called mild erotica is worse than the average playboy. Forget a fun plotline, characters and even a hint of actual emotions. It’s blatant in-your-face Sex with a capital S.

I’ve known for years that these kinds of stories exist, heck I’ve even read one or two, but they’re getting worse and more explicit by the year. (And then I’m not even mentioning the trend of not just millionaires for heroes, but billionaires instead. What is that? Money and sex are all that sells, or something?)
And it’s not just man/woman, man/man, woman/woman or whatever. Heck I can understand loving a person no matter what the sex, but this is different. According to these tales the “good” and really erotic lays are about ménages of whatever sex is available, quartets and genuine orgies.

Remember all those once so despised badly filmed porn flicks, anyone? Were those considered pinnacles of literary excellence, or were they considered be crude animalist things that only perverted people watched?
Remember all the TV shows where women looked down on men because they couldn’t get their minds out of the gutter?
Guess things have changed considerably while I wasn’t paying attention.

But back to these “titillating” orgies…
Now, from where I stand one woman getting “done” by three men without her actually knowing them, or even getting on a first name basis, is considered to be a threatening thing.
I mean, I clearly remember “The Accused” being seen as something atrocious. Was that just me?
But from what I understand of these stories it is “exciting” for women to do this kind of thing because it’s “FUN”. Explore their sexual side, men, women, who cares, and all that.
No wonder guys no longer know which way is up when it concerns the signals women give. Heck, I’m a women and I’m completely confused.

Here I thought that feminism had been all about women having the right to say no to Tom, Dick and Harry while they looked for a man they could love, or care about…little did those poor women fighting for our rights know that by what they put in motion, women were going to be inclined to do that sort of thing voluntarily.
Heck, I certainly wouldn’t have guessed it.

Since when is sex a form of recreation and a matter of “the more the merrier?” anyway? I mean, the electricity goes off for a night in some heavily populated area in a city and nine months later there’s a birth wave going on. Aaargh.

I do know that originally, it (sex) is supposed to be a procreation method, no matter which way you turn it, and in the best of cases a way to show true affection…but showing such intimate, ehm, “liberation” to a bunch of strangers? I don’t know. I can’t see the attraction. Seems a little like devolution to me, actually. We’re supposed to be intelligent, aren’t we? Able to control our most basic urges? Hmmm.

For years men get to be called pervs and whatnot for reading dirty magazines and now the big bucks are being raked in from women who basically buy the same thing, only under the guise of mainstream literature…and enjoy it to boot. For all intents and purposes these stories are promoting: “Try it out! It’s fun to get “busy” with a quartet.”

What is that, I wonder? It reminds me of a piece I once read where a psychiatrist explained that the reason why a girl (in the story) was an “easy lay”. It was because she had been gang raped once and had decided in her post-traumatic shock that for her to prevent that event from ever happening again she would just have to stop saying “no” entirely.
Something along the lines “If ya enjoy it, it’s not rape!” Baffling!

Then there are those that claim that by having casual sex, just for fun, is the ultimate freedom of men…HUH? Now, logically speaking it would appear that those who think as much have been led to believe some huge scam made by men, so they can get what they want from women, without having to make a single effort, or being accused of rape…now that would be an interesting topic for a novel, if it wasn’t for the fact that a lot men have “changed their ways” over the last couple of generations due to tedious and strenuous sensitivity propaganda, forced upon them by the first feminists.

It all just seems like we’re trading places, of something. So what happens next, women treat men like toys for the next few generations to get back at them for centuries of forced submissions and then its turnabout’s fair game again? The old adage of history repeating itself, does come to mind.

Right! I’ll better stop my rant before I end up yapping about it for ages, but I think it reflects poorly on those who still like to consider sex as something special which should only be shared with a person you care deeply for, not an itch that should be scratched…which reminds me: How can anyone in their right mind even think about casual sex with all the illnesses and viruses running amuck?

I mean, eating from a used plate is icky, but having orgies with strangers is “just sex”? Bodily fluids mix in both cases, if I remember correctly. Right?

Basic logical thinking seems to be…Oh wait, there’s not much thinking involved in casual sex, is there?
As for safe sex…let’s face it, except for abstinence or “self-help” there’s no such thing possible when all’s said and done.

Ah well, to each his own, I guess. It just stuck in my craw, and I had to get it out before I popped a vein, or something. Hah.
Hmm. Guess I'm getting more conservative with age. Who'd have thought that was possible? Not me, that's for sure.

But anyways, after discussing this matter with the sibs, (who completely agree) rather heatedly, since it is ruining a genre that we’ve enjoyed for years…aka Romance, the real kind…I gather up my things and dogs and head for my quarters to prepare for the night.

Close call, writing and sex.

Last night, after shutting down my computer for the night, I went to gather the dogs into my cabin, and couldn’t find Trin Trin anywhere. Somewhat perturbed I head out into the yard, calling for her repeatedly with only a faint whisper of a sound coming from behind my cabin, well out of sight. A few more calls ensued, and when the monster did not come running –the ways she usually did– I went back inside to get my penlight and headed for my little backyard, instead.

Mosha and Lhabana were making a racket there, so with a certain sense of foreboding I switched on the light, and needed a full three seconds to realize what was going on. Trin Trin had attempted to scale the fence, and then somehow managed to get stuck with her collar on the top of it. This left her to dangle down the height of the fence with her back paws just barely skimming the ground.

I rushed towards her, muttering something about her being an idiot for attempting such a feat, while I tried to wiggle my way towards what appeared to be an already exhausted body that was partially hidden behind one of the Eucalyptus trees. With somewhat frantic tugging, and lifting Trin Trin who was hardly even moving as she stared at me, I finally, with quite some effort, managed to untangle her collar from the wires and set her down on all fours.

She staggered a bit, looked a little dazed and then started to wag her tale in a rather excited fashion. All was well, but I was shaky while I lay in bed for hours trying to fall asleep.

But, on to today:

I wake to a bright and shiny day, with a clear, blue, sky overhead when I let the dogs out and go over the night’s dream.
It was on a ranch, I recall, horses aplenty, and a warm august day when I return from my ride and head to the large stables, painted in a fresh red. A couple of teens are chattering excitedly behind while they sit atop some bay quarter horses, their voices mixing in with the sounds of cattle grazing steadily in a paddock nearby. I feel exhilarated from the ride, sitting in the saddle comfortably as I pat the black and white pinto beneath me on his neck and croon that he did well.

From the ranch house a woman appears, standing on the wrap-around porch as she waves at us the moment we pass, promising a hearty meal for when we’re done taking care our horses. She’s familiar to me somehow, blond and blue-eyed and partial owner of the large spread on which I currently reside.

Dismounting in front of the stables, a handsome man comes from within, smiling his welcome as he helps the youngsters to the ground and instructs them to follow me inside where we can unsaddle and feed the eager mounts before we call it a day.

I go through the motions of taking the saddle down with little effort, chatting with the teens that are obviously inexperienced with horses, if their halting movements are anything to go by.
They’re a cheerful lot though, and in little time we are done and head back out to wash up and join the man and woman inside the ranch house that is painted in a pale yellow and white.

It is a lovely place, I muse distractedly, rubbing my dusty palms against the Jeans that encase my legs, and climb the steps leading onto the porch wearing gorgeous leather boots.
The man and woman, obviously our hosts, usher us towards kitchen where a table filled with food awaits, along with several cowboys of old, who beckon us to hurry because they are starving.

I am about to sit down when suddenly the dream fades, making me sigh regretfully as I sit up in my bed and make a desperate grab for the monster, before she can bounce to the floor and start her daily tug of war with my quilt.

The morning rituals pass without incident and with enough speed to allow me to arrive at house right on time. Exercise day is here again, and I feel revived enough to go through the routine without feeling like a stork, the way I did the last time. The motions go smoothly and I make good time covering them all.
A hot shower follows, as usual, before I set out to hang the day’s laundry while locking Knight II up in the pantry, lest he drags the basket to the dirty floor again.

Not much later, after eating a quick breakfast, I eagerly settle down at the table to get my messages of the day over with and start on the vampire story once more.
It takes me a little while to get back in swing and as the day progresses the number pages steadily increase until dusk falls and it is time to visit Clue at the Vet’s.

Once there, big brother and I are informed that the latest test results show that Clue doesn’t have encephalitis, much to my relief–but I’m also chagrined for having been scared with such a serious disease in the first place. With the main veterinarian finally there, they seem to have located the real problem at long last.

Added to the bacterial infection, which they had already discovered, there is a slight bump on his side and when they examined it, taking a biopsy even, they found that the bump is filled with puss that most likely leads straight to Clue’s spine–in the exact spot where we said he was hurting in the first place.

According to the vet, it is pressing against his spinal column causing the partial paralysis to his back legs. Now Clue will be operated upon tomorrow, while they see what they can do to remove the abscess and thus, the problem.
If all goes well he can come home afterward or the next day, which Clue will most certainly appreciate since today, for the first time since we brought him to the hospital, he is actually howling at the end of our visit and he is back in his cage.

Though I hate leaving him behind, again, I am much relieved that the problem will be dealt with at last.

Once at home, and the younger sibs already having fed themselves with a curry soup, I decide for a portion of French fries along with a salad to serve as tonight dinner, before resuming with the latest book project.
Since this particular tale will be aiming for the paranormal audience, a love scene is written in quite some detail. And while big brother and I discuss the options of when, how and for how long, hysterical laughter fills the house, since everyone –for some reason they’re all listening in on the ongoing discusson– has their own opinion about this matter.

Will they go all the way such a short time after meeting each other? Where will that first special kiss be shared? Which position are they in when they do the deed? All valid questions that seem to demand the most ludicrous responses from males and females alike, as suggestions are tossed back and forth between us all.
By the time I finally get it all down on a whopping four pages of double-meaning dialogues, roughhousing in a dark alley and some seriously excited protagonists, I’m so weak with laughter that is all I can do to read the pages out loud for all to hear.

Seriously, real life does not do a paranormal vampire romance novel justice.

Having spent the majority of the day immersed in engorged manhoods, throbbing female parts and God knows what else, I finally decide to call it a day and shake my head while I shut the computer down. I’m amazed that the poor machine isn’t steaming. Hah.

Sex. It is a strange thing, really. If done right– the way I always try to describe “it” can be a wonderful way to deepen the insight into the main protagonists of a story while still fitting somehow. Yet if it is done wrong, it is just downright tardy.

It is one of the things that seem to be a major problem in today’s commercial fiction. Those who started out with the explicit sex/love scenes did so in a tasteful manner, fitting such scenes into an intricate storyline that allowed the reader to decide whether to just skip these parts, or fully enjoy them. But as the years past and the popularity rose, some authors appeared to think that if they just put in enough skin, grunting and groping they were home free.

Nothing could be farther from the truth. When I read a book, I want to read, feel and see an actual bond forming between the hero and heroine. Whether they have sex behind closed doors or right, slap-dab in my face is really a secondary matter to me.

It annoys me to no end to read about some lusty couple, filling a solid two thirds of a story with their sexual prowess and have them proclaim true love at the end, when they have barely exchanged three full sentences between them.
If that’s the way a story goes, than it isn’t what I perceive as love, no matter how blinding their orgasm or how often they proclaim to have never experienced anything of the likes before.
Without some emotional connection, some form of actual bonding, they might as well be using inventive props. Hah.

I do understand that sex is “hot item” these days –pardon the pun– and it is for that reason that I’ll write it down… I mean I’m a writer, and basically they’re just words put in a certain context… but sometimes I do miss the old days where the couple falls in bed kisses– and promptly the next morning is there, and they’re having breakfast with silly smiles on their faces.

I know it’s hokey, but after reading through a pile of “mixing bodily fluids” hokey sounds really good. As a matter of fact I am often inclined to grab a horror just to get in a different mindset after such exploits.

But enough of this little rant: It really all comes down to personal taste anyway.

Where was I? Oh yes, shutting down for the night.
With the dogs leading the way, I climb up to my cabin for some fun and relaxation, as soon as they are fed and I have changed into my comfortable sleeping clothes.

I am careful to keep a close eye on Trin Trin, who shows no particular interest in repeating last night’s stunt and is now quietly lying on my bed, snoring softly.
There isn’t much room on the bed, not with Knight II stretched out, Chaos slumped over his paws, Dax curled up at the food end with Mosha and Sitabah squeezed between the pillows and wall, but it is cozy.

Little room but plenty of heat, much to my pleasure, and with this I conclude today’s recount and sign off for the day.