I have been away for awhile, literally and figuratively, and for that I do apologize. I was on a kitchen mission and while it was a good one in other ways it made me realize that some things can just not work out the way one would like. That being said I would still go back to that kitchen if certain conditions were changed.
And it was not just the kitchen but a few broken promises, promises that I thought would maybe set me up for the rest of my life (well maybe not the rest of it but a damned good start to a "new" phase of Ownership) as an owner as opposed to an employee. Hard sometimes to get things done when there are so many variables at play. And before anyone starts to think that I was victimized in any way - no. I met some very kind and generous folks.....I am still in transition I suppose.....that is my monkey on my back to deal with and no one else's.
I felt guilty for a time not writing. Everytime I tried I just felt dejected or that I would be on some sort of placation mission. That is not good writing. Good writing comes from inspiration and in the case today, comes in a very natural way by virtue of meeting another fellow writer.....Eoghan Corry I salute you. I also think you are hot but that is for another day....heheheh.
I love my bike rides for I never know what may happen.
Our conversation today was seamless and for that I was grateful. It is rare in one's journeys to meet up with folks who when you meet them realize and say to you that they felt like they have known you for years.....that was so....I dunno, uplifting - not like my bra but much better. We could talk as colleagues and joke and flirt as humans.
I almost felt like I was being interviewed and I rolled with it for like my Irish counterpart I too love to share stories and anecdotes. I would not be happy if I could not tell stories....after all, why do shit if one cannot share in it. Kind of a base way to put things but I do not care. There will be many more chances to get more academic perhaps with my discourse. Today is not that day.
It was kind of sad knowing that Eoghan and his travel mate ( god I forget his name so focused i was on Eoghan's grilling of me) were leaving today....these were two gents that I would have gladly taken back to my home just so we could all talk some more. But this is a part of travel life that I know all too well - that meeting of the minds and the bittersweet partings....sometimes in life we manage to stay in touch and other times we lose sight of those we met fleetingly....it's just the way things go in our fast-paced world.
What was my point? Oh yeah....I am back. Well sort of - I am off next weekend for a private cheffing gig and a chance to work further on the manuscript. I love being challenged and today I was....
Gracias Eoghan (Owen)....I hope someday to meet you again. It was so nice to meet someone who was appreciative and someone that I felt comfortable enough with to be just me, a DriveGoddess.
I am ticked off today and not for the usual reasons but rather for the one main one being that it is my belief that as women in journalism we have not progressed much. Our voices are still relegated to the Siberia of arts, style, culture - you know it as "fluff". And for those of us who choose to explore, seek adventure and excitement we are warned or almost discouraged by our colleagues, both male and female, that bad things may happen to us. Or, as sadly in my case, denied further opportunities because women just don't do this kind of work or that men wouldn't read it so it would not sell.....wow. Is that not a limiting statement regarding men or what?
I do not believe that nonsense for one second. No, I just think there are still those individuals for whatever reason who have this need to protect some status quo and at the expense of those of us who just love our craft. I call bullshit on your "limitating" of my opportunities based on untrue axioms, the safety one being an insult to both genders.
So what? Bad things can happen to me in my own city for crying out loud. Hell, as a woman I know that all too well and the "bad things" take on many forms.
Goes without saying but I will say it anyway - I have done work that many men would never do and no, I did not engage in certain activities to make a point but rather because like other correspondents before me I felt DRIVEN to do so. My curiosity had to be satisfied and not by proxy.
As well, another belief that is false is that women do not have strong voices like men because we are unsure of ourselves. Bullshit again. We have strong voices but we are tired of being called bitches, ball-breakers, aggressive, strident or hysterical because we choose to exude qualities and belief in our work the same way our male colleagues do.
So in saying this RIGHT HERE AND RIGHT FRIGGIN NOW I put forth a challenge to any editors, publishers and producers that since some of you feel that there is a "dearth" of strong female voices and such out there in the wider media diaspora then by all means get in touch with this woman who has worked in BOSNIA, KOSOVO, GUATEMALA (as covering conflicts) and as one who has traveled solo in some dangerous locales, sought adventure, had a great time, has an excellent sense of humour, is a bit of a pirate?
I KNOW that folks will want to read or listen to my opinions for many already have. I have a fan base.
Man, I have been waiting for years to tell this story and no offense to the one who right now knows how to give great face, tongue etc....in so many ways that amaze. This is the story of that one kiss that took me somewhere....a place that I had never been to. It took place in an almost war-zone.....Skopje, Macedonia or rather FYROM (former Yugoslavian Republic of Macedonia) just prior to the bombing of Kosovo by the Allied Forces. Gotta love NATO and the UN for their love of acronyms. Gotta love working in these places because everything is intense.
Intense, yes, when you think you may die. Anyway, life in a conflict zone or zone of anticipation or staging prior to a conflict can get intense. Damn I love that word.
Now before some politically-correct fuck gets angry about the photo illustration (yes, hot sex may be discussed) it is a stock photo but it beautifully illustrates what a kiss can be - innocent or otherwise.
I first told this story to a man in a bar.....he worked for FOX Sports International (some high-falutin' position like a VP or some shit like that....hehe...none of your damned business)....he loved my story so much that, well....that story is for another telling. Let me just say this - he too knew how to kiss properly and in several spots. My story must have turned him on. Cool.
A great kiss is a kiss that when executed goes right down to one's naughty bits.....and resonates. The telling of said kiss if done right should elicit the same sort of - reaction.
I was alone....not really but think about it - not too many women do the kind of work that I did....ensconcing oneself in that male-dominated environment of "foreign correspondence". I had been invited by this man to be his "shooter"....little did I know that he wanted me to be his "bitch" in that he was actually riding on my professional laurels....what an arse....he was to prove it later at a dinner table where this kiss story begins.
I had been "in country" for 48 hours.....and of course I was staying at the INTERCONTINENTAL hotel....doesn't every hot spot have a hotel named that way? I had been invited to a "round table" dinner.....asshole thought he was the head of said table....little did he know that by virtue of his prima donna attitude that he was already a joke with those in NATO who had the "power" to get him around safely...not that anything hot was happening yet but one must always be ready right? After all, half of Moldavia's available hookers were lining the streets of Skopje.
I was ready. I had a multiple entry/exit visa for Kosovo.....he did not....maybe that is why he hated me....he just showed up to the party believing he would have an invite to the after-hours shit....hehehe....what an arrogant brit arse....figures that he stringed for a Murdoch paper.
THE DINNER TABLE AND WHAT HAPPENED NEXT.....
I had been putting up with this arsehole's condescending shite for over a day already....I was hungry and tired and still jet-lagged. For the time that we had painfully spent together all he wanted to do was boss me around in front of those whom he wanted to impress....at that time I was still somewhat "green" but it did not take me too long to realize what a dick this person was....hell, he showed up without a visa for Kosovo for Christ's sake!!!
So there I was sitting at this dinner table of NATO poohbahs, a few NGO functionaries who were in reality "spies" and this one dude from the Brit forces who was one of their "official" photographers....and there was asshole waxing forth on all of his "experiences" and the whole time I refrained from calling bullshit on him....I wanted him to dig his own professional grave.
His big litany of complaint or rather diatribe, was against North Americans for being so "whatever"....he kept railing on in front of this well-informed group of folks as to how ignorant folks like myself were in terms of international knowledge...I kept wanting to crawl under a rock whilst trying to enjoy my meal.
I really wanted to defend not only myself, but all the other great Canadian and "American" journos....and there are many.....I was tongue-tied.
While this smarmy arse was going on and on and on I could not help but see out of the periphery of my left eye this man looking at me with a very sad and empathetic look. It was the Brit army photo dude.
After the requisite drinks and desserts I bade my leave to the bar to join some colleagues. The man who had been looking at me, I don't know when, joined my gang at our table. I had maybe a polite drink and because I really was tired, said to all present that I was leaving.
THE ELEVATOR, A GREAT FANTASY LIVED....
I made my way to the "lift", a rather old-fashioned affair.....it had one of those really cool oval windows in it. Just as the doors were about to close HE entered, he of the sad, empathetic eyes....or rather he forced the door not to shut and then gained entry.
Yes, of course our eyes locked....as the doors shut. He did not hesitate. He grabbed me and pressed me to the wall of the lift and kissed me deeply....his hands found my places of pleasure in a very fast manner. I could not protest. It felt - it just felt right. I was hot. I was vibrating. I was shocked and wanting at the same time. More. Much. More.
If memory serves correct my leg, the left one, was wrapped around his athletic torso....my left arm arching around his neck in a total embrace....while he was probing my mouth. It was so fast and intense....we got off on my floor, no pun intended.
It is not like I had never been deeply kissed before...but not like this....this was full. This "attack" was with consent and the two of us were - we just were. I was hot, felt hot, could not think. His eyes met mine and there was no question as to where we would wind up.
All I can say is this....the next several hours lasted beautifully until sunrise.
There was after that night, that long night, no awkward greetings.....we spent a great deal of our time when we could, just walking around and exploring the old city....we did not need or want for anything more....sometimes, once is enough.
