I call myself an erotic romance author. I call myself a lot of things. Just look at my bio! I'm a blogger, a poet, a writer, a dancer...and in all of it, I see the erotic, the sensual. When someone tells me they don't like "erotic" writing, I wonder what they mean exactly. My first reaction is to scream: "What? Should I check your pulse? Are you alive? Are you breathing?" Because for me, the erotic is as natural as drinking water. Sometimes we sip it. Sometimes we gulp it. Sometimes we devour it. And yes, sometimes we can choke on it. Without it, I doubt a person is truly living life fully if they can't find beauty in the eroticism of being a human being with needs and desires that are basic and instinctual. Why deny ourselves who we are? 

What I realize is that those who say they don't like THAT kind of writing (and it happens to me ALL THE TIME and did so yesterday), is that they must be thinking of something I am not at all thinking about, i.e. we are not on the same page in the Merriam-Webster dictionary. To be human, we are sexual. And things in the world around us are beautifully erotic. I think we've been taught that embracing the erotic is bad for some reason. If you don't have erotic impulses, forgive me, I feel bad for you. It may be time to go see your doctor. 

As some of you may remember, I lost my cat not too long ago and hoped to get a new kitty. There are myriad shelters where I live, housed with many feral and unwanted cats especially, and so I sought to adopt one. In my journey, I was denied by one shelter for not having taken my cat to the vet enough. I often marveled at the superiority of my cat to my dog: He was independent, I never needed to bathe him, he only ate when he was hungry, and I didn’t have to worry about expensive “daycare” for him when I knew I’d be away for a while. In short, he enjoyed life and himself. He also loved the outdoors. He could sit outside for hours, rolling around in the sun, chasing birds, climbing trees…being a cat.

He was also the most lovable cat I’ve ever owned. Loud and from Puerto Rico, when he wanted attention, which was often, there was no earplug in the world that could block him out. He was a lap-cat and a lover and was uncharacteristically friendly and trusting. Replacing him is impossible I realize, but still, I want to give another a home.

After I got past the vet issue, it then came to signing a document that stated I would vow to only keep my new family member indoors. I have heard this before. And it is true. It’s dangerous out there for the small critters. But no. And I said so. Any cat who wishes to go outdoors will be allowed. If he/she wants to remain indoors, then so be that. I’ve had two cats in my past who destroyed doors trying to get to the great outdoors, their natural habitats and natural inclinations. I’m not going to deny an animal’s happiness just for the sake of prolonging his/her life. To me, that’s cruel. What “family” member is confined and imprisoned? We argued. And here I sit, still catless.

There are myriad unwanted felines. Some have heart issues. Some body deformities. Many possibly unable to trust. And here I am, ready to love one. I guess it comes down to whether we want to live a brilliant life, like a flower that blooms and dies too quickly, or live a life without color. And I couldn’t help but wonder if this woman treats all animals in this way. But of course not. When I arrived to discuss the adoption, she was putting away her lunch, filled with meat. And I found it absurd, because after all: “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.” ~Orwell

Today I finally share my review of Star Wars: The Last Jedi. I’ve been dragging my feet sharing this one. First, my mind won’t make herself up! Do any of you have that problem? Trust me, you probably don’t want to go out to dinner with me. I’m the can-I-please-just-have-one-more-minute kind of gal. Second, I’ve been holding off on my review until I felt the vast majority of people who were going to see it will have seen it and any “spoilers” I may have to include really won’t be spoilers at all.

OVERALL RATING:
If I had to give The Last Jedi a numbered rating, I’d have to give it 3.5/5 stars. It seems I may be in the minority here as I read other reviews, but it just didn’t work for me on a few rather important levels. It may be because I had high expectations. Shakespeare once wrote: “Expectation is the root of all heartache” and this is no exception.
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WHERE IT FELL SHORT:
Here’s why it didn’t live up to my expectations in a nutshell. Disney spent too much time on action, explosions, and cinema-filler when they should have focused more on what we all came to see: Relationships and character development, especially that of Rey and Kylo. Isn’t it why we couldn’t wait for it to come out? To have questions answered? To learn of Rey’s beginnings? To see more of Kylo’s background? Isn’t that what made the trailer so appealing? Would Kylo and Rey somehow come together as one?

Instead, we have a floating Leia, silly banter at times, an overdone Luke, and a new relationship between Rose and Fin blossoming, when more time should have been spent on the relationship between Kylo and Rey. Kylo Ren steals the show. Every. Time. Love him or hate him, he is this generation’s Darth Vader. Is he the same? Absolutely not. And that is part of his beauty. He is a completely different character. He ISN’T Darth Vader, and I wondered how they were going to accomplish making us care, making us want to know his story and him and NOT compare him to Darth Vader. We don’t, because he is supremely unique and different. 

WHY I KEEP COMING BACK: (Beyond the great music of John Williams)
Kylo’s story is finally being uncovered as Luke showed us. And it keeps a certain lure. A certain mystery. When The Force Awakens revealed his face too quickly (I think it should have been revealed on the bridge at that critical moment), I was upset. I still compared him to Darth Vader then. I thought it was premature. Not “explosive” enough. But I have since changed my mind on that as well. He is just a person. Flawed. Confused. Dark. He wants to be his grandfather, but he isn’t. He is Kylo Ren. But for all his darkness, he has light that cannot be denied, even if dim at present. SPOILER ALERT: He chose not to press the button on his mother. It is a critical piece to understanding his story. And it is the proof that it’s there inside him.
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As a writer of dark, alpha men, this appeals to me and many of us. We want to see the darkness. It excites us. It stimulates us. But we want the light, the redemption. We want that moment of “there is still good in him.”

​And we want it to shine because of love. At the heart of it all, it’s about finding love. Romance. We absolutely do. Deny it all you want, but it IS the story—the story of light and dark. Not "vs." Note that. “And.” Because we all possess elements of both.  Star Wars, then, is much more about the “star-crossed lovers” twinkling “in their spheres” than it is about actual wars. It speaks to the light and dark in us all, hiding, buried even. It speaks to our romanticism. And it’s what truly sustains the story. And Disney, in their quest for greed, want to milk it, make movies, like Rogue One, to fill in gaps, drag it out. Don’t even get me started on Snoke. My. God. What a missed opportunity. Mark my words. If a filler movie is made to expand his character, I’m boycotting.

I left the theatre on opening night disappointed and a bit deflated. I wanted answers. SPOILER: I wanted to know Rey’s parents. I wanted to understand the connection she and Kylo had and why. But it did leave me wanting more. And I will get my answers, damn you, Disney, because I’m hooked, and for that, I cannot fault them. A movie that you continue to think about, question, and find yourself hypothesizing scenarios for means it succeeded, at least on some level, and I want to put into writing my 2 possible theories, to have a record of it.

THEORIES:

• Obi Wan Kenobie is Rey’s father. It is not out of the realm of possibility as Obi had a love in the Clones Wars. As a Jedi it is forbidden, just as Anakin should not have fallen in love with Padme. Obi was not above romantic love, but he may have felt the need to hide it. Or perhaps he lover hid it from him. It would explain her special connection to the Force.
• Perhaps, like Anakin, she has no father. Perhaps she was formed by the Force itself, as Anakin was, which begs the question: Who then is her mother. Well—Leia of course. But that would rule out further romantic connections between Rey and Kylo, and I want that more than anything. 😊 So I don’t like that theory.

If Kylo is not lying, that she is an “everyman” type character, I’m done. Rey’s connection with the Force seems too strong for that to be the case, and it would fall beyond flat for me. So perhaps, with the next installment, I will change my mind yet again. It is a girl's prerogative after all, isn't it? But for now, the 3.5 rating stands. 

Today I ponder the beauty of snow. How could I not? Its vibrant call is impossible to ignore today, its breath a roar against my window, a white tornado!

I hear so many people complain about the snow. When I travel, people ask how I could possibly live in New England or how I could possibly tolerate the harsh existence of snow. But I love it. It’s not harsh to me at all. But a beautiful reminder of life and all its quirks. It makes me pause. Think. Stay still. Even my mind takes the hint. It makes me feel giddy. Like a kid. I bring my hot cocoa to the window and simply sit and reminisce, watch the squirrels and birds, and yes, even a bunny this morning, before it got to be too much, share the seeds put out in my back yard.

It brings me back to days of school cancellations and snow igloos and King of the Mountain games in my childhood neighborhood and of course, pancake breakfasts my dad would make us. (I still live for banana pancakes to this day!). Perhaps it’s because my vocation allows me to remain a kid. A lot. That I still get the school cancellations. And I’m safe and don’t need to drive in it. That for this one moment in time, I’m not an adult with all the headaches that can accompany that responsibility, but instead, I’m still the girl in pigtails with the handmade hat and mittens, just waiting to build her next snowman.
 
Every first huge snowstorm, I think about Mary Oliver’s poem. I don’t believe in a traditional god, as I’ve said before. But my god! Beauty like this just does give me pause. And, as Oliver writes, “not a single answer can found,” I revel in my belief in agnosticism, for the answers don’t matter right now. Just the moment as it appears before my very eyes that cannot be denied. And I leave it with you as I stay still in my bundled-up sweater and watch the first snow from the safety of home. 

​FIRST SNOW
The snow
began here
this morning and all day
continued, its white
rhetoric everywhere
calling us back to why, how,
whence such beauty and what
the meaning; such
an oracular fever! flowing
past windows, an energy it seemed
would never ebb, never settle
less than lovely! and only now,
deep into night,
it has finally ended.
The silence
is immense,
and the heavens still hold
a million candles, nowhere
the familiar things:
stars, the moon,
the darkness we expect
and nightly turn from. Trees
glitter like castles
of ribbons, the broad fields
smolder with light, a passing
creekbed lies
heaped with shining hills;
and though the questions
that have assailed us all day
remain — not a single
answer has been found --
walking out now
into the silence and the light
under the trees,
and through the fields,
feels like one.
~Mary Oliver~