It's 830 in the morning, I'm four hours behind in beginning ..

It's 830 in the morning, I'm four hours behind in beginning my day. My mood is humbled, I'm calm and reflecting the experiences I've just had, in Texas. People have lost their homes, jobs. Their livelihoods are ripped from their grasp. Families have been strained and faith has been tested. Last night, I learned, the South isn't through the worst of it. Their ordeal has just begun. Two more hurricanes, bad ones, are on their way to the weather torn areas, as if to kick a dog when it's down. Considering the racially charged rage that's fueling the country right now, these storms seem like a divine intervention. Between political hatreds and community outcries, these affected Americans aren't thinking about their next protest or their next Facebook argument. These people are grateful to be alive. They're looking to one another - black, white, brown, etc.... Republican, Democrat, etc..... They're not worried about statues and southern flags. They're not giving a shit about Donald Trump or Barack Obama. These people are putting their faith in their neighbors, their countrymen, their own higher power. The only flags they see right now are the Red Cross and the American flag. It's a much needed deviation, from the national fractures of our times. Something many of you may not know about me is the diversity of my household. I don't speak of them often, to shield them from being affected by what I do for a living. My family is racially rainbowed, politically scattered, and faithfully open minded. We've had lively discussions, around the dinner table without rage, and still love each other. I make jokes and banter with the public about ruling a kingdom. As the matriarch, my family looks to me to guide them, to teach them. My Texas trip, shocking, yielded examples of love, faith, and community. I walked into a house, barely standing. It should be a historical landmark, it's so old. This home was destroyed. It broke my heart. The family didn't miss a beat offered me coffee and sandwiches. They refused to leave their home. Didn't offer a microcosm of political or racial conversation, simply chatted about the neighborhood restoration and supply run. So, no, this isn't a very porn-like piece today. It's a human publication. I was inspired. Sexual energy is a resolution of one's internal frustrations, joys, and history. My sexual energy has a depth most will never know. I want to thank all of you for subscribing to my pages. A large percentage of these profits have been donated to the cleanup efforts in the South. For now, I'm getting myself together, mindful of my personal blessings. I return to work tomorrow...... please keep these folks in your thoughts. Their Hell has just begun.