Geisha

“Adversity is like a strong wind…it doesn’t just hold us back from places we might otherwise go. It also tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that afterward, we see ourselves as we really are, and not merely as we might like to be.”
Memoirs of a Geisha

There is a great deal of backlash about the movie “Memoirs of a Geisha”. Some centered wholly on the lack of Japanese actresses, or the incorrect hue of makeup, but more interestingly on the misrepresentation of the subject. I find this curious as a period piece. Of course things have changed, and of course it is fiction… it is a love story.

As the geisha world has evolved, I also look at my own. The North American exotic entertainment industry has changed a great deal over the past decades.

http://www.theage.com.au/news/world/career-geisha-outgrow-the-stereotype/2005/12/10/1134086848297.html


“That is not to say that the atmosphere inside the tatami-mat rooms is not sexually charged. Defusing the tension, while allowing male guests to leave with their egos unharmed, is a skill Umechika is trying hard to acquire.”



The women are entertainers. They provide an escape and a service. Sexual in nature, but not in practice, I wonder if geisha and strippers are cultural equivalents.




Perhaps I dance because I am meant to dance. Perhaps there is something in me that is genuinely a fantasy, perhaps I offer a parallel dimension just outside the confines and routine of reality. There are many things I have learned as an exotic entertainer, yet there is an unspoken element. I enjoy offering an escape. It gives me pleasure to watch a man relax and confide. I strive to create an individualized environment of sensual acceptance for whom I choose.


I am an entertainer, a fantasy, a creation to fulfill a desire. Not sex. Sex is easy to obtain.

“Geisha are not courtesans. And we are not wives. We sell our skills, not our bodies. We create another secret world, a place only of beauty. The very word ‘geisha’ means artist... a moving work of art.”



In stolen moments I weave a secret world of beauty and surreal intrigue. There is sacrifice. Love is a dangerous phenomenon, one that I am not willing to risk even for those I have affection for. Ambition and purpose require choices. I do not want a secondary income, or a less valued career. I am not willing to be bought or kept. I am not willing to forgo my financial, professional, or educational independence in a quest for love and forever.


Perhaps in different times the path that led women into a profession of sexual insinuations and entertaining was more arduous. Perhaps more women are now entering into those same professions from a feminist perspective. But there are still tears, hopes, secrets, hidden identities, and unexpressed sacrifice.

ahhh

...and Christmas is OVER!!

Some situations, some friendships, some encounters exist just outside of reality. I love it. perfect in their... isolation.

I love dedicated flirtations with no expectations
I love friendships comfortable in sexual tension
I love passionate intrigue playing in a fantasy

I'm still at home... and at home there are a few people that keep my attention, or continue to attract my attention. I'm enjoying it... soon enough I'll be back in the desolute land of red necks and ignorance. I'm going to enjoy a bit more time with the Brilliant beautiful boys of the west coast and all that creative sexy charm.

Silent Night

The warmth is enveloping.
The flicker of candles shimmers throughout the darkened crowd as voices echo into the rafters...






Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child
Holy Infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace



As the gentle flames capture a timeless moment, my heart is aching and I feel the tears streaming down my face. The silent absence of a certain person is on all our minds. I stare up into the ceiling, willing him to be there. There is nothing to say, it's Christmas Eve.

I drive. I stare at lights. I stare at nothing. I stare at the sky and feel the pain in waves just below the surface. Eventually I go home...

It's late, and Christmas morning comes too early. I want to cry, but the moment is frozen in nostalgia, and I know the sadness will remain just beyond my grasp... lost in the chaos.

but for now I will remember...
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace

mmm ginger

Urgh.

Sniffles, achy everything, headache... I'm not quite sick but it's an ongoing battle. A dedicated regime of ginger, vitamins, sleep, and other random healthy stuff fighting it out with the icky germs and leftover flu shot side effects. I'm going to win dammit!

Nothing like a stuffy nose to make you feel sexy! My shows are certainly not as energetic as they could be, but I blame that on the reoccurring sensation that I'm underwater while performing.

For the record, No, I cannot call in sick. Unless you're puking and green, it's better to just do the show than cause trouble trying to get shows covered. If you are ARE a grotesque shade of sewer then at best you can quit, hope you're at a bar that will pay you for shows already done, and go home, crawl under a rock and hope being sick doesn't blackball you at that club next time around. But I'm not sick, so it's okay.

I'm just dizzy and foggy and... going to eat more ginger. Oh so sexy! But it is Christmas, and I do like presents. It strikes me as odd how often patrons will give random gifts to dancers. This morning I received a teddy bear, and chocolate. It's not odd as in creepy, but randomly sweet and unexplainable. Gifts most often come from older gentlemen, 50-65 yrs, who have a fond appreciation for the girls. They are almost fatherly in their manner, yet they are still sitting in gyno row... unique juxtaposition.

It's Thursday. Only two more days. I have a few last minute gifts to buy, but I just can't bring myself to enter a retail establishment... I know putting it off until Xmas eve will suck, but I suspect I may procrastinate for two more days anyhow. The road to Christmas Eve shopping is paved with good intentions.

Solstice

All organic, fresh juiced, carrot, orange & ginger super juice.... mmmm. I actually have a juicer... in a box, in a town... somewhere. But as with many good intentions in the kitchen, and in my life, I got bored and stopped using it.

It’s winter solstice today, a far more ancient tradition and celebration than Jesus. Ancient cultures spent much energy in the tracking of the solstice. The turning point, the rebirth of the sun. An utterly astounding array of ancient cultures built their greatest architectures -- tombs, temples, cairns and sacred observatories -- so that they aligned with the solstices and equinoxes. Stonehenge is a perfect marker of both solstices. The less popular Newgrange, a beautiful megalithic site in Ireland is thought to be 5,000 years old. This huge circular stone structure was built to receive a shaft of sunlight deep into its central chamber at dawn on winter solstice.

The placement of Hanukkah is tied to both the lunar and solar calendars. It begins on the 25th of Kislev, three days before the new moon closest to the Winter Solstice. Almost every culture marks a celebration near solstice.

I watched the Barbara Walters special on “Heaven. Where is it? How do we get there?” last night. I was struck by the regularity of judgment and uncertainty from people who are considered leaders of religion. His Holiness the Dalai Lama is beautiful in his modesty and acceptance. Sadly he was the only religious figure to NOT insinuate the condemnation of other faiths. Is Heaven pie? And sex? And virgins? Is Heaven unlimited cookies and chocolate while golfing with Aristotle? (Oops he wasn’t born again, might not be there)

I do not have an accurate picture of eternal life. But to limit eternity to elite pie eating without getting fat, or to exclusive lounging on lavish silks with unlimited sex… well it seems a tad… petty and narrow. Are we really that obsessed with the delights of indulgence? No wonder I have a job.

Are we really incapable of believing in acceptance, love, respect, and beauty? Are we, the same species capable of building pyramids, spaceships, Zen gardens and cathedrals incapable of encouraging an inclusive eternity?

I know I can create more than sex and pie in my vision of forever. But I was raised without fear, hatred and guilt.

http://www.truthbook.com/flash/findinggodflash.html

By Jesus, Allah, Jehovah, Buddha, Mother Spirit or any other name… Solstice is a time for reflecting that all life on earth is cyclical.

As the cycle continues, and the sun is reborn to another year, bless all those who mourn, who celebrate.
Bless the children in their innocence, and let them find joy in visions of Santa Clause, and magic.
Bless the travelers and the wanderers.
Bless friends and family, and loved ones far away.
Bless those who struggle and those who are alone.
Bless the men and women who make their living in dangerous and isolated professions.
Protect and cherish the streetwalkers and the homeless.
May the new season bring joy and peace as the days grow long. May the new sun guide and protect, and may the path appear to those who seek.

There is something special about Winter Solstice. It is an ancient common thread that ties the festivities together.

mmm turkey

I love turkey.

Actually I love turkey dinners. Turkeys are really quite smelly and dumb until they become dinner. No vegetarian leanings here.

I had the pleasure of joining a good friend of mine last night, and borrowing some of his friends, to enjoy a fabulous evening of turkey, wine, cranium, and good company. I'm having a great week in Victoria. I've met some really interesting people.

When feeling less than festive... come to Victoria. The whole town is twinkles and sparkles. Horse drawn carriages, and Christmas carols... 'Tis lovely.

And the rain... glorious fabulous wonderful rain. I haven't seen most of the world, and I do intend to... but every time I come home I'm just so appreciative. I'm content to be home. It's refreshing reintegrating into the land of hippies and arts degrees, mountains and rain, organic lifestyles and bike freaks, social activists and musicians.

I’m at the Red Lion this week. The club is great, the people are nice, the rooms are clean… all in all I’m happy.


Weirdo of the day: Father (50 yrs), and Son (20 yrs). So these two guys sat in front row last night making lewd gestures and putting money on the stage. Sweet, I like money. Starts with Father putting a $20 up, so I go pay them a bit of attention, at which point the kid starts making ‘suggestions’. The comments increase as does the money… a $5… then a $10… then another $5… Father then starts playing around with a $100 while the son tells me he wants me, and that there’s more money… (oooh oooh be still my heart). The son offers me $1000 for… … and that I should talk to him after (insert obscene tongue gestures from both). I finish my set, take the $40 and head back to the Christmas party.

I just can’t figure out who wanted what? Maybe they wanted a 2 for 1, or take one for the team… Sadly I doubt I’ll ever know.

Part two

Who am I... part two

Tell everyone. Tell no one. Well this is why I flip with every different person.

Advice I hate.

Cheer up- why? Isn’t sadness as real an experience as joy?
Don’t ever change who you are- what? And stay stagnant? I should hope I change and grow.
Be honest- overrated.

I don't question or doubt my friends. Those who know and love me are accepting and wonderful. But I don't use "friends" when referring to people I'm uncomfortable talking to about my job. I don't strut down the street yelling "I'm a stripper" to strangers. But those people in the middle... maybe hung out a couple times, friends of friends, old coworkers... I believe the word would be acquaintance.

They know my real name; perhaps know a bit of my background enough to assume something. They know one of my friends, maybe met me while out for a drink... But, they do not know me. They do not have my number. I would not invite them out. But, these are people I cross paths with in social scenarios on a semi-regular basis. As such, they tend to know about my job... unless I lie. It is in those moments, when I am me, that I question being honest. It is in those moments, when I'm not the stripper, which my defenses are down.

So... I could stay anti-social.

When I think of being social I think of groups of people, I may or may not know, talking and drinking together. I prefer intimate situations with close friends.

I understand my job. I understand my role as a fantasy, and I embrace it. I choose to do it. When I am Ryann I am in a professional role as a product. When I answer to Ryann I expect people to know me in that context. I don't care what people think while I'm working. I'm talking about people who have never seen my show, who know nothing about my job outside of "stripper = nymphoslut" and treat me like a prize to be fucked while out for dinner.

What makes a person jaded? A lack of understanding and compassion. A void that craves to be filled with anything but assumptions and disappointment. A repetition of unfortunate expectations. Yes, I'm jaded... but not destroyed.

I enjoyed a beautiful moment today. It was an afternoon of comfort, understanding, respect, and friendship. I feel safe when I'm with the Brat, mentally, emotionally, and physically. Oh there is always sexual tension between the Brat and I but as complicated as it could be, I cherish the simple pleasure of time and human contact. He helps restore my faith in humanity by being honest and a friend. It's rare in my life to mix sexuality with sensual caring and deep-rooted respect.

No false expectations, I'm going to enjoy the moment.

Define

I don't want to be defined as "the stripper".

and fuck it, I'm going to be arrogant for a moment. I'm 25 years old. I've already had a few careers. I'm a university graduate, and in a professional sense I've already done more than many people ever will... Yet some drunk trucker I went to highschool with wants to treat me like "the stripper", because it's so funny, and so hot, and so... urgh.

I struggle on a daily basis, while at home, deciding to be honest or not. Every friend I run into and every person I meet offers a new opportunity to be judged and dismissed.I don't want to lie, I'm horrible at it. I can avoid... but there's only so many ways around "so where are you living?", "what are you doing?", that can explain why I work in Alberta, my cell phone is BC, I don't have a home, and I'm never in the town I'm supposed to be.

But if I'm honest I risk a multitude of potencial disasters as I watch people's opinions change in front of me... easy... slut... sinner... worthless...

I wish I wasn't thinking these thoughts on my birthday. I had a great day, but that one guy just got to me because I wasn't in a defensive mindset. I wasn't prepared to deal with him.

It was a lovely day, but I prefer to socialize one-on-one. I like real conversation with genuine (sober) people. I'm having a real hard time reintigrating into society... primarily because I don't really have a desire to. I don't want to defend myeslf, or lie, or prove anything. I just want to be. Be real.

I want to go back to work. I can be Ryann in peace. I can choose what I do or not reveal. I don't risk anything. I'm safe at work. I'm lonely, but at least when I'm alone I don't question it.

24 was one hell of a year. I've learned so much about myself. We'll see what 25 brings...

25!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!

In light of ths occation my sister sent me a poem...

happy birthday to you.
you live in a zoo.
you have to use two packs of candles
cuz you're old like a shoe.

What a sweet child...

I'll write more later... off to the birthday festivities..

'Us' and 'Them'

Sex with clowns is weird.
Sex with people dressed in giant bunny suits is weird.
Sex with a fat man in a diaper is weird.
CSI covers some rather strange topics...

Maybe I'm weird for watching... oooooh. Creepy. (so all you other people that watch are weird too)

I'm lost, but we all knew that. I don't know what I want to do with my life, and I've already had a few careers that could have been long term if I didn't get bored. I hate to think I'm closing doors and cutting myself off from careers by putting myself through school. In creating a financial position for myself that will give me numerous options, am I creating a societal stigma that will hinder my dreams?

Without having life handed to you on a sliver platter, is one expected to choose between integrity and success?

http://p090.ezboard.com/fpremed101frm85.showMessage?topicID=206.topic


I forget sometimes how sheltered some people are... from silver spoon, to med school, to an all-expenses paid life in a bubble. I won't say a happy life because I don't believe that an easy life makes anyone happy... perhaps unprepared to empathize or survive. I can't help but think that a more independent and dynamic life would make for a better understanding and appreciation for humanity, and a better doctor... In my reality I am surrounded by accepting, and open-minded people. It's easy to forget how segregated our society is, as we obviously don't often cross paths with "others". I don't know that I want to be a doctor, but I don't ever want that choice taken from me based on my employment.

What is it that makes people so eager to judge and separate "us" from "them"? Why does this segregation pop up in almost every aspect of life? Do we define ourselves by who we are not?

Virgin/whore
Straight/ gay
Male/ female
Rich/ poor
Old/ young
Moral/ despicable
Normal...

I wonder, do you think that when part of a marginalized group within society that it becomes more important to draw the lines and set the boundaries?

I've been reading 'The homeless guy'. http://thehomelessguy.blogspot.com/

He has some interesting insights, but I found the narrow recognition of who deserves to be called "homeless" rather limiting. For example... I am in the sex industry, but I will become defensive if it's suggested that I prostitute myself. When part of a group that is lumped together without definition, but with negative connotations, does it become a personal battle within the group to separate "us", from "them"?? Even though everyone's stories are valid, choices unique, and paths diverse?

I try to make a conscious effort to not feed the internal negativity. "I'm a dancer, she's a whore", because I don't feel it's productive and positive for anyone. Does hair splitting between who has ‘earned’ the right to be called homeless, and who has not, do anyone any good? Aside from isolating individuals within a group that is already isolated from society, what purpose does it serve? Does it create a homeless hierarchy?

Am I any less a part of the sex industry because I come from a good home? Does the fact that I have more choices available to me invalidate the experiences that come from being treated as an object? Yes, people’s experiences are different. Maybe the family that lost their house doesn’t truly understand the hopelessness of someone that has been totally abandoned, but does that make their experience less worthy of validation? Maybe the kid that ran away could go home; maybe his life wasn’t that bad. But, if he felt it intolerable to stay do his options, though perhaps not recognized internally, nullify his assertion of homelessness?

What purpose do labels and further segregation serve?

... I don't have an answer... I'm stuck on what "ought" to be.

I love, I say...

I'm sheltered. I have no drug stories, or addictions. I have no dark secrets of abuse. I have never been homeless. I have never been in a hopeless freefall without a safety net of family and friends. I've never been beat up, or forced. I do not carry shame, and I do not suffer from self-loathing. I am blessed.

But I see it, and on occasion I can feel it. Empathy... I watch people. I listen. I might be anti-social, but I pay attention. I watch the dancers, I watch the patrons. I watch the people I pass on the street. Are we really different? I am a daughter, a sister, a friend, and a woman. I do feel pain. I do feel loss. I do long for something abstract and fulfilling. I have a university education, and I am in the sex industry. Now, I see it. Now, I know how lucky I am, how sheltered I've been, how thankful I am.

I am passionate and determined. I am sarcastic and suspicious. I try to have realistic expectations of myself and those around me. I am willing to sacrifice romantic security for this journey. “Not all who wander are aimless, especially those who seek truth beyond traditions, beyond definition, beyond the image".

2005 has been tumultuous. I am nearing on my 25th birthday, and I am reflective today. Eleven months ago my world changed in a phone call. I met someone on the worst day of my life. On the day my world collapsed. On the threshold of the internalization of the death of my unconditional faith in the world, and in myself, I met someone. I’m calling him ‘Whiskey’. I cannot define the relationship, I dare not. I despise it for the moments I wish could be. I adore it for the escape. I cherish it for what it is…

And then... in the months of autopilot that followed that phone call, I lost myself. I forgot who I was. I fell in love with a dream, I dared to hope. I dared to risk vulnerable faith. I desperately wanted to find safety and comfort in the arms of a kindred spirit. I was grasping for love to fill the void. I returned to my ongoing affair with Maverick. I wanted him to somehow lessen the pain as I helplessly watched my untainted perception fade into a memory. He knew me before. He knew me innocent.

Perhaps that’s all I could be to him. Perhaps this year has changed me too much. I know I’m not the same person I was nine years ago, three years ago, or six months ago. I lost my reality, my dreams, my sense of purpose, my identity. I'm still rebuilding, but I like who I am becoming. I am proud. I am independent. I am strong. I am jaded. I am lonely. I'm still growing and changing and experiencing. I am many things to many people.

I wanted to feel loved and accepted. I wanted to feel cherished and protected.

Part of rebuilding and rediscovering my identity has been to walk away from Maverick. I met Whiskey on the day I lost myself. I walked away from Maverick on the day I began to rebuild myself. I haven’t spoken to him since August. I think he expected different of me. I think he expected more strength and completion. I miss him. I miss feeling that someone knew me, understood me, and wanted me. I think he’s disappointed in me for dancing. Randomly he’ll ask my sister how I’m doing, what I’m doing and if I’m still dancing. Is he waiting for her to say “No, she quit dancing. She’s in school.”? I wonder if then he would call. I wonder if then I would be worthy of his love… either way… I don’t want it. He won’t be home for Christmas, I’m relieved. But I do miss what he represented in my heart.

Whoo hoo!

Wandering through a Christmas card should be done on a sleigh, preferably with bells, snuggles, and hot chocolate. Then all the soft sparkles and crispy twinkles can be properly enjoyed. It's just not the same driving through a Christmas card on ice, swerving around SUV's that think they're invinsible. Then people wonder why every second accident is an SUV rollover... jeepers!

I think I've left the snow behind. Mountains!! Ocean!! Yay!! But no snow. Contrary to "Canada is a frozen land of snow and igloos", the west coast (Vancouver and surrounding areas) almost never sees snow. That's what we have mountains for... you drive to snow, play, snowboard, flirt with aussies, and drive home. I always want a white Christmas, but I'm willing to trade that for the warmth. It was a very pretty drive through the snow covered mountains. Impatient... but pretty.

So... now I'm here. Still impatient... waiting for an old friend. I'm hyper, and festive, and happy, and giddy, and really really really tired of waiting. Where's my instant gratification?!?!?!

I couldn't wait to get here. I had a great last show, loud, girly and fun... I'm not sure what the audience thought, but I really couldn't care less. I'm on VACATION!!! whooo hooo!!

So I really have nothing else to say... I need to get out of this hotel room and go socialize.

One day!!

London drugs charges 20 cents on every cd for a "copying fee", and they say that the government charges it... except NO ONE else charges that. So instead of paying $30 for 50 cds, we went to Future Shop and paid $19.50 for the same package... sooo yah. That's crap!

Good deed for the day: Bought hot chocolate for a small group of high school students and their parents. These kids were standing outside Future Shop all day selling Krispy Kream doughnuts to raise money to go Mexico and build some school or something. It was COLD! The dedication of people is amazing... standing outside with numb toes, shivering... so we went to Timmy's and bought them hot chocolate. They needed to get warm.

Two more shows... two more shows... I have NO desire to do any more shows. I don't wanna. I don't really want to do anything. I just want to be home. My tummy hurts and I don't like it. I want a day off. I want a week off. I'm practically packed. I just can't wait to get home, see my friends, and the rest of my weird family... Tomorrow is NOT soon enough. I'm feeling like a kid at Christmas, giddy and anxious. Maybe that's why my tummy hurts. Maybe I'm nervous...

.... oops show in 10 min...

.... and I'm back.

....One more show... One more show...

Maybe I'm hungry. I really should eat something but I can't for the life of me think of anything I want to eat. I'm hoping something delicious will magically appear in front of me.

I need a holiday playtoy... sexy, entertaining... and that I don't have to feel obligated to call after new years... hmm... what does that have to do with food... oh c'mon... nothing!!! You sick people!!

I get to see the ocean tomorrow!!! Only 5 days until my birthday! 15 days until Christmas. I'm sure there will be moments of loneliness, especially if I run into a certain disappearing disappointment over the holidays, Maverick... I just need a distraction. Just in case the universe conspires to hate me and wandering through the mall I run into... ugh. I hope not.

So... fun, fresh, casual, flirty... playtoy it is... maybe...

spbut spno... sp

Someone doesn't like me

Someone doesn't like me... and well... that happens. I'm very aware of how abrasive and blunt I can be at times. I know I can rub people the wrong way, and I know there are people who are happy to have nothing to do with me. I know I'm anti-social while working and that I don't know very many dancers on a personal level.

... and that's okay...

However, I generally am aware of when I've alienated someone. Perhaps not at the moment if I've said something in an obliviously Sagittarian way... but usually I'm vaguely aware of the transgression.

I have to confess... I have NO IDEA who hates me. Another dancer decided to rant about me on the forum the other day, as I was blissfully ignorant of the entire thing. I debated posting it or not... but I've decided that since I'm not getting into a war, or trashing anyone, and I'm not mentioning names... it's just too funny not to share. Especially since I really really have NO IDEA who the author is.


Ryann i have work with u a few times in calgary u seem like a nice girl a little nieve but ur new to the industry, i have been dancing since befor u were probably legal and have been all over canada the states and over seas, a word of advice for a newbie dont act like u know everything about the indusrty sweety cuz u dont u seem to have an oppinion on everything even if u werent there dont know the girl havent been to the club or whatevr because i think ur "i know everything, i am sooo great cuz i am a peeler ( wich will go away it doesnt make any of us special) attitude could get u into trouble with the wrong girl......

So... someone doesn't like me... okay.

Addicted

I'm addicted. 100% totally obsessively addicted... and not to anything delightfully sinister like sex or drugs... how dull...

Oh no, much worse.... Grande, Non-fat, No-whip, light foam, extra sprinkles, Pumpkin Spice Latte. mmmm... the very thought makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. I'm one of them. I'm one of those Starbucks people. Not a coffee junkie because I don't even want to go to second cup or timmy's... they don't make it right. They can't cater to my obsessively specific $5.00 coffee. They follow their pre-determined recipes and you're supposed to like it. Order a coffee, not a paragraph.

I can happily sit here for hours, watching people and enjoying the atmosphere. I can sit here and sip on my 'coffee' while blogging. Even the employees are not your regular minimum wage high schoolers and time killers. Starbucks hires smart, funky people with personality. Normal people don't become addicted to Starbucks. It's elitist. Well-dressed, well presented professional folk of their breaks, comfy intellectual snobs doing homework, nerds such as myself being anti-social taking advantage of wireless, and small groups of women enjoying the afternoon gossip. So many people so obessive about their coffee... What a delightful niche in society.

I should be going, my first show is in 20 min, and I ought to go back to the bar and get dressed.. soon...

There are people in this town I should say hello to while I'm here, old coworkers, old friends... but I've been rather anti-social. I never quite know if I should be honest about my job or not. It's near impossible to lie effectively and explain why I'm in town for a week, on such a specfic schedule, why I can't meet earlier, or stay later... and I'm never really sure how people will react. So I find myself ignoring them, avoiding going for coffee or lunch because I can't decide what to say... I choose to not put myself in situations where I may be subjected to negative energy or opinions. Am I loosing friends in doing this? Should I be honest and immediately weed out the friends that are not real? Should I lie? I'm not sure... Is it fair of me to expect people to understand?

A moment

I'm sitting in Starbucks listening to a jazz version of "Jingle bell rock". It drowns out the subtle noises of other patrons. Two people are reading books, the starbucks guy is restocking lids, and another guy appears to have fallen asleep in the comfy chair. A young couple is quietly talking in the corner. Her body is turned towards him and she's fidgeting with her jacket. He's wearing a seashell/ hemp necklace and a hoodie. It reminds me of someone. Actually it reminds me of a moment, a moment of attraction and nervousness. It reminds me of love.

Two teenage girls just walked in. They both ordered cold drinks with lots of whipped cream and wrapped their scarves around tighter before wandering back outside into the darkness. I often wonder how so many people can appear so happy, and yet struggle so much. I especially wonder about teens. Are those girls happy? Do they have a loving home? What secrets do they think about while staring at the ceiling? Perhaps I'm morbid, but I've seen and heard too much. Teen suicide sucks. Correction: all suicides suck. Friends dying sucks. Sometimes I wonder how these kids find the strength to make it through their teen years. I wonder what could have been done to prevent the loss of the ones that didn't. I wonder how I got so lucky to make it through those tumultuous years with mental and emotional health.

Yet another teenage girl has been hospitalized after a suicide attempt, thanks to a delicate and courageous fifteen year old girl that found the strength to call 911. It's not the first time I've seen it happen, and I know it won't be the last. I just wish that a few more calls could have been made, a few more cries heard, and a few more lives saved. MSN is a curious social crutch. So many people will type what they fear to speak. So many people will cry for help, for friendship, for safety through their computer.

Who is it that we expect will answer? Friends? Strangers? Angels? Crying out to the universe... What incredible good fortune when someone does answer.

It's nearing on Christmas and I'm getting nervous. Just a reminder in the back of my mind that my dear friend will not be there this year. I know I will cry Christmas Eve sitting in the pew. I almost welcome it. It's a moment that must be lived, an emotion that must be internalized, a process... I know there will be joy, and I know my heart will ache.

I'm almost home...

An Italian boy fell in love with me today

It's Tuesday! I really don't care that the clock has clicked beyond midnight, as long as I haven't gone to bed it remains today.

An Italian boy fell in love with me today. He was very pretty, and very infatuated. He sat in front row for two shows gazing up at me in adoration. Apparently I am the sweetest, prettiest, most amazing stripper ever. Sweet!! He told me I'm beautiful and a goddess, and we talked about art. Then I danced naked. He says he'll be back to see me again later in the week. Which of course makes sense as he in in love with me.

It was a good crowd. Not a large crowd, but a handful of very appreciative and fun patrons. I had a lot of fun with my 50's set again today. It's my current favourite. A couple of older guys were groovin' to the music. Apparently in my poodle skirt I bring back all sorts of memories... Probably of early crushes and high school romance. I love being a fantasy.

...and on that note... I'm going to bed.

Viva Las Vegas...

Viva Las Vegas!! Viva Las Vegas!!!

My new poster is finished, so I'm sharing it! because well modesty has never been my strong point, and I just love it. I can't wait to pick it up next week in van.

I just finished my third show of the day, three more to go. I'm having fun. I might have Elvis stuck in my head for hours, but I have so much fun with my 50's set.

Apparently the Willow is 'dirty' and so are all the girls that work there. Sigh... the silly things people will say without thinking. I usually enjoy this type of bar better, it's more traditional strip club than a lot of the more popular coed party bars that happen to have naked girls. I like being the center of attention while I'm performing. I like the appreciation.

I'm in BC!! and it's my last week on the road!!! and I'm happy!! Ok really I'm just stupid giddy hyper bouncing around like... well like me! and I'm in a martini glass! and it's not -30 degrees outside! and I love my sister! and the people are nice! and I'm done early every night! and I'll be home in less than a week!!

I want to go to Vegas. I've never been there. I don't tend to take vacations because I've always been in school, or paying for school.. but I think Vegas is moving up on the list of places I want to visit soon. I wonder what working there would be like. I'm really picky about where I work because the laws differ so much. I'm a bit nervous about ending up somewhere and being expected to perform outside of my comfort zone as a dancer. Maybe I'll just kidnap a certain very sexy playtoy and take a vacation... hmmm now that's an idea. In the meantime I'll try to drop in on reality on occation.

It feels like Christmas! and I love it! I still want to bake cookies and make gingerbread houses...

Back to BC!!

I had breakfast this morning. Perhaps that shouldn't be an announcement, but it is, especially when it's a real breakfast with eggs, and hash browns, and fake toast, and corned beef, and oranges. mmm yummy. AND it's definitely an announcement because breakfast was made for me, even after I was so grumpy and evil in response to the totally uncalled for wakeup at too damn early for a Sunday. My care bear loves me, and never ever ever tries to wake me up. That's why I sleep with my care bear. There's only so many reasons to be woken up on a Sunday morning, and since I don't have sex in Alberta that takes away most of them. But I do appreciate breakfast, and I know I'm a pain in the arse. So even though I'm not exactly a ray of sunshine in the morning I got sent off with a full tummy. (that makes my friend a superstar or lion tamer)

With my full tummy I took to my favourite activity, drive west. The snow was dancing over the road like morning fog, creating a fantastical atmosphere. The mountains were glistening as the occasional cloud was pierced by the peaks. If I could have figured out a way to ignore silly details like chemical state I was going to take home icicle swords as tall as me. (yes, I know I'm short)

Of course it wouldn't be a drive through the mountains without stupid inconsiderate trucks insisting on throwing rocks at my windshield. Hardly friendly, and they just don't listen when I yell into space "Stop throwing rocks at me!!"

Oooh well, I had a lovely afternoon of daydreaming, singing along to wonderful music, and thinking about all the things I want to do while I'm back in BC. I'm in Kelowna, and while I know it won't be a great week financially, I'm so glad to be here and spend time with my sister and her surrogate family. Just to sit around a table as everyone devours the meal, and be with people. It's been a long time since I laughed so hard I wanted to puke, clutching my tummy in pain, giggling hysterically at stories you don't even remember. Great food, great people.

It's so good to be back in BC. Not quite 'home', but my sister feels like home to me. I'm content and dreamy tonight.

"Judge Not, Lest Ye Be Judged."

'Tis the end of another great week in Calgary.

I'm really nervous about driving to Kelowna tomorrow, through the Rockies in December doesn't sound like much fun. The roads aren't great, but the people are stupid!! Every time I get in my car I see at least one accident.

I feel strange seeing accidents as I'm driving home. According to my training, I should stop. For nine years I have been taught, and been teaching the importance of immediate medical attention, and how critical "first on the scene" can be to an injured person. However as a single woman driving alone at 2:00am, I check to ensure my doors are locked, slow down and take a quick glance before I carry on my way.

A woman I worked with briefly, earlier in the year, was dragged into the club this afternoon with another previous business associate who was dropping something off for me. He knew I danced. She did not. She, like the other women at the office, is very sheltered and conservative. In one look I knew she was disgusted and shocked. I could see in her eyes as the respect evaporated and was replaced with simple judgment. I have no doubt that I will be the topic of conversation this week. I have no doubt that the women will speculate and gossip as they condemn me to eternal damnation. "That Whore!" But Jesus and I talked it over at great length many months ago. As I am doing nothing to be ashamed of, I have no trouble sleeping at night.

"Judge Not, Lest Ye Be Judged."

Matthew 7,6. "Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet."

So... some people are worth my time, and others... are not. The bible said so.

Nitey nite.

I'm not worried

I've had more than one person tell me that they have read my blog, and are worried about me. I find this as curious as someone asking me if I'm happy. I do believe that happiness is from within and that only you have the power to change the way you feel... but I am puzzled by the expectation that one should seek to be happy everyday.

I don't worry about me. At least not in the sense of "Are you okay?"... Because I am okay. I'm always okay. While that might be a dismissive defense, it's also very true. I might not be happy everyday, but overall I'm content with where I am at this point in my journey. I'm happier than I was six months ago. I may be seeking purpose and feeling lost, but I'm doing so from a position of coherent consideration. I'm not wandering in a daze. I feel. I think. I experience. I write. I grow.

Sometimes I miss the naivety of years past. But innocence didn't prevent injury; it didn't erase betrayal or lessen the pain of a broken heart. Perhaps I seem more jaded than others, but while I reminisce of the days of pure crushes and trust, I also remember that with the affection came disappointment, and growth.

Do friends worry about me because I am expressing hurt and vulnerability? I cherish that I can feel, that I am no longer totally numb. To shed tears is progress. I love my friends, and my family. I’m very much looking forward to going home and reintegrating into reality. I know I am hesitant to participate in ‘real life’ at the moment, but I know the process to change that. Yes, I am lonely but I’m not afraid to be alone. Yes, I am envious of people that have pure intimacy and romantic love, but I don’t resent that I am not there. Our paths are different, priorities diverse, and experiences unique.

I do wonder how I will resolve my defenses, and when. I know I’m isolated and protective. I am very aware of how terrified I am of intimacy, and of how much I mistrust intentions.

I believe that through personal reflection and awareness I will learn to move beyond this point. I have never been static, and I don’t intend to start. If anti-social and philosophical is where I am at this moment, then so be it.

I’m not worried.

"We're just friends" (continuation from last night)

"We're just friends"

Aside from "I'm not having sex with you" ... means one of the following...

1. One or both parties are in relationships with someone else
2. We already dated
3. One person has a huge crush to which the other is oblivious
4. There is unresolved sexual tension that has yet to encounter the right situation, causing a real fondness to develop while waiting for the right time.
5. Something caused me to mentally neuter you, creating a non-sexual being in my eyes. This one is interesting and often results from childhood friends (brother/ sister relationship), or an age difference that makes sex repulsive.
6. The person is aware of large road blocks, such as "I am so much of an Ice Queen that I am incapable of being intimate", and decides to take what he can get, and respect that.

I have all of these friends.

The interesting part I find is the "Just in case clause" that exists is almost ALL of the various situations. (Commited relationships between faithful people excluded)

...Hey yah, we're friends, no expectations... we're buddies... but just in case you ever want to have sex... Oh YAH!! I'd jump at the chance.

I don't think I am god's gift to men. that's just silly. I don't think every guy should find me attractive. If tall, blonde, long legs, big boobs is the preferance, I don't qualify. I'm also cocky, arrogant, dismissive, and pretencious at times. I have no patience for stupid people and the red neck right-wing manifesto so prominant in this province tends to illict political comments and hippy defenses. Oh, and I don't like people. People are weird, and they annoy me.

However, I am a sexual woman, and hey if I'm willing... most of the guys I've encountered would be perfectly happy to hop into bed. But whether they would call the next day if I allowed that situation to exist... I can pretty much say, No. He would not call.

But, I feel I should qualify... I do have male friends. a few.... a handful from #2 all of whom have asked "would you ever have sex with me again", a couple leftovers from school, and my sister's BF fit into #5. I have very few that come from #1. Women often find me threatening, and that causes a lot of tension. I've really enjoyed friendships from #4, exciting, dynamic and sexual (I know I know).

I often wish I could go back to the days of #3, when I was unaware and believed it to be real. But this one I find to be the most disappointing. I thought it was real. I belived he cared. I assumed it was mutual... but then... he hits on me. After months, or sometimes years, of being "friends" he hits on me and I go from being a valued human being to a piece of ass.

So the moral of the story... Thank god for girlfriends. Men I'm still not sure what to do with.