don't know, don't see
Often, a patron in the club will compliment me on how energetic and happy I am on stage. On occasion it will be followed by a complaint on how unfriendly or grumpy another dancer has been in comparison.
Sometimes, the hardest thing to do is get up on that stage and pretend the world is okay. They expect us to be perfect, sexy, and happy. I know everyone puts on a face to go to work, but sometimes it really sucks.
Thankfully we have stage names, and stage personalities. I never share my real identity. Real name, real life, in reality I am weak, and vulnerable. I may hide it, I may fake it, but anyone who knows me as the stripper, or thinks of me as a sex object- I never want to hear my real name come out of their mouth.
Because they don’t know me, they don’t know who I am. They don’t know what I want, or what I can offer. Regardless, I still have to put on a happy face and go to work.
I’m not perfect. I’m not happy today. Once I get to the bar, no one will know. Not the manger, not the DJ, not the men. There might be a moment when it slips, but likely only the bouncer will see it as I'm walking out of the VIP room.
It’s cheesy, but appropriate. I look like Josie on stage, and I read Archie Comics… and I’m frustrated and sad today. I’m looking at a friendship I fear has been ruined. Not ruined because of anything nasty, but rather because of misunderstandings, and my newfound desire to be honest, at least to myself. I don’t think I am willing to fake casual friendship when I get home. But I do have another 5 weeks to think about it, while listening to very bad mushy girly pop...
This is the place where I sit
This is the part where I love you too much
Is this as hard as it gets?
'Cause I'm getting tired
Of pretending I'm tough
I'm here if you want me. I'm yours, you can hold me. I'm empty and taken and tumbling and breakin''
Cause you don't see me
And you don't need me
And you don't love me
The way I wish you would
The way I know you could
I dream of worlds where you'd understand
and I dream a million sleepless nights
I dream of fire when you're touching my hand
but it twists into smoke when I turn on the light
I'm speechless and faded
It's too complicated
Is this how the book ends,
Nothing but good friends?
Sometimes, the hardest thing to do is get up on that stage and pretend the world is okay. They expect us to be perfect, sexy, and happy. I know everyone puts on a face to go to work, but sometimes it really sucks.
Thankfully we have stage names, and stage personalities. I never share my real identity. Real name, real life, in reality I am weak, and vulnerable. I may hide it, I may fake it, but anyone who knows me as the stripper, or thinks of me as a sex object- I never want to hear my real name come out of their mouth.
Because they don’t know me, they don’t know who I am. They don’t know what I want, or what I can offer. Regardless, I still have to put on a happy face and go to work.
I’m not perfect. I’m not happy today. Once I get to the bar, no one will know. Not the manger, not the DJ, not the men. There might be a moment when it slips, but likely only the bouncer will see it as I'm walking out of the VIP room.
It’s cheesy, but appropriate. I look like Josie on stage, and I read Archie Comics… and I’m frustrated and sad today. I’m looking at a friendship I fear has been ruined. Not ruined because of anything nasty, but rather because of misunderstandings, and my newfound desire to be honest, at least to myself. I don’t think I am willing to fake casual friendship when I get home. But I do have another 5 weeks to think about it, while listening to very bad mushy girly pop...
This is the place where I sit
This is the part where I love you too much
Is this as hard as it gets?
'Cause I'm getting tired
Of pretending I'm tough
I'm here if you want me. I'm yours, you can hold me. I'm empty and taken and tumbling and breakin''
Cause you don't see me
And you don't need me
And you don't love me
The way I wish you would
The way I know you could
I dream of worlds where you'd understand
and I dream a million sleepless nights
I dream of fire when you're touching my hand
but it twists into smoke when I turn on the light
I'm speechless and faded
It's too complicated
Is this how the book ends,
Nothing but good friends?
posted by Ryann @ 17:44
6 Comments:
At 5:59 PM,
Johnny Wadd said…
I try and instill those same values in all the dancers i work with. It is show business. Nobody comes to see a sad face.
At 12:36 AM,
Ryann said…
yeah, but while no one wants to see a sad face, it's hard to fake 60+ days of happy in a row. fired without pay is only so good of an incentive.
When real life happens, AND some prick asks you "how much for extras?"... it's damn hard.
work values are difficult to maintain when respect fails.
At 6:42 AM,
Cairde said…
I don't know how you do it, but you are stronger than you think. I am an open book, very hard to hide how I feel, my eyes show it all. Maybe you are showing it, it is in your eyes, but they are not looking at your eyes, they are not looking at "you".
At 11:44 AM,
Ryann said…
not stronger...
I just know how to make my eyes lie.
... not perfectly, but for the brief moments they are looking at my eyes, it's usually good enough.
I should be an actor.
At 2:52 PM,
Cairde said…
That is too bad. I know someone else who can keep the truth out of his eyes, but now I believe he no longer can look in the mirror and see his own truth, even if he is looking for it.
At 11:38 AM,
James Scolari said…
Don't let it get you down, sweetie... we all deal with it, no matter where we work. Reminds me of the movie "Runaway Train," ...
Buck
You know, I've spent almost every night of my life...
dreaming about this kind of shit.
Manny
Dreaming? That's bullshit. You're not gonna do nothing like that. I'll tell you what you're gonna do.
You're gonna get a job. That's what you're gonna do.
You're gonna get a little job-- some job a convict can get... Iike scraping off trays at a cafeteria or cleaning out toilets. And you're gonna hold on to that job like gold... because it is gold-- let me tell you, Jack. That is gold.
You listening to me?
And when that man walks in at the end of the day...
and he comes to see how you done... you ain't gonna look in his eyes. You're gonna look at the floor... because you don't wanna see that fear in his eyes, when you jump up and grab his face and slam him to the floor... and make him scream and cry for his life.
So you look right at the floor, Jack. And then he's gonna look around the room-- tp see how you done. And he's gonna say, "Oh, you missed a little spot over there. Jeez, you didn't get this one here. What about this little bitty spot?"
And you're gonna suck all that pain inside you... and you're gonna clean that spot, and you're gonna clean that spot, until you get that shining clean. And on Friday, you'll pick up your paycheck.
And if you could do that...
you could be president of Chase Manhattan-- of corporations, if you just could do that.
Buck
"Not me, man. I wouldn't do that kind of shit. I'd rather be in jail."
Manny
More's the pity, youngster. More the pity.
Buck
Could you do that kind of shit?
Manny
I wish I could.
...
Anyway, sorry to publish a novel here, but your post touched me. Please try to remember that what people put on you isn't about you. It doesn't reflect who you are, and while it speaks volumes about them, it says nothing at all about you.
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