Merry Christmas Friends.

I love Christmas Eve. It’s a time of carols and nativity stories. It’s a church full of friends and memories. It’s an opportunity to reconnect and be surrounded by the spirit of the season. I know I might not be the most festive person, and I might not be the most idealistic or optimistic. I know Christmas can be rough. It can be a reminder of losses and disappointments. My thoughts linger on those who are no longer a part of my celebration.

It’s late, and I know I have a family Christmas waiting for me in the morning. The phone call will come early. My siblings will be annoyed at me for not arriving early enough. I wish I could hope for anything else, but maybe I just need to accept it. I’m sure it will be chaos, and stress. There will be bickering, and bitching. Gramma will be upset by the stress, and Mom will blame me for something. I might hear a real “thank you” from someone, but I might not. I do hate Christmas, I always have. I might dread it every year, but I’m thankful that I have a family to bitch about.

I know there is more to Christmas than my nuclear family. I know I will escape from the turmoil as early as possible and enjoy a beautiful afternoon with the friends that are truly my chosen family. I have so much love in my life I could cry. I’m so blessed.

I hope this season brings every one of you happiness and comfort. I hope you are surrounded by people you love and call family, whether they are related by blood, or by choice. I hope you feel at home where ever you are, and I hope loneliness doesn’t plague your heart.

I hope you are loved, cherished, and inspired. I hope there in a spark in your life of some incredible passion and purpose.

Merry Christmas friends.

Merry Fucking Christmas

Bah Fucking Humbug!! I hate Christmas.

I hate the malls, and worrying about my finances, and inevitably the finances of my family. I hate feeling like I should be working. I hate having days full of obligations and family pressure and the lack of time to maintain my sanity.

I hate that I had to work a few days and that I can’t buy the stuff I want to. I hate that I’m misplaced and I have no space. My room is a mess because there is nowhere to put anything. I have costumes and props, and Christmas presents, and wrapping paper EVERYWHERE!!! I step over my laundry to get to my bed and I hide at my desk to avoid the disaster. I want to clean it up, and organize my shit… but I don’t even think it’s possible. It’s not my house. I don’t have dresser drawers. I don’t have an office.

I don’t have a sanctuary.

I’m exhausted. I feel like there are a lot of expectations of me right now, and I don’t have the energy or motivation to meet them. I just want to relax. It seems like I have to make all the time for the obligations and none of the time for what I actually do like.

There are things I actually like about Christmas… like baking. I don’t have a quiet kitchen of my own, or even any basic ingredients. I miss making gingerbread. I miss decorating cookies, and putting together baked presents for friends. I miss visiting families (not mine) and munching on chocolates and drinking eggnog. I miss Trevor. I miss decorating and playing with garland. I miss being around to put up the Christmas tree.

I’m not in a romantic relationship, yet the stresses of every single relationship around me are frustrating and fucking exhausting. The minor bumps cause holiday stress. The misunderstandings, resentments, assumptions, and devastations are horrible. I don’t care who was supposed to buy what present, or how irresponsible people are. I don’t care.
Merry Fucking Christmas!

Who said holidays are happy?

Both of my best friends are pretty frazzled right now, and life is causing some tears. I want to make it better, or take the edge off the pain. Not only do I want my friends to know how amazing they are, I want everyone else that matters to know it too. They are two of the most incredible women I’ve ever met, and they deserve all the happiness in the world. I want to yell “Don’t you see how fucking stupid you’re acting!” But I can’t fix it. I can’t wave a magic wand and make everything okay. I wish I could. They couldn’t save me from the tears, or help me heal faster, or make my path any easier… I can’t for them either. But I want to. It’s that damn empathy. People are pissing me off because I feel their hurt and frustrations. I feel their tears.

I hate it when people are so fucking insensitive, or cruel, or ignorant to my friends or family. I don’t want to listen to my Mom be dismissive and aggressive when dealing with Daddy. Her attitude sucks. He doesn't make it easy. I don’t want my friends to hurt.

I’ve always hated Christmas. For as long as I can remember this holiday has represented family fights. ‘tis the season for guilt and manipulation. ‘Tis the season for passive aggressive bullshit and blame. I should visit more with Gramma. I should play with my brother. Can I drive to the mall? Can I pick up my sister?

It’s my fault. I cause the family stress. Everyone is happy and gets along just fine when I’m not there. I know that’s not actually true, but I’ve heard it so many times over the years that the thought of Christmas day with my family makes me nauseous. I don’t believe it will ever be anything but emotional hell. I don’t want to hear the sides of my parents’ disagreements. I think they both act stupid. I don't want to be in the middle of the bickering. I don’t want to sit in the kitchen and lie to my Gramma.

I miss Trevor. I miss his carefree attitude and joyous perspective. I miss laughing during this season. I miss being around children who believe in Santa. I miss the delight of friendship. I miss being around people that LIKE Christmas. I’ve always dreaded Christmas with my family. I guess I just don’t have the happy friends right now to infuse me with some holiday spirit.

I want to cry. I’m so stressed out and exhausted right now. Nothing is actually wrong. I miss Trevor, but I’m used to life without him. My family is getting along, and everyone loves everyone. Everyone is healthy and well. Nothing is wrong. It’s just Christmas… and I hate Christmas.

I don’t know what I want. I just need… space? Maybe I just need to cry. Maybe I’m just trying to handle this whole season entirely too sober. Why doesn’t Starbucks serve booze? I need to take a day or three for me. I need to sleep in and somehow find time to do something that I actually like. I want to bake cookies.

It’s Christmas… I want to run away.

I’m just exhausted.

Single.

Am I a relationship atheist?

I don’t want a boyfriend, or a relationship, or that life. But am I just in denial? Am I stuck in a cycle of fear that everything will always be a disaster, or am I really just being honest with myself? I’ve been officially single for almost five years. I’ve never really been the commitment type, and I’ve never really been in a serious exclusive relationship. I run.

I actually want to be single!

I know people will tell me it’ll happen when you least expect it. I hear that I’ll change my mind, that it’s just a phase, that I have lots of time. I hear I’m just young, but not too young… I should be thinking about 2.5 children and a husband or at the very least a decent boyfriend. But at what point does it actually become my choice, instead of a series of circumstantial experiences?

They say it’s because of my job, my lifestyle, my priorities… when all that changes and I live a normal life everything will just magically fall into place. They say I just haven’t met the “right guy”. They say I’m just jaded; I’m cynical. When my life is different, when I’m different, I’ll feel differently. I don’t doubt that. I grow and change with every new day. I do doubt that I will be willing to become that person. Where does it say that I will change into a woman wanting to get married and have babies? Where does it say that I will wake up one day and just know that I’m ready to be part of a family, to be responsible for a family? I believe in loving unconditionally. I know children need so much more than I can articulate.

Why does society “know” that it’s the ultimate goal, and why am I the unenlightened unbeliever just waiting for the right man to come along and convert me?

I don't want a boyfriend. I don't want it... I wouldn't have a clue what to do with it.

How do you actually know what you need?

Yes, I get lonely. I don’t deny it, nor do I run from it. There are moments when it would be nice to have a man wrap his arms around me and take care of me. But I don’t need it, and most of the time I don’t even want it.

Does that mean I’m the broken one?

I know I want to continue in school. I have so much more to learn. I know I need to keep writing. I know I want to travel and experience more each day. I know I love dancing. I feel passionate and inspired by my life and my goals. I know Who I Am Today, and where I came from and the bumps, bruises and kisses along the way. I understand sacrifice and humanity. I appreciate ambition, but I value compassion. I know everyone cries, although sometimes internally. There are scars and wounds that touch every one of us. I know the worth of a hug, and the depth of an “I love you.” I know what friendship is and I understand what it means to be a family.

Why then is it so inconceivable that I might not want that fairy tale goal? Am I too innocent, too inexperienced, too young, too something to know What I Want? When will I be qualified to choose? 26? 30? 35? 45? Or will society never see it as anything but something sad and unfortunate? Will I always just be waiting for “The right man” no matter what choices I make?

I don't think I believe

It's midnight. I’m celebrating this quiet moment with homemade chocolate haystacks (That I probably shouldn’t be eating) and raspberry juice and tonic water with a splash of pineapple. Some occasions call for a martini glass, if not a martini.

The house is silent behind the hum of my computer. I’m listening for wind, and rain, but I hear nothing. I’m waiting for the island to sink.

I’m trying to think about who I was, a year ago, two years ago, and five years ago. Do I even recognize myself? My diaries track my life even when I don’t remember, or choose not to. At least I write it down.

I’ve been writing, compiling, and reliving the past two years. I’m so tired of making the same mistakes. I don’t want to live through another Maverick. I don’t want to loose my sense hoping for someone like The Brat to Man Up. I’ve been there, too often.

At dinner today Cece reminded me that I don’t want to wait forever to have children, but that I have lots of time. She reminded me that most men would not want to date a stripper, and that I really shouldn’t date one that does. I agree. I know my job complicates things. I don’t know that I’ll ever be willing to change myself or my job to obtain that man. I don’t know what sacrifices I’d be willing to make, or if the real sacrifice is choosing to be alone. I don’t know that there is a Man out there for me. I don’t know that I will find a partner.

I see too many people who are tremendously lonely within relationships. I see so many marriages become memories, as people change, or become lost within their own priorities. I watch as couples become toxic, tearing each other down, spiraling in selfish negativity. I see the unwillingness to give, and the bitterness replaces communication. I see the hurt. I watch ambition leave a trail of disappointments. I watch people settle into a routine in order to obtain the perfect picture of a family. I don’t want that. I don’t ever want to fall into that, not after a year, or twenty-five years. I do see when it works, when two people come together to create something more, something unconditional and incredible. I want that. I don’t want an imitation or a temporary illusion of it. I would rather be single.

I don’t think I’m destined to be alone forever. I just… I do doubt that I will find a real partner. I think I want too much for myself. I’m too independent, and geographically challenging. My priorities are selfish, and I’m entirely focused on my careers. I believe in friendship, and choice, and carving your own path. I believe in purpose, and experience, and Love. I believe in Carpe Diem and changing the world by changing yourself. I believe in the moment. I believe in Art and passion and the creative spirit.

Maybe some people aren’t meant to be caged.

I don’t want to settle. I don’t want to get married just to have kids. Maybe I’m being too negative, but… I know what I want. I just don’t know if it exists. If it does, it might take me another fifteen years to find it. That’s not exactly an optimistic time frame for having a family. I’m just so tired of being told that the Man I’m looking for will appear out of thin air, with perfect timing, and we’ll get married and have babies and everything will be just lovely.

I don’t even know if I want that life. Maybe my path is different. I want to say that I am totally happy alone. I don’t need a man to complete me. I want to say that I don’t care if I’m single forever. I want to say that I’m not lonely. There are days when I long to be held and cherished. I wish I had someone to be stronger than me, to protect me, and encourage me. But I’m okay. I’m not alone.

Am I happy? Yes. I truly am. I know Who I Am. I feel that I am on my path. I have purpose, and direction, and inspiration. I have a loving family and incredible friends. I have a home. I have more Love in my life than I can express. I am blessed.

I just don’t think I believe in the fairy tale.

I don’t need a partner. I might want one, but I also want real chocolate cake.

Wish List

It's the middle of December... and that means it's my Birthday (sometime) AND it's Christmas!!!

I loooooooooove presents so I've created a wish list. The link is in the side bar under Ryann's Wish List, or you can find it here

Don't be fooled, I love presents all year.

Happy December!!!

The Musician

I’m thinking about him. The taste of him, the feel of his body against mine, I’m still glowing. I simply adore him, not the idea of him, or false expectations of him… but every beautiful imperfection, and every sensual detail. I love the raw desire in his voice when I hear his voice on the phone. I love the easy friendship, and uncensored conversations. I love watching him. Distracted, he changes topics on a whim flipping from opinions of celebrities to sexual requests and tales of past and potential romances.

I love how he touches me, impatiently savoring the moment. Tension had been building for weeks, months as distance forced the game of passive teasing. I love the salt of his skin, and the softness of his lips. I love the energy that crackles between us. I love giving myself to him. I love how he takes me.

I don’t need him to be anything more in my life. I don’t need him to love me, or chase me, or need me. I simply appreciate the beauty of our unique relationship. I create an open atmosphere of acceptance and appreciation. He knows with me he can just be, free from judgment or external expectations. What I need, he gives me. He provides an escape from my chosen isolation, a secluded affair uncomplicated in its simple truths.

I watch in awe as his fingers move over the strings creating a moment of truth. His voice moves through my body, sensual and beautiful. Lyrics fill the room, and fill my soul with compassion. He’s so fucking talented it scares me. I could watch him play forever. I could close my eyes and just be perfectly content in the presence of such potent creativity. He's amazing.

There are moments when I loose myself and hope for more, when I crave more… more time, more opportunity, more affection… but I don’t really want it, or need it. He gives me everything I need in an ideal diversion. He keeps me from settling. He keeps me independent and single, searching.

It’s been an incredible weekend. As strange as it might be, I am incredibly thankful to have The Musician in my life. I know the day will come when the affair must end. But at this point in my life, he’s everything I need.

boys...

The memories flood my heart as I slowly reintegrate into “real life”. Here I have a past. The hurt bubbles closer to the surface as my mind drifts back in time. I’m thinking about The Brat. I hate that I get so emotionally wrapped up in unavailable affairs. He’ll never call me, and we won’t be together. But when I left, I still hoped for the impossible. Now I’m back, and jolted back to the reality of my life. He doesn’t exist in my life. He isn’t enough of a man to be a part of my life.

Sunshine is apologizing for… nothing. Over msn he wants to tell me he’s sorry for how things ended, not that he feels responsible for anything. He uses blanket “I’m sorry” statements to absolve himself of any actual actions, or lack there of. He misses me… I don’t understand what he misses. He wants to talk to me… I don’t know that I have anything to say…

Merrick is explaining that he doesn’t want to talk to me because I’m rude and aggressive. He tries to understand, but a conversation with me is pointless. He wants us to talk like adults, I’m not sure we’re qualified. I'm not sure I care...

I’m back to The Musician. Sexy, predictable, and perfectly uncomplicated, he’s exactly what I need right now. Isolated and beautiful, we both selfishly take what we need. I appreciate his detached role in my life. He doesn’t want me to be someone else, or something else. He doesn’t want me to do anything, because it’s totally irrelevant. Perfect.

My friends are incredible. I feel confident, authentic, and open. I’m surrounded by Love, and friendship. I’m also intimately aware of how much I crave a true partner. I wish I had someone to come home to, someone to hold me, someone to miss me. I want a Man to actually see me for Who I Am, and Love me.

It’s worth waiting for… and so I wait.
Maybe someday…

Almost home...

I’m on my way home. The horizon is melting into cotton candy and marshmallow waves as I wait patiently to glimpse the mountains. My laptop bumps against the seat in front of me, a glaring reminder of the limited personal space. The directional artificial lighting from above blends with the raw sunlight creating harsh shadows that seems to diminish the individuality of the other passengers. Distracted I stare aimlessly out the window, white speckled fields cover the earth below, and I know I’m not there yet… just a few more hours.

It’s been an amazing couple of months, and I feel I have learned so much in such a short time. I’m returning home with new friendships, experiences, and opportunities multiplying before me. My birthday is coming up, and I’m wrapping up my twenty-fifth year exuberant and energized.

I’ll be back in the Toronto area, at Whiskey, in the middle of January. Until then it’s my time. Six weeks on the west coast lay before me. I have time to relax and enjoy the friendships dearest to my heart, time to explore and prepare for my next challenges, time to escape for lunches with Daddy, and even time to indulge my mother’s “to do” list.

I’ve been thinking about choices lately, about Who I Am today and how far I’ve come in the past couple of years. When I started dancing I was devastated. I felt as though I had fallen off a cliff and had lost all sense of purpose. Today, I am passionate, confident, inspired, and simply fabulous.

I guess I’m just feeling thankful for everything. I have an amazing family, and the best friends anyone could ever dream of. I have a welcoming home, and a solid foundation. I have a job that I love, that is intensifying opportunities for growth and discovery. I’m returning home with a shiny “Miss Congeniality” trophy and to me it means so much more than a simple award. To walk into a new environment, a contest, and be able to easily become a part of the structure, organization, and flow of the event confirms how much I have learned. I made a difference, and I did it professionally, while making friends and contacts. I used to run events, competitions, but now I truly know my personal strength. I met a handful of incredible women during this tour, women I am proud to be developing friendships with, and that I am eager to be collaborating with. I have so much respect and admiration for the beauty and strength of character I’ve come to know. I can’t wait to be a part of the creation of something bigger than the individual, something incredible. I can feel it.

It’s all fan-fucking-tastic!

holy moment

My motivation is nonexistent as I survey the sparse crowd. It’s Thursday, and the customers are cheap and offensive tonight. Fighting a yawn I wander through the bar, smiling and doing my best to make a living. Middle aged and probably married a corporate shmuck catches my eye. I sigh quietly to myself and bat my eyelashes innocently. The conversation is shallow and scripted. He stares at tits while I attempt to manipulate the transaction. He’s drunk and mumbling “this is bad” as he hands his American Express to the bartender. “You’re so young, and I’m so old” he repeats, his hand sliding up the curve of my back. “This is bad.” He mumbles again. His drunken moral crisis is annoying and unoriginal. “Do you want a dance?” I interrupt, taking his hand and his money towards the VIP room. He continues to mumble and stumble through the bar, following me like a puppy. He’s probably not allowed in strip clubs, and is going to hear about it later. Maybe he just feels guilty. Maybe I don’t care.

The morality ceases the moment he sits down. “So can I lick and suck?” he asks me. My negative response prompts an argument. Apparently once the line is crossed in his mind anything goes. I’m not in the mood for this pathetic pouting so I dance. Distanced and careful I crawl above him, wary of his movements. I’m not fast enough. Within 15 seconds his hand reaches behind me, between my legs, and I jump. “Get the fuck off of me! What the fuck is wrong with you? Pay me, and get the fuck out! Now!” The VIP is quiet for a moment as other girls pause to look. His head is lolled back on the couch, arrogant, and indignant. “Pay me and get the fuck out!!” Slowly he begins to understand the dance is over and is thankfully smart enough to pay me. Fucking drunken asshole! I’m sure he’s very happily married. Maybe he’ll go home, because his night here is over.

I’m angry. I don’t want to dance. I need to take 5 minutes to regroup and put myself back together into a sellable idea. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I run my hands through my hair and try to avoid looking at my eyes. Ugh! I want to go home, but I don’t.

Instead I apply a fresh layer of lip gloss and glide back into the darkness. The men watch me, or deliberately ignore me as I wander. Frustrated and cold I move through the room, searching for an income. He’s alone. Young and well dressed he catches my eye just enough to grab my attention. He looks harmless, and friendly. I need a friendly customer right now. With spontaneous impressions I fling myself into his lap, stealing his affection. I play. I flirt. I entice him. He’s lonely and seeking more than comfort in this room. He’s questioning salvation. I know what he needs.

I dance for him, and talk with him. Gentle and open, he needs me. He needs me to distract him, accept him, and guide him. I begin to gain an understanding of his quest, and his past. Fundamentalist, Christian, divorced, father, and struggling man. He’s my age. His foundation has been shaken and he’s searching for a new truth, a personal truth. The regulations and system of certainty no longer fit. There are too many questions. Is it wrong to question? Does faith have to be blind? Is sexuality evil? Are affairs forgivable? Does he actually have the right to condemn his wife? Why did she make the decisions she did? Who has the right to impose choice? If he doesn’t, if the church doesn’t, the questions are piling… what about love and sexuality? What about the love and attraction between two people regardless of gender. The uncertainty is multiplying. Is seeking solstice in the arms of a naked stranger a sin?

“Do you believe in God?” he asks me. The conversation is sobering, and essential. There are holy moments when paths cross and purpose is discovered. I didn’t want to be at work last night, but I needed to be there. He needed to meet me.

In a darkened room, surrounded by old couches and scripted fantasies we talked until the bar closed. I didn’t make my millions last night, but I made a difference. We spoke of faith, and dogma, of expectations and manipulations. We spoke of judgment and Love. We explored fear and acceptance, politics, freedoms, agendas, and choices.

Does God work in mysterious ways? A young man was starving for answers and acceptance last night. In a moment of desperate loneliness and necessity he sought companionship and escape in the darkness of the sex industry. He found a stripper to take the time to see his soul, and encourage his journey of growth and discovery. I was meant to be a stripper, and forces beyond my limited experience meant for me to be there last night, to interject a holy moment of humanity, passionate questioning, and loving acceptance into his life.

His journey to finding an individual faith and a personal relationship with God has begun. I have no doubt that 2007 will be a year of growth and discovery for this young man.