Go, get married.

I want to not care. I want to walk away and never look back. I want the curiosity to diminish and the memories to grow faint. I want to cut the ties. I have no expectations, only those of hurt and disillusion. My only expectation is that he will never really go away, that no matter what I do someday I will turn the corner on the street and he will be there. I’m scared that when that does happen, everything will crumble and I will still love him.

I wish I was indifferent. I worry that I never will be. Sadly, I know unconditional love too well. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes I am relieved to know it hasn’t been lost. That corner of my heart that loves forever is still beating, still feeling. Even when the numbness spreads and freezes my tears behind my eyes, it lives. I love. It took me three years to recover from The Artist. I know I cannot force nine years of turmoil and attachment to evaporate in nine months. Yet, I try.

Nothing about him is good for me. We will never be together, always apart, always casually tugging on the past. I don’t want it. He has nothing to offer me, and though I do love him, I know part of me will always love him. I don’t want this masochistic thread to continue. Let me walk away. I hate knowing that casual messages will always come through my sister. I hate knowing he still tries to contact me, not in reality, but just detached enough to ensure I’m still there.

I don’t know what he wants from me. I don’t know that he cares for me. I don’t believe he loves me. I believe he is comfortable in knowing I am there. I know the choice was made. I know when the door was open, he chose. (He did not choose us) We are nothing. There is no future, and the past is littered with disrespect and diversions.

I’m not going to lie, pretend, or fake it. I care. I am still hurt and angry. I’m not surprised, but I am disappointed. I am disappointed in myself for loving you. I am disappointed in myself for ever hoping that you felt the same. I’m angry at myself for failing to forget, for allowing my thoughts to linger, for every moment I am reminded of you. I am smarter than this, and I know you have nothing positive to offer me.

Maverick, Go! Get married. You don’t need my forgiveness, blessing or permission. We are nothing. We are not friends, not lovers, not companions. You can’t know me anymore. I don’t want you to know me.

Adventure

Five years ago in Italy I was lost. Struggling to find myself, the peaceful acceptance of love spoke to me. I loved this piece.

Standing on the edge of a new chapter I am ready to jump. I want to inhale the passion of the moment and love the possibilities. I am going on this adventure for a purpose that has yet to be revealed. It is almost time. I am going back to Europe!! I am in love with the air, with the ecstasy, with the vitality of potential. I want to taste the unknown.

Pathetic Power

There are some amazing people in this industry, dancers I admire, DJs I adore, managers I respect. Then there are the pathetic power-tripping twats who weasel their way up the chain of leftovers.

I had the misfortune of working for the latter this week. The stage is great, good lighting, great staff, the girls are awesome, the bar is classy… the manager is definitely the sour apple of the bunch. For the record, I’m NOT impressed with the agency either. They have done nothing to earn the 15% of my pay.

He fired me Friday night. Actually it was apparently arranged on Thursday, and the agency decided that growing balls was out of the question and is still avoiding me. At 9pm on FRIDAY night another girl arrived at the club to cover my shows. Unprofessional? Gee ya think? I was informed that I was not good enough to dance in his club on a weekend. Good enough for a Thursday, but not for a Friday. I can’t take it personally. We’ve all met those individuals who illicit memories of pond scum. He’s arbitrarily fired some of the best dancers in the circuit. I was not the first stripper he screwed over, and I will not be the last. I will write it off as lesson learned and I will not be intentionally working in his club again.

But it’s been a rough day. While he took away my night shift, he simultaneously refused to pay me until I had finished my Saturday day shows. (there was no one to cover me). So knowing I was replaced, loosing money by the day, waiting to just go home and forget… I had to do two pointless afternoon shows before being paid for the week. Grrrrrrrrrrrrr

It’s over now. I am on vacation. Three weeks off!! Three weeks to relax and distance myself. This job is jading. This industry wears on your soul. It has nothing to do with the customers, who are amusing and entertaining at best, annoying and odd at worst. No, the attitudes of a few useless individuals are frustrating and demoralizing. Dismissed, detached, and objectified we strippers are a dime a dozen. There are those who crave the power, perhaps a penile enhancement would solve some problems.

Rough night

And then there are the days when tears fall despite facades, despite determination. Tonight was one of those dreadful moments. I don’t want a hug because I know how quickly I will shatter. I don’t want to speak because I know there is hurt in my voice. I want to scream. I want to rage at the unprofessional power-tripping assholes that arbitrarily manipulate my income.

I’m frustrated. I try to conduct myself in a thoughtful and professional manner. Sometimes I don’t know why I bother. There is no incentive to not be a fuck-up. In reality, fuck-ups often get more work. Egos are a dangerous thing.

I am thankful I have friends in this industry that understand, and that on a Friday night I knew exactly where to turn. I knew they would accept my frustration, offer hugs and reassurance. Smudged makeup and quivering voice I drove the familiar blocks. Away from the pretentious illusion of business, through the streets of crack and homeless, I drove straight to the comfort of real people. It helped.

But it’s late and I’m ready for bed. My heart is still heavy, and I know there are more tears waiting patiently for a trigger. I’m lonely. Tonight, I wish I could call and have the comfort of humanity. I want someone to hold me. I want someone to massage the stress out of my muscles, and tell me I’m special. Tonight I wish I was more than an object, more than a disposable fantasy. Tonight, I want more. At the end of the day, I always go home alone. Tonight, I wish someone cared.

all is well

The power lines FELL OFF the building at the Cecil yesterday. I just love ancient buildings, such character, such safety issues… Unfortunately it’s rather difficult and dangerous to dance and drink in the dark, so we unexpectedly got the night off.

It was a perfect day. Relaxing, mellow, and productive, I was finally able to slow down and enjoy the company of friends. I found an apartment last weekend, and I’m thrilled. It’s beautiful and perfect for me. Deposit has been paid. When I return from Europe I’ll be officially moving.

I can’t wait. I get to furnish a new place. I get to create a sanctuary of my own. I’ve been on the road for so long I’ve forgotten what it feels like to sleep in my own bed. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to have my own space. I’m excited, accepting, impatient, giddy, and open. The people in my life make me smile. Unexpected friends and comfortable escapes feel real.

In this moment, I don’t want for anything. I care. I am not as detached as I claim to be, nor am I as frustrated as I once was. Things are happening around me. Relationships are changing. Beginnings are appearing. I fly to Europe in five days. It’s going to be an incredible adventure.

I’m happy.

doesn't feel like easy money

It’s late as I drag my suitcase up the stairs. I heave it into the corner and feel the pain shoot through my back. I’m abusing my body and it’s reminding me. I glance in the mirror as I wipe the makeup off my skin and watch as dark circles appear beneath my eyes. My clothes fall in a heap on the floor. Tomorrow… tomorrow I’ll do something with the mess. Tomorrow I’ll be productive.

My eyes are heavy as I wriggle under the heavy blankets. I stretch out and listen to the crackle of my joints: ankle, shoulder, and hip… my body is worn out. Muscles knot as I attempt to crack my back. I know it won’t work. Back problems come with the territory. Arched pelvis and stilettos come with a price.

I wish I could sleep… soon. My thoughts linger on the week behind me. It was a good week. Good people, good club... but I was at the bar for almost 70 hours this week. Doesn’t feel like easy money to me.

Panic!!

Time is a luxury I don’t have this week. The “To Do” list is piling up around me, yet nothing is being checked off.

Instead, I’m at the bar. The sun is shining, the air is warm, and I’m at the bar. 12-12 (at the earliest). it’s a long shift this week. The No5 Orange… it’s quite the bar.

I need a home. I need time to find a home. I don’t have it. I have exactly 9 days to find a new home… Ahhhhhh. At this point I’m ready to pay a friend to find me a place… but right now, instead of calling places and looking at apartments… I’m going to work... for thirteen hours.

Panic!!!

Ahhhhhhh scatterbrain I am

I think I need a vacation. I also need an apartment, but for some reason Europe is taking precedence. The only unfortunate part is that I have NO IDEA when I’m going find time to end this homeless tour of mine… hmmm… maybe I’ll start looking for a place next week… I can do that because I’m going home tomorrow. Yay ocean! Yay mountains! Yay home! Dammit! I need to pack, say goodbye to friends, and go to work. AHHHHHH!!! I’m a scatterbrain today.

I don’t want to drive a bazillion hours tomorrow. Maybe if I click my heels together three times “there’s no place like home…” maybe just maybe I’ll magically appear in Vancouver. Ruby slippers are close enough to stripper shoes. I mean really, look at those things, totally Vegas Peeler shoes baby!!!

I have a million and three things to do before my impromptu vacation. I have even more to do once I return from my little escape. The list is becoming rather intimidating. This is shaping up to be a very busy summer. Ah well, who needs a house when you have a plane ticket!! I’m going to Europe!!!

But first I’m going home… IT’S ALL FREAKING FANTABULOUS!!!!

Don't touch!

Tension tightens in my body as I spin around, glaring down at the offender. Blonde and overconfident he probably got laid a few times in high school. I suspect he will spend many years and substances trying to recapture that climax. My open palm swiftly collides with his cheek, not hard enough. I feel my grip on his neck intensify “Don’t fucking touch me”. He’s young, drunk, arrogant, and disrespectful. Defensive and embarrassed I know he will start trashing me within minutes. I am correct. I hear him utter “what the hell would I want with that bitch?” as random protectors appear to discipline the stupid kid. Although they will apologize for him and offer to incapacitate him, it makes no difference. The damage is done. He violated my boundaries. I don’t want to see him; I want to implant my stiletto in his forehead.

The bar is full of grabby drunks tonight. From Dumbass trying to bite my ass, to the Chinese grandpa wanting to spank me, I have no tolerance. I watch cautiously as a miner stares at my breasts. He looks about fifty, balding and overweight I see the evidence of decades of alcohol. Intoxicated his expression has become youthful, too youthful. My body gyrates before him as his mouth opens. Regressing to incompetence he reminds me of an infant waiting to nurse. Mouth gaping, mesmerized, he hopes. I don’t have the patience to be nice. I don’t want to smile. I don’t want to dance. My defenses are heightened tonight.

Don’t fucking touch me.

Cameron Falls

The roar of the rapids is deep as it cuts through the rock and carves into the ice. Powerful currents chip away at the remaining evidence of winter.





This is the land of the midnight sun, we are almost there. I watch the sun, still high above the horizon. Hardened trees persevere, clinging to rock and scare soil. Despite the harsh reality of the unforgiving elements they grow, bit by bit, each year. A forest of persistence and patience envelops my heart.

The falls echo behind me as I walk. The rhythmic current reverberates in a fading memory as I gaze at the mirror before my eyes. The perfect reflection is surreal. I am at peace as the sun warms my skin and beauty and hope fill my soul. Another week has begun, and I am almost on my way home. In a week the ocean will stretch out before me and the rain will kiss my skin. This moment is lovely, perfect in its simplicity and majesty. I am giddy with anticipation for the moments to come.

waiting for magic

My pulse is rapid in anticipation. I am excited, anxious, and impatient. Like a child waiting for Santa, I am searching for the magic. Nothing is particularly new or changing, but I am one day closer to home. This week is almost over, and a new one is about to begin.

I’m in high spirits today.

Music flows through my body as I wait for the day to begin. The lyrics are powerful and pull me home. Summer is approaching and I am excited. I feel a new chapter of my story is beginning. The magnetic allure of hope, metamorphosis, and life is enchanting. I am teetering on the edge of a cliff, parachute secured, and foundation solidified. I want to jump. I am ready to embrace a new adventure.

I want to dance, love, cry, and caress. I want to learn, taste, fuck, and inhale every experience with passion and openness. I want to loose myself in the fantasy and embrace the bittersweet taste of actuality. I want to become. I want the magic.

haha hockey

Ok maybe it’s petty, but I don’t care. Calgary was just eliminated from the playoffs last night, in game 7… and it’s funny.

No, I’m not being a grumpy Canucks fan. I support Canadian hockey. I do not condone trashing other Canadian teams, but that seems to be all Calgary fans do. I like the team, I really do. They’re a great team to watch. But… well… Flames fans are just so annoyingly arrogant; I’m rather amused that they got knocked out in round one… hee hee. As for the red mile... well I guess they can drink away their sorrow.

Go Edmonton Go!! Go Ottawa Go!!

Yellowknife

I like this town

The lake is still frozen, but the falls are exposed. I hope to spend my time exploring. The sun is shining and will be for many hours to come. Solstice is approaching and the days are long. In a few weeks the sun will not set. The trees will blossom and the shortened growing season will persevere. At home the cherry blossoms have blown away and summer is beginning. Yet here, in the north, spring has just begun.

Diamonds and art galleries line the halls of the mall. Colourful and expressive I am reminded of the west coast art of my home. Totems have been replaced with Inuit Markers and sculptures. Whales have been exchanged for polar bears. This culture is foreign to me. The lost expanses of Canada are fascinating. Canada is BIG. I am 2384.11 Km away from home. (1481.42 miles for my American friends) such a distance seems incomprehensible. As such we often forget our own land. As Canadians we are segregated from each other. Mountains carve boundaries, forests separate, prairies divide the nation, and the ice feels eternal. In a country where the majority of the population lives within a few hours of the southern border, is it any wonder so much land is forgotten? The vast expanses of ice and rock seem endless as they kiss the distant horizon. My home is far away, yet this is Canada. This culture, this art, this land is Canada. I am so happy to be exploring my country.

Inuit culture is predominant; the art is everywhere, as are the languages. I wonder if their heritage is safer than that of the First Nations in BC and AB. I wonder if they have been able to retain more. I hope the racism I encounter in AB is absent. I am ignorant; I do not know.

Commercially I can appreciate the exported art, much as whales and ravens are sold to tourists at home, sold without understanding. Culture is bought without compassion or appreciation of the struggles, the treaties, the history, the pain, or the land.

It is a strange country that defines our culture on the global market by the art of the indigenous peoples we have sought to destroy and manipulate. I have been confronted with so much discrimination while touring it festers in frustration. Alberta breaks my heart. Yet Alberta is currently the governing voice of Ottawa.

I am naïve, but I like my first impression of this city. It feels like Canada. I want this Canada back.

Day 1.

I'm in Yellowknife. The flight was lovely. Airplane food was actually good, and I like Canadian North Airways. They fed me a good lunch.

Discovery #1: That is a damn big lake.
Discovery #2 Rogers does NOT provide cell phone service in the Northwest Territories
Discovery #3: wireless does exist... sorta.

So... I need to buy a phone card. Two weeks without a phone should help take care of that obscene bill.