Ryann retires.

This isn't a stripper blog anymore because I'm not a stripper anymore. Something changed and I didn't even know it. Even though I left the stage when Mugs closed I was still looking for Ryann Rain to provide the path, the income, and the answers. Ryann Rain saved my life. I created her when everything fell apart and she allowed me to hide, recover, and rebuild. But I'm done now. I'm not dancing anymore and although I still have the occasional gig as Ryann the reality is I have to stop hiding behind my precious alter ego.

How do I stop being Ryann? I have no idea how to actually walk out from behind the cover of Ryann and take on the world as myself. I know in theory I'm more powerful. I know I created Ryann and everything about Ryann is just a reflection of a piece of myself but Ryann became so powerful. She saved my life. She is strong, hidden, and invincible.

My heart can be broken. I cry. I’m still detached and I need to get out of that right now. I’m scared. I need to be myself. I need to rediscover who I am without being a stripper.

Who the fuck am I?

I believe in love and friendship is the most important thing in my life. Friends are the family you choose. I love unconditionally and pure. And even though it surprises me I know now that I truly do love forever.

I have an unwavering, nonnegotiable loyalty to my family that hurts my soul. I love them with every fiber of my being and it kills me on a regular basis. I believe I should be able to fix everything. I have a very strong caretaker relationship with them and I just want to make it all better. It’s taken me many years to establish boundaries with my family and it doesn’t come naturally. I love them dearly. I think they’ve done an incredible job of parenting and I’m happy with how I’ve been raised. I’m thankful for the random pieces of advice and guidance I received while growing up. I think I was well equipped to survive.

I truly am invincible. My capacity for love is a quiet rock in my core. Trevor dying shattered my universe because I let it. I loved him. But more than that I felt a need to be with him as he died. I have a need to give. I can handle death. It doesn’t scare me and I know I will keep going. I was emotionally crippled for years and afraid to feel that pain while I was rebuilding. I was afraid that if I lost too much and added too much more pain while I was so raw that I wouldn’t recover.

I created Ryann Rain as a façade to protect me while I healed. I threw all my strength into her while I quietly licked my wounds in the darkness. It worked. I healed. I’m now fully capable of love again.

I’m a perfectionist. I think I should be able to do anything. I know I’m smarter than most and far more ambitious than many but I’m still lost. I need to be creating something, it doesn’t matter what. I want financial independence and I want a career that allows me to create something of my own.

I’m feeling weak because of the financial disaster I’m in. I’m angry about the car accident and resentful of what it robbed from me in the past year. I don’t feel emotionally ready to walk out from behind Ryann.

I’m 27 years old and I really don’t know what I want to do with my life. I wish I had a clear path.

Wikipedia defines "power" as the more or less unilateral ability (real or perceived) or potential to bring about significant change, usually in people’s lives, through the actions of oneself or of others.

How am I powerful?
Endurance
Love
Compassion
Ability to see and validate different experience
Education
Experience in the sex industry has increased my awareness and understanding of different social structures
Belief in the right to live and work in a safe and respectful environment
Ambition. I want to succeed
Perseverance
Personal drive and need to accomplish for myself, it’s an internal motivation.
Liberal studies and the skill to argue and dissect and argument.
Creative thought.
Passion
Friendship
Intelligence. I’m smart. I’m really smart.

My foundation is solid. I rebuilt from nothing and the structure is solid. I believe in myself. I know I will survive and when something crumbles I know I can pick it up again. My foundation is strong enough now to survive a fall intact. I’ve created a very strong foundation, stripped away all the weak bricks and systematically build my own core. I have taken many values and lessons from my childhood, retained the empathetic heart of my youth, strengthened it with inquisitive, loyal, and compassionate friendships, added a unique experience in the sex industry and incorporated the perceived underbelly of humanity and created my own values.

I’m strong. I’m always okay. My ability to cry is back and I’m better for it. I’m whole again. The belief that I can do anything — that’s what I need to get back. It used to be blind faith. It’s not anymore and I want it back.

I'm not ready to announce my "real identity" to the world just yet... it's enough that I'm starting to live it. I don't know if I'll continue this blog. I might have a lot to say... but I don't think it's as Ryann Rain anymore.

Vertigo

It’s so easy for me to forget that I have to write. It’s not like me to go a month without writing. It’s not good for me to go a month without writing but hopefully I’ll be back on track soon. I get caught up in real life, emails to answer, meetings to attend, piles of lists to sort through… it’s so easy to forget to write. I find myself wrapped in a bubble of stress as the world closes in around me but all I really have to do is write. It doesn’t even matter what. I just have to get all the little thoughts out of my head. So here I am.

I have flowers sitting on my desk from a couple of girlfriends, fiery red tulips and soft little daffodils. I love that it’s almost spring. I want to drop my winter coat off at the dry cleaner knowing that I won’t need it until next winter but it’s not quite warm enough yet… maybe a few more weeks.

I’ve been in an odd mood the past few days, unsettled. I’ve been swimming through mild stress but I think it’s the lack of predictability that’s not sitting well. Without dancing I don’t really know what I’ll be doing next week. I’m always busy and with Exotic Dancers for Cancer only a few weeks away my “To Do” list is never-ending but it’s not a schedule. I think I need something more. I need to feel like I’m doing something concrete.

I tried to work in Victoria a couple weeks ago—what a disaster. I made it through a day and a half before my body collapsed and I had to face the hard reality—I can’t dance. I’m still injured and I don’t know if my body will ever be in the condition to work full-time as a stripper again. It broke my heart all over again. I know I quit when Mugs closed but I told myself I was just taking a break. Part of me needs to believe that.

I’m not sure what this blog is going to turn into now that I’m not dancing. I’m still part of the industry but it’s different. I have Stiletto Storm and various other projects on the go but something doesn't fit. I suppose the direction of this blog will become apparent when my direction is more focused.

At some point in the past few weeks I realized that I like having someone in my life. I’ve always been okay alone and I’m terrified of allowing myself to need anyone. I’m not afraid of love. I’m afraid that I’ll wake up one day and I won’t be independent anymore. That’s what’s so comforting about Alexander. I’d always need to maintain my own life in order to survive him. Alexander has an incredible sixth sense for knowing when I’m leaving and he’s still very much around, emailing and texting, although I’ve been smart enough not to see him.

Things are good with Monkey. Hopefully sometime soon my insecurity about this relationship will fade and I’ll be able to relax not thinking that every time I see Monkey will be the last. It’s a leftover defense from my affair with the Musician. I was able to avoid getting too attached by never expecting there to be a next time. That doesn’t transfer so smoothly into... well anything.

I actually had a chance to catch up with the Musician this afternoon. It was nice to just be around him. He’s happy and we’re perfectly capable of sitting in the same room without ripping each other’s clothes off or even hinting at the idea. I love him and I’m really proud of him and I don’t want anything more. Somewhere along the way we became friends.

I’m in vertigo, a little unsettled, a little off balance but I’ll be okay. I guess I just have a few things to get used to. It’s not as comfy or as easy as I’d like. I’ll try to write more.

What I need

It’s been an ongoing joke for weeks that I’m accepting applications for the position of “boyfriend” and with everything that’s been running through my head in the past couple of days I thought I should sit down and really revisit what I need.

I’m pretty sure when I say boyfriend people picture some cute accessory to my life. It’s probably because most of the time I think of boys as puppies. There are lots of things I want… like blue eyes and a hairy chest. But at the end of the day I’m actually looking for a partner—not a puppy, not a toy or an accessory, but someone who can compliment my life without getting in the way of it.

I actually caught myself saying to Rose in reference to The American, “He doesn’t live here. That’s awesome. He can’t interfere with my life. That might be a good distance.”

I wrote it out years ago. I just re-read it ten minutes ago. Most of it has remained the same, some of it I've updated. I think I’ve known for years what I really need.

So I’m throwing it out into the universe…

1. I want someone who can match me in every way. Who will not back down and who will challenge me. Someone who will help me realize my dreams and expand my mind.

2. I want to be with someone who is true in his opinion, will accept the challenge and communicate, and is stubborn and will argue rather than avoid, but will fight fair.

3. I want someone, whom I can learn from, in an equal partnership, who will ground me and who will create a sense of home.

4. I need a Man who is more powerful than I am. I need someone who I feel comfortable surrendering power and control to.

5. I want a man who adores how feminine and traditional I really am. I know my idea of traditional is different than most and juxtaposed with my ambition and independence it’s unique. I want to be his woman. I want to take care of my Man. I will honour and respect him and do everything I can to encourage and help him.

6. I want a partner with whom conversation will never be stale, who I can talk to about both the important things in life and about nothing

7. I need someone who appreciates my independence and will not feel threatened by it, or resentful of it. I need my space and my alone time. I’m a writer. It’s how I think, recharge, and refocus. I can’t handle clingy demands on my time and space.

8. I want a man who is ambitious, creative and intelligent, who is secure in his sense of self, and has his own life goals and dreams that do not come second to mine.

9. I want a partner who is educated and appreciates the dedication and commitment that it requires. He must love to learn, and love to think.

10. I want someone who I can be comfortable with in total silence

11. I need a man who I can snuggle up to and feel safe and protected

12. I deserve someone who understands unconditional love, and willingly offers to love me unconditionally and accept and return my level of commitment, dedication and loyalty. Someone who is emotionally available, will not take advantage of my love, nor hold back.

13. I deserve a man who respects and loves me enough to not deliberately disappoint or hurt me.

14. Trust. I need a man who I can trust with my life, my heart, and my soul. I will give him everything. I have to trust that he will take that responsibility seriously and protect me.

15. Honesty. It’s the foundation of every relationship I value. Even when it isn’t comfortable, I need a partner who will not lie to me. Lies of omission are still lies.

16. Appreciation of the beauty of life, and the simple pleasures.

17. I want a man who is physically active and takes care of his body and his health.

18. I want a man who is socially and environmentally responsible.

19. I will be with someone who respects my friends and family and my relationship with them, and who has a positive and healthy relationship with his own family.

20. I need a man who shares my values—especially of home, family, friendship, and loyalty. I’m looking for forever. I need a man who can understand and make that commitment.

21. I want a partner who wants children- who sees himself as a father and looks forward to being a part of a family.

22. I need someone who I can feel the energy between us, and the physical attraction cannot be ignored or rationalized, who is sexually compatible with me.

waiting...

My mind is full of random memories. In this rare occasion I’m wishing I had someone to curl up next to. It’s been too long since I had any physical companionship and I’m missing it right now. I’m churning with energy, vitality and purpose. Everything is snowballing in front of me and I believe I really truly believe that everything I’m working on will come together. I have faith.

I want to share it. I want someone to wrap their arms around me and know that I’m amazing. I want the release of passion and the strength of masculinity. I’m not lonely. It’s a different feeling. I’m feeling an urge to let myself be vulnerable. I want to fall in love. I want to feel safe in the arms of a man who will protect and adore me. It will come. I know it will… in time.

Yet I still miss both the Musician and Alexander. I miss the fragile intimacy of what The Musician was and I miss the unfinished idea of what Alexander could be.

I want to text one of them. It doesn’t matter which. In my mind they’ve become a united memory—something I desire only in secret. I won’t actually do it. I’ll go to bed with my care bear and snuggle warm under my covers, safe and determined to not be that foolish.
It’s the opposite of a void. I feel confined within myself. I want to break out of this protective shell and fall into something more powerful. It’s as though I’m splitting at the seams, restrained by time, waiting for the shell to crack open.

Music

I can feel the music. It flows through my body, penetrates my mind and rests, vibrating against my soul. It’s always there. I close my eyes and feel the passion. Slowly it ripples to the surface fueling my drive and encircling my dreams.

The music of this life touches a deep secret and tickles a quiet longing. I want to feel that passion in my arms. I miss the voice of the Musician caressing me as I watch him create magic. I loved those moments. I’ll cherish them. But I yearn for something more.

I close my eyes and dare to dream of more. Not of more for me, or more from life—because I already believe in that. I dare to dream the fairy tale of Love.
I need to believe that there is truth to be found, and real passion to share. I need to be more than a pastime, or diversion. I need to be the muse, the reason, and the passion. I need to hear the music and feel the creative spirit inspire me.

I believe in music and art and inspiration. I hear the laughter of innocence and the symphony of experience. I need to believe in Love. I listen…

I can feel it. I’m crying. The melody rises up in my heart, expanding, hoping, and praying. It explodes in my mind causing tears to well again beneath the surface. The rhythm pulses through my limbs. I hear the music and I’m reminded of purpose. I feel alive. The colours are more vibrant. I’m flying. There is energy building, waiting to channel. I feel the beat. My passion is simmering, waiting…

Christmas Future

The holiday drinks have been released at Starbucks and I’m beginning to see the first signs of the Christmas shopping season. Ugh. The idea of wandering through malls searching for meaningful, yet affordable gifts for my family makes me slightly nauseous.

I love the idea of Christmas, but in practice it just seems to be stress, pressure and expectations… for what? For another pile of stuff. I’m dreading it already.

Then I discovered Christmas Future. What a brilliant idea!

The idea is that instead of spending hundreds of dollars on presents this year we can take some of that money and refocus it. We have the power to change the world and end poverty. That sounds like a damn good Christmas present to me.

“ChristmasFuture is about change. Fundamental, meaningful, planet-shifting change. We are a passionate movement of people empowering a non-profit organization that advances us – all of us – everyday closer to eradicating extreme poverty.”

Appreciate

It’s hard to appreciate what’s in front of us. There are days when I barely glance at the ocean, or I grumble at the stupid rain and this stupid city. There are times when I forget to be in awe. But then the sun breaks through and I find myself driving over the Burrard st. bridge amazed at the sparkle of my surroundings. The beauty was there all along.

It’s so easy to forget. Unfortunately it’s all too easy to forget to appreciate those closest to us as well.

I’ve been single for a long time and inevitably I watch other couples interact. I watch how easy it is to take someone for granted. It’s easy to see the mistakes and pick at the less than ideal pieces. It’s tempting to make jokes and poke fun at quirks and imperfections.

But maybe take a step back and look at your partner.

All I ask… next time you’re going to criticize your partner, ask yourself “Is this necessary?” Sometimes it is. But I highly doubt it’s necessary in front of friends, coworkers, or strangers. Sometimes it’s not necessary at all.

We all need relationships that comfort and strengthen us. We need love and respect. We need to feel desired, appreciated, and adored. We need to feel safe and accepted. As flawed as we are the beauty was there all along.

I’ve been blessed with incredible friendships. I hope I never forget to appreciate them. I hope I never forget to celebrate how wonderful each and every friend is.

Hey friends! You’re awesome and I love you. Thank you for being in my life.

lonely

This fucking sucks!

I’m lonely. I’ve thrown it all up in the air in the hopes that changing everything will change patterns. I ended things with Alexander. I was honest with The Musician.

I want more. I want to be more than the affair or the mistress or the fuck-buddy. I want to be with a man that actually cares about me, that believes in me, and that can accept me-- stripper and all.

But I doubt it’ll happen. I’m isolated in a bar and I’m not available for most social events. The logistics of my job make everything difficult. The perceptions of my job make it impossible. My friend Reid told me last night “You’re awesome. If someone would just take the time to get to know you, you’d never have a problem.”

But they don’t.

I don’t want to be treated like I’m disposable the entire time I’m dancing. I don’t want to have to quit the job I adore just to have hope that someone could actually love me.

Maybe that’s how it works. Maybe it’s just a matter of waiting for that scale to tip. My job is still more important to me than a relationship. I love my job. But maybe that’s why dancers retire… when being lonely finally outweighs the love of dancing.

...

Okay I’m going to try and make it back to the blogging world. I’ve been lying on the beach and visiting friends. I’ve been organizing my home and trying to create a sense of home and belonging in Vancouver. I think it’s working. I’ve been swirling in a very real place of self-reflection for the past few weeks. I’ve been writing and writing and writing… but I think it’s better if I keep those rambles and revelations to myself for a while.

So here I am…

Just me.

just a note

I’m happy. Confused and unsure, overwhelmed and nervous, but I’m happy. The sun is shining. The heat is melting. Nothing is easy but it’s okay. I get jealous and I get scared. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring but I like who I am.

The tears still won’t fall and ideas run in circles in my head. I miss my friends, but I’m okay. Death hurts; Disappointment returns; grief is time-consuming. But I’m alive and I’m loved and I love.

It’s a beautiful day to be.

Cheat.

Does everyone cheat? I’m tossing around a couple of thoughts right now about who to trust and how to trust and how does the concept and practice of monogamy fit into it all.

I’m single. We all know that. I might have feelings and even emotional attachments, but I’m not in an exclusive anything. I don’t have to think about it until someone requests it and at the rate I’m going that could be a very long time.

I look around and I’m scared. I’m surrounded by liars, mistakes, and disappointments.

I’m jaded. I see it in the bar and I hear about it from my friends. “I can’t believe he cheated on me.” “He lied.” I’ve seen so much. I’ve heard so many rationalizations and excuses. “It’s not working. It doesn’t matter.”

But here I am, lying on my living room floor, wondering when do the lies start? Why does the communication break down? Is there any way to avoid it? I’ve been on the outside watching for so many years, more times than I care to remember. I’ve been the mistress and the affair. I’ve been the cheater and the liar.

I’ve been the friend.

I watch the tears stream, and the chest ache. I watch the hearts break and the expectations shatter time after time. I’ve felt it. I know that sickening feeling when fear meets reality and hope is stripped bare. I know what it feels like to choke on your breath, unable to do anything but stare into the mirror and watch the tears well. Eventually the reflection hardens, experience they call it. The acute pain subsides, jaded remains.

It hurts.

So many people seem to live in a bubble of denial, needing their partner to be perfect. Personal relationships aren’t easy. I understand why people leave and I know why they stay. No one is perfect and expectations often take the place of acceptance and love. When love is thrown into the equation people want to protect their partner. So often that desire to shelter their partner turns into a breakdown of communication. “No you don’t look fat in those pants” turns into “I would never look at another woman”.

I’m afraid of being blinded by love. I hope for honesty, not monogamy. I’m terrified of turning into one of those women that believes “he would never do it to me.” Only to be blindsided by betrayal.

I’m never surprised, but I’m often appalled. I know I’ve done it. I know I’ve taken advantage of that trust in the past. I know I’ve manipulated situations and lied. I know I’ve left out certain details and made excuses. I don’t want to do it again. I don’t want to lie or pretend to be someone I’m not. Does that mean I won’t?

People fuck up. I know I’ve done things that many would regret. They say “Once a cheater, always a cheater.” I guess that means me? I can’t judge. I won’t judge.

Why do people cheat? I’ve always thought I understood… but I guess what I want to know is… why do people stay faithful? Is it possible? Is it reasonable? Is it a reasonable expectation or does everyone ‘slip up’ on occasion? Attraction and temptation are always going to be there. Is the value of a relationship judged by will power? If not, how do you determine the value and worth of a relationship?

I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what the deal breakers are anymore. I’ve seen too much to believe it couldn’t happen to me.

I’ve lived too much to believe I can protect myself from heart break. I can’t stop my friends from dying. I can’t avoid grief. Loss is a part of life and even though I’m scared I don’t want to be detached forever.

I’m so scared of being lied to, but I’m terrified of always being the affair. I want to be the one that matters. I want to be the lover and inspiration. I’m scared but I know I want the more… somehow, someday. I want the magic.

I don’t know what to feel or say. I don’t have an answer.

I wish I could cry.

I don’t want to be numb anymore.

I don’t want this. I want to taste the air and feel alive. I do. I really do. I’m happy (not today) and life is good (just not this week). I just want… something. I want to hear “I love you.” I want to know that someone thinks I’m special. I want someone to convince me I’m not disposable. I’m feeling pretty pathetic and vulnerable… from that detached stance I take.

I could care. I know I could let myself love… someday… when someone wants me. maybe I’ll just be real. I’m not impenetrable. I might be invincible.

I’m just me. It’s all so fucking repetitive and who cares really... I want to be loved. I want to stop being defensive and afraid. I want to let myself love.

Not yet. But I want it. I want the magic. I wish I was adored... the Musician is being caring. Alexander is wrapping his arms around me. Neither one is really present in my life. Neither one has done anything to actually pursue me, but they’re both acting like they might possibly give a shit. Maybe someday someone might actually care about me.

I wish I could cry. I always wish I could cry but I can’t. I can feel it… barely… so far below the surface. An inkling of pain is there, quiet.

I wish for so many things. I wish I had spoken with Merrick these past few months. I wish he had been more communicative. I wish I could have known what was in his heart. I want to know if he knew, what he was feeling, how and why and what… was it cancer? Was it defeat? I wish Merrick had taken the time to talk to me. I’m a million miles away. I’m a million years away. Our paths crossed like two ships in the dark, sailing blind through an intense collision. I don’t even know how I feel about him. I don’t know anything. I just know I can’t cry. I can’t do anything.

I’m paralyzed and angry. I’m nothing. I’m so sick of being numb. I wish I could scream and shout and feel. I wish I could jump off the cliff and know that I would survive. I want to feel the pain. I want to bleed and ache. I want to yell at him. I want him to hold me. I want to know whether I even give a shit. Do I even care? He’s gone. Big fucking deal. He was a hurricane. He was an incredible force and maybe he was just done. I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Fuck this.

It’s just so weird. Other people can cry. I wish I could cry.

I feel sick, weak, lost, needy, and pathetic. I want to be fucked. At least then I would feel something. I want pain and humiliation. I want the punishment and the comfort. I want the warmth and fear. I want the soft protection and the violent degradation. Instead I’m alone. So alone. Silent.

No man loves me. No man needs to protect me. There is no number in my phone to call. I can’t say “I need you to hold me. please.” I don’t have that. I’m too strong. I’m too in control. I’m in so much fucking control I can’t even cry.

I could be weak with Merrick… but he’s dead now.

Dating vs. Fucking

Well most of my friends are aware that I’m “dating” again and know how incredibly unique my perceptions are. Spader was asking me about how my most recent date had gone and after my detached report he broke it down for me. “Most people don’t think of “fucking” and “dating” as two mutually exclusive worlds that shall never meet. Most people actually fuck the people they date.”

Ick. What?

I’m totally busted on that one. I guess the key to my learning how to date, or eventually even consider a relationship will be in convincing me to fuck the men I date, or date the men I fuck. This looks like a pretty big challenge.

Here’s my logic.

Say you meet a guy in a bar, decide he’s good enough and take him home and fuck him. Everyone can acknowledge that as a one-night stand. It is what it is and it works well for some people. But say you meet a guy in a bar and you like him. You make out with him a bit but don’t have sex because you like him. First date goes well. Second date is lovely. By the third date the expectation of sex is there. So say you fuck him because you’ve been wanting to do him since you first met him, but one-night stands are ‘dirty’ or whatever.

The way I see it the difference between fucking the first night or on the third date is about six hours in time spent together. In my mind it’s still fucking a stranger and it doesn’t do anything for me. Most guys aren’t willing to hang around without getting laid for the months it takes for me to decide if I’m even interested. After three dates he’s not someone I know, or trust. Instead of some guy that bought a couple drinks- he’s some guy that’s bought a couple dinners.

If I wanted to have sex with men I either don’t know, or barely know, I’d be an escort.

I have no desire to have sex with a man I hardly know. At this point I’m envious of the incredible women that do. I’ve been off work for a month now because of this stupid accident and honestly I am wishing I was comfortable fucking strangers because then I wouldn’t be in such a financial free-fall. I could just fuck for money and be done with it.

I don’t know why some women are able to do it and others aren’t but I know it’s not something that is an emotionally healthy option for me.

The Musician was someone I trusted and someone that I actually took the time to know. I was comfortable with him, and I felt safe in our isolated affair. I knew his life and he knew mine and it was a very honest relationship. The rules changed and the affair ended but I can’t just replace that with some random guy I hardly know.

The few men that have earned the title “fuck buddy” in my life have been long term (years) affairs with a man that I feel to be a kindred spirit and with who I share a powerful connection. Granted I’ve certainly lived through my share of heart breaks and disasters but at least it was always honest and real. Attachments do develop after years of being intimate with someone but I’d still rather have that than a 3-week fling with some guy I hardly know.

I still wouldn’t recommend dating me. I’m complicated.

Change.

My life is changing again. I’m not sure how I’m dealing with it, but I suppose I am. Nothing feels too drastic, except the lack of work-- but when I step back and look at my life I’m struck by how rapidly my world has shifted.

I’m hurt and no amount of demanding to be better is helping. I’ve had to accept that it’s going to take time and even though I want to be healed and back at work yesterday- that’s just not realistic. My circumstances have changed significantly and I know the financial repercussions of this accident are forcing me to make some tough choices. I’ve already spent next year’s tuition and even once I’m back at work it’s probably going to take me a while to get myself back on track.

My personal life is different. All of a sudden I’ve run out of excuses, and I have free time. I’m dating again. Nothing serious but I haven’t seen The Musician in a while and this time I think we might be done. He and I have certainly gone longer without speaking and we’ve had our share of ups and downs over the years-- but this feels different. Some things were said and some things have just changed. It’s one thing for me to just not care. I’ve been emotionally unavailable for a long time. It’s totally another for me to try to force myself to pretend not to care.

I know many people will be glad to see that affair fade into the past, but I’m not. I miss him and I’m hurt that he’s dropped off the face of the planet when I’m so bored and isolated in this city. I know it was just an affair and that I never really meant anything to him… but there were moments when I thought maybe I did.

Sometimes I feel like so many people want something for me that I don’t want, that wouldn’t be what I need. I know I have some friends that just want me to find a “nice guy” that will treat me “right”. I probably shouldn’t be so annoyed by that desire. But it’s impossible to convey that their idea of a good relationship is simply not what I need.

I don’t want or need a nice guy. I need something different and I’m not willing to settle for a stand-in or warm body. I’d rather be alone than give myself to someone that has no chance of ever understanding or appreciating me. I know what I need. I’ve known for years what I actually need. I just expect it to take years for Him to find me.

What I need is rare and there are very few Men that are powerful enough to be with me. I want my soul mate. I don’t know who He is. I don’t know what His face looks like or what He smells like but I know what He is.

I need to sleep

I look like a tramp. That is a tramp in care bear pajamas. Leftover smoky eyeliner is smeared across my eyelids and my cheek. It’s not classy but I don’t care. Stage makeup is never flattering after a nights work, but it was worth it for the full Cleopatra effect.

I’m tired-- body aching, eyelids heavy, brain foggy, crushing exhaustion tired. Yet I can’t sleep. I don’t even know what I’m thinking about but I’m in one of those moods. Wondering who I am, and why I do what I do. Wondering what I want and whether any of it is worth it. I’m not really having an existential crisis, just an ambition and homework mini-crisis. I’m not feeling very motivated to write papers or drop thousands of dollars into the educational abyss. I’m feeling a bit over my head with certain endeavors, but I’m sure it will pass.

I don’t have any answers; I don’t even really know what’s keeping me awake. There aren’t any real problems in my life, and everything I’ve taken on is on track and progressing as it should. I’m just feeling… exhausted and unsettled. I should sleep…

Fetish.

I learned something new today. As some of you may remember I managed to get my poor car stuck in my driveway in the evil snow and had to call a friend of my sister’s to come rescue me. I had no idea that my annoying predicament drew the attention of the dedicated followers of Stuck World.

Fetishes amaze me. I encounter a few fetishist patrons at work, but many of the less acceptable fetishes remain hidden in the dark corners of the internet. Strip clubs are by nature very vanilla, but we certainly get our fair share of loyal fetishes. Common strip club fetishes include:

Voyeurs- I don’t think I need to explain the prevalence of that one.

Submissives- it’s pretty easy to be treated like a worthless wallet in a peeler bar, and there are usually women willing to take out frustration and rage on a willing victim. I know I’ve had my share of subs pay me to be a bitch.

In a world where the fantasy is the perception and adoration of the parts all sorts of objectification fetishes are welcome. Pick a body part or accessory, and there will be someone in the bar that fantasizes about it. Small boobs, huge knockers, legs, booty, blondes, piercings, tattoos, long hair… you name it. Many theme costumes such as the school girl and dominatrix also play on common uniform fetishes. We also get a huge variety of the clothing fetish guys. Stockings, garters, corsets… etc… and of course the favourite “fire-crotch” red head fetish, and all sorts of variations on that theme.

Foot/shoe/stiletto fetish: usually found sitting in front row staring at dancers’ feet. I LOVE foot fetish guys- they’re so easy to please.

That’s the thing about fetishes, I suspect that everybody has at least one. Some are perceived as mainstream and acceptable (like boobs- everyone is allowed to love boobs) others are considered perversions and remain secrets, hidden even from loved ones and partners.

Glad to do my part. Haha.

Oh yes I have my own fetishes. No, I’m not telling what they are ;)

pondering...

And here I am again pondering myself, my emotions, my detached determination and wondering who the fuck am I kidding?

I know what I need in my life right now. I know what I can’t handle. I know what I’m not willing to put myself through. Yet I care, and I know I care. I don’t want to lie to myself. I don’t want to be vulnerable. Sometimes comfort can lead to attachment, or something. I don’t really know what I’m saying, or if I even know how I’m feeling… but things with The Musician (formerly known as Whiskey) have been pretty intense this week.

I want to make excuses for his attention and write it off as circumstantial and meaningless. I know he’s just lonely and recovering from the loss of his familiar relationship… but I’m finding myself wondering how he actually feels about me. I don’t even know how I feel about him. I’ve avoided thinking about it for so long. I wonder if he ever thinks of me when he writes. I wonder if I’m irrelevant. I find myself wondering if the lyrics are ever about me, if there is a spot in his heart for me, and even if there is a place in mine for him.

I’m stuck. I actually don’t know how I feel. I don’t want to wreck it. I love what we have. He causes no drama in my life; he doesn’t break my heart (I won’t give him the chance). With him I can hide in the security of casual comfort.

But after two years of a roller coaster affair… there are bound to be attachments.

Am I just so cut off from the emotional reality that I can’t even see it? Have I lost touch with my own honesty? I know he’s not right for me, nor I for him. I know what we give each other is isolated, but not shallow... It’s something else. But for all my rationalizing and distance, I still wonder… Could I ever truly love him? Do I love him?

I don’t know.

I want to maintain this cool casual accepting attitude… and then I feel my stomach tighten with pangs of jealousy. It’s ridiculous. Sometimes I care. Sometimes I just don’t give a fuck. Sometimes I’m totally accepting of reality. Sometimes I get jealous.

It’s just late night pondering… a result of proximity I guess. I just need to get it out, let it go, and remind myself of something… Remind myself of futility and pain?

It’s been a long time since I openly sat and watched him play in a room full of people. Surrounded by his friends, and fans, I’m intimately aware of how segregated our relationship is. It’s a secret, hidden in the shadows of stolen memories.

I’m having a human moment. Don’t worry- it’ll pass.

I'm a busy girl

It’s the end of January and I can hardly believe it. I know they say time goes by quicker as you get older, but aren’t you supposed to be able to get more done? Or is that just wishful thinking?

I’m starting to feel the school crunch. Note to self: I’m in school. Fuck! The past two weeks of chaos and stress have resulted in me being too far behind in my homework. Exotic Dancers for Cancer is quickly approaching too, and I have commitments to that event as well. So here I sit in Yellowknife trying to manage my life, catch up on a month’s worth of reading, write an essay, book my schedule, negotiate with bars, keep up on my own writing, travel, keep up on the Naked Truth events, make the money and put the money where it needs to be… oh and actually work.

I think I’ll be hanging out in Western Canada for a while. I find the lack of private dancing allows for a lot more segmented chunks of time to be productive. The money isn’t as good, but I think I need to look at my education priorities. I’ll get a lot done up here. I always do… but I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.

On the bright side Roxxanne’s was a great bar. I managed to wiggle off the financial loss and meet my target income for the week. It’s an awesome bar, well designed, well run, good clean bar. The people were lovely and I would love to return to Roxxanne’s. Good people. I’m so glad that after the animosity and bullshit of the previous week I managed to find a cozy week in Kitchener.

I’m happy. It’s great to be back in Yellowknife. It’s such a relaxed gig for me. I know some people hate it, but we all have bars that suit us best, and this is one of mine. I have friends up here, and I know the town. It feels like another home. But right now I need to finish the massive “To Do” list that’s staring at me… growing… bigger… and bigger… and not in a good way.

I hope I find time to write more later.

work in progress

I’m in Toronto. The night has faded into a soft blanket of white as ice crystals send the city into an early slumber. I’m left the bar early simply because I was bored and it was as exciting as a morgue. Gramma called me earlier, worried about the dreadful winter storm I’m supposed to be surviving. It doesn’t look so bad to me. I think this city just whines a lot.

This room hasn’t changed. The bar is still the same. Externally everything appears just as I left it. So much of my life exists only within my mind. The melody of Bob Dylan is floating through the room like the soft current of a river in August. Wind echoes in the background, adding depth and layers to the already poignant song. Tears flutter behind my lashes as I type the date and realize the calendar marker.

It’s been two years. I don’t want to rehash the reality of that day or the phone call that changed my life. I know it. I know every tear and every touch. I just want to pause for a moment and remember…

Trevor.

I wonder when so many years will have past that I will forget the date? Will I ever forget? Or is it to be forever etched in my soul? Am I destined to always think of the beautiful taste of The Musician and the heartbreak of Trevor, entwined in memories?

“We live and we die. We know not why but I’ll be with you when the deal goes done… We eat and we drink. We feel and we think, far down the street we stray. I laugh and I cry and I’m haunted by things I never hoped or wished to say. The midnight rain follows the train. We all wear the same thorny crown. Soul to soul our shadows roll and I’ll be with you when the deal goes down…”

Some days I feel that everything is different, that the whole world has changed and nothing is the same. Then sometimes I look around and feel like I’m standing in exactly the same spot. Sometimes I think my memories are just dreams. Did it all really happen? I struggle to remember the feel of certain touches… too surreal to be factual.

Have I changed? Or have I just awoken to who I always was? Was I living in a dream for years? Sometimes I think I’ve come so far, and then I remember how flawed I really am… and how much I have to grow.

I’ve had a lot of things on my mind the past couple days, most of which I don’t even know how or what to say. I wish I was as good with women as I am with men. I wish I naturally sensed when I was out of line, before I do land myself in the middle of somewhere I don’t belong… I’m trying to learn. I am. Sometimes I’m afraid of Who I Am.

I'm a work in progress.

Happy New Year.

The sun is shining and the bar is empty but for staff, musicians, and fans. There are bands taking over our stage tonight and it should be an interesting evening. Aside from a few details it’s New Years Eve and everything is exactly the same, but I feel rusty. It doesn’t take long to adjust to a normal life and forget about the routine of Stripperville. It’s been an amazing month but it’s time to go back to work.

Mindlessly I wander the dressing room. Makeup splayed across the counter I play with colours and paint my eyes, creating the fantasy. My eyes glow jade surrounded by the smoky midnight navy shadow. Metallic gold accents shimmer in the light, drawing focus to the sultry stare that both mesmerizes and betrays me. Sometimes I wish I could hide from the honesty in my eyes. My lips pout, plump and sexy. Powder evens my skin, as blush emphasizes my already prominent cheekbones. I’m beginning to look like the stripper again.

Naked, I examine my body in the mirror, looking for evidence of my couch potato weeks. It’s not as bad as it could be, but I do need a better fitness routine (or at least some imitation of fitness in my life). I slide my feet into my plastic platform shoes, fiddling with a bent clasp. Turquoise sequins in hand I naturally pull the image together. The bra clasp fits snug between my breasts. The skirt zips loose onto my hips. Mechanically I tug at the zipper of the bustier and pull the white PVC trim in line with the laced bows. Snapping on the girly collar completes the outfit and I become the stripper again. Ryann Rain stares back at me through the mirror. It’s time to work.

2006 is coming to an end. I have no doubt that this coming year will be an amazing adventure. I can already see so much on the horizon. I’m excited. Passion and creative inspiration flow through my veins. 2007 is upon us.

Happy New Year!!