I have this problem of walling myself up. Not letting people in. I really don't like people knowing who I am. I let people see what I want them to see. The get the revised version of myself. The nicely polished edition. The version people see is that nice, new American History textbook. The edition where we gloss over the Native American massacre, the racism and slavery, the religious persecution, the ethnic persecution, and all those other bad bits of our history. The edition that shows the Americans as being the saviors of all. In every day life I leave out the bad parts, the gruesome stories that know one wants to hear, the imperfections, the moments where I fuck everything up, the times where I'm the really bad guy.
This blog makes me nervous. I am trying with all my might to show the truth. To show me. The real me. The good me. The bad me. The in between me. The unsure me. The sad me. The scared me. The me that has no clue. The self-conscious me. The betrayed me. The hurt me. The vulnerable me. The mean me. The completely and totally imperfect version of me.
Every time I hit the publish button I have a pit in the bottom of my stomach. The one that says "You'll be judged. You'll be a pariah. You're problems are too much to handle. You're not worthy of anything. You don't deserve anything that you had, have, will have or want." I'm putting everything out into the world for anyone and everyone to see. I'm nervous. I still want to be perfect and polished. I am giving over a small amount of control every time I push that hugely intimidating publish button.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
What I Want
It's taken me a long time to realize why a part of me likes my job.
It's the reason why I acted when I was little. It's the reason why I loved dancing as much as I did. It's why I love singing. It's why my tragedies are conveyed through humor. I love entertaining. I love making people laugh. I love making people feel something.
In my every day life with my friends and my family, for the most part, I like to be in the corner. I like to be over-looked. I like playing second fiddle. I like to disappear. But the moment the lights dim and I'm on stage or the focus. I part of me comes alive. When I acted as a little girl, I made people laugh. As a dancer I put so much emotion into everything I did that it didn't matter if I was a beat behind or not as technically good. The audience felt my dancing. They knew what I was saying. It is one of the few moments that I open up and let everyone in and let everything out. When I sing, truly sing, I've moved a few people to tears. (I'm hoping it's because I don't completely suck. If that is the reason, then I should probably stop.) Before people get to know me, I mean truly know me, I come off as, my friend states it, "overly sweet and caring, a meek person, someone that can be walked all over, unassuming, mediocre, always quiet and just plain nice." When I'm acting, singing, dancing that person doesn't exist anymore. I surprise people. They see me. Not the person I want them to see.
There has always been a part of me that hungers to dance and sing. It's always been my dream. One that nags at me, eating away at me. I see people my age and younger who are so successful, for the soul reason that they are going after their dreams and doing what they have always wanted to do. I've never been able to go after those dreams. I don't know if it's because I'm too shy. Or if it's because I've never had the opportunity or support. Or if it's that I'm too scared. Or the fact that I can't stand being let down more than I have been. Or if I don't want to let people in. Maybe all of them combined. Because if I take a moment to truly admit it to myself. I really think that I may have enough talent to succeed.
The only reason I like stripping is because in those few moments on stage when I'm not naked and just entertaining. In those few moments all that I am doing is entertaining through actual dancing or making people laugh. I enjoy making people feel something. Sometimes I like being the center of attention. I wish I could entertain in the real world. I wish that something could compel me to stand on a stage and sing. I wish I could dance. I wish I could give a performance that makes someone feel they're not alone. I wish that I could give a performance that changes my life. I wish my dreams would someday be something more than what I know they will always be... Dreams.
And occasionally, I make myself feel something.
It's the reason why I acted when I was little. It's the reason why I loved dancing as much as I did. It's why I love singing. It's why my tragedies are conveyed through humor. I love entertaining. I love making people laugh. I love making people feel something.
In my every day life with my friends and my family, for the most part, I like to be in the corner. I like to be over-looked. I like playing second fiddle. I like to disappear. But the moment the lights dim and I'm on stage or the focus. I part of me comes alive. When I acted as a little girl, I made people laugh. As a dancer I put so much emotion into everything I did that it didn't matter if I was a beat behind or not as technically good. The audience felt my dancing. They knew what I was saying. It is one of the few moments that I open up and let everyone in and let everything out. When I sing, truly sing, I've moved a few people to tears. (I'm hoping it's because I don't completely suck. If that is the reason, then I should probably stop.) Before people get to know me, I mean truly know me, I come off as, my friend states it, "overly sweet and caring, a meek person, someone that can be walked all over, unassuming, mediocre, always quiet and just plain nice." When I'm acting, singing, dancing that person doesn't exist anymore. I surprise people. They see me. Not the person I want them to see.
There has always been a part of me that hungers to dance and sing. It's always been my dream. One that nags at me, eating away at me. I see people my age and younger who are so successful, for the soul reason that they are going after their dreams and doing what they have always wanted to do. I've never been able to go after those dreams. I don't know if it's because I'm too shy. Or if it's because I've never had the opportunity or support. Or if it's that I'm too scared. Or the fact that I can't stand being let down more than I have been. Or if I don't want to let people in. Maybe all of them combined. Because if I take a moment to truly admit it to myself. I really think that I may have enough talent to succeed.
The only reason I like stripping is because in those few moments on stage when I'm not naked and just entertaining. In those few moments all that I am doing is entertaining through actual dancing or making people laugh. I enjoy making people feel something. Sometimes I like being the center of attention. I wish I could entertain in the real world. I wish that something could compel me to stand on a stage and sing. I wish I could dance. I wish I could give a performance that makes someone feel they're not alone. I wish that I could give a performance that changes my life. I wish my dreams would someday be something more than what I know they will always be... Dreams.
And occasionally, I make myself feel something.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Procrastination
Right now I'm sitting at Starbucks... Writing my multicultural psych paper... I have my name down and the date it's due. My first paragraph has a nice little paragraph going on. It reads: THIS IS WHERE MY PAPER IS STARTING... WHEN I HAVE AN IDEA... SO YEAH... YAY CULTURE! That's kind of it. I'm being so productive. I've only been sitting here since 5:30 a.m. GOD it's so fucking early.
I got two hours of sleep last night. I'm sick, by the way. I was in bed watching TV while Jamie was asleep next to me. Vera texted me telling me Alexis' boyfriend cheated on her, in front of her. I then texted Alexis and asked if she wanted me there. She said no, which meant yes but I know you're sick. I waited about 45 minutes. I was gonna get out of bed to go be with her after my TV show finished (I'm a lazy friend sometimes). Anyways she called me and asked me to go to the bars so that I could be the over 21 sitting at the table with the beer. I shot out of bed, grabbed a dress out of the closet, tossed my hair up, put on random shoes, and ran down the street to the bar. I walked in and gave her a big hug. I sat down and had the realization that even in a major rush I manage to match. How the fuck does that happen??? I'm even sick and I manage to grab one of my cute outfits. At the table there is a pitcher of beer and four glasses. Alexis ends up drinking most of it. But before she does one of my friends, Fay, hands me a glass full of beer. I look at it and look at her with a, probably, confused look on my face. The thought through my mind was "What do I do with this?" Fay responds with the clearly obvious implication of the drink being handed to me "Drink!" Alexis looks at her "Dude she doesn't drink, and not definitely not beer. Plus she's uber sick." I continue along my thought process of "How is it that I'm so naive to not think of drinking beer when it's handed to me. I am so incredibly dull it's not even funny."
Anyways, by the time I got back home from being the designated drunk person, without the drunk part, it's about 1:00 am. I couldn't fall asleep cause I was still so mad at Alexis' now ex-boyfriend I was up for another hour. Then to be at Starbucks by five we were up and out of the house by 4:50. And I'm still procrastinating my paper writing...
I got two hours of sleep last night. I'm sick, by the way. I was in bed watching TV while Jamie was asleep next to me. Vera texted me telling me Alexis' boyfriend cheated on her, in front of her. I then texted Alexis and asked if she wanted me there. She said no, which meant yes but I know you're sick. I waited about 45 minutes. I was gonna get out of bed to go be with her after my TV show finished (I'm a lazy friend sometimes). Anyways she called me and asked me to go to the bars so that I could be the over 21 sitting at the table with the beer. I shot out of bed, grabbed a dress out of the closet, tossed my hair up, put on random shoes, and ran down the street to the bar. I walked in and gave her a big hug. I sat down and had the realization that even in a major rush I manage to match. How the fuck does that happen??? I'm even sick and I manage to grab one of my cute outfits. At the table there is a pitcher of beer and four glasses. Alexis ends up drinking most of it. But before she does one of my friends, Fay, hands me a glass full of beer. I look at it and look at her with a, probably, confused look on my face. The thought through my mind was "What do I do with this?" Fay responds with the clearly obvious implication of the drink being handed to me "Drink!" Alexis looks at her "Dude she doesn't drink, and not definitely not beer. Plus she's uber sick." I continue along my thought process of "How is it that I'm so naive to not think of drinking beer when it's handed to me. I am so incredibly dull it's not even funny."
Anyways, by the time I got back home from being the designated drunk person, without the drunk part, it's about 1:00 am. I couldn't fall asleep cause I was still so mad at Alexis' now ex-boyfriend I was up for another hour. Then to be at Starbucks by five we were up and out of the house by 4:50. And I'm still procrastinating my paper writing...
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Where Oh Where Can It Be?
I am on my period. And my big predicament of the week has been the loss of a tampon.
I had to work and when you're on your period and stripping you have to cut off the string and shove it WAY up in there. If it's not far enough in there then it will fall out. If it's too far in there then you risk losing it. Anyways I was hanging out in my dorm room with my three good friends. I was going to work in a little while and had just put a tampon in... We were having fun and all of a sudden I felt something. I went and looked. No tampon. My vagina swallowed it. My friends were freaking out a little bit. I was kind of "whatever" about the whole thing. Anyways. I said I'd wait for it to come out... You know, give it three days.
I walked into class and one of Jamie's fraternity brothers, and a good friend of mine, asked what was wrong. I responded with "I lost my tampon." "Can't you go get another?" "Not that kind of lost." "Wait you mean..." he made an upwards motion with his hands. "Yep. My vagina ate it." "You need to get that fixed. Have Jamie go get it out for you."
I went to work and put a second one in because I still had to work and couldn't bleed everywhere. That would be a bit off putting.
When I got home, Jamie was already asleep. He couldn't help me hunt for it, so I took a long hot shower and searched for it myself. Suffice to say I had to scrub all the blood from under my nails and the bath tub looked like it had just played a lead role in a horror film. Oh yeah, and no tampon.
I went to bed. Spent yesterday hanging out with my friends. My two friends decided to tell the entire table at lunch about my predicament, and for as "tough" as they are the whole lost tampon thing kind of weirded them out. They all told my I ABSOLUTELY HAD to go to the doctor. I didn't.
Later that evening I went to put another in and lo-and-behold it was finally found. Anyways that tampon spent two days bonding with my vagina and I was happy to have it located. My friends were all relieved to hear that I wasn't going to die of toxic shock syndrome.
It's not the first time I've "lost" a tampon and I highly doubt it will be the last.
I had to work and when you're on your period and stripping you have to cut off the string and shove it WAY up in there. If it's not far enough in there then it will fall out. If it's too far in there then you risk losing it. Anyways I was hanging out in my dorm room with my three good friends. I was going to work in a little while and had just put a tampon in... We were having fun and all of a sudden I felt something. I went and looked. No tampon. My vagina swallowed it. My friends were freaking out a little bit. I was kind of "whatever" about the whole thing. Anyways. I said I'd wait for it to come out... You know, give it three days.
I walked into class and one of Jamie's fraternity brothers, and a good friend of mine, asked what was wrong. I responded with "I lost my tampon." "Can't you go get another?" "Not that kind of lost." "Wait you mean..." he made an upwards motion with his hands. "Yep. My vagina ate it." "You need to get that fixed. Have Jamie go get it out for you."
I went to work and put a second one in because I still had to work and couldn't bleed everywhere. That would be a bit off putting.
When I got home, Jamie was already asleep. He couldn't help me hunt for it, so I took a long hot shower and searched for it myself. Suffice to say I had to scrub all the blood from under my nails and the bath tub looked like it had just played a lead role in a horror film. Oh yeah, and no tampon.
I went to bed. Spent yesterday hanging out with my friends. My two friends decided to tell the entire table at lunch about my predicament, and for as "tough" as they are the whole lost tampon thing kind of weirded them out. They all told my I ABSOLUTELY HAD to go to the doctor. I didn't.
Later that evening I went to put another in and lo-and-behold it was finally found. Anyways that tampon spent two days bonding with my vagina and I was happy to have it located. My friends were all relieved to hear that I wasn't going to die of toxic shock syndrome.
It's not the first time I've "lost" a tampon and I highly doubt it will be the last.
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