Sunday, September 30, 2007

A year ago, I decided that stripping was the perfect job for a 20 something year old girl who wants to do other things. I've worked lots of shitty jobs, multiple shitty jobs at one time, struggled to pay my rent and hated my life and compromised things that are actually important. I now makes lots of money, have lots of time to spend in my studio and go running and read and have lunches with friends on sunny patios while everyone else is stuck offices. When I worked as a waitress, I had to pretend that I actually cared about the shit jobs I was doing soley for the money. I was not there to be personally invested, I was not passionate and excited about the fish and chips and beer, I did not want to be friends with everybody I worked with, and I did not want to hang out after work every night and drink and talk about who was fucking who and all of the petty restaurant drama. And I think I was resented for it, even though I was nice and did a good job. I couldn't get the good sections because I didn't suck up to the managers and act like my dream in life was to be them. No one had my back because I wasn't out stumbling drunk around campus with them after work. I wasn't "one of the gang." All I wanted was to go to work, do what I was hired to do, make my money and go home. Instead, I was wasting too much of my time for not enough money.

Well now I don't work for an incompetent asshole. I don't suck up to anyone. My income is the direct result of how much I work and how good I am at what I do, not how much someone else likes me or doesn't like me for whatever irrelevant, personal reason. I don't have a lack of job security. I don't wonder if I'll get too many hours or too few hours or worry that I'll get a string of shitty sections and not be able to make rent. I have absolute control of my schedule, my income and my life. I don't have to rely on anyone else... I can invest money, travel, go to school, buy the desperately needed new laptop I'm writing this on. I can take off for Spain for 6 months, come back, and instantly be employed again. I'm not tied anywhere. It's an amazing thing. Of course, I realize that I can't do it forever. But by the time I'm too old to do this, I'll have an education that I didn't go into debt for, a retirement fund and a nice little nest egg that should launch any ambitions I have. So then, you have to ask yourself, in this world, does it matter where your money comes from or just what you do with it?

I've always hated that speech "I'm young and the world is at my fingertips." Whose fingertips is it at? My friends who are graduating with degrees and no job prospects in a saturated market that tells them they're overqualified? My friends who are still working in restaurants to pay off their tens of thousands of dollars in education debt? The people who spend their lives tied to shitty jobs that they hate and making sacrifices constantly of what their want their lives to be for the sake of "security"? Who has all of that figured out? I don't want any part of that system that's designed to entrap people in a material hell and make them believe that dissatisfaction is somehow the sign that you're doing everything right.

This isn't supposed to be career propaganda for stripping. It's just supposed to pose the possibility that maybe doing the lease amount of bull shit for someone else in order to get by the world so that you can live your own life is actually the way it should be. People throw away their whole lives just to be part of this machine that promises to protect them, but really, people don't need that much security. People need identities and lives and dreams and adventures. We've evolved out of a survivalist species. I can insure security for myself with some ingenuity. I don't have to rely on some horrible job that will turn me into a nameless, indentured servant out of fear I will end up starving on the streets.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

I just got back from Kentucky yesterday. Dan, his sister and her husband and myself went to Mammoth Cave for the weekend and camped. The cave was great, the tacky tourist area around it was better. It was truly reminiscent of my childhood when my mom, grandma and I would drive down to visit our family in Tennessee and stop at every imaginable dilapidated tourist trap in between. Kentucky was like being in some sort of twilight zone. We stopped at one gift shop that had a sign on a shed next to the building that said "Big Mike's Mystery House." We laid down the $1 admission, despite fears of being raped anally and never found. It was a series of rooms of glow in the dark paint, peeling AstroTurf and psychedelic art from the 70s.

Then there was the diner we went to. Well, we went to two... the first, the waitress came to the table and just said to me, "Pancakes." I just looked at her, confused, and she said, "Pancakes. We only serve pancakes for breakfast." We left of course and went to another diner, the entrance of which was littered with garbage and children's toys. Our waitress was an older woman who had bright green shiny eye shadow. We waited an hour for our food, but I got the requisite fried okra so I was happy. Fried okra redeems the south.

On our way back, Dan and I stopped at a winery in southern Indiana near Bordon. It was absolutely beautiful. I forget sometimes that not all of Indiana is flat. The winery ended up being part of a pumpkin patch and farmers market and there were people everywhere riding on haywagons and eating ice cream. We bought a bottle of dry, oaky white wine--I didn't like any of their reds. It went nicely with the shrimp teriyaki skewers we grilled last night, but today I'm a little hung over. And back to work. Blah.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

It's noon and I'm lying in bed, fully dressed, with absolutely no will to do anything. I should have gone to an ASAP board meeting, yoga, done work at Erika's, worked out... I haven't done anything of these things. Basically I've felt this way all week. Yesterday I fell asleep while having my hair done. It occured to me a few minutes ago that I'm actually sick. I never get sick. I'm sniffling and my head feels like a sandbag. I have to work at Nature's Pharm and then the club tonight. I'm tempted to just stay in bed until I absolutely have to go to work.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Last Tuesday I began moonlighting as an "exotic dancer." I've wanted to do it forEVER and, finally, I got up the guts to go and "audition." I had to set aside all of my "body issues" and the fact that I've only gone out dancing a couple of times. Stage fright and being naked were never so much issues. To my surprise, it came quite naturally. To my further surprise, my first night of work I realized dancing is actually a lot of fun--and empowering. How could I complain about getting to dance, dress up and be drooled over all night by men who pay me just to pay attention to them. Even better was walking out with a wad of cash the size of a large grapefruit.

Anyway, it looks like it's final... I'm going to Spain for 6 months in January.

What could be better than stripping and international travel?

Saturday, September 8, 2007

My apartment finally has furniture. I won't even go into the nightmare that was involved in my mother moving her stuff out of storage and into my spare bedroom, but suffice to say, most of it is still in storage. I'm still grateful to have shelves and a king size bed and my grandmother's china cabinet.

I'm sitting here reading about the latest actress who posed nude before she was famous. I'm so sick of these stupid bitches "apologizing" for doing it and giving some sob story about how they "needed the money." The only reason anyone cares is because people love to see a groveling, fallen woman that they can throw stones at. If one of them would just say "yeah, I got naked for a camera. So fucking what? It was great and empowering", I bet no one would publish a single story about it because they couldn't bask in someone else's humiliation. I've posed nude lots of times, and if I got famous, I wouldn't give two shits if anyone saw the photos or knew about them. Obviously if I was worried about someone seeing me naked, I wouldn't have allowed myself to be PHOTOGRAPHED that way. Ugh.

Anyway. I'm going to go make some spinach and quinoa.