Monday, December 23, 2013

the Reclamation of Winning, The Failure Of.

I'd just like to note that I wrote this in a weird state and then drew the pictures in an even weirder state of which was the result of a weirdly bad mood of which I am still in of which I like to say of which. 

The few of you who actually care about seeing my blog regularly updated may have noticed it has been about three weeks since I last wrote anything.

Where have you been???

They cry out in the agony of a world without Sexless and Cynical blogs, a world none would ever voluntarily choose to live in.

But fear not. For I vow to update three days in a row to make up for this.

I do not know if you realize the weight of what I have just said. So I will type it again, this time in italics, so you understand.

Three days in a row.

And now in bold.

Three days in a row.

And now in all caps.


And now in all three.


(I'm mostly doing this to make sure I commit to my promise.)

(But I'm not promising amazing pictures. That is the compromise. OK?)

This is a big deal because writing anything for me generally takes hours of time and lots of painstaking effort (but not this time! Wee!). This is because I want to fool people into believing I actually know things about writing, when in fact I am just pretending.

If anyone were to ask me what the most important thing about writing was, I would reply, "To write, you must start by making words that make sentences. Once you do that, you are writing. Viola.”

From there I am clueless.

So where have I been, anyway, that is so much more important than the sacred world of Blog-dom? Well, considering I earn zero dollars, have a very small investment of followers, and get no direct physical pleasure (aka endorphins or drunkenness) from this blog, there are a lot of things that take a higher priority (like beer or wine, for example). Not that I don't love this little blog. I've just been stumped on mind blowing and motivating inspiration lately.

I was in five aerial performances in one weekend at the beginning of December, to start. Then I caught the flu backstage and had to trudge through finals whilst barely being able to sit up in bed without getting a headache and wanting to pass out. Then I got mildly healthy enough to go bask in the glory of being not sick and also being 21 and spending a whole Sunday doing nothing but laying in bed with another person, eating queso, and watching Netflix. A good use of being in good health, surely. 

I know Millenials like to assert that we really aren't lazy and actually are hardworking and that the economy is just working against us. But sometimes we really are just lazy. I probably could have spent that Sunday/Monday doing work to make up for the days I didn't come do any with the flu and the days I would miss while on vacation. But then there is this nagging little voice in my head that keeps saying “You're only young [and super sexy] once!”

It also says “Oooh pleasures. Indulge yourself! Come on, you don't really deserve it, but take it anyway just because you can.”

Sigh. I am weak.

The peoples of the depression era would scorn my name.

I can feel the weakness all over me these days. Mentally, emotionally, physically. I really need to do something about it. I haven't been training like the crazy, depressed person seeking solace in meditative movement and sweat that I was during the summer, so my physical fitness has been in decline. Seeing as that is the easiest thing to fix, I've decided to start tackling that.

I am however, several thousand miles away from home, and thus, my regular studios of attendance. Which makes training a little tricky.

I decided to go back to the place I swore that I would never return to. I decided to go to the gym.


That's right. After my little trauma acouple of years ago, I have barely set foot in a gym again, besides my Winter Break Smorgashboard last winter, but that was so full of old people that it didn't really count. This time I attended a big box gym named after a specific alloy which I will not repeat, so as to not incriminate on their all around okay reputation.

I went in using my mother's card, and I was so terrified someone, probably in a tailored suit and dark glasses, would stop me in my tracks and ask to see proof that I was, in fact, my mother, which I was not, that I decided I would do my very best to pretend like I totally belonged there. That meant no stopping to look around and wonder where I should go. I just waltzed right in there like I owned the place and hung a right.

Let the world lead you, they say. Be easy going. Enjoy where the tide takes you. 

That wasn't really what I had in mind of letting the universe decide my fate. 

I was met by an endless sea of bizarre machines in this non-specific alloy gym. Seriously, endless. There were mirrors on every wall so that it looked as if there were double the amount they really were. I was terrified it would end up like the mirror fun houses I used to go in as a kid at the carnival and smack into the walls because I couldn't discern the real from the reflection. I kept my arms out in front of me as I walked. Just in case.

I didn't know what any of the machines did. I still don't, even after watching other people awkwardly move their bodies around on them all that time. I jumped on a treadmill because I actually know what a treadmill is supposed to do so I could survey the room. After a few minutes my eyes determined that the thing way over there was a pull-up bar, and I know how to use a pull-up bar. So I went there.

Unfortunately, much to my chagrin, I could not do one full pull-up. Which is shameful because by the end of the summer I could do several in a row. But if you don't use it you lose it. So I just looked like an idiot. I spent a good deal of time trying to invert with solidity and grace but failed. For some reason I just can't invert between my arms from a dead hang. I don't know what's wrong with me. It's been this way for months and nothing has changed. I know that one day everything will change, but not if I don't keep trying. And guess what? I haven't been trying.

So I did more negative training and tried not to make eye contact with the guy doing multiple sets of 10 pull-ups in a row across from me without batting an eyelash. I tried to see if I could condition my single leg hangs or attempt some meathooks to no prevail, as the dumb weight lifting machinery attached to the bar got in the way and mainly just made me look like an idiot getting tangled while upside down for no apparent reason. 

I left with my tail between my legs. I'm really not that strong at all, compared to many other pole dancers and aerialists, and I've been hiding behind being “dance-y” and having a decent amount of flexibility. I hate when people tell me that I am good, or that I am strong. I feel like such a phony. 

Also everyone gave me funny looks and I just don't like that.

I tried working out at my mom's house, but then this just happened.

So I decided to go back to the gym. This time I went left instead of right and discovered “The Sanctuary,” which I thought might be some kind of spa or possibly a secret cult meeting room, but it actually is an all women's section of the gym where there aren't dudes to look at you funny as you fail at pull-ups.

Unfortunately there are no pull up bars in this section of the gym. %$#@*%# sexist gym nuts. Although there was one squat rack, where I could awkwardly try to remember how to properly perform a squat at a low weight bar in peace. I was thankful for that. My quads were sore the next day so I assume I did something right. 

So it was back to the coed section of the gym, where my weakness was on display for a bunch of strangers.

And this is why I hate gyms.

And why I hate inverts and how they elude me and my seemingly malformed hips which will not, no matter how much I train my core, go over my head.

One day I will look back and laugh at this, wondering how such a simple thing could ever be such a struggle, such as the way I laugh about jades and cupids currently. But for now I am just going to mash my keyboard angrily and wish the weakness away with all my might.


Exclamation point.  


  1. That video is five fucking minutes long! That shit is nuts, and that's me saying that.

    Posting for three whole days on vacay? Tsk.

  2. Okay, I have a hard time believing you can invert from a wide grip, not even on silks or lyra? You are definitely more flexy/dancy than some others that are at the same level as you, but you are also a lot stronger than some of us. It's okay if that takes time, everything does.

  3. Well finally you update, biatch! I decided to break in and stop being a silent reader because it's christmas. And I also hate it, and I have nothing better to do than this. No, seriously, I am also angry with myself I can't invert, I can't do a pull up and I even stopped going to aerial because everyone kept going further and I was still fighting with a basic invert from the ground. It got boring. So, as you see, there's alwyas someone worse than you. Needless to say, I also complain but haven't been honestly trying. I blame it on my extremely tight hips for it, and just wait for a miracle. I have my own pole at home, and decided to stop being me when it comes to pole and pretend I'm someone else. So, working out as "X" (I haven't named her yet) is funner, sexier and she's more inclined to break a sweat and get stronger, because, me, no, I can't.
    Anyway, I hope you get new workout clothes. Now I feel awkard, this comment got to long.

  4. I have just installed iStripper, and now I can watch the hottest virtual strippers on my desktop.