Letting the Couch Go

Yesterday morning I was woken up at 7 AM by a phone call (which I ignored, of course, because it was 7 AM) and a text telling me that my beloved cat, Bubba, had a diabetic seizure and was going to be put down. He was a one of a kind cat, one of the friendliest I'd ever known, and very special to everyone in my family.

I called my mom later after some mournful sleeping in. We had little to say about it. We were sad. But he was old and diabetic. He had been overweight, then underweight, then overweight for a long time. What could we do?

So it goes.

We moved on to catch up on our lives.

"You look smile so much in your Facebook photos these days. I don't even recognize you." My mom said.

Last week I traveled to LA/Orange County to deal with the furniture and other items I left in a storage locker in the desert last summer when I moved back to Colorado. My intention was to take a year away and come back, but once I got home, any desire to leave again quickly faded. I felt like I belonged in Boulder and the thought of having to go back and sit in classes with people who felt and were strangers was daunting. So I decided to stay. But all that stuff was left.

I gathered the things from the storage unit and decided to have a garage sale in partnership with my Uncle, who I was staying with. They just redid their kitchen and kid's old bedrooms and had a lot of junk to get rid of too. I watched at my Uncle sold all his $1 random kitchen crap, while my more expensive large pieces of furniture sat unmentioned in the driveway. No one was ready to haul away desks, dressers, and couches that Saturday. Ultimately I sold most of the furniture for dirt cheap prices, barely making forty dollars total. The couch, my amazing, most favorite couch in the world, did not find a home. We put it on the curb with a sign that said "free."

By the time I left, it was still untouched. It broke my heart. I'd had the couch as long as I'd had Bubba, and we spent many an afternoon lounging on it. I remember watching Gilmore Girls and eating s'mores pop-tarts every afternoon in junior year there. I had my first relationship and love blossom on that couch. I'd hauled it with me to California. It was so comfortable, it'd suck you in and you'd never want to get up. And now, it's gone. To who knows where. I shudder to think of it in a dump somewhere. I like to pretend some needy college kids found it, picked it up, and took it to a good home where it was just as appreciated. Although probably not.

All good things must come to an end

Anyway...What could I do?

The point of all this being that my life is turning. Times are changing. A new chapter is beginning. Two weeks ago I was accepted into the professional training program at Frequent Flyers Productions, an aerial company that has been around for over 25 years, internationally acclaimed, rigorous with technique, and has a focus on modern dance. To dream that I'd ever end up in aerial dance school is wild beyond my imagination. I couldn't be more excited.

A combination of therapy, anti-depressants, life rearranging, a caring boyfriend, and more have turned me into a much, much happier person than I was when I started this blog. Even though I've had to let many things go involuntarily, I will choose to look ahead to a bright future. I am starting a blog called "The Lives of the Aerialists," inspired by Giorgio Vasari's The Lives of the Artists written in the 1500s. It is the basis for a lot of art history as we know it today, as it documents many well known renaissance names and their artistic processes and journeys. My hope is to do the same with aerial, and hopefully it will be a collaborative blog with other pole and aerial dancers, sharing stories, advice, and more with the community. Because blogging is so time consuming as it is, and I am also in 16 credits of college courses, working, and doing this 30 hour a week training program, this blog is going to have to fall to the wayside. I hope to revisit and rekindle this blog some day, but for now it will be on hiatus. Perhaps there will be some intermittent posts, as I still have some things in the works, but I simply don't have the time or energy to make it regular, as you may have noticed recently.

Thank you all for coming and reading this blog. Even though you are few, I am appreciative of your appreciation! Make sure to check out The Lives of the Aerialists (I will be working on getting some posts up very soon!) My snarky-ness will not be gone, only away on vacation on the other page.

And now, here are some of my favorite-ist pictures I drew for the page. Just for fun.

Artistic rendition of my butt hole

Typical day of blogging

True love. Also know are "fearts"

Me on a regular basis

My preferred method of protesting

Self realization

Cake

I don't really know

How to make friends

Joy ride

How I practiced making out well into my adult years

A childhood long forgotten

Me bike riding

"Angry Greens" memories

Also how I make friends

How I campaign

Kitty!

Super blogger

Also me on a regular basis

When I discovered the joy of running shirtless

Possible career that I decided against

Art. I totally get it.

I haven't written much this summer, besides a few posts about things I've written for my communications class this semester. That story has unraveled in quite an interesting way, and depending on how my appeal process goes, there may or may not be a very special blog post about it on the way. However it turns out though, I will have to wait and see. I am not going to write about it until it does. Maybe in the end I will totally conquer the educational system, in which case it might be rude to post a ranting victory lap-esque blog. But if I lose all hell shall break loose and thy kingdom doth catch aflame in misery and terror!

Or I'll just rant.

I've been far too busy being more or less happy and content with throwing all my money at pole and aerial in the meantime, and still squeezing in school and work and the occasional paddle boarding excursion all summer. Somehow. Right now I am in the middle of the aerial dance festival, in which I've spent over approximately $600 (AKA all my spare cash) on, which I really don't want to think about, but it was over the span of 4 or 5 months, so that makes it kind of better.

Besides a professor getting all up in my grades about "academic dishonesty" or whatever hooha, there has also been much drama in my pole community as well as in my performer life. I can't really write about the pole drama, it's too sensitive, but I basically feel like my parents are getting divorced all over again and it totally sucks. As for the performer drama, well, I just make one promise in saying that a really brilliant script based on the production of another play is on the way. Question: Who would see a show with this title based on raw, real life experiences about penises, life coaches, and ART (insert glittery sound here) ?

Avant-Garde

 The Play

The Musical 

The Dance 

The Thingy On Stage

You may not have a choice either way. 

Oooh that would make a good sub-tagline. 

That would also make a good sub-sub-tagline. 

Art. 

I totally get it. 

My Evil Stepmother

I just can't break my communications teacher. Here is my latest assignment plus her feedback. I wrote this in about half an hour because I care too much. 

Meredith Burgess

COM125 Interpersonal Communication

4 July 2014

Facial Expression Analysis

There is one person in particular that I interact with almost every day more than anyone else and that is my stepmother. While my father is away at work all day, she stays home and enjoys the fine life he provides for her, meanwhile I help her out with household duties such as cooking and cleaning. I know her facial expressions very well because I must always be attentive to her moods. If I don't, there will be consequences. Based on the given list of Eckman's Types of Emotions, I know for certain that I regularly see her express joy, anger, and disgust when interacting with me.

The emotions I believe my stepmother expresses most often is anger. She tends to be a very angry person, especially when my father is not around. She does not need to say anything at all for me to know she is angry. Her face gets very hard and some of the veins on her forehead become visible. Her eyes shift quite a lot, which I find strange and a little unnerving. She likes to wear her hair up when she is angry, so I know immediately if she comes in with a ponytail, I'm in for it. If she comes in with a tight ballerina bun, it's all over. The tight hair definitely helps bring out the sharpness in her facial expressions. When I screw something up, for example, if I fail to make enough foam in her daily 8 am latte or if I forget to clean her toilet right after her 10 am intestinal disposal hour, I can literally see her anger turn into rage. Her right eye always starts twitching, her brow gets very low, and I swear her eyes glow in the dark. She may or may not be evil.

One emotion I occasionally witness in my stepmother is joy. She can be very pleased when I do my duties particularly well, so I try to do this often. She also gets very happy when my father comes home. Her eyebrows go up, her eyes are wide and open, and her cheeks get fairly puffy. Although there are no wrinkles by her eyes or mouth, since she has had a great deal of Botox. Sometimes, like every day at 4 pm, she gets very drunk on sidecars and laughs very hard at certain things. She has this very shrill laugh, and her eyes nearly disappear into her skull. You can see very slight wrinkles on her forehead, but don't tell her that or there will be consequences. When my father brings her gifts, or she gives me a big punishment and tells me I can't go to the ball, I think she experiences ecstasy, because I can see all her teeth at once. They look kind of sharp.

Finally, I see my stepmother experience disgust very often. This is probably her most frequent expression when she is around me. She doesn't let me shower often, so I usually smell bad, which doesn't help. Her nose gets a little wrinkled and she purses her lips, although again, that could just be the Botox. Her eyes avert from whatever she is disgusted by. When she is in a particularly bad mood, or if she is near cats, she can go into all out loathing. She really hates cats. I saw her kick one once. Her whole face tenses up, which looks very odd. It is kind of as if you stretched plastic wrap over a set of organ pipes. She could probably turn someone into stone with the cold, dead expression of her eyes. I try to never look straight into them. I did once, just for a few seconds, and I think a little part of my soul choked up and died without even writing a will.

 My stepmother has a very odd face. If she ever finds out I wrote that she would be very angry and I'd probably end up scrubbing the kitchen floor with a toothbrush for a week and sleeping in the concrete basement, but it is true. It contorts in all sorts of ways and I sometimes wonder if she is even human or not. However, the ways in which it moves are very telling, which I have found to be quite useful in my interactions with her. Watching the Lie to Me video only gave me more tools in which I can try to manipulate the situation and give myself the upper hand.

Communications Class: A Lesson in Messing with your Professor

I know, I know. I've been denying you of your upmost blog reading joy of joys lately by not writing. I am buried under a huge pile of schoolwork that is mostly higher level math and science, plus working two jobs (all of the sudden!), and dating, and just being a general baller, you know, adored by millions of fans and loved by all. Just how I do.

Ok but seriously, calculus is murdering me.

The good news is I have one class that isn't intense science and math fun times, and that class is called Interpersonal Communication. It consists of no quizzes, no "required" reading, three pages of notes to glance at each week, a discussion to bullshit it up in every week, and the occasional assignment. It's literally the biggest waste of my time and tuition money. Hooray! But at least it isn't stressful.

The textbook cites nothing but pop culture references such as How I Met Your Mother and Shrek.

In my typical fashion, I decided I wouldn't let this class completely waste my AMAZING talents, and have decided it will be an exercise in creativity and of course my favorite, snarky writing.

Here is the latest assignment I turned in. Enjoy. 

Meredith Burgess

Interpersonal Communication

20 June 2014

Unit 2 Assignment- Self Concepts

According to the attached worksheet, the top five self concept items that I associate myself with are strong like bull, WWBD? (What would Batman do?), enlightened, Follower of the Almighty Toast, and Queen of the Moosicorns, in that specific order of importance. These self concepts truly define me as an individual for many reasons. Strong like bull takes first place because I am, by far, the strongest person I've ever known. Or at least in my household. Most of my friends are actually stronger than me, physically speaking, but it is difficult to be the strongest in a band of ultra-ninjas. I still consider myself pretty strong as, at least and if not more, a bull, and I use that strength a lot doing super cool ninja activities, so therefore, it takes the number one spot.

Runner up to the coveted first place spot is WWBD? Which stands for “What would Batman do?” Batman is my guiding light in life. He is my idol, my hero, and whatever other synonym one can come up with for those words. I try to act as Batman would, or in other words, I try to be as badass as possible. Otherwise what is the point in living? The third most important self concept definition for me is enlightened. As one may realize while reading this paper, I clearly have discovered the key to life. Living as a part of a band of ultra ninjas doing badass Batman-like super legit fitness lady stuff, I walk around on a daily basis with a glowing aura of golden light. My feet barely even brush the ground as I glide through the universe, one with “The Awesome.”

The last two spots are reserved for my religious duties. I am a Follower of the Almighty Toast, a deity greater than any other. I ceremoniously engage in toast activities every morning at breakfast time and pay homage to the Almighty Toast in many other ways. Currently I am writing a novel to help people gain awareness of the importance of toast in their lives. In addition to this, I am also Queen of the Moosicorns and more or less their human ambassador. The Moosicorn, if one is not aware, is a majestic beast that lives in the forest, half moose and half unicorn. It is the most badass of any beasts and rules the animal kingdom with an iron hoof. It is a rare sight to see one, but if spotted, keep distance and enjoying observing their beautiful rampage from afar.

My Jung Typology score is INFJ. In specific, I scored as 78% Introvert, 75% intuitive, 38% feeling, 11% judging. I think this very much relates to my self concepts and makes complete and total sense. The introvert makes immediate sense since Batman is a bit of a lone wolf, which of course is the route I obviously also take. Batman and I like to look to our inner selves for guidance and energy, that is how we get by. Also stated in the Human Metrics definition about the INFJ it says, “Usually self-expression comes more easily to INFJs on paper, as they tend to have strong writing skills. Since in addition they often possess a strong personal charisma, INFJs are generally well-suited to the "inspirational" professions such as teaching (especially in higher education) and religious leadership” (Butt, 5). Religious leadership? Check. Self expression? Strong writing skills? Charisma? Well, this paper should be plenty of confirmation of that.

Works Cited

Butt, Joe, and Marina M. Heiss. "INFJ Description." INFJ Introverted INtuitive Feeling Judging. HumanMetrics, n.d. Web. 21 June 2014. <http://www.humanmetrics.com/personality/infj>.

Boy I hope I get an A!! 

Stopping in at Work on a Lucky Goodwill Day

I've been working double hours the past three weeks, as it was technically my summer vacation and what better to do with my free time than work extra hard?  

Hey, I'm trying to make aerial dreams come true here, which as it turns out are not cheap. So lots of work it is!

Slippers always asks me if I have had the dream of endless piles of clothes crushing me yet, which I have not and I always laugh at him about it. I usually only work 3 days out of the week, because I'm still in school full time and trying to be legit pro dancer lady, so that takes up a lot of time too. Not to mention this blog and other various projects I have going on.

Just a regular two or three days worth of work

I have no idea how I could dream about piles of clothes crushing me. Incidentally this is an entirely different pile of shoes than the one above. 

Anyway, after working 5-6 days in a row for three weeks, I am kind of starting to see how having one of those dreams is possible. The work, as ideal as it is for me, kind of drags after a bit. The other day, in order to distract my brain from the monotony, I wrote this little poem while I was listing my 50th pair of shoes on eBay.

This is the pile of shoes to still be listed. Believe it or not this is when things are under control.

Whose room this is I think I know

Their real home is outside of here though

They won't see me sigh in despair

As I watch this room fill up with endless clothes 

That Fucking Cat must think it unfair

To find me always sitting in her chair

Between the clothes and other vintage crap

That I can't believe people pay to wear

TFC refuses to sit in my lap

While on the keyboard I tap

The only other sound's the peep

of NPR and Ira Glass

The piles are endless, tall, and deep

For I have work to do for cheap

And Levi's to list before I sleep

And Levi's to list before I sleep

It's true. Me and That Fucking Cat have had a strained relationship ever since she made Natasha Wang think I was a bed wetter. And now she hates me for stealing her napping chair. And torturing her by petting her fluffiness all the time. How evil of me. 

Seriously though. It never ends. 

Disclaimer: I do not actually think I work for cheap. It was just good for the rhyme (of which is another thing I am obviously really good at doing). I probably get paid way too much the perfect amount for the work I do. I am extremely appreciative of the job I have as I could not find a more flexible schedule and antisocial work. It's basically perfect for me. Also sometimes Viv feeds me leftovers or even gives me mixed drinks in the middle of the day and is the perfect role model, which is always my favorite thing. 

Also I totally could have drawn things but school has started up again and holy crap do you see how chaotic this stuff is? I'm FAR too lazy to be that detailed. It literally would have just been scribbles and maybe me making a weird frowny face. 

…I mean. That's what I usually draw. But this would have been especially lazy. I promise.

Happierish

I've been going through a phase of particularly intense dreaming lately. I had an especially personal and eye opening dream a few nights ago that I'd like to share, as much as it makes me feel vulnerable, because I thought it was particularly insightful to my emotional state lately. Here it goes:

While Slippers* was away sailing in the Caribbean, Old Crow and I decided to give our relationship another try. For some reason? (This was a totally consensual agreement with Slippers in the dream, by the way, it was not a cheating type of thing.) For the first few days things were great. I was so happy to be with him again, it was just like it once was. Then, for some reason? I was completely naked in the middle of a grocery store. Old Crow was groping and coming on to me, trying to get me to have sex with him. I kept denying him, saying I really just wanted to get to my clothes and put them back on, since all the people in the store were staring at us. He got upset and for some reason? a random dude came over and decided to be our couples counselor. We sat down and started hashing things out. At first I was relieved to finally be communicating with Old Crow on a real and personal level. I told him that he did not make me feel special. He didn't even bother wrapping my Christmas present, after all. (He really didn't.) He admitted to me that he did not think I was special. I burst into tears and realized there was no way we could ever be together. We both had a moment of mourning and then that part of the dream was over and suddenly Harry Potter was there and things got all weird...

I won't go into the nonsense bit of it. As entertaining as it is, it's basically meaningless. Plus I heard a story on NPR once that no one cares about your dreams, apparently. Some radio host's mom said so. (Not joking. That was really their programming once.)

But that particular part of that dream was huge for me. It felt very real, including the pain, but so did the feeling of being just a little bit more free than I was before once I woke up.

You see, the best part about this blog is that I am young and the complete opposite of wise. So you, the reader, get to watch me blossom into this world and act like a stupid idiot and make a bunch of bad life choices and then learn things the hard way.

...What? You don't think that is the best part about my blog? ...Why wouldn't you enjoy watching other people be stupid? What's wrong with you, anyway? Geez. That's what America is practically founded on. Get with it, yo.

Do people still say "yo?" Is that still a cool thing? 

Ahem. The point I was trying to make, before you so rudely interrupted, is that I am learning things about love and relationships lately. Big surprise there. Given my blog's name, I clearly have NOTHING to learn.

I recently started seeing someone new who is super duper nice to me. Like, REALLY nice. I don't fully know how to deal with it, actually. I might have rolled my eyes and been annoyed with the behavior previously, but after my last "relationship," I find I am deeply appreciative of his respectful treatment.

It's the difference between…

Actually bribing him to come out to dinner with me and my friends because he's too cool to go to somewhere as mainstream as the Cheesecake Factory 

...to hearing the sentence "I'll do anything and go anywhere with you and will have a good time, just because you are there too." 

I guess I could say the same thing to cheesecake. They love me at those pseudo-high class restaurants, that they do. 

Splitting every bill

...to fighting for the check.

Money makes me anxious. This picture makes no sense. It's all good. 

Feeling inadequate to his dog

...to being super duper important to him. (And the dog's new bestie! Well, the dog likes me anyway)

This is my life with every dog ever right now. 

Him asking me "Where are you going?" every. single. morning. when I get up to put money on my parking meter in front of his building (or a mile away from his building sometimes) that starts ticking at 9 AM

...to actually getting him to bring me things while working or in bed. Sometimes without even asking. What the whaaaa!?

I'm getting spoiled. 

Not wanting me to be his "girlfriend."

...to wanting nothing more than for me to be his girlfriend 

But…THEY'RE THE SAME. I'll never understand people's anxieties over labels. 

Massaging him for an hour with no return offer and then sleeping on the uncomfortable bar in the middle of the world's shittiest bed just to be near him, because he won't come to my side

...to laying there as he just picks up my feet and starts rubbing them without me even asking.
 I say, "What are you doing?" 
And he says, "Rubbing your feet. Do you not want me to?" 

"NO go for it! But you don't have to." 

"But I like doing it for you." 

He keeps insisting this is true. 

(Also he has the most comfortable bed in the universe. Extra plus.)

I guess you could say I have happy feet

Feeling constantly judged and that I need to be careful what I say or do in case it isn't cool or intelligent enough 

...to feeling completely free to be myself in every weird and awkward way. 

Oh I'm sorry, is that not cool?

I'm not saying what happened with Old Crow was horrible or really bad. He could be nice too. There were so many moments that made me feel like I was in a goddamn movie they were so magical. He was more than I ever expected out of OkCupid and many of the things I ever thought I could ask for, you know, except for the part where he didn't love me. As it turns out, that is a huge deal breaker. At least it is for me. 

It's still painful to think about my relationship with Old Crow, especially knowing that he probably feels absolutely none of this same pain at all, but I dunno. I'm still insanely sad in the same way I am sad about all the men who didn't work out in my life. But…you just get to a certain point out and look back on things and think "Oh yea. I guess it did kind of suck." Discretely crying while you are laying in bed next to someone because you are so stressed about how they feel about you is never a good thing. You think that would be obvious at that time but! but! but! Magical feelingssssss! 

I'm so young and dumb that it hurts.

I think I can safely say I've pretty much moved on. Which is the point of this blog, if you couldn't tell. Who knows what will happen next. Maybe I will get sick of being treated really super well, or maybe Slippers' infatuation with me will die down and he'll get sick of rubbing my feet all the time, but for now I am just going to be a little unsexless and uncynical for awhile. I feel all special and good inside. It's kind of nice to not feel like I have to work really hard to be the most low maintenance girlfriend ever. Maybe I'm starting to grow out of my own title??





…Nah.



*Also known as Minion elsewhere on the internet. Also also known as my latest boy-toy boyfriend. 

Twerk Philosophy

Something has been weighing on my chest for quite some time now. I am having a very difficult internal struggle, and I am a little afraid of the judgement I might face from my community in talking about my true feelings. But this needs to be said. So here it goes.




I don't get twerking.

Dun dun DUNNN

I know. As someone who participates regularly in the field of super-sexy-time-dancing (which I DO, by the way, just usually not on stage. That is reserved for fake mustaches and anger), I should understand and appreciate at the very least the theory of twerking.

But I don't.

I just don't.

Let's go back.

I've known twerking has been around for some time. And no, Miley Cyrus did not invent it, in case you haven't been in on the world of super-sexy-time-dancing before that little incident. It's ok though. I never really took notice of it when I was still a part of the "real" world either. It was not until a couple months into taking pole classes did the world of twerking begin to become unveiled to me. It was one of those things people would just get really excited about every class or three, and we'd all get down on to the floor and give it a go as an instructor attempted to break down the mechanics of the twerk and how to progress into a "proper" twerk.

That's another thing I don't get, by the way. People who can see a clear, discernible difference between what is a correct or true "twerk" and what is just shaking your booty. I'm sorry. Are those not the same thing? This is how Google defines it, which seems pretty general if you ask me.

And yes. Google defined it. This is a real phenomenon, people. 

I think there are some people who define a twerk based on the flapping intensity occurs in the gluteus maximus and minimus muscles, AKA da' booty and it's respective POP. However, like I said, I wouldn't really know. I'm not in on this twerk elitism. Perhaps we should propose for there need to be a wider array of definitions, with specific classes of twerking, twerk styles, and so on. *

...This could be a whole industry really. I don't even know why I am in the blogging game right now. Clearly I need to start capitalizing on people's fascination with butt shaking. 

Myself though?

I never could quite get myself to twerk correctly. I'd try and try again and whenever I felt close, I'd try it in front of someone but would never get the "AAAAWWW YEAAAA GUUURRRRLLL" response that let's someone know they have achieved true twerker status.

How to know if you are twerking correctly 

Continue if you hear the following in response to your booty poppin': 

AW YEA GURL SHAKE IT!!!

 WOOO AAAHH EEEEH YEAAAA UUUHH AAAHDJKFFJNG (and other incoherent wooing).

The sound of someone smacking your ass.

Please for the love of god, stop if you hear any of this: 

Mmmm…yeaaaaaa….errr… yeeeeaaaa….

 Really really awkward silence.

The sound of souls being emptied and crushed for all their worth while people avert their gaze in the desperate attempt to unsee what they have just witnessed.  

Please note: Alcohol invariably affects people's ability to properly assess a twerk. For a truly accurate response, twerk in front of a crowd of 60+ sober women.

It never really bothered me though. I figured my twerk would come in time.  For awhile I would go to the sexy time dancing pole class where a song was always reserved specifically for twerking time. Everyone would get really excited about this part of the class and let their twerk run free all over the poles and the studio for an entire song. I would kind of just roll around in the corner and pretend to be into it, but secretly I always wondered when we could finally be done and I could stop feeling like an epileptic whale. Eventually I stopped going to that class. Specifically for that reason.

This is both offensive to people with epilepsy and whales. I win. 

It's been two years and I'm still where I was when I started out: splay legged on the floor wondering why people aren't as excited about my thighs jiggling? They're close enough, right?

So I decided to just let it go.

But yet!

It persists to haunt me. On at least a weekly basis I see someone flip out over someone else twerking. It's like the free space in bingo for getting a positive crowd reaction on stage. And I honestly don't know why. I don't think it's because I'm jealous of others who can twerk. I understand that it takes skill to do it well, and I respect that. But there are plenty of other difficult things, much more difficult things, that don't get as big a reaction. Is it because twerking is just that sexy? I of all people can appreciate a sexy butt! I like butts! I like sexy things!

It's true! I swear!

But think of all the sexy, badass things you can do with your body. Why can't we make those more widespread? Why does the twerk have to dominate so? Take a look at this music video for Hips Don't Lie by Shakira. I know it's a little early 2000s retro, which is scary to think is a retro era now, but seriously. Just skip ahead to 1:50. She does this crazy chest isolation with her boobs that blows my mind. IS SHE A ROBOT? I DON'T UNDERSTAND. But I can appreciate it. 'Nuff said.

Why is there not more freaky chest movement to go along with freaky butt movement?? 

In the end, it comes down to the fact that the jiggling just doesn't appeal to me that much. Maybe I am not as secretly lesbian as I previously thought. Maybe I am too close minded about what is sexy in a woman's body. For now this is just going to remain a mystery to me and I don't know if it will ever be solved. I might stand alone in the pole community forever because of it, ostracized, misunderstood, and with a heart of cold stone because I have not had a twerking revelation. Secretly I want twerking to turn out to be a passing fad so that I may no longer have to suffer the shame of ignorance, but I honestly think it might be around to stay if Google is defining it. And offering translation options (hint: they all translate to "twerk").

...Although it took my computer about twenty separate typings of the word before it stopped trying to correct it to "tweak." Perhaps I am not the only one behind on the times.

 So far away from the butts. All alone. Except for autocorrect. I still have you.

*Did you see that syntax there? I'm taking too many programming classes.

Where Have I Been?

I've been singing to people's pets a lot more which is a good sign of mental health, right? 

Wonderful news! After a few months of a break, I am ready to rejoin the land of blogging magic fun time. I can't tell you how much I missed the added stress of writing for an audience of virtually zero (I didn't), but I have missed feeling like a semi-legit, practicing writer. Because let's be honest, that is the only real benefit I get from this silly little hole in the internet. We have fun together right? Let's pretend it's an indie romance movie, where it's all quirky and cute and way better than it actually would be in reality, because you can't ever smell weird hipster beard sweat through a movie screen. (Smell-o-vision though? Who wants to bring back that million dollar idea?)

A lot has happened in the past few months and most of it is way too serious for me to really dive deep into without getting all existential and melodramatic and serious and possibly offensive to certain people. Instead I'm going to skim the surface. You know, like a real journalist would.

What Have I Been Doing for the Past Two Months? 

Traveling to California 

I went to Orange County/Los Angeles at the beginning of March. It was like going to a ghost town. There were all these buildings full of memories, but to me, they felt empty. I had lunch with my favorite professor, stayed with the only friend I'm still in relative frequent contact with, and avoided the crap out of my old school. I even took the bus up the road next to it and wore a hood and sunglasses in case anyone got on and might recognize me. I was that neurotic. The way I feel about my art career still very much feels like a huge break up and relationship fall out, and I'm still recovering. Also I hate explaining to people where my life is going. Because it's not. 

Competing in the Pacific Pole Championships

I competed and won my division, which was rewarding, but only in the smallest of ways because I only had one competitor, and let's be real, I totally kicked ass in comparison. People responded really well to my routine. It was great to feel like a winner for about 5 seconds, but it was a little overshadowed by the fact that no one actually watched. Here is a shortened but very real account of what happened the day of the competition. 

Me: Wakes up in the morning. Excited to perform with a bunch of friends watching this year, unlike the last year where I was all alone 

Friends #1 and #2: Oh! By the way, our flights leave before your performance and we're going to have to miss it. 

Me: That's ok, plenty of other people will be there! 

Later at the venue 

Friend #3: (Calls on the phone) I'm sorry, I'm not going to be able to make it, I can't afford a ticket (She was also my ride back to OC) 

Me: That's ok, I know lots of people here, I'm sure I'll get a ride with someone, don't worry about it. 

Friend #4: I can't wait to watch you perform! And sure. you can ride back with me. I have to be back in OC by 5. 

Me: Oh, I'm performing at 4:30. I guess you won't be able to make it. But don't worry, I'll find a ride with someone else. 

Friend #5: Oh I wanted to watch you, but our car has a flat and we need to leave now. Sorry! But #7 and #8 will be there and video it for me. 

Me: That's ok, I understand! 

Friend #6: Good luck in your performance, I have a flight to catch this afternoon. 

Me: Well it was good to see you!

Friend #7 and #8: Oh we want to watch you, we'll be there don't worry!  

Friend #9: I'm totally here today just to watch you. 

I go on and perform around 5 pm.

Friends #7, #8, and #9: Oh no! We all just missed it because we were out to eat and didn't make it back in time. 

I did get a ride back (which was very nice because I got to connect with someone I haven't seen in awhile) and I did have about 3 people who actually watched, but damn if it wasn't a disappointing and difficult day. Trying to maintain focus while periodically going to the bathroom to cry is never easy. 

Speaking of which...

Crying into pillows 

Lots of pillows. February and March were difficult months. 

As my coworker pointed out one day, pole was all I had to live for. It's been that way for awhile now. I seriously might be dead in multiple ways now if it weren't for it. 

Getting all existential and deep 

Ugh god. Did you see my last post on this blog? 

In a lot of therapy 

I somehow signed up for this with perfect timing, as my first appointment was the day after I broke up with Old Crow. As someone who spent a lot of my teenage years in and out of various counselor's and therapist's offices, it's been going surprisingly well. I guess the secret is to find someone with a sense of humor who will actually make fun of Boulderites and other people who are mean to you. She also makes me do stuff like clean my room. Kind of like a mom-for-hire. 

Drinking a lot of lattes

For awhile I decided to totally indulge myself and spend way too much money on sugary drinks that have no nutritional value for me. Seriously. I probably racked up at least $100 worth on lattes in the past few weeks. I need to get my own espresso machine. 

Things should calm down a little more now that I've realized caffeine is probably what's been causing me so much nausea

Performing in Denver for Elevated Art

Me being all bizarre and drag-gy. 

It was my first paid performance experience and probably the best time I've ever had on stage. I did a silly Charlie Chaplin routine that came out of my weird obsessive comedic animation background. As I was backstage putting on man clothes and drawing a mustache on my face, standing next to a bunch of girls in pretty underwear doing their hair all fancy, I couldn't help but think how bizarre I can be sometimes. I got weirdly anxious about this before I went on. I kept thinking "Why am I so weird?" It turned out a lot of people really loved my performance and I felt very warm and fuzzy inside. I love performing for a supportive audience!

Being a Pole Celebrity Handler 

O.M.G. Natasha Wang, one of the highest of high pole idols, was the celebrity performance for the Elevated Art show and somehow I was in the position to be her chauffeur/handler. I gave her rides and made sure she knew where to find coffee in the morning and recommended places to eat, of which I am terrible at and got a lot of anxiety about, but damn did I feel legit. It was way better than that time I carried David C. Owen's backpack for him. I also took a few of her workshops which were fabulous, and when I told her I was preparing for a competition in a week, she went out of her way to watch my routine and give me some feedback. I couldn't help but freak out a little on the inside having Natasha Wang sit down and personally watch me alone in the studio. I am someone who avoids private lessons and don't even like choreographing or training in front of people because I just prefer my space to experiment and make mistakes without being embarrassed. But it was a great opportunity and great practice, so I am very thankful. She was lovely to have in Colorado and I hope I didn't scare her away from us by being well, me. 

Being a cat handler

This was not as successful as being a pole celebrity handler, which is weird because I'm usually much better with animals than I am with people. That Fucking Cat, which is the unofficial name of my employers/friends adorably fluffy kitten, tormented me with her feces while I was house sitting. All I ever showed her was love and adoration, thinking she simply was not getting enough and what did she do in return? She pooped and peed on the bed I was sleeping in. Three days in a row. One time while I was in the room with her and had my back turned. Natasha even thought I might have peed the bed…for…some…reason? There is nothing like having your pole idol assume you wet the bed. She was dead to me after that... for about a week. But I can't resist her fluffiness. I'm still mad at her though, and my love is a little more abusive now. I feel really bad about Viv's mattress. I did more laundry that week than I do in a month. 

I am weak!

Going on a few very lame OKCupid dates

The site has altogether ceased to be entertaining to me, even in a bad way. It's just boring. I went on a date with a guy who spent 5 minutes explaining the rules of shuffleboard to me about half an hour into our first date. (Men, if a woman tells you she doesn't know anything about shuffleboard, it is not necessarily an invitation to explain it to her, unless you are 75 and that is your 'move'.) 

The best irony, however, is that a week later I went to the very bar with shuffleboard in Denver that was the whole reason he rambled on about it. It was across the street from a bar I went to on my second date with Old Crow, where we drunkenly did amateur swing dancing and made out and it was totally an indie romance movie and I felt super shitty about the whole thing and basically bolted out of there as fast as I could. Irony is so much fun. 

Oh yes, please keep going 

Performing in Oklahoma in a Legit National Pro Competition

I applied to Miss Pole Dance Oklahoma in January and did not make it in, but last minute I received an email saying someone had dropped out and I was the 11th place finalist. They offered me a spot and so of course I took it. I felt way in over my head, as I think I am just on the cusp of actually being pretty decent at pole, but I'm not quuuuite there yet. Like I said, Natasha Wang gave me a few pointers and even though I was swamped preparing for two other big performances that month, I dove in head first and put together a routine. At the actual competition many things went wrong. I did not land my big move and my shorts got caught in the last minute of the performance, becoming very distracting and keeping me from hitting a few extensions for fear of flashing the audience with my vagina. It was irony striking once again because a girl backstage had been passing out body tape telling everyone she learned the hard way a few months earlier when her labia slipped out to the audience and she had pointed deducted. I remember thinking I'd be fine, I'd never had a problem with the kind of shorts I was wearing. More irony in the fact that I had changed my shorts last minute at the advice of Natasha so they'd be a more "performance" appropriate cut, even though they were still one of my familiar brands. Bleh. 

Anyway, there were a couple of notable experiences here. Besides the performance learning experience I met some super nice pole people. At first it was very intimidating, as everything felt like a catty dance movie because we all sized each other up and watched during the practice time. As soon as the competition was over though, everyone just wanted to get drunk and have a good time together. I mean seriously, these people were super nice. Everyone was supportive and gave me positive feedback on my routine even though it was not my best. And Michelle Mynx, bless her, told me something I will not forget because I feel the same way. "I can't wait to see where you will be in a few years." Me neither, Michelle, because I am pretty at this rate I could be pretty damn good. 

I felt like I actually did a decent job being social, which is something I'm working very hard on with my therapy. Apparently my inability to make friends is the main source of my unhappiness. Who knew. 

In any case, I can officially say I've competed in a professional national competition, even though I kind of sucked, I still feel a little more legit than I did before.

Doing a lot of math and programming homework

I'm not getting as good grades as I did in high school, but I realize now it's not as important as I thought it once was and besides, I'm still getting pretty decent grades. It's difficult stuff for my brain and if I do code before I go to sleep I have the weirdest dreams (sometimes I try to program pole dancing or pulling up the blankets). However it feels really good knowing I am learning marketable skills and have serious potential to have steady jobs in the future. Plus! I know I am expanding my genius in new directions and I'm going to be that much better at life when people decide to pay me a bazillion dollars for being me. One day. 

I always feel really good when I get a program to do what I want, even if I can't see straight for a few hours afterwards.

Getting ready for my first legit aerial performance

It's not paid, but it's my first solo aerial performance on a real stage. I'm doing it for a friend from high school as a part of her undergrad thesis, so I am happy to help out another artist for free, even though I know it's about time to set some standards if I want to be taken seriously. Oh well. It's for a friend. Plus it finally forced me to buy my own equipment, which is super duper exciting. 

It's in 2 weeks at Naropa. If you're in town you should come see it! 

Training up a storm

My latest big goal is to make it to the Boulder Theater stage for the Colorado Pole Chapionships this September. This is scary to admit out loud because I am aware there is a very real possibility it could not happen, but I gotta try. It's all about mindset yo! (Tell that to the happy pills I'm taking) 

I'm also planning to apply for the professional training program at my aerial studio this summer, which is a year of circus fun time school I have no way of paying for. I have to be able to do 3 pull-ups and 5 leg lifts though and I have no idea if that'll actually happen. I can currently do 2.5 and 0. I'd be a shameful female Marine. 

Every few months it's like someone invents some new way to put my legs above my head that I can't freaking do. 

Having Serious Dog envy

I'm currently like a married 30 year old woman who is just ready to blow up with a baby. I can't stop seeing cute dogs everywhere and I waaaaant one. Even though I have no money or time or my own place. I don't care, they're so fucking cute! I am weak, I tell you, weak! 

Me and a giant fluffy malamute I'm pretty sure I have to kidnap

Editing my novel 

I am trying to make an actual career happen here, people. I've been working at this novel for over a year and determined to make it happen. I'm 1/4 the way through the first hand edit, then a pass through the computer where I make the actual changes, then get some people to edit it for me, change things, and then maybe I'll start looking for an agent. 

IT'S GOING TO HAPPEN I'M GOING TO BE A REAL WRITER DAMMIT I KNOW I CAN DO IT. 

Heck yea! 

Real writers make loud declarations of their dreams in all caps on blogger websites. 

Being Not So Sexless and Cynical

Ambiguous reference here! But I'm back on the horse and getting my feet rubbed without even having to ask and sleeping on the opposite of the world's shittiest bed and it feels pretty nice. 

Enjoying springtime 

God it feels so good. I know they're weeds, but fucking love them dandelions. They just make me happy. I'm like a little girl and will pick them and put them on my dashboard so I can drive around and feel satisfied. 

I love spring time. And it's not just a seasonal affective thing. Eternal spring in California was no good to me. I just love seeing things change and come alive. I feel like I come alive with the world.