Hi All! Sorry I've been MIA for a couple weeks but there are so many new and exciting things going on right now and I just haven't had the chance to sit down and update you--my apologies.
Since I've spoken to you last I had a couple of epic mommy meltdowns--the stuff of legend, started a small business and had a date night with my husband which was about a month and a half overdue. The creative juices are flowing, for sure, and I've joined the rest of the 21st Century by purchasing an I Phone. Don't roll your eyes so hard, yes it's amazing and my level of geekdom has been raised a full bracket. Life is good. It's been a ton of hard work, but it's good.
AAAANNNDDDD---I'm supposed to pole dance in an upcoming showcase on February 10th. Details to come.
Will drop in again before the end of the week and give you the skinny on it all. Thanks for checking in with me! Bunny
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
TED Curator Chris Anderson on Crowd Accelerated Innovation | Magazine
TED Curator Chris Anderson on Crowd Accelerated Innovation | Magazine
I've been crazy busy with some other projects but thought this was a really cool article about how internet video is changing the way we learn, grow and connect. I only recently began using YouTube to research pole, burlesque, costuming, etc. It has been very informative and empowering. I respect they way people are willing to put themselves out there and share whatever stage of a process they're in.
From an artistic perspective I think it's refreshing that artists of all skill levels--even masters of their crafts--are willing to share advice and technique over such a vast expanse.
More to come soon!
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Another late night
I'm starving. It's late. Since quitting smoking I have been voraciously hungry. I knew this would happen. I cut my toenails too short the other day--all of them. How does that happen? Really? All of them? Really.
There are two massive windows facing the front of my house with a lovely view of the elementary school, park and main street below. It's like looking into a snowglobe of my entire town. I refuse to put curtains on them even though I am sure dogwalkers and pot smoking teenagers in the park can glance up at my every move. And why not? Sometimes I feel like a fairy queen smiling down from my tower at all the hustle and bustle in the village below. Why have windows to keep them covered up? They're practically store front sized. When we had new ones put in this year, the men from the window company said that none of the windows in our house are standard size and some of the biggest windows they'd ever seen.
I know it's late because when I gaze out I see my reflection illuminated in the soft glow of the computer screen gazing back at me. The lamp posts in the park are all dark. That means it's really late. The only thing that would make it flawless would be some lightly falling snow, but we've had enough of that.
It's been a long but productive week. I bit the bullet and submitted my application and video for the spring burlesque show. The lighting in the video is horrible and until recently, when my husband gave me a quick lesson, I barely knew how to turn the video camera on. Overall, I'm happy with the results. I feel like I'm on to something---in/with myself.
I also got to spend some quality time with my grandmother last weekend. She was reminiscing about her life right after highschool. She was working as a bookkeeper at the telephone company where she met my grandfather. She enjoyed her job; however, she had to leave because the company had a policy not to employ married women. It was during the Depression era and apparently companies wanted to avoid paying two salaries per household--they wanted to keep men working. So she met my grandfather at the job and was basically let go when she decided to marry him. How about that? She wanted to go back to work but, according to her, my grandfather felt her place was in the home with the children. Once the children were all in school he rolled his eyes at the idea of her getting a job--even though most of her friends were employed. She was sad and resentful talking about it. I asked if she felt that way at the time or if age had given her a different perspective. I knew the answer without her having to say it.
She wears a wig now, like on special occasions. It's baffling. She has a full head of hair and even has most of her natural brown color. It's senior citizen peer pressure! All her friends are doing it! She decided not to wear it to her exercise class one day and her friends made comments about it. Some friends! I'd be goddamned to be 85, have a full head of hair and sweat my face off under a synthetic hood at exercise class. They're just jealous. I don't get it but I don't say anything. It seems to give her some sense of security. She can wear a dead raccoon on her head for all I care as long as she keeps telling me everything she remembers--again and again.
Anyway, late night QVC and a pan of brownies are calling my name. Keep your fingers crossed that my application is well received and I make it into the show. Otherwise, I'm going on a summer tour of Lane Bryant promotional events and Howard Johnson's front lobbies. Are there any HOJO's left?
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Insomnia has made me an Intellectual. At least that's my opinion.
Hello again. I hope you had a wonderful holiday season and are embracing the new year! If you've been following along, then you're aware of my rantings on the "New Year's Funk". I'm over it--in case you were concerned. I'm too busy and enthusiastic to mentally reenact the more unpleasant moments of the previous year. And if you've been following along, I also want to mention that today marks my thirteenth(holy shit, thirteenth?!) day without a cigarette! Wow. I feel ok, good even; although, I am suffering from insomnia--an apparent side effect of Chantix. Hey, I'll take that over suicidal thoughts, changes in mood or behavior or, ya know, my face swelling up like a blowfish or something ridiculous like that.
I've had insomnia off and from the time we brought our son home. He's never been a good sleeper. We tried laying him in different positions, elevating the crib mattress, etc., etc. It didn't help that the door to his nursery was four feet away from my side of the bed, either. For the first year or so, he was in and out of our bed constantly just so I could get some sleep. All these parenting websites and books try to scare the crap out of people who put their babies in bed with them--myself included. Recently, I attended a conference (for something totally non-burlesque related) and was intrigued to learn about research that shows a much lower incident of SIDS in areas of the world where it is culturally acceptable to co-sleep. The reason being that the infant tunes into the breathing pattern of his or her parents and therefore, the research suggests, the infant brain is less likely to take too long of a pause and "forget" to breathe again. It has to do with a process called audiation. Audiation is basically the brain's ability to process and remember sounds and sound patterns even when the sound is not present in the environment. For instance, if I say "Happy Birthday to You" most people can audiate that song very clearly in their heads without hearing it around them. This is a process that begins shortly after birth. I wish there had been a website explaining it to me about three years ago and then maybe I wouldn't be up all night typing away on the computer.... Even though he's out of the crib and in a "big boy" room I can still here him tossing and turning and talking in his sleep across the hall from me.
Many times I find that my creative thinking doesn't fully kick in until I'm ready to try to go to sleep. My mind starts creating all these really cool "what if" scenarios. Ideas for blogs, sewing projects, burlesque routines, funny Gilda Radner inspired one woman shows with picture slides. I tried keeping a notebook (I keep a notebook for everything--call me Rain Man) on the bedside table in an effort to jot things down and revisit them in the morning. It doesn't work. If I'm awake, that's it. I often reply to emails between midnight and four a.m. for this reason.
I was lying awake in bed the other night thinking that, unless you're some kind of a genius., I don't believe anyone is really good at anything until they turn thirty. Probably because I am thirty--which we've discussed. Think about it, though. Your twenties are a great time for trial and error in all aspects of you're life. Some years in my twenties where a total wash as far as creativity or productivity in general--but they were fun and memorable! Once you turn thirty and have a little life experience behind you --then, THEN you get good at stuff. Nobody has a good chicken recipe until they turn thirty. I'm sorry, you may think you could cook in your twenties and maybe you did but I am willing to bet you either over or undercooked your chicken--am I right? A woman doesn't know how to pick a good pair of jeans or wear a dress correctly until they turn thirty. Trust me, take a look at some old photos of you at a club or a wedding or semi-formal whatever. You may have been ten pounds thinner but I guarantee whatever you have on does not fit you correctly--nor whatever any of your friends were wearing at the time either. Reread your journals and secret poetry from five or ten years ago and I bet you'll have a good laugh. Then go into your sent emails and reread the intelligent, tactful messages you sent to your boss last month, or your aunt, or long lost friend who you want to politely keep at arm's length away--those are the real masterpieces.
In the last couple of years I've read articles in major publications about the new "quarter life crisis". This is, apparently, when people in their late twenties and early thirties start working in careers they then realize they hate. They freaked out because they haven't started a family. Or they did start a family with the wrong person and now their lives are in shambles and they're gonna have to go back to college and read Eat, Pray, Love and move in with their parents. They are in crisis. NO! They didn't turn thirty yet and realize that they weren't so good at stuff before. People, particularly women, I observe, seem to think of thirty as the time they have to rebuild the broken dreams of their twenties and think the deck stacked against them. It's a time to move on and forget about the past. No! You sucked at what you were doing because you didn't have any perspective. You're not sexy or good in the bedroom or witty or have taste in much of anything in your twenties. I'm sorry, but it's true. Instead of grabbing you by the shoulders and giving you this vital information, others around you just let it run it's course like a head cold. They knew eventually it would clear up, you would turn thirty and join the rest of the world. It wouldn't help if someone told you at that point anyway because you're kinda of cursed to unknowingly fuck it up.
So I would like to officially get rid of the term "quarter life crisis". There is no crisis. If you find yourself staring down the barrel of thirty and life has not turned out the way you expected, you should be a little relieved because now you have the opportunity to figure out what the hell you're good at anyway. I have to be honest, that other shit that you were doing--the universe was humoring you. Trust me. And me as well for that matter. I don't care if you're a mature twenty-eight. It doesn't work that way. Burlesque, chicken, sex, it doesn't matter. Twenty-four year olds go nothing on this Bunny.
I'm just glad that Chantix has allowed me enough time awake the figure this sutff out and share it with you. If you're thirty you already know this and if you're not, you're welcome.
In other news, I spent the better part of the afternoon video taping myself pole dance.....talk about figuring out what you're good at and what you're not. Overall, I was pleasantly surprised by my progress. Looking down at the blisters and missing skin on my hand is definite validation. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at things, studying the video not only clued me in to my dancing but also my body shape. Here I have spent all this time focusing on my mommy paunch belly only to discover that my hips and thighs are much more robust. I live in this body, I see myself in the bathroom mirror everyday, dress this body, dance, and yet until removed from it enough to view as somewhat objectively, I really didn't know what it looked like. It's strange. Not a bad thing, just strange.
I'm getting back to viewing and using the body as an instrument. Forget sexy, funny, dirty and any of other adjectives for a moment. Part of the power, I feel, of burlesque, pole dance, stripping--whatever--is the opportunity to use the body to connect with a group of strangers and illicit a reaction. As well as the opportunity for the audience to view the body without feeling ashamed. That, in the simplest terms, is why I think it's art. I think. Maybe it's the Chantix talking. The only real opportunities we get to view and use the body in any similar way is mostly through sports. So by my own definition, is basektball an art? For me, no. Sports are based in competition and proving who is best. When too many rules and expectations are put on art it becomes less that it could be, in my opinion. You should make what feels right--not what will be judged favorably. Hence, you will be judged favorably because yours is better than someone else's effort. I always wonder how an audience will react to the same piece of art in a competition circumstance versus another venue. Different forums create different experiences, for sure.
Although, people like to watch competitions--it fills seats. From a business perspective, it makes sense for an artist as well. A much appreciated prize or compensation and a chance at more exposure are positive things. People like titles too, it gives you some street cred. I guess. Part of my point is that I wish viewers would take some of this into account when they form their opinions about exotic dancing, etc. Rather than making it into a Lifetime TV Movie or comment on the moral decline of our society why not embrace the opportunity to see a fine ass woman use and celebrate her body?
See, I've figured this all out because I'm thirty. Anyway, I have videos to make and deadlines to keep, and miles to go before I sleep and miles to go before I sleep.
I've had insomnia off and from the time we brought our son home. He's never been a good sleeper. We tried laying him in different positions, elevating the crib mattress, etc., etc. It didn't help that the door to his nursery was four feet away from my side of the bed, either. For the first year or so, he was in and out of our bed constantly just so I could get some sleep. All these parenting websites and books try to scare the crap out of people who put their babies in bed with them--myself included. Recently, I attended a conference (for something totally non-burlesque related) and was intrigued to learn about research that shows a much lower incident of SIDS in areas of the world where it is culturally acceptable to co-sleep. The reason being that the infant tunes into the breathing pattern of his or her parents and therefore, the research suggests, the infant brain is less likely to take too long of a pause and "forget" to breathe again. It has to do with a process called audiation. Audiation is basically the brain's ability to process and remember sounds and sound patterns even when the sound is not present in the environment. For instance, if I say "Happy Birthday to You" most people can audiate that song very clearly in their heads without hearing it around them. This is a process that begins shortly after birth. I wish there had been a website explaining it to me about three years ago and then maybe I wouldn't be up all night typing away on the computer.... Even though he's out of the crib and in a "big boy" room I can still here him tossing and turning and talking in his sleep across the hall from me.
Many times I find that my creative thinking doesn't fully kick in until I'm ready to try to go to sleep. My mind starts creating all these really cool "what if" scenarios. Ideas for blogs, sewing projects, burlesque routines, funny Gilda Radner inspired one woman shows with picture slides. I tried keeping a notebook (I keep a notebook for everything--call me Rain Man) on the bedside table in an effort to jot things down and revisit them in the morning. It doesn't work. If I'm awake, that's it. I often reply to emails between midnight and four a.m. for this reason.
I was lying awake in bed the other night thinking that, unless you're some kind of a genius., I don't believe anyone is really good at anything until they turn thirty. Probably because I am thirty--which we've discussed. Think about it, though. Your twenties are a great time for trial and error in all aspects of you're life. Some years in my twenties where a total wash as far as creativity or productivity in general--but they were fun and memorable! Once you turn thirty and have a little life experience behind you --then, THEN you get good at stuff. Nobody has a good chicken recipe until they turn thirty. I'm sorry, you may think you could cook in your twenties and maybe you did but I am willing to bet you either over or undercooked your chicken--am I right? A woman doesn't know how to pick a good pair of jeans or wear a dress correctly until they turn thirty. Trust me, take a look at some old photos of you at a club or a wedding or semi-formal whatever. You may have been ten pounds thinner but I guarantee whatever you have on does not fit you correctly--nor whatever any of your friends were wearing at the time either. Reread your journals and secret poetry from five or ten years ago and I bet you'll have a good laugh. Then go into your sent emails and reread the intelligent, tactful messages you sent to your boss last month, or your aunt, or long lost friend who you want to politely keep at arm's length away--those are the real masterpieces.
In the last couple of years I've read articles in major publications about the new "quarter life crisis". This is, apparently, when people in their late twenties and early thirties start working in careers they then realize they hate. They freaked out because they haven't started a family. Or they did start a family with the wrong person and now their lives are in shambles and they're gonna have to go back to college and read Eat, Pray, Love and move in with their parents. They are in crisis. NO! They didn't turn thirty yet and realize that they weren't so good at stuff before. People, particularly women, I observe, seem to think of thirty as the time they have to rebuild the broken dreams of their twenties and think the deck stacked against them. It's a time to move on and forget about the past. No! You sucked at what you were doing because you didn't have any perspective. You're not sexy or good in the bedroom or witty or have taste in much of anything in your twenties. I'm sorry, but it's true. Instead of grabbing you by the shoulders and giving you this vital information, others around you just let it run it's course like a head cold. They knew eventually it would clear up, you would turn thirty and join the rest of the world. It wouldn't help if someone told you at that point anyway because you're kinda of cursed to unknowingly fuck it up.
So I would like to officially get rid of the term "quarter life crisis". There is no crisis. If you find yourself staring down the barrel of thirty and life has not turned out the way you expected, you should be a little relieved because now you have the opportunity to figure out what the hell you're good at anyway. I have to be honest, that other shit that you were doing--the universe was humoring you. Trust me. And me as well for that matter. I don't care if you're a mature twenty-eight. It doesn't work that way. Burlesque, chicken, sex, it doesn't matter. Twenty-four year olds go nothing on this Bunny.
I'm just glad that Chantix has allowed me enough time awake the figure this sutff out and share it with you. If you're thirty you already know this and if you're not, you're welcome.
In other news, I spent the better part of the afternoon video taping myself pole dance.....talk about figuring out what you're good at and what you're not. Overall, I was pleasantly surprised by my progress. Looking down at the blisters and missing skin on my hand is definite validation. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at things, studying the video not only clued me in to my dancing but also my body shape. Here I have spent all this time focusing on my mommy paunch belly only to discover that my hips and thighs are much more robust. I live in this body, I see myself in the bathroom mirror everyday, dress this body, dance, and yet until removed from it enough to view as somewhat objectively, I really didn't know what it looked like. It's strange. Not a bad thing, just strange.
I'm getting back to viewing and using the body as an instrument. Forget sexy, funny, dirty and any of other adjectives for a moment. Part of the power, I feel, of burlesque, pole dance, stripping--whatever--is the opportunity to use the body to connect with a group of strangers and illicit a reaction. As well as the opportunity for the audience to view the body without feeling ashamed. That, in the simplest terms, is why I think it's art. I think. Maybe it's the Chantix talking. The only real opportunities we get to view and use the body in any similar way is mostly through sports. So by my own definition, is basektball an art? For me, no. Sports are based in competition and proving who is best. When too many rules and expectations are put on art it becomes less that it could be, in my opinion. You should make what feels right--not what will be judged favorably. Hence, you will be judged favorably because yours is better than someone else's effort. I always wonder how an audience will react to the same piece of art in a competition circumstance versus another venue. Different forums create different experiences, for sure.
Although, people like to watch competitions--it fills seats. From a business perspective, it makes sense for an artist as well. A much appreciated prize or compensation and a chance at more exposure are positive things. People like titles too, it gives you some street cred. I guess. Part of my point is that I wish viewers would take some of this into account when they form their opinions about exotic dancing, etc. Rather than making it into a Lifetime TV Movie or comment on the moral decline of our society why not embrace the opportunity to see a fine ass woman use and celebrate her body?
See, I've figured this all out because I'm thirty. Anyway, I have videos to make and deadlines to keep, and miles to go before I sleep and miles to go before I sleep.
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