I'm Having "One of those Days"

Today I'm sharing a rant--against my better judgement. That's right, I'm "sharing it", posting it for comment. It's too big to condense the feeling into a tweet--but I'll make sure you get the link! What's the point of experiencing an emotion if it can't blasted across social media networks and yet, that is exactly what I am indulging in. Why? Because I can. Because I don't have anywhere else to go with it. Maybe we'll share a cathartic experience or maybe it will just be another blip in my online presence. Whatever.

This morning I unzipped my son's little suitcase from his weekend trip to Grammy and Pappy's house and got punched in the face by the scent of Yankee candles and Snuggle fabric softener. His crisp white freshly laundered socks folded neatly one inside the other staring up at me saying--this is how the good moms do it. This is what devotion looks like. Seriously, if I had the finger dexterity and upper body strength to rip fucking socks like sheets of paper I would have made a room full of confetti. My mother in law's house always smells like that--clean laundry and Yankee candles. You're there an hour and you leave smelling like Herbal Essence shampoo and apple pie. I don't know how she does it. Usually I find the scent familiar and comforting but today it smells like judgement. My house never fucking smells like that--never. My house smells like dirty dishes, Resolve carpet cleaner and dog. It's not her fault she keeps a nice smelling home and I love her and she loves me. It's not her fault. She didn't do anything, except some kind of secret "good mom" origami sock folding shit I can't figure out. I'm never going to ask about the sock folding ever cause that would be some kind of admission of defeat. Plus it's not her fault, I have to keep telling myself that today. Today is a "me thing". I'm going through a "me thing".

I don't know what I am doing. I don't know what I am supposed to be doing. I am 32 and I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. There are so many wonderful things I have to be thankful for but today it is not enough and even that feeling is making me want to break shit! Why can't I just be grateful for what I have? Because feeling grateful and feeling fulfilled are two different things, I suppose. I am grateful--yes, I know it is all relative and blah, blah blah. Even if my house smelled like a French perfume factory next to an Italian bakery and I could folding fucking socks into swans I would still have a deep feeling of being lost.

There's a lot to be said for being a woman who works in the home, raises her kids and makes her family her career. Seriously, yes, I get it--it's like, my full time thing. I don't know if I am good at it or not and I don't think I will ever really allow myself to own being good at it. It gets difficult ending everyday not having finished all the stuff I wanted to get done and guess what--it gets boring. Yeah, I said it, it gets fucking boring. I need a hobbie, right? An outlet? I chose burlesque.

Again, there are a lot of things I adore, respect and am grateful for when it comes to being a burlesque performer. It's something I want to continue to do in some way. Although I am beginning to wonder if it isn't all a bit of fluff. Everyone wants to be respected, paid as a professional artist and for their contributions to be taken seriously and I agree. It takes a lot of hard work and dedication for very little money in return. With the exception of a small legion of fans and insiders, I don't think the audience is there to take anything they are seeing seriously and really aren't going to do any deep level thinking about the emotional or cultural impact of burlesque after they leave the show. They are there to have a good time, see sparkly costumes and body parts. Audiences want to be entertained, see something clever and unexpected and go home. No one is going to pay top dollar for that. No one is going study your body of work for years to come and debate the meaning of your acts and research your influences unless they want to do burlesque themselves. And because our society bases value--whether it be on a personal, spiritual or artistic level--on how much they are willing to pay for something or how much something costs, it's always going to be about money. So if it's not going to make you money it should at least make you feel fulfilled, right? I'm just not feeling it right now. I want to move forward with the things I am working on but honestly, how many sparkly costumes can one make and how many clever three minute songs are there? There are so many hard working, beautiful, creative burlesque performers out there in the world. I don't know that I have anything to add to the lexicon.

 I am looking for fulfillment on a different artist level. I know that sounds so....pretentious maybe? It's not having a clean house or smelling like Yankee candles, it's not being an all-star mom, I don't need a little part time job or a "girls night" or more money or more rhinestones. I feel guilty saying that because I think it is a mind set that most women fall victim to. I love what I have. I love my son, I would be truly lost without my family but those things cannot be the whole of what I have and who I am. As women, we are conditioned to believe those things. Men have a whole other set of supposed benchmarks. Those of us who are subject to the inner grinding of needing more, I think it is fair to say, also feel a lot of guilt about it, resentment towards people we think are living it and a lot of self doubt over if we will be able to achieve it. For me this adds up to a level of frustration that has brought me to tears. Seriously, I'm just being honest. I need to find "the thing". Whatever that is for myself and whatever manifestation it takes.

I wish I could say that it's an exciting prospect, but true to my personality I feel frustrated and unsure which is just amping up the feelings. I need to get something out of me. I don't know what it is. I know what it isn't. Talking about it in a public forum is making me feel very self-conscious and silly.  It feeds into the habit of making every thought or emotion a social media event which has completely permeated  our daily lives. Maybe there is no going back from it, maybe this is the new course of human interaction . I just needed to get it off my chest so I don't try to rip up my kid's socks. I feel better now.