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.
