Lesson #26: Hide & Seek

It's something of a balancing act, being a peep show dancer and a cutter. I have an ever-expanding collection of arm-warmers, in order to cover my canvas of choice. Gloves won't do 'cause I need my hands and fingers free for private shows. The other day, I considered cutting on my legs, and then immediately realized how problematic that would be when it came time to appear onstage.

I imagine some will read this and be aghast at this admission, but truth be told, there are far worse things I could be doing to myself, like shooting up heroin or doing meth or smoking cigarettes. (Those things will kill you for sure.) So I don't worry about it too much. If it gives me the release I need in order to live through another fucking day, then it must be doing some good. I've just never had a job where I had to worry about covering it up before. Another lesson learned at the peep show ...

Lesson #25: Identity Crisis

Last night was my first shift back since going home to see my family for the holidaze. Any time I see my family, it affects me negatively. They're just toxic, and as with any form of toxicity, you have to purge it from your system before you feel right again. And I'm definitely not feeling right.

I first noticed it on the drive home from the airport. I noticed a heavy melancholy and thoughts of suicide. I noticed this tremendous sense of hopelessness and discontent. But I figured it was just the emotional and mental strain of the trip, the lack of sleep, and the over-indulgence in foods I don't normally put in my body.

Monday morning, at my day job, I was miserable. But that's pretty standard for my day job, so I didn't think too much about it.

But then, Monday evening, when I walked onstage at the peep show, I noticed this unusual feeling, as I watched myself in the mirrors, that I didn't know who or what I was looking at. And I had the thought, as I took in all the johnnies pulling on their wangs, "They are just so ridiculous," all these men, paying money for a peek of vagina. And then I looked around the stage and thought, "And how weird is this? - to be in a virtual closet with a bunch of naked women." It was right about then that I truly wished I had some sort of mood-altering substance in my locker. But all I had was Rescue Remedy, a homeopathic sedative I bought at the pet store for my dog. (I wasn't sure how he'd take to air travel.)

I also had the thought that I really wished I could be with Daddy, someone who actually sees me, unlike the johnnies or my family. All they see is a twat, or a prodigal daughter. Daddy sees more than that. At least, I think he does. I don't even know anymore.

Hence, identity crisis...

I'm Your Private Cancer

Lesson #24

Tonight was the first time I worked a "private show" shift and was really kind of not in the mood to perform. It was not a good or comfortable feeling. And it had nothing to do with work, and everything to do with my fuckin' histrionic ass. OMG! I can be such a basket-case at times. I'm considering re-entering therapy.

Anyway, I could have made more money tonight - I definitely could have milked this one johnny for more, had I been on my A-game. But alas! - I've got my head so far up my ass, I can almost see daylight.

Sabbatical

I've been away for a while.

Lesson #23

Shit happens, y'know? And in some cases, it's a whole lotta shit. I have to say, 2009 has been the most challenging year I've had in a while. I am really very seriously hoping 2010 is better. I'm not sure I'm up for worse.

Through it all, the peep show has been my one constant, the one thing that hasn't changed, the one safe place I could count on. Unexpected? Absolutely. Grateful? Yes, I am. Immeasurably so.

I hope to keep up more consistent entries now. At least until the next shit storm hits ...