Day 24: Pole dancing

Pole Dancing; The good, The bad, and The shoes.

I am from a small town in South Carolina. My county, at least when I was in high school 10 years ago, ranked second highest in the US for teen pregnancy. We were also pretty famous for our STD statistics, no big deal.  Sex was happening. Sexuality, however, was not. Considering I moved from there when I was 18, this didn't really affect me too much. I went to the mountains and studied geology and soils. I graduated and moved to California to be with a boy. A few months after I moved here, my boyfriend insisted that I learn to shoot a gun. I was pretty freaked out by handguns, and I still am, but we went shotgun shooting at our local gun range. For the record, I'm a pretty good shot at Trap. There was a girl there, decked out in camouflage, knitting. I knew with that kind of juxtaposition we would be good friends; and we were. What do you get a girl like that for Christmas? Pole dancing classes. We went. It was awkward. Giggly even. And Thus begins The Good, The Bad, and The shoes.

The Good: We are not present in our bodies. We don't own sexuality, we don't own our movements, we don't own what we are capable of without using our words. In movement we can say "approach me" or we can say "bug off". We are taught mechanics of movement; walking, sitting, standing, running. Sometimes we learn a sport but we do not learn, usually, the art of conversation in movement. In this, pole dancing isn't unique. Dancing is conversational movement. However, pole dancing is a pretty specific conversation. So pole dancing has taught me to appreciate what I can do, and what I can present with my motions. Pole dancing is hard. It's basically one solid pull-up for however long the song you are dancing to is. Pole dancing, especially in practice (as opposed to performance) is a reminder to not take yourself too seriously. Much like other dance classes there are mirrors. You can watch your face scrunch up as you realize you are about to hit the ground hard. You can see how silly you look when you are learning something new; but you can also directly observe improvement. 

The bad: There's a stigma. Pole dancing is for strippers. Pole dancing is trashy. Pole dancing is a way to make money when you aren't smart enough to do anything else. People have asked me if I get naked in class. It sounds harsh, but I've heard it. Because people think pole dancers are trashy and stupid, they also assume it is easy. This, depending on your outlook, can be a major benefit. Watching people realize how hard it is their first time in class, is fun. I've been doing it on and off for 2 years, and I still can't do basic things. Pole dancing requires physical fitness; or at least the pursuit of it. You have to be willing to look dumb. You will look dumb, and just like most other things in life, it is unlikely you will be the most talented person in the room. General etiquette in class is that it's not about anyone else but you. I've been a number of times and have never felt like the "in the business" dancers were looking at me at all. 

The shoes: They are so lame. Some people wear shoes like that every day, on purpose, and aren't in the business of pole dancing. As I sit here with my orthopedic clogs, reveling in their comfort and ease of putting on, walking, taking off, I know I'm just not that kind of girl. I have one pair of kitten heels (less than 1.5 inches in height) that I can wear for a few hours, but that's about as far as I can take it. I can't walk in the platform stilettos. I can't really even put them on without being overwhelmed. But, here's a fun fact: the tops of the heels are usually plastic, or a really grippy material. Grippy shoes means less grippy arms and legs. This is a good thing. Metallic poles burn your skin if, say, you lack a little upper body strength and your forearms and calves slide. The shoes are a huge ego boost if you can't do a pull-up but you want to climb the pole. It's the equivalent to using stretch bands to assist on a pull-up bar. So, if you go, get shoes, don't put them on until absolutely necessary, use them for what they are good for, and then take them off. Or prance around in them with all of the grace and elegance that I lack. 

In conclusion, pole dancing is a non-traditional means of expressing self, working out, and testing your own limits. I know a handful of students who are amazing artists in pole dancing, aerial silks, and aerial hoops. If you have ever been curious, Atomic Allure, Twirly Girl, Phoenix Aerial Art and Pole are reputable places in the area, each one has their own focus though, so check out their websites and see which one fits you best. 

Day 23: The Weather

The weather is warm. No. It's hot as balls. No. It's actually hotter than balls. Currently its a cool 85 degrees, but for the past 4 days it has been over 95 degrees. Boo. Effin. Hiss. I am not a fan. I went to South Carolina and the weather was so perfect it felt like the air knew what temperature to be to convince me to be there. 

That was boring. Ok, so what I really wanted to say about weather is that it is a terrible crutch in conversation. I immediately lose a hair of respect for someone who starts to tell you about the weather once the conversation lulls. The weather should only be mentioned in passing when its been so monotonously beautiful that its grandeure is lost. 

So **cough cough** Weather:

The weather today (because this is a two parter blog about 2 weeks apart) is chilly. It's silly that we call it fall. It's 65 degrees with a high of 70, but we call it fall weather. The only difference is the days are shorter.

Day 22: You

I am a word vomiter. I enjoy nature, and music. I like cooking, only I hate cleaning it up, so in essence I enjoy making messes that sometimes taste good. I am notoriously outspoken. When it comes to writing I can mostly contain myself, but verbal or facial expression is absolutely unfiltered. It is really a pain. I am in school. I feel like I've been in school forever. I enjoy it and feel that this time, unlike all those other times before (only not really), will be different. I am afraid of death. I totter on whether God exists or not. Most of the time I find it easy to believe that God exists, I just have a difficult time discerning my own thoughts on the after life. I have to believe that something happens. Most of the time I can cast it aside; live now, think now. be now. But sometimes, usually at really inappropriate moments, the thoughts take over and I feel like I'm drowning. I am a planner. I like plans and I like people who follow plans. I don't exactly like being in charge, but someone must be in charge, and often I take on that responsibility. As a product, I often present myself as an "alpha female". I was taught there is an absolute wrong and right, but as time goes on I see more and more exceptions to that concept and I losing faith in the concept of right and wrong. I am not especially emotional. I feel things, I feel deeply, but its kind of like a million fish swimming in the deepest part of a lake; the surface just has tiny wisps of waves. I believe in self-preservation; I am not always good at the practice, but I do believe in it. Most of the time I love myself. I am swayed on this topic because part of me says "This is my temple, this is my home." But the other part of me says, "This is temporary, you are a soul you have a body." I am getting married. While this isn't always the case, today I feel like being married is the easiest thing I am doing... I would actually say that most days that is the hardest thing to do. I love/hate social media. It allows me to look at people I'd rather not talk to, but also exsposes me to horrible and sad things. I have one friend documenting the last year of her life and her meth addiction. Her recovery is beautiful, but the recollection of her struggle is awful. I also saw 3 complete strangers' memorial on facebook. One was a baby. I shouldn't care but I do. I think the exposure is supposed to make us not care, but oh how it shakes me. He'd just learned to master some very cute facial expressions. It broke my heart. I hate snakes. Down right hate. I am from South Carolina. I just visited and it was a lovely time. I love to travel, and only recently did I really start doing it a lot. I like reading. I like sitting and thinking. Sometimes I like talking to people, but my favorite people to talk to are people who don't talk often. It makes me feel special when people tell me their thoughts. I have been in love 3 times. I think positively about each of them. Unlike most people, my most genuine and fruitful friendships started in highschool. Those 2 girls are amazing, and always ready for a chit chat, despite the vast differences in our lives. 

Day 21: a limerick for the wee one

I stopped in to defecate on her adorned throne

She heard me pontificate and asked me for a bone

I let her know right off the bat that all she'd do is shame

She huffed and puffed, and kicked and spat-- said I'd done the same.

The witches said things might take this turn, but I had to take a chance

The blood that shares our veins might burn but I thought we'd overcome the can'ts. 

I returned to the pire and begged the witches for the cure

"courage is sold to the biggest buyer, make sure your intentions are pure.

Did you want her to take flight, for the sake of touching the sky?

Or did you want proof of your own fight? Looking down from your own throne up high?"

My mouth clamped shut, my heart thrummed in my chest

My thoughts were cut, to the little who's life needed the best.

Who's little heart was broken and trampled and beaten and forgotten

Who's life was damned and crumpled, and left begotten

I remembered where she came from, I remembered her sad little eyes

My heart was torn from where she could go to where she'd come, 

And I remembered that the good shephard, let us go our own way.

I remembered being on the cusp of a great flying bird, or becoming a wisp or fray. 

I'll never know what course of events, let me make my choice,

but the greater lesson in all that time spent, is that the time came and I gained a voice

I want to make her path go with mine, I want the common ground

But we are simply a divided vine, that was never really bound.

Day 20: What if you`re going to write a story about desperation with an evangelist as the main character and a memo as the key object? Set your story in a ghost town.

Mark:

This morning I broke the schedule. Scheduling is important. I have appointments to keep, planned recreation and planned meals. The schedule is as follows:

7:00 wake up. This is not under my control. The sun blares into my room between 6:47-6:56 year around. 

7:15 morning poop. Health begins in the toilet.

7:45 Breakfast. Dried fruit, canned milk, and rice. Sometimes I make rice pudding, but that's only for special occasions.

8:00 Prayer hour. Simple enough. I pray for the lost souls of my community and the global community at large. 

9:00 Evangelize. At this time every day I go out into my community and post signs and tactfully insert boards througout the town. 

11:00 Lunch. Rice, dried fruit, and water. There was a time in our community's past that water was scarce, but these days the water is ample. God is Good.

12:00 Prayer hour. In this time I pray for my own strength to provide for my community. I pray to be led in the direction my community needs. 

1:00 house maintenance. I used to share the house with 6 other people. It was actually a boarding hosue, but God has provided and I was able to buy the house for basically nothing!

3:00 Nap. The arid environment is difficult on the house. It is laborious to keep the house in tip top shape, but I want my community to know that I take pride in what God has provided. 

4:00 hunting. I am not especially good at it. I ran out of ammunition about 3 months ago. So far I haven't caught anything alive, but I have come across some recently deceased birds and rabbits. Meat is always a pleasant treat. 

6:00 Dinner. Canned milk, dried fruit and rice. 

7:00 2 hour scripture reading. 

9:00 bed. 

So, why would I disrupt such a well oiled machine? Typically I check my post box once a week, when I ride to the nearest town and grab supplies. I buy canned milk, rice, and dried fruit. I decided to buy more in bulk recently and went 2 weeks without needing to make the trip. I went to the nearest town on Tuesday this week, and checked my box. There was a memo stating that I'd spent my inheritance and that no more money would be deposited into my accounts. In that same letter my sister told me it was time to come back to St. Louis. She's never understood my need to retrieve the lost lambs of our world. She insists that she come to Boomtown and help me gathher my things. Because I hadn't checked the post in 2 weeks, she was due any day. 

Sylvia:

I left my family behind and took the train to Santa Fe. From Santa Fe I had to charter a mini caravan of 3 wagons to carry enough supplies to make it to Boomtown. The name is a joke. It's not even it's real name. People call it Boomtown because there was a population "boom", and then much like a "boom" the town echoed briefly and then died out.

My delusional brother is the only person there. 

He had a family once. We were raised in money. We weren't embarassingly wealthy, but we are both educated and were certainly prepared to continue our quality of life. Mark met Beth, and instantly fell in love. She wasn't quite as well off as we were but she wasn't a pauper by any means. He wanted to establish his career first, and did so easily. He was accepted into a local law firm and made associate in less than 5 years. He and Beth married. Four years in, everyone was beginning the lack of pitter-pattering feet and I asked Beth about it. She was upset, but said that God would do it on His terms. In the meantime, a man visited with Mark and proposed a Gold mining operation. Mark was eager to expand his income. I don't know why. He was doing fine enough at the law office. Any who, he gave the man money, and then apparently gave him 3 money wires. The total was over 20,000 dollars. The man never sent any bonds, or land rights. The man swindled him. Beth told him that God had told her to go take care of her dying father. We never found out where she went, but we know that her father died a year ago under the care of hired nurses. 

I think he came out here to find her. I don't think she's out here, but in any case he landed in Boomtown in the middle of the "boom". Housing was hard to come by, and he asked us for money to get a law office started. My husband and I gave him the money. He took to a boarding house and that's the last we heard of him for two years. I received a telegraph from the Doctor in Morgantown, the nearest town to Boomtown, around Mark's 29th birthday. He wrote in concern for my brother's mental fortitude. He said that Boomtown had basically been abandoned and that Mark insisted on staying to "tend the flock". This was particularly odd because my brother never received training in ministering. We are Presbyterian, but only loosely. Beyond that, one would think that tending a flock would mean a flock was present. 

Our mother died when we were in grammar school, and Father died when we were away at boarding school. We were left with a decent inheritance. Mine allowed me to finish school, and provide a dowry for my now husband. Mark didn't have access to his inheritance until he was 25, which made law school difficult for him financially, but he worked hard and did a lot with our family's reputation. The bank made monthly deposits into his account, unbeknownst to me he'd increased the deposit amounts, thus taking a 25 year inheritance allotment to 8 years. 

The boarding house was abandoned, so I know he didn't pay money for it. I have no idea what he's spent the money on. I have no idea what I'm getting myself in to when we arrive. 

Mark: 

I saw the first wagon approaching midday. They moseyed but dust flew up like they were in a sprint. It was really dry outside of town.  

I grabbed my hat and walked out to meet the wagons. My sister was shrugged up to a weasely looking man. He got down first and offered a dirty hand, which my sister delicately and sparingly used to descend the rickety steps. She wiped her hands and straightened her clothes for a moment. She looked up at me with a flash of disdain, erased the expression, and replaced it with an endearing head turn. We embraced. I took her by the hands and led her back to the house. I released one hand when we got to the steps of the house. Her eyes combed the outside, painfully seeking out flaws, to which there were none. 

"Mark, it's a lovely home"

"Thanks. I've worked hard on it but it is a great haven for weary souls." I put my hands in my pockets and rocked back ony my heels. "So Sylviva, what brings you out? You didn't have to come all the way out here. You easily could've corresponded by letter. Can I help you with anything?"

"Is that a joke? What could I possibly need help with that you could help me with?! Will you pray for me? Ha! You are the one who needs help! That's why I'm here! To bring you out of this dillusion!"

"Sylvia I have a very important job. I know my calling now. I am meant to bring these people to God. I know I've been slow going but-"

"Mark, you are alone here. What people are you bringing to God? Do you see people?"

"Of course I see people! The town name is BOOMtown!"

"When was the last time you saw another soul?"

--waiting--

"Awhile."

"Weeks? Months? Mark you can't keep this up.You've wastd all your money! Come back home! Start practicing again! Beth isn't coming back, but you could find someone else. No one back there knows what you've been doing out here. Just come back and start over!"

"I'm not leaving my flock."

Up until this point Sylvia had been angry but tolerant. When the last word left his mouth she went into a rampage. She turned on her heels and walked out the front door. She walked across the street and up to the door of what appeared to once have been a saloon. She knocked. She kicked the door. She walked to a window and swung her change purse into it, breaking the glass. She hit it a few more times until the window was completely open and she stuck her head in.

"Hello? Anyone here? My dillusional brother wants you to find Jesus! As soon as you become a Christian I can go home!"

Silence. 

Then she walked over to the post office; also boarded up. She wiped the window with her glove and peered in. She turned to look at me, swung back the change purse, and proceeded to break the glass. She continued down the road until she'd broken 7 windows. No one responded. No one flooded the streets to take down the vandal. She was right. 

How had I missed that? Why did God send me to an abandoned town? I sank to my knees and watched dust roll around in the wind. My sister started walking back to me. She was sweaty and covered in dirt. She walked past me and into the house. She left the door open and I heard her lightly tapping on the stairs. 

I looked over at the wagons. The men were dirty but seemed honest. They'd had plenty of time to abandon my sister here but they were setting up camp for the night. One man was sitting on the wagon cleaning his fingernails. The other two were working on unloading the equipment. 

I walked over to the men. They were further away than I'd figured and by the time I reached them all three men were standing, arms folded, waiting on me. 

"Hi, I want to offer a room in my home for you. It was a boarding house so you can have your own space. There's plenty of water. I don't have a lot of food, but you are welcome to use the kitchen for your own meals."

"Why do you want to let us in there? Do we look like the kind of man you want sleeping in the same house as your sister?"

I hadn't thought of that. "I don't see why that should be a problem. You can have a bed if you want. Or you can sleep on the ground. I just wanted to offer the bed to you"

Realizing I wasn't getting anywhere, I nodded my head and turned away. I walked back to the house but just as I reached the first building of town, one of the men yelled out, "Can we shower?"

"Yeah. Please do."

"Ok, We'll be right in."

Day 19: List 20 things that annoy you and expand on one

Again with the negativity! How about I write 10 things that annoy me, 10 things that make life worth living, and expand upon one of those. 

Things that annoy me:

1. Being trapped on the bottom deck of a ferry behind a wall of stupid bicyclists. I was a bicyclist, but I wasn't stupid.

2. People who take children to a restaurant and let their kids scream.

3. People who don't follow basic transportation rules (stay left, don't veer into traffic, etc, etc)

4. People who get barfy drunk in public. 

5. Shitting on other people to make yourself feel better.

6. Yelling. I hate it, actually.

7. Disrespecting the position of the president. You don't have to like him, but I can't stand when people say anyone should die. He is a human. 

8. People who talk while the teacher is talking. My RAS is low, and I am easily distracted.

9. Annoyed is a mild term, but I am [insert gambit of feelings] when I hear of a woman giving birth on someone else's terms. 

10. half assed or no assed parents. The next generation deserves better.

Things that make life worth living:

1. Sex. And yea, it's number 1 for a reason.

2. The moment you know you've made an impact on someone's life

3. The few months in a toddler's life when their vocabulary explodes. 

4. Making a friend, and knowing that person will stick around for a decade or two.

5. When a baby falls asleep in your arms

6. Encouraging someone to do what they want (in my case, pursuing higher education or choosing their own birth plan)

7. Reflecting on good times with people who've transitioned, and feeling the deep mourn for those loved ones. 

8. Proving people wrong. ;)

9. Cuddling

10. Laughing. 

I would say 1 and 10 are most important. However, to keep things appropriate for my mother who now reads my blog (hey mom!) I'll talk about laughing. My fiance gets so annoyed by giggling girls. It's kind of understandable, but having been a giggling girl once (and sometimes still) I have to say that he is simply missing out. One of my favorite feelings in the world is laughing until you cry. And maybe it's not the actual laughing that is so vital, but I think feeling comfortable enough with the people around you to laugh that hard is the best part. Most recently I was taking a pole class with my friend (since she took such sweet care of Agent Vidal, we'll call her The Caretaker). The caretaker and I were in 6' heels and she did a Peter Pan spin, went to land and slipped. She, with her superior upper body strength caught herself and landed, gracefully for the situation, on her knees. I laughed so hard I had to leave class. 

Also, side note: this blog makes me happy. I don't really get to know who any of you are unless you comment, but its really nice to be able to write to such a vast and anonymous audience. I am thankful for you.

Thanks for reading!

Day 18: Write about environmentalism

This... isn't random. 

I just listened to a radio show about a man who's published a new book about the morality of fossil fuels. When I listened to his explanation, I was taken back to the traditional variance in all debates. The basis of all differences in our perception of the world around us is whether we think we are animals. So I'm going to write about both.

1. If we are animals, the environment is our peer. Ultimately the environment is our steward. We are subject to it's availability. We are subject to its actions. The catalyst of the actions is "important" but not in the effect of what is happening over why it's happening. So, basically whether God is doing these things, if Universal intelligence, or if, my least favorite option, chaos, is to blame, it doesn't matter. We are intellectual creatures, like dolphins or octopi, or pigs. We have relationships and we build things. We created a heirachy of intellectual function for goodness sake! We are the pinnacle of macro-organisms! (that was sarcasm) If we are animals then we are like the tiny boats we build out on stormy seas: we can only change our circumstances on a minute level. 

2. If we dominate animals, the environment is a tool. Ultimately we are the steward over a sickly and deteriorating globe. It is subject to our actions. We are the catalyst. In this instance, the catalyst may be the same forces acting on our "nature", but it's still the same: it doesn't matter. We are intellectual creatures and intellect is paramount. Intellect can overcome our action. In this view the world is falling apart and in need of saving. From this perspective it makes sense that we should use fossil fuels to take the contaminants out of the soil.

Problems:

If our actions come from our nature, and our intellect comes from our nature then our actions should implicate our intellect and in true biological form, provide sustainability for off-spring.

Earth is a closed system. It is like a glass filled with water. Assuming volume can't change, and we aren't rapidly seaping atmosphere into the vast universe, taking a toxin out of one form simply means that it takes a new form; ie, if you take toxic materials out of the soil, you put them in the air. If take toxins from water or air and put it in barrels in the ground, you are simply changing their state. We are playing chess against the computer. There's only so many times you can move into and out of the corner before you just give up and let the computer have you. 

Wasn't it Einstein who said “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”...that wasn't a question. Yes, it was. How are we to know that ants aren't geniuses at volume movement, or that dolphins were the pinnacle of evolution, but then decided it wasn't worth all the hype? 

I realize that we are really a mix of options 1 and 2. I know this, but I still don't think it gives us the authority to do stupid things. That is my final complaint: Humans have specialty. I promise you that an electrician could school me on how to install wiring into a house, but all it takes is one news article or one book and suddenly Joe Shmoe is an expert and he thinks the electrician is a complete fool. Why can't we have experts? Why can't we have specialists anymore? 

In typical fashion, a little information is a scary thing.