Writing has eluded me for quite some time. I vow to write everyday but seem to not get quite there...almost, hmpf. Horseshoes and hand grenades, whatever. I took a vow of silence once...wow, and this is why I haven't written. I really don't have anything to write about. things that use to bug me don't and things that bug me know won't matter later. As I get older and people around me change I change with or without them but my views expand(which is changing if anyone was paying attention). I could tell you stories about when I was younger and wanted to be Nadia Comaneci or how I was going to take over the world by not being a stereotype? I could tell you times of when I started getting into drugs....loosely, or I could tell you about a person who is still around but more of a follower than a front runner, if you get what I mean.
After a horrible break up with, what I thought was, "The Love of My Life", that person I began to think really hard as to what I would like to be. I thought, "If anything, I would not like to me my parents(cliche), says the child stamping her feet and making a face. I thought about what my family would say? What would my friends involved say? What would Jesus.....okay I went to far but, yeah. What Would Jesus Say? Nothing, because he's dead and the dead don't talk. I did reach an agreement with myself that from this day forward, I will no longer allow myself to miss out on life. What that meant to me was a series of unadulterated drunken crime sprees through many pleasures that it has to offer. Where to begin? Portland Oregon!
Portland Oregon
When I got to Portland Oregon I noticed two things:
1.) That was my first plane ride...EVER! Nearly shit my pants on take off and landing, thought we were going to fucking die.
2.) On my own, this was the second place I have ever lived and it smelled like magic.
When I say magic I don't mean Leprechauns running through forests in search of their pot of gold or cute little fairies who assist you towards the happiest places on earth. I mean this place holds death, ya know...another kind of magic. You can smell the dead walking around sometimes at night. Waiting. Lurking, stalking. Digressing more and more.I first noticed the smell right from the plane but someone quickly corrected me by telling me that it was a paper mill some miles away. Neat. This is how the "Great NorthWestern" peeps rock it? Like L.A. yet less smog? Anywho, it smelled pretty bad like bad magic from a bad show you had to go with your kid sister and brother because you were like their guardian during the friggin day.
Cat out of the bag.
Portland, well not really. I landed in Portland but rode towards Vancouver WA. This is where my best friend lived at the time. There was some talk about "we" getting a place together and "we" traveling together but in the end, we were better off doing our own thang.
I began with a goal in mind, like all mentally abused children who were told, "You know. You're not going anyplace on this earth being black and a woman,"? Decided to not let that negative racists shit get me down anymore because I see how it effects my sisters and who they choose their time with...man! When I was younger. Things were said like," You think your White? You wanna be White! You act like a White Girl. You speak like a White girl. You dress like a White Girl," and so on. I tried on many hats in my youth but to be totally honest.? I am most at ease when I am just me. So that is who I became, slowly. Like trial and error, I battled many hair styles and outfits, eras and oddball stuff. At the end of the day, I wear what felt good and what I was in the mood for, check!. My hair, or lack thereof, ball, check! My attitude...well...
I carried around a metric assload of guilt, shame, anger, regret and few other colorful adjectives that served me none. But, I made sure I was the happy face people could depend on for a while.
I put my thinking cap on and said to myself,"Self! What do you want to be when you grow up,"? I said," Older,". Why would I want to be anything more than the sage I was destine to be? Why would I crave to be anything less than what was given to me to wield as I saw fit? And at that time, I could not tell you who I wanted to be honestly because I didn't know who I was. I was anything anyone else wanted me to be and I was that thing. I was happy when sad shit happened. I was a shoulder to cry on, a mover, a chef, a party planner, a bartender/cock-tailer, a Manager, a stylist," Hey?! Do you know any cute black girls to photo", the only black girl in the room/at a party/ on a boat/ at a metal show/ in Portland. What I'm getting at is,"There aren't a lot of black people doing the shit I was doing at the time"!
I continued to search for me.
I stripped. That's fucking A right I stripped! I'd fucking do it again if my body was as perky as it once was. It paid for school. Which is the biggest lie all strippers say but yes, I brought my homework with me sometimes. I would be the geeky girl in the back listening to...who knows what, mostly metal, doing my math homework. I get the shove from a girl that is was time for me to go on, and I went. No mystery. I told myself that I wasn't going to be a lifer like some of those girls, 40. Really honey, 40? If you haven't fucked your way to the top or whore your way into a mansion by now, give it up! 40 is fucking too old to be dancing for money. Anyway, I was going through med lab tech school when I got the news. "Your Mom is sick and she might not make it out of the hospital", shit. Needless to say, I couldn't keep school on track because I wanted to be able to have money to fly back and forth if anything happens so I quit, dumb. But I got to see her a few times before she passed away and that made me feel better about my decision.
Stripping is kind of where I found my independence, don't laugh. I wasn't one of those girl who masturbated at 13 nor was I the kind of girl who wore skimpy shit, I was a lady, with tomboy tendencies. Stripping taught me how to own my sexuality, read men( that I was not sleeping with mind you. Once you get the dick in and it's good, you night loose your fucking mind), feel sexy, empowered in my skin. I just loved my job and getting paid everyday, not a bad gig. Stripping also gave me my voice and how to use it properly. Having a silver tongue in a club will get you very far and sometimes, place you don't want to go.
In this dizzying intellect lies great stories of triumphs and headaches or all sorts, which truly begin in...well. there you have it a strip Club. Many strip clubs, in fact, yet all in Portland. I lived in the Couv and worked in Portland, which was normal. Most people who live in the Couv work in P-Town.
Cheaper.
I had a driver and a bouncers at the door every night or day that I worked. I was careful, unlike some of the girls who shit where they ate and it ended terribly. Let's just say girl fights are lame and tedious. Lot's of hair pulling and name calling. Lot's of threats. And it all ends in tears. I was the only girl, at that time, who was not fucking someone in the bar industry while stripping. I saw the couples dwindle and fade fast in that industry. I really didn't get involved with many people in the beginning because it was scary to think that dumb bastard would come into the bar I was working and flip the fuck out. That has and will continue to happen till the end of time. Boys are dumb. Men are pillars. Men understand. Boys pout. this is the wisdom i bring fourth from the bowels of the club scene, lame. The Men who would frequent the club would bring their wives, were swingers. The Men who would bring their girlfriends, were cheating and the Men who would come alone we opportunists. This is now way the case these days or right all the time during those days but you get the general idea, simple. Just like slipping a girl a few pills and trowing her over a cliff in her car, like the old days? Anyone? If you let me. My mind will wonder all over this place and never come back.
So, Stripping became a big part of growing up dirty. thus also began my sexual revolutions.
