How to Be An Angry Victim

Well, it finally happened. I am finally really angry at the strip club industry. I went in to the club last night around 8. Thought I should work a little. Well, so did 30 of my (not so) closest stripper friends. This is in a club with ONE stage. We didn’t have 30 customers at any given point all night. I tried to leave. I was having bad cramps due to the piece of cotton I was forced to plug myself up with in order to work in the first place. I refuse to take painkillers for something like cramps, because I can fix that problem by using my diva cup. I was at the club last night from 8pm until 2:30am, and I made $25. Yep, $25. It’s just so fucking ridiculous.  To make matters worse, once I gave up on trying to make money, and put my efforts in trying to just leave, I decided to start people watching/listening. I have come to the conclusion that some guys go to the strip club just to be the cool guys at the strip club. I think they might be the same guys that ACTUALLY read the articles in a porn magazine. And then try to discuss them with friends, like it is a piece of serious journalism. Gag. I’m going to go out on the line here with a very politically incorrect statement and say that being the cool guy at the strip club is like being the least “special” kid at the special Olympics.

I just don’t want to do it anymore. If I didn’t have to pay rent tomorrow, I would never put a foot in a strip club again. My faith in humanity developed a really big crack in it last night. One that I am not sure is going to heal, and one that I know for a fact will continue to get worse the longer I work in this industry.

Mostly I am upset with myself though. I am a strong, creative, smart, adventurous person. And I have let myself become a victim. I gave all my power to the uptight assholes that run the strip clubs. I walk in the door and become ditzy, meek, dumb. I say it’s the club’s fault for charging me so much in rent each night, it’s the city’s fault for being so uptight that we have to have dry clubs, it’s the customers fault, it’s the economy’s fault. Seriously. The list goes on and on and on. But I never blame myself. I blame everyone but me. There are a million ways out there to earn a dime. and this is just one of them. I’ve been so busy making sure I keep being a victim that I have stopped trying to find another way. A way that uses my strengths, instead of capitalizing on my weaknesses.

Men. They are not to be trusted. Strippers. They are pretty much stuck with the same problems I’ve described here. I would love to describe, in detail, exactly what happened last night that broke me. But it was just an accumulation of everything last night. Listening to the DJ with his little quips about each dancer: Ooh, she is HOT! Try her for a dance…she is rumored to be VERY good at it! Blah blah blah. Listening to the false conversation between dancers and customers, each one of them dancing around the real subject (lap dances). Customers TEASING girls with lap dances in order to try to take them out for lunch. (Happened to me and one of my friend last night. Some guy was saying “blah blah blah sameoldthing, I would like a lap dance, but only if you go out to lunch with me.” I said ni, I don’t date people I meet in the club. He didn’t even listen to a word I said because then he launched into his spiel about how he wouldn’t be MY customer, he is a customer of the club, he would just give me the $20 when we met for lunch. I just got up and walked away. For fucks sake. Don’t fuckin patronize me and talk down to me. What a douche. Night after night. This is what I have to deal with. Pathetic examples of mankind and the human race. If I could sell everything and join the Peace Corps, I would do it today. Now. I would be gone tomorrow, doing something good for the world and for my life. I would work hard to repair the damage that so many years working in a strip club have done.

I realized that, either because of what I do for a living, or as a general flaw in my personality (which has led me to this point in my life), I have no one close to me in my life. I have acquaintances, friends, good friends, even some best friends. But I have no one that I am 100% open with. I would say my mom, but the people that I am closest with, all live very far away. Hell, the closest thing I have to family in my life are my best guy friend here in Washington, and my roommate. I am closer to them than my own family. I just find it’s easier to not get too close, because they will most likely leave you at some point. So it hurts less when they do leave if you aren’t super close to start with. Or, I can (and often do) leave first. That way I get hurt the least. It is very selfish. I realize that. But no one else is going to look out for me, watch out for my best interests. No one has done that for me since I became an adult. I guess that is the cold harsh truth of being an adult. When I am in a relationship, I feel like I am always waiting for the other person to get fed up and tired of me, and finally leave. I am sure my fatalistic attitude carries a large weight on why my relationships eventually fail. Well, the easy way to deal with that is to stop being in relationships. Like now. At least it is one less thing I don’t have to lie about when I talk to my customers.

I am just so exhausted of not trusting people. I am tired of feeling like people look at me and just want to use me. Hell, I’m just tired. I want to settle down, have a career doing something I really enjoy, but I have no idea what I want to do. I’m scared that I will be 30 in a few short years, and I still have no clue what to do with my life. My friends have careers, college degrees, own their own companies. I am still a stripper. I can barely pay my rent. By letting myself become a victim, I have let myself fall through the cracks. I am LETTING myself waste away into nothing, all because it is so much easier to be a victim than to do something to change the situation. This has to change today.

Woe is Me

I am Captain Crankypants as of late. I am so sick of the snow. I am sick of shoveling. I am sick of Winter. I am sick of being a stripper. I am sick of dancing. I am sick of having acne. I am sick of having feelings for someone that doesn’t return the sentiments.

I just don’t know how much longer I can keep this all up. Dancing is fine, but I prefer a solid bi-monthly paycheck over grinding on random dude’s laps for sweaty wadded up twenties.

I am sad that I am 27, and still stripping for a living. Granted, there are many other jobs I would willingly do, but I can’t seem to get hired for any of them. I feel like a failure at this juncture in my life.

To compound this problem is the fact that as a stripper, I have a lot of trouble meeting men that I want to date. The good ones are hard enough to find. Add in that I dance for a living, and it’s even harder to find someone. Most men can’t deal with the jealousy issues that come up in a relationship like that. Which is completely understandable. But it seems like all of my friends are in a relationship, married and/or starting families. I don’t want to start a family or get married, but a relationship would be nice. And the one person I really really like, doesn’t want to have anything to do with me but ocassionally fuck me. The sex is amazing, but I want to be something more to someone than just a fuck buddy.

I’m sorry this is all complainy, but I really needed to get this off my chest. I don’t know how to meet new people, and it has made me feel very isolated. The onle place I can think of is bars, and a bar is no place to meet anyone. Anyhow. Bah humbug.

This is Ridiculous.

Today, the city of Seattle practically shut down for a snowstorm.

That’s fine. Even Omaha had kinks to work out on the first day after a heavy snow. We’ve gotten about 5 inches in our neighborhood today. The thing I find so ridiculous is how unprepared everyone seems to be. I and one other person ON MY BLOCK were or have shoveled today.

Two people in an entire neighborhood have shoveled. It’s been snowing since 4 am. It is now 4 pm. So, in 12 hours of snowing, me and one other person have shoveled. And I was the only one that also shoveled her sidewalk. The other guy dumped his shovel scoops onto his sidewalk.

Where are people supposed to walk? It made me feel pretty good. I had some neighbors walk by, and thanked me for shoveling my sidewalk. I just don’t get it. In Omaha, everyone in the neighborhood (with the exception of that one neighbor) would have made some sort of effort within the timespan of 12 hours.

I tried driving once today, and managed to find my way back into my driveway. But it sucked because the roads were wet up until it started snowing in middle of the night. Which made them really slippery today. So anyhow.

/rant.

While I was shoveling, I found something that I didn’t see once in five winters in Nebraska:

I found moss. In our driveway. Ha!

I also found rosemary:

Bagels

I made bagels today. :-p

Making the holes...

Resting

Boiling

Seasoned, ready to bake

Fresh from the oven

Up close

Perfect, chewy, delicious.

Etsy Shop is Up!!

Woohoo!!!! My esty shop is finally up and running. Stop by, take a look, let me know what you think. :)

Ewe Silly Girl

Thanks for looking. :)

14-Bean and Ham Hock Soup

The finished product

14-Bean and Ham Hock Soup

Ingredients:

2 cups Bob’s Red Mill 13-Bean soup beans

2 cups Anasazi Beans

3 ham hocks

2 bay leaves

6 carrots, peeled and chopped

5 stalks celery, chopped

1 onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, crushed

2 tsp Savory

1/2 tsp thyme

10 whole cloves

1 tsp marjoram

Directions:

Put beans in a pot with enough water to cover them, add 1 bay leaf. Bring to a brisk boil over high heat. Turn heat down to medium and let beans simmer 20 minutes. In the mean time, chop the vegetables and set aside. After the beans have simmered 20 minutes, remove from heat, pour into a colander, and rinse with warm water. Put beans back in pot, add chopped vegetables, second bay leaf and spices. Put ham hocks in on top, cover contents of pot with water, bring to a boil, and turn back down to a simmer. Let simmer, adding more water as necessary for about 8 hours, or until beans are soft. When beans are soft, remove from heat. Carefully using a slotted spoon, remove ham hocks (including skin and bone) from soup and either discard or freeze for use in stock later). Ladle soup into bowls, enjoy with fresh hot rolls.

Makes 8 large servings, or 16 small servings.

Dry Beans

About to simmer inthe crockpot

I’ve Been Robbed!

A few weeks ago, I went out to my car to leave for work, and it seemed, uh, off. Things were scattered about. Someone had gone through my center console and my glove box. Nothing was missing, I thought. The car was locked, and I had left it locked. I figured my parents had gone through it looking for registration papers or something. The glove box was completely empty. I put everything back, and went on my day.

Well, today my stepmom asks me to run out to the car and get the registration for them so they can transfer the car over to my name.

I say “It’s not there.”

Her: “What do you mean it’s not there?”

Me: “A couple of weeks ago I went out to my car and it had been gone through. There is no registration in there. I thought you and Steve had it.”

Her: “?”

Me: “Seriously. I thought you and Steve had it because the car was locked. The only way someone could have gotten in there was with a key. So I just assumed it was you or him, and didn’t say anything.”

Her: “So you’ve been driving without your registration this whole time?”

Me: “I guess so….”

So apparently, someone broke into my car, stole my registration, and left everything else behind, and re-locked the car when they were done. What on earth would someone want with my registration? I actually have an idea of who it was, and if I’m right, I’m really scared.

First Ride into Seattle

Date: December 1

Mileage: 20

December Mileage: 20

Year to Date Mileage: 482.8

My first bike ride into Seattle was, uh, interesting. I’ve never ridden in a large city before. Heck, I never even rode my bike in downtown Omaha. This was (and still is) all new territory for me.

Two weeks ago I rode my bike for the first time in Washington. On my way home, in the rain, in the total darkness that can only be the country late at night, I rode over a speck of glass. This speck proceeded to puncture my rear inner tube. I’ve never changed a flat before, but I managed. Unfortunately, managed just fixes the flat, it doesn’t do a good job of it. This came to be a problem about a week later.

Monday morning began with what can only be called fail. I woke with a start at 9:50 thinking my job interview was at 10. I double checked and realized it wasn’t actually until 1. I had a huge bowl of oatmeal with butter and brown sugar and began my day. I decided I would ride my bike to my interview instead of drive, that way I could save some money that would otherwise be spent on parking.  Well, I didn’t plan much beyond writing down the directions, wearing warm clothes (and packing a change for my interview) and I remembered both of my locks. The time came to leave, and I left. 3 miles later I threw my chain for the first tie. It turns out that when I changed my flat, I didn’t tighten down the nuts enough. So the tension from the chain pulled my rear whell forward just enough to cause problems. Iknew exactly what was wrong, but I didnt have the tools to fix it. So I would ride 2 miles, stop, put my chain back on the cog, ride two miles….

I finally made it to my interview. I got Vinny locked up and headed in. To my utter amazement, she was still there when I came back out an hour and a half later.

Then I rode up to REI to get my fender put back on and tighten my rear wheel back up. By the time I left, I was getting really hungry and it was drizzling outside. I figured I could make it back home before I got too hungry and the drizzle turned into a downpour.

I was wrong.

By mile 16 or 17, it was pouring. Hy hands were pruny and numb. My feet were so cold pedaling hurt. And boy was I hungry. I couldn’t stop thinking about food. In my mind, every downward stroke of the pedal wasn’t getting me closer to food, it was making me hungrier. The thoughts of carb rich foods were making me drool. Thanks to the rain dripping down my face the passing drivers couldn’t see the drool.

I finally got to within a mile of home when I passed a QFC. It was all over. I stopped. I dragged my soggy bike in the store with me. I bought noodles, marinara sauce, three candy bars, chocolate milk, whole milk, and a dozen eggs. Sure, I got some strange looks, but I didn’t care. I had hit pay dirt. I ate that first candy bar in three bites. (I’m not proud of this, but it was the tastiest thing I’ve eaten all year.)

The rest of the ride home was uneventful. I knew (once I had something in my stomach) that it was only a matter of minutes before I could dry off and put hot food in my belly.

The rest of the night is pretty much a carb induced haze of bliss.

Happy riding!

My Stepmom aka The Doomsday Goddess of Destructive Advice (rant)

Shit happens. Problems can snowball to the point where they feel completely out of control. Take my car for example. When I moved out here, I had every intention of riding my bike full time. But it took my ex a long time to get it sent out here, and when it finally arrived, it had broken during transport. So my parents basically gave me their spare car. Well, it came with problems; what free car doesn’t? The windshield needs to be replaced. The alignment needed to be done about a year ago, so now the front left hub is worn and needs to be replaced. The windshield also leaked into the fan, so the heater now needs to be fixed. These aren’t huge problems, but talking to my step-mom, it’s the beginning of the end. Now she’s freaking out about HER money situation, which has turned into her telling me “I don’t know how on earth you are going to afford to live on your own in this economy.” Fuck. Leave me alone.

On top of her spreading the word of doom, they have decided this weekend (the weekend of ThanksforTurkey Day AND my birthday) is the perfect time to take my car away to get it fixed. Fuck fuck fuck. All I want to do is celebrate my birthday ON my birthday for once. I had plans to go out Friday with a friend. But he lives 50 miles away, and I am sure as hell not riding my bike that far. This is a problem that will need to be rectified asap. Otherwise the step-parents are going to have a very grumpy birthday girl on their hands this weekend. Yeah, so what. I will pout. It’s my birthday, and I’ll cry if I want to. Fuckers.

But… I guess it won’t be the end of the world if I have to wait a week to celebrate. It’s just that every single year I get shafted when my birthday comes around. It’s so close to ThanksforTurkey Day that everyone all but forgets my birthday. Every.single.fucking.year. The only people that have it worse are people born right around Christmas and those born on leap year day, imho. Yeah, so I’m in a pissy mood. Bugger off.

So while my step-parents were lamenting the fact that they gave me a shitty car that needs to be fixed before I move to Seattle in 1.5 weeks, I decided to give my bike a quick once over. I figured the car would be out of commission for one or two days (NOT 5 days, anyhoo…) that I would keep up with riding Vinny. Well, it turns out that the other night when I was riding her home in the pitch black darkness that is the woods, I rode over some broken glass. But it wasn’t my easy-to-remove front tire that went flat. Nope. It was my I-have-no-idea-how-to-take-it-off rear tire that is now flat. I’m afraid that if I try to remove the tire and replace the inner tube (which is old anyhow) I will break the repair I just paid 30 dollars for to make my bike ridable in the first place. But if I take it into the bike shop (with the car I can’t drive) they will most likely charge me money to fix the flat (because everyone should get paid for work they do), and that’s money that I need to eat and pay my bills.

Fuckin fuck. I hate money. No one will take hand-knit items in trade anymore. And that’s pretty much all I have to offer at this moment. Any ideas? I guess I need to be an adult, pull up my big girl panties, and deal with it. Shit. Sometimes I really hate being an adult.

Back In the (Bike) Saddle

Date: November 20

Mileage: 16.0

November Mileage: 16.0

Year to Date Mileage: 462.8

My bike has finally been put back together, tuned up, and I’ve stopped making excuses for not riding her. Yesterday I tried out my new handlebars for pretty much the first time. After I got them installed in Omaha, I ran out of chances to ride my bike, so I never got to try them out. Having drop handlebars is really different. I don’t feel as stable as I did on my old mustache handlebars, but I really do like having a variety of positions to put my hands in. It will take some getting used to I guess. My back brake doesn’t feel as tight as I’d like, and my front basket that I really haven’t had a chance to use yet isn’t even on my bike anymore. For some reason the brackets don’t fit. It was ON my bike with the new handlebars when I was in Omaha. When the bike shop shipped my bike, they took the brackets off, and now I can’t figure out how to put it back on. Fuck.

The ride last night was great. I haven’t felt that good in a long time. It even made my 6.5 hours of “work” at Walmart more tolerable. The ride in to work was almost exclusively downhill. 8 miles. Into the wind. In the rain. It was exhilarating. The ride home at 11:00 at night was, uh, not. It was uphill 8 miles. Into the wind (how does that even happen?) Through dark (pitch black) woods. And half way home, it didn’t start raining, it started pouring. The good news is that since it was so dark, I didn’t pay much attention to riding up the hill. I just did it.

Lately I’ve found myself consumed with thoughts of relationships and marriage. It’s unsettling to only be able to think of one thing all the time. I don’t know if it’s because I’m not in a relationship now, or if it’s hormones, or what. But it’s frustrating. Last night on my bike ride, I decided that I associate being in a relationship with happiness. And I associate marriage with solidifying a relationship. So what I am actually wanting isn’t marriage or a relationship, it’s happiness, and solidifying happiness in my life. By craving a relationship, by craving marriage, I am craving happiness. I am not sure if this is right or not, but it makes sense in a roundabout way.

The ironic thing is by thinking so much about how much I want to be in a relationship, the more I realize I’m NOT in a relationship. So I projecting this energy of NOT being in a relationship out into the world. So what do I get back, what’s projected back at me? NOT being in a relationship.

I have realized that I need to go through with what I came out here to do, instead of trying to divert my attention by thinking of what I don’t have in the first place. I came out here to be single, to find happiness within myself, to figure out who and what I am. I want to finish college, I want to bike long distances, and travel, and backpack and climb rocks and camp. I want to get back in touch with myself. If I spend all my time obsessing over what I don’t have, I will keep not having what I don’t have.

I do this to myself all the time, and it’s time to break the cycle. I start doing things for myself, start taking care of myself and looking out for myself, and then I begin to sabotage it by telling myself it isn’t what I really want. I try to convince myself I would be happier if my life had complications in it, that it would be better if things weren’t simple for once. I am afraid if things being simple, because then I will have to start thinking about myself again. And who really wants to think of themselves? Who really wants to look in all those little nooks and crannies of their souls, the places that are easy to forget about but also hard to clean out? But I will never grow into the woman and adult that I want to be, that I know I really am, if I don’t do a little spring cleaning in my soul.

In the knitting world… I finally finished the knitting of my Tangled Yoke Cardigan. All I have left to do is weave in my yarn ends, wash and block it, and then sew in the zipper. Yay! Pictures will be coming as soon as it’s finished (this week, I promise).