My yoga instructor told me to live and connect, so I guess that means I have to.

Because by nature I’m a shy and reserved sort of wall-flowerish girl, I told myself a long time ago to knock it off with all the weenieness and get the fuck out there and live.  Make some stories happen.  Expose yourself.  Literally and figuratively.  Meet people.  Listen to them.  Experience life.  Fucking live.  And I replied to myself, I said “Hey, Self.  You’re right.  I don’t want to be ho-hum.  Let’s see what we got out there.”

And that’s what I’ve been doing these last few weeks.

I’m not going to regale you with my pretentious tales of world travel, or with anecdotes about this barbecue sauce I made, or tell you about this ahead-of-the-trend cocktail I’ve discovered and how that should make you think I’m cool.  Cooler than you.  Nope.  None of that.  No fanciness.  I haven’t left the city and I rarely visit that hipster artisanal cocktail smugness masturbation bar down the street.  My burlesque isn’t better than yours and I’m not elite.

For the last year or so, I’ve been living with… rose-tinted glasses isn’t exactly the phrase I’m searching but something along those lines.  Only ever so tempered by judgement and smugness.  Whatever the corresponding shade for slightly biased bitchiness is, I’ve decided to smash those glasses.  They never quite fit right and I never should have accepted them in the first place.  But, well, they were just so damn pretty and they made me feel so special.  I kind of couldn’t help myself.

I speak in riddles, I know, but here’s the point.  I’m opening my eyes up to see what’s out there.  There’s a lot.  Here’s where I’ve seen recently:

A Gay Pride Parade from the inside.  FYI: it’s fucking hot in there.  And exhausting.

Love.  Just joyous love from my new Samba Mama, Dill Costa.  (I mean that in the maternal sense, not the she’s my hot sexy lady sense.  Though she is those things.)  I’m inspired by this woman.  She is a thing of beauty and she’s gotten me to do things I never thought I could do.

A different side of a person.  And not in a good way.  In a really bad way.   Like my mother just said to me the other day, “Honey, people will always surprise you.”

A new performance experience.  I brought a number out that I kind of hated and gave it a facelift for my first performance with a new company.  The positive experience contributed to it, but now I kind of love it.  That the audience was losing their shit for it felt pretty nice, too.

New people.  New approaches to burlesque.  New ideas.  New values.  It’s all made me feel very fresh and energized.

And, well, barbecue.  Yeah.  My husband’s been grilling a lot.  It makes me hungry and horny.  I’m digging it.  It’s just so manly.

And tonight I have two tickets to see a burlesque show that I most likely would never have seen.  And I have those tickets because I’m interviewing the director and writing a piece about it for the new online burlesque magazine, Chicago Burlesque. And I have two more to write in the next month.  Golly gee, I always wanted to be a writer.

It’s all just so good.  Even with the shitty shit part.  I’m really fucking happy.  I love this life thing.  It’s got some real potential.

Oh, and Happy Birthday, Alex and May.  I’m loading up a bazooka with love and firing two shots in both of your directions.

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