The Slutcracker was a huge fucking hit. Huge. We sold out three out of our four shows, and now the Somerville Theatre wants us back this weekend.

And I'll be flying to LA on Thursday, so I can become a godmother on Saturday. It's not something I'm willing to give up, but still... I'll really miss performing with all my fellow sluts.

Hot damn! Slutcracker's opening night is sold out! Nine hundred fucking seats in that space, and we sold out!

And the static electricity is building. Last night I took a new blanket out of it's plastic bag, and the static was so ridiculous you could actually see little sparks of electricity.

The latest show is one I'm not only costuming, but performing in as well! What's even better is that this is a burlesque show (because really, it was only a matter of time before I got involved in burlesque)!

The show is called The Slutcracker and you can find out all about it here.

The rundown:
There are FOUR opportunities to see the show!
Friday, December 12. 8pm.
Saturday, December 13. 8pm.
Sunday, December 14. 2pm AND 8pm.
at The Somerville Theatre

The Slutcracker is a dance-theatre production comprised of a coalition of Boston-area performance artists including, but not limited to, burlesque and can-can dancers, drag kings, hoopers, ballerinas, acrobats, bellydancers, actors and actresses. Through a contemporary interpretation of the traditional Nutcracker, The Slutcracker aims to bring the art of burlesque back to its sexy, bawdy, hilarious roots.

There are also plenty of volunteer opportunities if you'd like to see the show for free. Just e-mail volunteer@theslutcracker.com.

I've made so much progress with symptom management that my therapist thought I'd been working with her twice as long as I actually have.

It's so easy to cry and bitch and moan about life being unfair. My life has been hard for a long time now. I feel strongly and often. I care deeply. I struggle, I suffer, I stumble and fall. And sometimes, I get tired. I wonder why I have to go through so much shit and others around me don't.

A lot of the shit is what life gives me. But some of it I have chosen, and there's nothing that would ever make me want to change those decisions.

I feel stronger than I ever have before. I know in my heart that my spirit will never be broken.

Climbing into the back of robogeek's car to wrestle with and secure a 47" tuna carcass.

While the car was in motion.

Function: noun
1 a: allegiance to duty or a person : loyalty b (1): fidelity to one's promises (2): sincerity of intentions
2 a (1): belief and trust in and loyalty to God (2): belief in the traditional doctrines of a religion b (1): firm belief in something for which there is no proof (2): complete trust
3: something that is believed especially with strong conviction; especially : a system of religious beliefs

I think I'm finally growing out of my holier-than-thou righteous indignation phase that so often seems to plague college age liberals. The anger toward conservative right-wingers and fundamentalists everywhere, because they're so stupid, and oppressive, and don't know The Way (as if we do).

It's all well-meaning, I know, but it can easily lead (and often does, as far as I can tell) to close-mindedness. Conclusions can be jumped to without much knowledge to back them up.

We often fear what we don't understand.

I will always strongly oppose ways of thinking or living that are oppressive and cruel. I also know that these ways will never be wiped out. Our nature makes that impossible.

The more I listen to people I don't agree with, the more I understand why so many of my peers think anything having to do with religion or god(s) is bunk.

Last night I ran into an Interphaser I hadn't seen since sophomore year at MIT. He steered the conversation towards Christianity, even handing me a little pamphlet. He accused me of idolatry, and kept repeating a single question no matter what I said.

It annoyed me at the time, but it has helped solidify thoughts that have been trying to form.

I am an extremely logical person. I know how to use logic, I know its fallacies, and I know when it just can't be applied to a situation.

I am not religious. I don't believe anything and everything my church tells me is The One Truth. But I do believe in the Catholic faith very strongly. I would never be able to tell you exactly why. It just feels right to me.

Religion throws around heavy quotations and makes accusations. But my faith, it guides me.

I never bought into the temple metaphor when it comes to the human body. I mean, treat yourself as a dwelling place of an institution? No thank you. Our bodies are the most basic vehicle for expression we have.

I'm an artist, so as far as I'm concerned, I'm a canvas. Fanciful, deep, versatile. Much of it is surface adornment - ephemeral, whimsical, practical.

But some things run a bit deeper. And my body seems to like modification as much as I do. Tattooing? Not unpleasant at all; hell, it often tickles. And now I'm on to stretching the holes in my ears. A metal taper was gently pushed through each hole, and then an acrylic plug took its place. Felt strange at first, but I quickly found myself liking it. And it finished with a nice, lingering warm sensation.

And my ears will be ready to do it all over again in 2 weeks.

After about a year of increasingly well received lessons taught at MIT, robogeek and I decided to open our own studio. Because really, there's only so many times people can ask if there's a website to look at or private lessons to be had before we realized that maybe we should stop saying no. A website is currently in the works, and we have a mailing list now.

Our announcement was really well-received, not just by our following and our friends, but instructors as well. It's such a good feeling; I can't even begin to describe it. And our kick-off lesson was well attended, well received, and just so much fun. We even got some excellent feedback, so we can keep working on getting better.

It helps that I'm finally starting to believe that I am a very good Blues dancer. Don't worry, it hasn't fully sank in though, and I'm still my very modest self. One of our more enthusiastic students called me iconic last night, which felt a little odd. She went on to mention a total screw-up on our part at the beginning of last Sunday's intermediate lesson. I don't recall how she described it, but perhaps needless to say, she still thought we looked good. I was so glad that a friend was there to overhear and stoutly maintain that yes, it did in fact look silly.

I am very excited to be able to bring the joy of dance into people's lives, and with every lesson I have more fun teaching. But there's this tiny little part of me that's really curious to see how far we can go with this...

With a love so like fire they dared not
Let it out into strawy small talk;
With a love so like a flood they dared not
Let out a trickle, lest the whole crack.
These two sat speechlessly;
Pale cool tea in tea-cups chaperoned
Stillness, silence, the eyes
Where fire and flood strained.

Lex spotted this somewhere in Manhattan long ago, and I wrote it in the inside cover of my sketchbook, so I could always have it with me. I cherished it so much because I thought it portrayed our feelings so well. Hell, had we lasted, I imagine there would have eventually been a tattoo based on this poem.

The idea of keeping a feeling straining, restrained is actually how I've dealt with most of my emotions over the years. But tonight has shown me a glimpse of all the good things that can come from taking a good look at the dark things we all have inside. This weekend is going to be hard, but I actually want to see what comes of it.

That poem.... that poem was a poignant, keen way to describe what we had, and what tore us apart. And I'm keeping it around so I remember, and learn.

I don't have anything to take its place right now, just an immense joyful feeling in my heart from being able to love, in the true Christian sense of the word, because I didn't let fear, pain, and anger interfere.

I struggled with communicating through email, and I apologized in person.

I was hurt by someone else, and feared hostile behavior towards a person I don't know. I took a walk instead, at a slow pace, concentrating on being aware and accepting and at peace with my thoughts and feelings.

I woke up to music blaring and unknown people yelling and laughing in my kitchen. This little introvert couldn't handle it, so I stayed away.

I was really hot inside a music club, so I went outside to cool off. I enjoyed it out there, so I stayed.

But sometimes trying your best to remain and honest and fair isn't enough. I wonder if I somehow fucked up the apology. I wonder why feeling anger toward someone who hurt me is assumed to be anger towards someone who has done nothing to upset me. I wonder why someone who doesn't know me assumes an understanding of my actions.

And now my invitation to a Lindy exchange has been virtually revoked; my host no longer wants to host me. Yeah, I could still go and find other housing, but it seems to me that I'm not wanted there. So I'll stay away.

I feel immensely sad and melancholy. I wasn't around much, I know, but I wasn't uncomfortable when I was. I was pretty happy with myself before I got slapped with all this.

I now fully believe that putting on an effective mask is sometimes preferable to honesty. It's only to be used to help smooth rocky times; a sometimes tool, if you will.

But it does have its place. You cannot convince me otherwise.

The Dance Complex has a donations table. A couple of weeks ago it had a book called I'm Not Crazy, I just Lost my Glasses. It's author interviewed and took portraits of people who have been in mental institutions. I naturally took it home, expecting it would be a great source of solace, and inspiration.

I started reading it tonight. I came across a name I recognized, Dossie Easton. I've never met her, but nevertheless she has had a profound impact on my life, so seeing an additional facet of her story is quite poignant.

She is a co-author of the book The Ethical Slut, which has been a major source of inspiration in my exploration of who I am in relationships. What I am about to say some of you already know. I've been tossing it around for quite some time now, always applying it to an abstract concept, rather than myself.

I've chosen a difficult path to be sure, and I know that sometimes I will lose my footing. But I don't fear it; finally, I own it.

I am polyamorous.

Have you ever seen a young frat boy type with a popped collar? I've always thought they looked a little silly. To say the very least.

And then came yesterday, in which I spotted an old man with a popped collar. Wait, I haven't finished yet! Comb-over hairstyle, orange tan, and a bright red shirt that clashed with his skin. With a popped collar.

Suddenly, the frat boys almost look cool. Almost. Well, not really.

I wish I saw characters that damn memorable every day. I would soon be one kick-ass costume designer.

Gah! I've got work to do, but there's too much swimming around in my head right now. I need to get it out in order to be productive again....

I know I'm a very complex individual. Often times it's hard to figure out how I work, because there's so much to take into account. And even Goblin has a hard time describing me sometimes. The best I've found so far is actually from my Myers-Briggs personality type. I'm an INFJ, the rarest type. Big surprise right? Anyway, from now on, any time I'm having a hard time sorting out myself out, I'm going to read this. It's not entirely accurate (of course), but it's the best analysis I've found.

As human beings, we can constantly grow because there will always be more work that can be done, and improvements we can make. We are not capable of perfection. Part of my growth will always be tied in with my mental illness. I will never be cured of it. And sometimes I don't tell myself enough. Sometimes I feel good enough that I think my symptoms won't affect me any more, ever. They don't really affect me when I'm genuinely happy and content. But I can't always be happy and content.

I've got a lot more work to do when it comes to letting go of things. There are negative emotions and feelings that are now passing out of my system fairly quickly. But that doesn't mean they will every time. Sometimes, it will be intense and painful. But it will pass; I have to fully believe that. On the flip side, I can't expect happiness to last forever. It won't, and I have to learn to let that go as well. The only way I can let go is to have faith that it will return again. And it will return again.

I'm not letting myself be truly out in the open, and fully vulnerable. There are strings attached; I expect something in return for my so-called vulnerability. Which means I'm not really vulnerable at all. I'm just putting myself in a situation where I wind up hurting myself. And that's not good for anybody.

There's still too much fear there. And I don't think it's a fear of people hurting me. It's a fear of pain, and it's so irrational that I convince myself I can protect myself from all pain if I put up enough boundaries and blockades.

I want meaningful connections with people, and I want community. I don't want to be motivated by a fear of pain. What I want to know, to believe, to have complete faith in, is this:

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain. And could you keep your heart in the wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy. And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields. And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.

And not just any bumper sticker, either. The best one I've ever seen.

God bless the Whole World
No Exceptions

Things continue to go up and down, but I find myself appreciating it more these days. I think all the time I've spent with a certain Taoist is finally rubbing off.

The job search continues.... Some days I'm full of energy and motivation. Other days I'm lucky if I can force myself to look at all. This is the major stress of my life right now.

That is a wonderful thing.

I've been spending so much time and effort learning how to deal with mental illness for a year now. I'm getting better and stronger every day. I know this. I also know that career aspirations and educational goals have been put on hold because of it. Yes, I want job. Yes, I want to feel productive. But really, I want to actively work on my goals again. I want to stop putting school off.

I have things to work for, and so many possibilities to explore. I'm smiling.

I can see that I'm building a strong theater resume. After years of being ignored by the Tech, I can now proudly point to 2 reviews on 2 different sites for 2 different shows saying positive things about my costumes.

I'm getting less afraid of the dark every day. I can see the light more clearly.

And I laugh at the irony of it all. I'm looking for the light, and I've never felt more Goth than I do right now.

Opens tomorrow... And I gotta say, I love my Zeitgeist family.
Why? Here's why.

And for the bargain hunters out there, April 24 is pay-what-you-can night.

There have been a small flock of onions sitting on the bottom shelf of our pantry cabinet for quite some time. Origins unknown. But two of them, holy shit did they ever have the will to live. No soil, no sun, no water, and they fucking sprouted, big time.

When in the presence of that kind of sheer determination, there's clearly one thing that must be done... So this evening, robogeek and I drove out into the woods. We climbed up to an observation tower, and took in the gorgeous sunset panorama. Then we found a patch of moist soil, dug holes using a rock, a stick, and our bare hands, and planted the onions.

Sometime in the future, we plan to visit them.

Seen at a bus stop yesterday:

"You can't buy happiness, but you can drink it"

Because, you know, that makes so much sense. *rolls eyes*