I worked as an exotic dancer for about a year when I was 18. This summer, I decided to return to it. I needed to bring in some extra cash. I had a house cleaning business, but it was only doing okay. I started thinking about exotic dancing. I was thinking about how silly it seems. The fact that people will pay money for nudity shows the sexual repression within our culture. But, hey, I don't mind. I'm in. It pays the bills.
I was thinking about stereotypes regarding strippers - that they are seen as borderline personalities or crackheads with daddy issues, that kind of thing. Of course, some stripper are crazy. And, some stripper do need a bump here and there. And, shit, who doesn't have daddy issues? But, honestly, most stripper are real, everyday people. They are moms, business owners, students or simply women trying to make some money.
I am encompassed by exotic dancing. I have made friends from all different backgrounds. When we talk, we talk about work and money. We make jokes about the industry. We also have a love/hate relationship with our job, just as most people do.
Anyway, I'm suppose to be doing my mid-program review this quarter. And, tonight, I am desperately trying to finish my painting The Raven. But my desperation has only left me feeling frustrated with being a painter, being a student...just being. I am not sure why I feel the need to share this. But, tonight I approach my painting with fear. This leaves me stalled. Paralyzed.
This is my painting, in progress. I will post pictures of some earlier paintings and prints I have created.
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