My psyche has taken on a new anxiety dream theme. It’s the runaway car.
I dreamt that I was driving in a very large city when I realized my brakes weren’t working no matter how hard I mashed the pedal. I tried downshifting (no dice) and hitting the e-brake.
I spun the car backwards and ended up speeding out of control in reverse. I managed to blow through every red light and I could see them lining up in the distance.
All I could do was buckle my seatbelt, lay on the horn and brace myself.
I ended up at some kind of crazy hippie commune. Everyone was eating except for me, because I couldn’t find my wallet to buy a meal (so much for the spirit of communism). It was a very strange scene where people were all weird about food and dressed in PJs.
And they were way into meat. Like, strangely so. That’s no surprise given everyone’s current obsession with bacon and the Paleo lifestyle.
I’m having this dream a lot more recently and it’s no surprise. My life is a complete runaway car, always careening towards disaster but miraculously never getting totaled. Clearly my subconscious is telling me that it’s time to dial it back.
I’m constantly trying to figure out who I am and what I want. Most of the time I end up trying too hard at just about everything, including being myself.
Sometimes I try so hard to be myself that I’m not myself anymore. I’m more like a caricature of me. Does that make sense? I’m trying to find that sweet spot where the chaos is fun versus the chaos being stressful.
So much is always going on. Marlo’s training was worth every penny and every minute. I appreciate how she valued our time, too. There was no redundancy or irrelevant teaching exercises, but it was intense. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
However, I’m not accustomed to this kind of focus. I’m used to a hundred things happening simultaneously. It’s like juggling versus handstands, you know?
When it was over I needed to check out mentally for a while. I was so focused on remembering every word, cue and motion that my brain kind of seized up.
I’m out of practice with this learning stuff. Fortunately I have a few days until the next Pole Deity Girl Crush shows up at my house. Who? Lara Michaels.
I’m less freaked out about taking classes with her because 1) I am off the hook for the Dead Lifts/Iron X workshop because I don’t meet the pre-requisites, and 2) I’ve taken a class with her before and she is very accessible.
She’s like the most beautiful/popular/talented/smart girl in high school that is genuinely nice to everyone. If that even existed in high school. Mythical creature?
The well-known instructors I’ve met have a such interesting “other” lives. I like being able to pull back the curtain a little and find that behind the beautiful and intimidating surface is a closet nerd, or a violinist, or a cerebral reader.
Hanging out with pole dancers is very interesting but never for the reasons one might think. I suppose I just like getting to know people.
A friend of mine is questioning whether she should finish her degree in English Lit or just get on with the rapidly growing business she’s launched in the pole industry. She’s brilliant and has traction when it comes to getting things done.
Having completed a degree totally unrelated to my job (if you can call what I do a job, although it is work), I’m not the best person to ask. If she can start her business two years earlier and with less debt, why not? No one cares about your degree if you are self-employed.
My only (semi-serious) reason for completing the degree is so she’ll fit in with all the other pole dancers I know that hold advanced degrees.
Time to cut the crap.