I’m Quitting Writing to Become a Stripper
Yeah, right. However, not long ago a male acquaintance suggested I do just that. This really blows my mind because he was the second person to do this in the last year. I am and have always been fairly conservative, kept to myself and not any type of exhibitionist so what is it that makes them say such things?
Well the first time this was suggested to me, I was still doing okay writing but not in the eyes of my friend’s boyfriend who said it. “You should become a stripper. You have the body for it.” I got mad at him. He didn’t understand why. He thought it was a compliment. I guess as a concerned friend, he thought it could really help pay my bills…
The second time it was said to me by a person who’s formal education exceeds my own. He is obviously a moron, though. Money nor degrees can do anything about that… ” You should become a stripper and write about it.”
As I sit here smoking a skinny joint from the balcony of my posh Hollywood Hills mansion, I cannot help but remember the days when I slaved away in a dilapidated nursing home for $9 an hour. The management were such scumbags to me there that they fought over giving me my yearly $0.30 raise and settled on a $0.15 raise for one year and a whopping $0.10 for the following. Thank-you sir may I have another!?
During those days when my boss would leave for the afternoon, I’d stare out the window and wonder how the hell I ended up in this mess. I would watch the sun go down slowly from my office window and know it was only temporary and that one day I would transcend this position by a million percent. I hated it there.
I don’t really care about mansions. I don’t really care about marijuana. I do care about options and possibilities. I don’t live in a mansion and I don’t smoke pot, but I would like the flexibility to do so if I wanted to. I have always had an interest in film. When I write my books, I envision them in three dimensions. I see them playing out in my head like the movie and that is how I often create realistic dialogue and dramatic tension. Some of the people I admire most are Quentin Tarantino and Kevin Smith, both writers and famous filmmakers. Both are also individuals who would be considered late bloomers by society’s standards.
Tarantino worked at a Manhattan Beach video rental store until he was thirty. It was around this time a friend with connections encouraged him to write Reservoir Dogs. It took him three weeks to write the screen play and once made into a film it received high acclaim at the Sundance Film Festival. The rest is history….
Kevin Smith has a similar story. Smith worked as a clerk at a convenience store. Around age 30, Smith maxed out his credit cards and borrowed money from family to create the epic film Clerks. The production of Clerks cost $30,000. It was filmed with a regular video camera in black and white. Smith used the convenience store where he worked as the movie set. Filming in black and white allowed him to conceal the fact that they were always filming at night (because the store was open during the day) thus giving them more flexibility for the chronological details of his script. After the completion of the film, he entered it into The Sundance Film Festival where it was picked up by Miamax almost instantly.
On Friday April 6th, famous “painter of light” Thomas Kinkade died. Kinkade is known not only for his beautifully cheerful paintings but his strong faith and belief in Christianity. Within many of his paintings, he hid the names of his family members as well as Christian messages and symbolism such as the fish that he painted under his every signature. His nickname, “painter of light,” is likely a reference to the Renaissance; the era where the techniques of point of view and specifically light and shadow depiction were technically developed and perfected. In this era, the technique chiaroscuro was born. Chiaroscuro is a technique that utilizes light and dark shades and shadows to create realistic depth through usage of these various contrasting tonalities. The discovery of this way of painting light and shadow was drastic in comparison to the Byzantine style used throughout the middle ages.
Most artists in this country are greatly under-appreciated. When I refer to most artists, I am not talking about the musicians and actors who are bringing home multimillion dollar paychecks each year. No. I’m talking about the artists who are barely getting by and if they’re lucky, still living in their parent’s basements. These artists are hanging onto their last thread of identity, uselessly dragging their fingernails through the sand as the undertow of conformity threatens to pull them in at any moment. They are almost drowning, almost. They are tired. Tired of rejection, tired of trying, and most of all tired of fighting the culture of conformity; an entity that berates their life’s choices at every opportunity. Most give up, some drown, but a small percentage hang in there, hoping that each new day might be the day that they get their big break.
The pressure to conform is immense. It does not just come from “well-meaning” friends and family who think the solution to the artist’s problems is to get a regular 9-to-5 like everybody else. These people do not understand the call the artist is pursuing to begin with. What they’ve noticed is that the artist in their life is struggling; that they don’t have health insurance and barely enough money to pay for gas. In their eyes, these dilemmas are reason enough for the artist to give up on their unrealistic pursuit, their dream, and get a real job. And they view the artistic pursuit as just that: a dream. To them, the artist’s goal of sharing their art with the world is an unattainable fantasy.
In moving a lot I’ve had to adapt to many different jobs. After moving from Idaho to rural Minnesota I tried selling Real Estate again, but the home prices were so low that I was barely covering my gas and advertising.
One night I attended a PartyLite party at the home of a new friend. Lisa, the consultant, showed us candles and gift-ware and mentioned that she averaged $100 in income per party. I listened closely. I couldn’t afford to buy anything, but asked her to contact me. Two weeks later I booked my “starter party” (and the 6 parties I’d give as a requirement to earn a free kit). We were new in a town of under 1100 people. I knew only the ladies who worked at the bank in town so it was a tough start. I didn’t know, at the time, the impact Lisa would have in my life. I was the first consultant she sponsored that made it past the first 6 parties. It wasn’t that I was great at it. I was desperate.
The card from Lisa thanking me for the guest list for my starter party. She says "I'll think we'll make good partners - and I know you have what it takes to be successful." Powerful words, I looked at them often and they lived in my heart.
I was honored in my first year when our Sr. Regional VP, Susan, called to ask me to do my first training. She had the national sales averages and said my number of guests per party was higher than the regional or national average. When you have low income women, they don’t spend much so you need higher attendance. I adapted my hostess routine to make sure there were more guests per party. Susan wanted me to train on what I was doing.
1997 my first full year and the first note I got from Susan on the monthly magazine page. I was number 7 in sales out of over 20,000. She wrote "Feel Proud of your Success Doris" Powerful words, I was walking on air.
What a challenge! Susan had a healthy 6 figure income and a large productive region filled with dynamic Leaders. She was also caring and genuine. It was important to me not to disappoint her. I was nervous about standing at a podium in front of at least 150 women with pens poised. I had handouts of the document I adapted to give each hostess as a checklist, and one I created to ensure I didn’t miss a single extra step. I wasn’t doing anything special, I was just regimented. My goal was that my hostess always got $100 in free product. If I made it happen for her, I earned $100, and my happy hostess would have more parties in the future.
At the podium that day, I forgot my nervousness as I focused on the importance of what I was passing on as I spoke. Later, consultants came up to ask me more questions. The following month something magical happened, many came to thank me for helping them increase their guest count. They were sincerely happy and proud that they had done the work and it paid off. Home sales isn’t an easy business. There’s lots of rejection and though it’s hard work, you don’t get much respect for doing it. You must constantly push yourself but you can never be pushy with others. I had a warm glow for days knowing I helped others meet their goals.
Bulimia, What Made Me Feel So Much Better?
Those days I didn’t feel alone, I just wanted to be left alone. Something about binging then purging my food calmed me, but why?
- Hayley Rose 2006
It was years before I got a better understanding of it all. Between years of doing it and not doing it, the issue began to dwindle. It was during the times my bulimia seemed to be non-existent and then spontaneously seemed to start up again that I gained my best insight. When the binging and purging would return after long periods of normal eating/living, the psychology became clear.
Was I dating someone that was wrong for me? Or hanging out with the wrong people? In a job that made me miserable? It seemed that whenever I was making or living poor choices, I’d find myself in the bathroom vomiting sometimes four or five times a day.
Finally, after more than a decade of living like this, I began to see the pattern. My behavior was similar to the behavior of an alcoholic who turned to drink. Rather than confront my issue I ignored it through the mind-numbing compulsion that is the disease bulimia.
This I did despite knowing how dangerous anorexia or bulimia can be.
It was during the final and worst romantic relationship of my life that I began to see these patterns. Why was I throwing up again? Wasn’t I suppose to be happy that I was with a nice guy for once? Nice is an adjective far from what he truly was. I think even then I knew the truth, but by then it was too late; I was already on my way down a landslide without any footing. The red flags were there and I didn’t want to see them. The longer I stayed, the more I threw up.
At the height of my vomiting, when our relationship finally began to unravel, we got into an argument over it. It disgusted him, I disgusted him, but even that wasn’t what the fight was about. “You could just stop but you don’t want to!” he shouted.
If you haven’t yet read these articles now you can check them out on The Huffington Post
Need a Miracle?
Recently, I found myself on Google doing some “research.” I was having a particularly bad night and typed in the following: “I need a miracle.”
Read the full article here
2011, The Lesson I Learned: Be Proud of Your Failures
Life is difficult sometimes. Is it just me, or is it true that when things feel as if they couldn’t get any worse something (or several somethings) else goes wrong?
Follow the jump to check out the full article
Sexual Assault: Can You Ever Move On?
If your first “sexual” experience is a violent crime, can sex and rape ever be dissociated?
Follow the jump to check out the full article
So The Holidays Are Depressing for Some People? That’s what I hear…and this year I might be joining the ranks of the Scrooges and the lonely who curse the holidays all the way to New Year’s Day. Why? Many reasons, but today I am going to talk about one reason in particular.
A week or so ago when I was tuning my guitar, I broke the E-string (the little one on the end). I have been so busy this past week I did not have time to get a new one until tonight. I finally made the long drive to the music shop, upon pulling into the plaza I was very confused. I looked from one side to the other but did not see the sign for Daddy Junky’s anywhere…Crap…So then I drove to the mall where I was lucky to find a set of generic strings at one of those big box “music stores” where not one of the clerks could help me figure out what strings were best for an acoustic/ electric- in fact, no one on staff knew anything about guitars or instruments at all!
Today I flunked out of self-esteem class. And no. I’m not joking.
“I just don’t think I can get through to you. Don’t take it personally, but here’s a list of other therapists that might be a better fit. It was nice meeting you.” Are you serious? Good thing I didn’t take it personally- that would’ve been very detrimental to my self-esteem.
Upon hearing of my expulsion from self-esteem class, my other counselor -the one who recommended me for self-esteem classes- subtly asked me not to come back. I told her what he’d said and how I was confused as to what he meant by he couldn’t get through to me. I am not a child. I didn’t misbehave. I took the class seriously. As we conversed and continued to talk about other things she seemed to become very irritated with me.
Filed under Dating, Domestic Violence, Friendship, Fun, Growth, Healing, Heart, Inspirational, Life Lessons, Motivation, Passion, relationships
Photo by Hayley Rose, 2011
I went running in the woods on the 2.5 mile loop that I love. I was hoping to reach the very sedative yet meditative state that one reaches after prolonged physical activity, but my brain was thinking overtime par usual. I decided to run the loop twice and by my fourth mile I was getting a bit fatigued as I began my battle against the steepest hill of the trail. As I began my ascent up the monster of an incline, I noticed a very inviting bench off to the side. Maybe I should sit down for just a minute…