Pregnancy and Pervology (edited to change a title that brought too many pervs to my blog. )

So here I am, in 2005, pregnant and working part time in the porn industry.

What?! Is it a new sub-genre?

No, no. I'm working for a mail order DVD company. I sort and label porn movies so they can go out via snail mail to horny folks all over the country.

It's kinda wierd. I don't really know what to think about it, except for the fact that I need some money, even if it isn't very much money at all.

Usually, I don't even pay attention to the fact that what I'm sorting is pornography, but then the guys I work with will start talking about it. Nothing graphic, but it just reminds me. And then there are the titles, and the DVD covers. "Barely Legal 39" "Asian Street Hookers 16," "Brazilian Booty 27" And those are the not-raunchy titles.

I might be getting porn brain. Not the sex acts-- I don't actually watch the movies. I don't actually want to, but it's just the descriptions on the labels. They get my brain going. Like, I saw a preview for this new reality show, "Super Nanny," where some Mary Poppins goes into out of control families, and says things like, "You've been very, very naughty." In a proper English accent, of course. All I could imagine was the nanny in thigh highs and stilettos, holding a riding crop. "You've been very, very naughty. You must be punished." A new film called, maybe... "Super Dirty Nanny."

I have to laugh some times. It's funny. I work at a porn company. I work at a porn company. What the hell am I doing there? Oh yeah, trying to keep Sean and I off the street. At least it's an intriguing job. Well, no, I lie. It's boring as hell. Repetitive. I've only been there three days, and already I'm as fast as the other guys. My eight years working in school libraries have apparently served me in good stead. I can put things in numerical order!

And yet, I can't help wondering about the women who would star in these movies. I don't think girls without serious issues end up doing porn movies. I just don't. Maybe people like the idea that the girls are just sex crazy, it's certain more pleasant to believe that than to face that most of those women have been neglected, abused, raped, whatever.

I'm working there because I need money. I'm working there because I can't bear to go back into the restaurant industry-- I've realized I'm done with it. I can't go back to teaching because that will be it for my life, just teaching. I can't even substitute because I know I will get sucked back into teaching because it's safe and because I care too much. I'm working at this wacko shit job because I need to be a writer. I need to focus on it. I need to be real. I can't be distracted by any job.

Ofcourse, I don't need a job to be distracted. I can distract myself single handedly.

I Don't Wanna Sleep Through Life

I'm trying to get my life back together. At least I'm awake through the whole day-- both physically and mentally. Finally. Sleeping through my life is not really what I want to do.

I was offered this job opportunity today-- which is good since I've been unemployed for three months-- and it's a lousy job, but I'm just looking for something to tide me over until ... until... until I have a baby? Until I find a real job? Until writing takes over and I can make money with that???? Until something starts working right? I basically just need money right now. I don't have anything. I'm on an allowance. Not really, but I have to ask Sean everytime I need to refill my metro card or get a carton of milk. Not a situation I like. Not a situation I've been in since I was fourteen. I can't believe I've been able to go this long without bringing in even a little bit of money. Then again I was pretty near comatose for most of it.

Here I am, sick of being poor, yearning to be able to go shopping again or at least go sit in a cafe and write on my laptop, and I am actually considering taking this job.

So what's the big deal about the job? Well, first of all, the job is as a mail sorter. Woo hoo. Exciting. But then, that's not such a big deal-- sitting around for a while being mindless. It's not taxing. Make a little money. Go shopping. Fine. So where's the problem? Aside from pride?

Problem-- I would be sorting mail for a porn company.

I don't know how I feel about that. On the negative side-- ick. And the fact that I'm a feminist and as a feminist I kind of have a problem with most porn. Then I can't get over that it really doesn't pay that much. Three negatives.

On the plus side-- a little money is better than no money, it's a kooky job description to add to my list of life long jobs, and then, I don't know what it could lead into-- not that I want to get into porn, but, you never can tell what doors can be opened by taking a chance.

If I get a real job, I'll never commit to doing something as scary as being a real writer. I'll always get busy with whatever requirements my job asks of me. And thinking that in six months I'm gonna have a baby to commit to... I've got to do this thing, this writing thing, or it won't ever happen. I don't know if I can live with my ambition-- my dream for the last twenty years-- folding and collapsing around me just because I didn't make an effort.