Feed the Dream

Here I am at my porn job, waiting for my colleague to finish pulling dirty movies so we can stuff them into envelopes and sticker them closed.

It seems as if my life has taken a doozy of a swerve.

But then, all is not as it seems.

Strangely, I think I have somehow gotten back on track with the life I really wanted for myself, the one I had been planning, or perhaps not planning, maybe it was more a "dreaming of" thing.

I've always wanted to be a writer. I've always wanted to have kids. I've always wanted to have a home. I've always wanted to teach-- although the what and where, and to whom has changed.

When I pictured my life it was me, in a home full of plants and light, with the kids, and a partner, doing my writing, surrounded by art and music and pets and people who care. I dreamed of being published, not just my novels, but also essays, articles. I dreamed of people asking me (okay, paying me) to come and talk to them. I think I dreamed about being an authority, of knowing what the hell I was doing, and having people trust in me.

Right now, my life is wierd. I work in porn, for godsake-- but I'm realistic. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, and I needed to take this job. But this job does not take me off my path. Even though the pay is shit, and the business is wierd, and it's not gonna go anywhere, it actually is getting me closer to doing what I really want to do than teaching high school ever did.

Okay, let me qualify that. Teaching, and the masters degree that went with it, and the people I met, and the experience I got, and the research I did-- those all got me closer to being who I wanted to be, to knowing what I was doing, to being a grown up. But being an actual teacher was like getting sucked the wrong channel of a river. I'm still on the same river, but it is not going where I want to be going. I kept trying to get back to the other part of the river, but kept getting dragged back into the rapids and rocks of teaching. I spent a lot of energy fighting that flow.

Now there is no fighting the flow my life is taking me on.

The only fight is within myself. Which is actually a good place to be fighting if you're an artist. That's where all the richness is. That's actually why this blog is named Warrior Girl. The struggle to live into myself. To be the best me. To be creative and productive.

And I wasn't about to change the struggle just because I have a wiggly peanut growing inside of me.

Isn't it all part of the same thing? The same dream. Isn't being the best you the greatest thing you can do for your children, your family. I certainly know that when I am not creative, I'm not very much fun to be around. I'd rather feed myself so I have something to give to my baby when he gets here. And to my boyfriend, because he deserves to not have a dependent, boring leech sucking off his vitality.

I also can't let having a baby change my goals of being a writer-- an actual working writer, who publishes and gets paid, and someday does speaking engagements and teaches classes-- because, frankly, I gotta make some money. I may not get rich, but that's the way I've chosen to make my living. So I can not only feed myself and my family metaphorically, I can feed them literally, too.