I had quite the phone day yesterday and today.
I hate the phone, in case I haven’t made that clear in the recent past. Despise it. Seriously. I’m trying to get over this because it’s really my anxiety disorder talking, and maybe I should just take up smoking during phone calls so I can get through them… but I don’t smoke and probably shouldn’t take it up as a hobby anytime soon, so I just deal. I pop my anxiety meds and I deal with the triggers.
Anyway… yesterday and today I spent some time on the phone.
Yesterday a friend from home called. It’s the friend who I suppose really is one of my best friends but she’s not my BEST friend even though I’m hers so that’s always awkward as hell. She keeps messaging me to tell me how much she misses me and while I miss her sort of sometimes it’s just not a regular thing. I miss my lesbian playwright friend morning noon and night and I’m not sure she’d call me a bestie. This might have something to do with the fact that I often think about sleeping with her… that’s beside the point.
So I talked to Friend From Home about her latest drama which included her in-laws being general douches and the fact that she’s pissed about it. This conversation took about sixty minutes.
Then I did other things around the house – cleaned and dishes and cooked delicious food.
Then I got a text from The Pansexual Pornstar asking if it would be an okay time to call.
I appreciate that shit – I really do. Someone texting you first. Because then I can mentally prepare myself for the phone call or I can tell them I can talk at a later time if I need even more preparation time.
I’m lonely as fuck since moving to this new town so it didn’t take me as long as usual to prepare.
Talking to her is always sort of surreal on multiple levels.
On one level she is the reason I am a lot of what I am today. I always admired her when she was a student of mine. Not in a sexual way, but in a personal one. She was so fucking stalwart about her beliefs system and her vegetarianism and her environmental activism and all her convictions. Plus she was super talented and worked her ass off to get things perfect the first time. I admired these things and she is one of the reason I went veg in the first place. It’s funny because if I had to pick which kid I taught would be the divorced pansexual pornstar she would’ve been last on my list. Especially picturing her chainsmoking as I know she was on her back stoop in the middle of the city while we dished about her latest rendezvous with a straight man in the middle of the pouring rain on the very same back stoop were she was smoking at that instant. She called me for advice.
I always find it strange when she does this because I feel like I should be asking her for advice.
I’m not going to pretend I think she has it all together. She doesn’t. And all that shit when she was a high school kid was anxiety ridden and fake… but now I just want her to tell me what the fuck to do next and she’s calling me to ask for advice on money and whether or not she should take the job touring with her favorite band around the country. They offered her the job the night she had the one-night-stand with the hot straight guy who is also a musician in the middle of the rain on the back stoop. Who also made her breakfast and drove her to class at the community college.
I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.
It’s just not real.
But it is.
Today she sent me a link to her alter-ego’s blog so I could see what she’s doing in the porn industry. Should I feel proud that one of my students is using her acting skills professionally? Or ashamed that she’s using them to essentially sell her body? But then again, she makes indy feminist porn so what does that even mean?
Of course I did research so I could feel educated and hip.
I can’t wait to hang out with her next time I’m in town.
I often wonder what my life would look like if I had no morals. And then I wonder if I should just act out all of those things because I’m thinking about them anyway, right?
Tonight I went to a Bible study at the New Church and we talked about Jesus thoughts on divorce and how he’s really talking about how fucked up it is that men can just toss a woman to the side and she’s completely and utterly wasted because she’s no longer “pure”, but he can just go and marry whoever else he wants to and have ten kids but she’s out on the street begging or prostituting herself because no one wants a “used woman”.
I’ve been dishing about that with The College Roommate who happened to be talking about it with other friends at the very same time and how fucked up we feel like we are because of what the church told us about purity when we were kids. All the value tied up in our virginity. What a mess. I feel like I was more screwed up by that than just about anything else that happened to me as a kid. Seriously – who the hell wants to be told they’re a used piece of chewing gum?
This morning, before the Bible Study and all, I got a phone call from The College Professor. Her voice is just… the most amazing voice on the planet. She should sell it in bottles, for real. She was talking to me about finding my way in this new place and getting myself out there as a director and actress and what have you. She wrote “you’re stronger than you know” to me on FB and told me she admires me. SHE admires ME. I felt so fucking unworthy. She’s porcelain perfect and talented and makes twenty extra pounds and cardigans look like the sexiest, classiest thing on the planet. She also smells good. All. the. time.
I also found a bunch of great tomboy fashion and decided, fuck it, I look freaking HOT in this stuff. I’m going to stop pretending I don’t love men’s clothing.
How’s that for tonight’s spillage, eh?