I Dream of Dita

I'm baaaack!

Sorry for the delay in well, everything. Apparently during my time away from Blogger they suffered from some problems of their own with postings so in a way, it was probably for the best that I wasn't on the interwebz. I've been ridiculously busy though-nonstop writing at work, going to Disneyland and my alma mater's (again, that sounds so strange to write) commencement ceremony, and seeing Bridesmaids (which was hilarious. I laughed so hard I cried on multiple occasions.)

Amidst all of these great moments came the biggest one on Tuesday night, when I and one of my closest girlfriends went to the Roxy Theatre to see one of my biggest fashion icons, Dita von Teese, perform in Strip Strip Hooray. I've been in love with Dita since 2004, I think, when I first saw her in Marilyn Manson's "mOBSCENE" music video. Back in the day, I was a big Manson fan, required musical listening for an angry 13 year old semi-Goth girl. Since then, I've phased out of buying his albums, but I never got over Dita. I absolutely adore her look and the way that she fights to bring back glamour in a world of tracksuits and UGGS. When I first heard that she was engaged to marry Manson, I was starstruck and bought that precious, precious copy of Vogue that contained the pictures to her Vivienne Westwood wedding gown. I was so completely consumed with their wedding that when I was a senior in high school and had to create a "future box" filled with pictures on the inside of who I hoped to become when I was older, I cut out a picture of Dita in that wedding dress and stuck it in. (Note: I aspire to be like a super fashionable dame, not to get married. That part needs to be stressed.)

When news broke out that the marriage didn't work out, I was crushed. And when the news broke out about Manson canoodling with Evan Rachel Wood supposedly during his marriage to Dita, I was enraged. That douche! Who cheats on such a gorgeous magnificent woman with the chick from Thirteen? I was fully on Team Dita afterward-especially when all of those creepy photos started surfacing of Evan attempting to dress like Dita. Barf.

In short, seeing Dita live has been one of my biggest dreams. One evening I was poking along on my Twitter feed when I noticed that Dita (I follow her account) had written she would be at the Roxy out in West Hollywood and included a link to the tickets. It can't hurt to look I told myself, besides they're probably too expensive anyway.

Tickets were $35.

Holy Santa Claus shit.

I texted my friend, confirmed we would both be going, and clicked purchase all within the next 15 minutes.

We arrived at 6pm when the show was set to let people in at about 7pm. We were the first couple of people there, with a line that progressively got longer and longer behind us and a second long, long line for people buying their tickets at the door. Once we got inside, we stood right by the runway leading out from the stage where Dita and the other burlesque performers would sashay out on.

"You don't want to stand there," a very kind woman told us who was facing the stage, "You'll want to stand right where I am. The performers only come out to the runway briefly and then stay on the stage the entire time. Trust me, I've been to a bunch of these shows before."

Normally I don't advocate listening to the advice of strangers (especially in WeHo) but in this case, we happily agreed. Plus the buzz of the booze we were sipping on helped coax our minds too. This would turn out to be the best decision we made because the entire time during the show, we were a mere foot away from the performers. One foot! And we weren't even VIP or sitting in the expensive booths. Fate dealt us one badass hand of luck that night.

Burlesque is a weird topic for me to bring up with friends. "Yeah, I'm going to a burlesque show." Everyone just assumes that you're going to a strip club, but that isn't the case at all. Burlesque is truly an artful performance on stage that titillates the audience with over the top and exaggerated depictions of serious acts. It's all very tongue-in-cheek, winking at you the entire time with playful performances that truly do require years of professional dancing and concentration in order to pull off. Nobody gets fully naked either. At the bare minimum, the dancers will still have a g-string and pasties on to cover their nipples.

Dita opened with her Martini glass act which is incidentally the act I first saw her do in the mOBSCENE video. She walked out in a men's suit, took it off piece by piece and hopped into a giant martini glass filled with water and studded with Swarovski crystals and proceeded to bathe herself with a stuffed olive.

Her second big act was the powder puff compact, in which she pops out of a giant powder compact, resplendent in ballet slippers and a corset and danced on pointe on the stage. Out on the runway, she'd bop a couple of people upside the head (gently) with a little powder brush. This performance is extremely popular in Paris and is quite gorgeous to watch.

The most elaborate performance was her final act, as a Geisha girl where she held on to tassels in her little boudoir to dance with. Hands in orange gloves would pop out from the darkness behind her to reach out and touch her and the entire dance was scored by a remixed Japanese-infused version of The Cure's "Fascination Street."

It is a miracle I didn't pass out from all of the stars exploding in my eyes.

Oh, there were other dancers, but I couldn't get enough of Dita. Good God, in real life she is even smaller and more beautiful than photos can do her justice of. She was pure grace and old Hollywood glamour incarnate on the stage. I could not watch her performance without feeling a constant wave of awe arise over and over again. It was so stunning, at some points it felt impossible that such a small wonder existed. Which also made me cry out in my head, why, oh why don't we have more lovely ladies like Miss von Teese around today? I have a strong feeling that should the day ever arrive that I could get to be shopping buddies with Dita, we'd get along famously.

Her real name, incidentally, is Heather Sweet. Thus, the reason why I felt such an instant kinship. Heathers and I, we understand each other.

Love to you all,
Heather

Dreamscape Reality

In the midst of the sudden rush of all good things occurring in my life, my mind and subconscious have been acting up. Namely the subconscious.

I've often considered keeping a dream journal and in the past, did have a small book where I wrote the more significant ones in. Depending on where I am in life, my dreams will occasionally light the darker days with pleasant thoughts and dampen my better ones with sadder dreams. When I was working at the former job, I used to dream myself away to a better place in the evenings. Places with fields and the sun and the nice breeze. Which I suppose isn't truly any more different from where I currently live, but y'know, it was. I was different there, filled with more peace and serenity than I ever could be in reality.

The last two nights have presented me with bizarre dreams that I literally could not wake up out of soon enough. Even when I did wake up, I would slip back into the dreams, picking right back up where I left off. Ever notice how that only happens with shitty dreams and never the good ones? Yeah, me too.

Below are my dreams with some analysis included. I analyze my own dreams actively, as I am too broke to afford the viewpoint of a psychologist.

Dream 1

I'm in a subway train, sitting down wearing a white dress. I'm alone and the entire car I'm sitting in is empty. Even though I'm alone, somebody whispers in my ear. The voice tells me that my ex-bf is on the subway too, several cars up. I stand up and walk unsteadily at first to open the door to go to the next car. The subway is moving very fast and I'm having trouble keeping my balance. I get confident and walk faster, and the doors to the next cars get harder and heavier to open. I keep telling myself that this is stupid and to stop trying because reaching him isn't going to do or change anything. I finally get to his car and after throwing the heaviest door yet aside, stumble into a car filled with people I know with him at the center of the subway car space. He smiles at me and I smile back, ecstatic as usual to see him, "You're here!" Then I pretty much jump his bones in the middle of the car (nothing graphic, just some making out) in front of everyone.

Cut to a moment later on when we are both in a car together. He's driving and I'm telling him to take me to Beverly Hills so I can meet up with a friend there. I tell him thank you and he replies of course. We're both older here (in our 30's I'm guessing) and both well-dressed in very pale colors. The sun is setting and we keep passing skyscrapers. I tell him I don't mean to be a burden and he tells me I'm not and I take his hand while he is driving and feel very sad because I know that those stupid glass walls are once more building up.

***

Analysis: I am thinking too much about my alma mater's impending graduation ceremony this coming weekend. Which he is graduating in. I keep hoping for something to happen, whether I admit it to myself or not. Mostly I just don't want to lose his friendship which over the last year has been something I think has already been lost, if not buried.

I'm just tired. I'm tired of thinking of thinking about him every single day, tired of him popping up on my radar, tired that he comes into my head every night before I go to sleep, tired of wishing that I could share all of my good news with him, tired of having imaginary daydreams, tired of everyone telling me to stop thinking about him, tired of having to sit there and pretend I've moved on and am okay with hearing about him with someone else, tired of trying to connect with other guys and nothing happening because they didn't make me laugh like he did and tired of the fear that I didn't amount to anything more than some silly girl in his eyes.

And tired that he spun our story differently to other people, unbeknownst to me. In his version, I was the problem. Maybe I was. I know for a matter of fact that I was. I know I definitely said some things that were completely inappropriate and had it been the flip side of the coin and I was on the receiving end of the remarks, I would never want to speak to me again. But I said I was sorry. It was an apology I meant. He apologized too. I just never added the underlying part that I would have liked to have tried again. Sometimes I think that maybe time was what was needed, distance, to heal. But then we see each other every so often and it is good for about five minutes before he goes over to flirt with some other girl and I'm left feeling like I need to go flirt with somebody else too to prove that I'm fine with this, I'm good. In the words of one of my favorite movies, Jeux d'enfants (Love Me If You Dare), I'm "game." (Cap Ou Pas Cap)

The most significant part of this dream is that I tell myself to stop it, to let go and quit. This is the first time I've actively told myself when dreaming about him everything everyone else has told me. Even though I don't follow my own advice, I dispense it this time, instead of everyone else doing it for me.

These days I've often found myself wishing for a more private social media outlet to let myself out on as well. I do love having my blog be an open forum to read. It allows me to tell the world things they would never have known about me otherwise because I have a hard time telling people things about me. So naturally even in my dreams, there is a big crowd of people observing my life.

Dream 2

I'm living in my beautiful San Francisco. I'm working for my former employers though, with all of the same girl coworkers I had before. It's not an agency anymore though. I work as a dancer for a diner (part Coyote Ugly with some Sucker Punch mixed in) and we all have to dance for the customers in short skirts and fishnets. And I'm crying because I need to get out of there and can't believe that I'm working for them again and even though I love that city so much, I need to leave it in order to restore my sanity.

***

Analysis: That job from hell I first had upon graduating from college has forever left an imprint on me. It has taught me to be forever cautious and wary of places I work in the future. I will never again work anywhere for the prestige of a "title" if it means compromising my happiness and ethics.

For some time during my job search, when I couldn't find anywhere to hire me, I used to think to myself that this was a sign that I wasn't destined to work for anyone or any company. Perhaps it was an arrow pointing down to me that told me to begin my own business or just freelance for life. That's the beauty of being a starving writer. We are our own bosses in the end.

I absolutely love what I do now, and cannot stress it enough. I am continually being blessed with strong female role models in my life who influence me consistently. With this in mind, I've been spending some considerable time lately redefining the "ideal working situation" in my head. If the recession has taught me anything, it is that some traditions need to be broken, now.

The ideal working world, if run by me, would consist of 4 day workweeks. 30 hours would be considered full-time. Cubicles would be banished. Windows would be a must in every room as well as modern pop art paintings for the walls. The office would pay for lunches for everyone and there would be an endless amount of amusing work desk notes passed out. You would never clock in or out. There would be a paycheck every week. And guys and girls would dress swell with zero jeans included (I believe I would reinforce a dress code above most work priorities...)

Sometimes I wonder if I'm meant to be the change. If the reason why I get put in terrible situations is because I'm meant to learn from it (as it seems I'm always stuck learning some sort of lesson) and take that experience to change things for others. The more I think about it, the more reasonable it gets. Human beings are not designed to sit and numbly type in thousands of numbers for hours on a keypad. It is not fair that in this life it seems there are two groups of people: the haves and have-nots. It is wrong to me that so many people have to overexert themselves on the worst possible, menial tasks simply to make the rent every month whereas others sit around and are so bored with their lives, all they can do is complain.

I'll never forget the situation I was in before because it lasted for 9 months. Know what else takes 9 months? Being pregnant. That job was literally the child I was stuck carrying that I did not want even though it looked like a good idea at first. Those 9 months filled me with so much misery that I'm often so startled looking back on it. I can't believe I did it for that long. There are others who do it longer than me though and in the future, for every step I climb upward, I want to be sure to take others with me. I hope to give many people the opportunity to be happy within their working field, particularly since this field is communications which is one of the most vibrant fields around.

This is slowly beginning to happen, since I've just received the go-ahead at my career (it's not a job anymore, folks) to hire my own interns. I get two for the summer. Seeing as I was just as intern myself not even a year ago, this opportunity to oversee the work of others and mentor them has been gracious and immediate. I knew almost instantly who I wanted to have work for me. It wasn't a matter of picking out friends to goof off with. It was about being able to change someone's world and give them valuable job experience that they could take with them onward and upward wherever they went. I had the ability to help and turn things around, and I did it. I look forward to working with them too, being the boss that having learned from terrible bosses in the past, will not power trip or pull them aside to ridicule them or openly talk down to them or laugh off their concerns. Being firm and fair are the best ways to be a good boss to me, with priorities first mixed with laughter.

The time for the ideal working situation is now.

Cap Ou Pas Cap?

I'm game for it.

Love to you all,
Heather

Starring Zooey Deschanel as Me

Let us pretend we live in a world where my life is getting made into a made-for-TV movie shall we? As I've mentioned before, I'd like me to be played by Zooey Deschanel (though Daisy Lowe is still my firm backup actress du jour).

Zooey and I, we've got the mad similarities. The brown hair with bangs, the big blue eyes, the fair skin, and the (sorta-close) body shape. However, we have an even larger amount of differences. The whole "I'm in She & Him" thing, she dated Jason Schwartzman once, and is currently married (not to Schwartzman but good God would they beget the most hip hipster baby of all Wes Anderson cinema time)...yeah. In order to correctly portray me on camera, Zooey would have to...

Not be gifted as a guitar player or pretend to play poorly. Portraying me properly includes understanding that I just like to pursue things (most things in life actually) for about two weeks before giving them up. This outstanding list includes volleyball, ballet, horseback riding and ponies in general, painting, baking with an EZ Bake Oven, and relationships with the opposite sex (not all, but most).

Be very indecisive on what to wear in the mornings. Some mornings are just tougher than others, you know? You feel fat in everything, nothing hangs right, nothing matches. Before you know it your entire closet is on the floor, with some pieces sliding off of your bed and you feel like crying and calling in sick to work because nothing is working out and the entire morning is already a disaster!

The worst part? You haven't even done your hair yet.

I feel like Zooey could play me to a T in this everyday scenario in my world.

Do an excellent impressive outfit moment. Something involving a staircase or turning around from a balcony railing. The moment where you look super cute and flawless but still effortless, inspiring others to believe "Hey, I can do that too!" My girl has this down.

Zooey playing me would have to film countless scenes in coffee shops and breakfast food cafes (lucky for her, the breakfast food cafes are in West Hollywood, steps away from the mecca of all things hipster: Silverlake). Therefore, she would have to enjoy eating pancakes and drinking iced coffee which are some of the staples of my diet. Look, she's even putting sugar in the coffee. I hope it's Splenda. I don't do anything less than the yellow packet. She's also scrunching her chin fairly akin to how I do...I'm just pointing out how alike we are, you guys. It's not creepy yet.

Here is where we get to the worst part of the made-for-TV movie. The part where Zooey, the dream girl of so very many guys in the world who all happen to be very nerdy and sweet, must portray me, the girl who sits there and raises her eyebrows to most guys as if to say "Can you believe him?" Instead, she must be able to embrace the fact that she will not be able to date any darling JGL's because most unfortunately in my world (and I dare you to contradict me otherwise), they do not exist. She'll be hooking up with colossal douchebags who never call back and pining away for her "Pretty Boy" ex-boyfriend, the egocentric actor that everyone on campus hated and her friends told her was bad for her and she drunkenly swore at on the phone to in a crowded bathroom twice before.

I mean, what? These are all purely hypothetical situations.

There's still hope though. The movie isn't quite over. We have a hot John Stamos (there is no one else to portray him better than himself) living down the street, maybe the ex-boyfriend cleans up his act, maybe she hooks up with that cute guy she graduated with "Coachella Guy", and there are so many late night clubs to still go to in her lifetime. Meeting cute will happen.

And happen.

And happen.

Aaaaaand happen.

After all she must embody my life response to whether I'm single or not: "I'm seeing the world at large."

Accurate. No need to practice reshooting these scenes.

She has to wear black tights 'round the clock and look a little bit stressed out. I'm a busy girl. Hell, I'm getting my own intern because I'm so busy. However, Zooey still understands that looking good at work is next to godliness. She also shares my love for flats. This picture alone could be the poster for the film. Photoshop in a city skyscraper backdrop and some sassy girlfriends in the background and boom, we've got something that Lifetime could sell on DVD and make a mint off of. MAKE IT HAPPEN WORLD.

Finally...

Spot-on for what's going on upstairs in my mind.

Let's get a campaign for this film to take off happening.

Love to you all,
Heather