trashy.

last night was surreal.

i was at the goth club downtown surrounded by women, mirrors, and costumes, hanging out backstage for several hours. one woman, dressed in a sexy black slip and orange paper flower in her hair, sat on the floor with me and did my makeup, transporting me back to my youth. she darkened my eyes and added blue shimmer, giving me an exotic look. others were changing in and out of costumes around us, male and female drag costumes that incorporated some alternative materials. it was a trashy fashion show after all- our costumes needed to reflect an element of the recyclable.

c's skirt was comprised of silver coffee packets and magazine cut-outs sewn into an amazing tutu. my friend tara was dressed as a flapper. her dress had plastic spoons stitched along the front that flapped up and down as she walked. my outfit, as i've written about before, involved the use of blue, spray painted cosmetic wedges, glued to the mini skirt and bra by c, the producer and designer of the drag shows.

28, soon to be 29, i looked like a hooker on acid and never thought i would be doing what i was doing. sometimes it is positive to force yourself into a radically different situation for a night. the band stopped playing around 11 and all 17 models lined up backstage and did a secret cheer, waiting to walk in front of the crowd. tara and i went out together for our 30 seconds of stage time. the lights were bright and people's faces were covered with a haze. our routine was over fast and before i knew it i was taking off the high heels and the fishnets.

the part of the night that got to me (a little) was knowing that my ex decided not to model because i was going to be in the show, and not only that, boycotted the event completely, despite the fact that many of her friends were in the show. it disappoints me to face that she is that childish and more disappointing to see that i wasted energy on that relationship. even if we had stayed together, i imagine i would have been dealing with her childishness and mean streak and would we still be together? i shift my attention back to what is important: loving life.

i devoted ten minutes this morning to washing away the heavy makeup from last night's interesting venture into performance art. my cat must have been terrified to see me upon waking, eye liner and eye shadow smudged around each eye. i had stayed for some time after the show talking to friends and new people, and it was late by the time i was home, feeling too lazy to take off the makeup. i do not know if i will perform with the drag troupe ever again in my life, but the subject is up for discussion. i felt good dressing up and being in someone else's shoes for a short time on stage. as cheasy as it might sound, performing made me feel free and powerful and like i can get through some difficult experiences and emerge standing strong. it has this healing power that i cannot describe here. you have to experience it to believe it.

year 28 of life has been fucking hell, if you ask me, and i'm looking forward to kissing it goodbye on april 11th. but i did challenge myself to do more this year. i'll give you the full list: studying buddhism and positive thinking, nude art modelling, doing spoken word performance, the poetry book, the fashion show, being involved with numerous clubs, quitting smoking, and expanding my circle of friends. when i blew out the candles on my birthday cupcakes a year ago, i had wished for "an x-rated year." i so wanted my ex-girlfriend to want to be with me. i wanted passionate sex. i wanted to be lucky in love. even though i did not get what i wanted in romance, in a sense, i think i have received that x-rated wish, ending the year dancing on stage for a crowd dressed like a stripper and having the charcoal nude drawing of me, rendered by a local artist, as living proof of living more wildly.