The Duelists

So... I'm kind of too lazy to say anything about myself or my own life, but I know enough to know that it's important to do things with regularity.  And I'm trying to be better at that, at least until my crippling anxiety and depression come back and kill it.  So I'm going to share a little secret with you. 

If you've ever been to the Renaissance faire (in this case, specifically Pennsylvania, Louisiana, or Las Vegas... is that right?), you've maybe seen these guys:

Post by The Duelists.

The Duelists!  The dark, smouldering one on the right is one of my very dearest friends in the world, and he's also a talented combat choreographer/designer, so you should maybe hit him up if you need some fancy fights in your life. 

You can also ogle more pictures (They're both kind of gorgeous, right?) here.

One more for 2014

Looks like I was doing great at updating this monster... until the Windy City Burlesque Fest kicked my ass and turned my head in hazy circles around Russell Bruner.  My June-time last cryptic post makes that pretty obvious. 

I mean, he *is* gorgeous.  And talented.  And a living, breathing, cartoon-character of a man. 

But that's all, I guess. 


Winter's always been notoriously terrible for my wallet.  I'm trying to eke one more big job out of 2014, but that probably won't happen, all things considered.  I'm also trying to remind myself constantly that everyone starts somewhere.  Even the people who shoot straight off into the stratosphere.  Even Russell.

I have this thing where I like to read the beginnings of blogs.  I follow the "older posts" links all the way back to the beginning, when the people who run them posted once every three months about stupid things like a decent photo of their dog, or the interesting new TV show.  I have to remind myself that it's ok to do those things, to talk about whatever you've got to talk about, until you've got some focused, interesting things to talk about.

Like... I could spend the next year talking about how stupid hot Mark Harmon was way back at the beginning of NCIS, and you'd know what I've been spending all my time doing.  Eventually, I might convince you that I'm some sort of expert on the subject, but I doubt it.  I'm just a strange showgirl-photographer with a wicked jonesing for old men, and clinical depression.

The truth is, I start blogging again when my bank balance hits zero.  I write words into the ether in the hopes that someone might actually read them, and, even more unlikely, someone might want to help me save myself.
  

I'm really good at being mediocre at things.

As the title says, the only thing I seem to be any good at lately is being mediocre at everything.  Granted, my definition of mediocre is probably pretty subjective.  But, before you raise a hand to argue that I'm probably doing just fine, hear me out. 

I have been technically "unemployed" for going on nine months now.  I've figuratively gestated a full-term unemployment baby.  And... I'd like to think that nine months is a whole lot of time to get oneself together, to learn some new things, to change, albeit at a glacial pace.  What have I learned?

1) The first couple of months are really fun.
The first few months after cutting loose from a toxic work situation are FANTASTIC.  And terrifying.  But mostly fantastic.  You're sailing through your life, collecting your unemployment checks and feeling invincible, because you're no longer tied to a situation that was draining you.  You've got all the energy in the world, I daresay I was practically vomiting rainbows every morning while skipping off to the coffeeshop to write.  It was great.  You think that phase is never going to end, that that's what "creative self employment" is always going to look like.

2) The first couple of months are NOTHING like what "creative self employment" really look like. 
At least, not if you're me.  Was I employed creatively?  Yeah.  Was I master of my own domain?  Of course.  But the thing you tend to forget while you're munching your 90th egg sandwich and writing chapter 28 of that LOST fanfiction is that egg sandwiches and LOST fanfiction don't make you any money.  Egg sandwiches, in a fit of cruel irony, tend to COST money, actually.  And, let's be honest, your love for Ben Linus might carry you through a lot of things, but he's not coming to bail you out when your bank account is empty.  You need to do things that actually help your situation. 

3) (counterintuitively) Thinking about money all the time is a shitty way to do things. 
Sometimes you need to sit in a coffeeshop and eat an egg sandwich and write about how stupidly in love with Ben Linus you are.  Sometimes you need that.  After seeing what February did to me, hoo damn, do I appreciate the sweet, sweet sanity of egg-cheddar-sesame bagel and five hundred pages of surly glances and snide comments. 

4) I'm really good at being mediocre at things.
Guess what?  Full circle.  One of the biggest discoveries of... probably my life... is that you actually need to WORK on things to be good at them.  You need to put effort into the shit that you do.  You're all sitting there thinking "well, duh." but this is kind of a big deal to me.  You're talking to the kid who put ZERO effort into schoolwork for the first 12 years of schooling and still walked away with straight-A's.  The kid who had a nervous breakdown after having to TRY to be good at something (literally one thing) in undergrad, and then subsequently sailed through the rest of those four years working on NOTHING and predictably being utterly forgettable at everything. 

Fast forward to... this morning.  (Maybe not quite this morning, this concept has been boiling under the surface for a few days, really)  It's like an epiphany.  You want people to think you're pretty again?  Stop wearing shitty clothes and no make up.  (I mean, by all means, wear shitty clothes and no make up if you want to.  But it occurs to me that I can't remember the last time a random dude catcalled me on the way to the Jewel, and that shit used to happen every. single. day.)  You want to fit into your jeans again?  Quit eating the whole box of mac & cheese in one go.  Also, you're supposed to be training for a 5k.  You want to stop being so forgettable as a performer?  Maybe if you practiced, or watched your acts, or asked for feedback, or did any of the things you're supposed to do? 

I have a feeling it's going to be a ridiculously difficult habit to break.  Partially because it's so ingrained in my being.  Partially because living hand-to-mouth leaves very little room to think about the things that are happening even as far away as the day after tomorrow.  But, really, here's the last thing I'm in the process of learning:

5) Concentrating on living hand-to-mouth isn't really conducive to improving your life situation.
When you're spending all your time worrying about where your rent is going to come from... a week before rent is due... you really aren't spending a whole lot of time trying to figure out how to put enough money away so that this problem doesn't repeat itself next month.  Because that's a fucking fantasy.  If I can't even pay rent this month, what use is it for me to think about next month? 

But here's the thing.  You end up spending all your time taking jobs (ANY jobs) that will pay you a little money right now.  You sign up for that extra day on set.  You take another Stage Management gig.  You sign up for those asanine online websites where you can review songs for a whole 10 cents per song, or sell stock photography, or copywrite in your so-called free time.  You take the job that pays you $20 because you need that $20 RIGHT NOW, instead of using that time to run your acts a few times, or finish your props (FINISH YOUR FANS, MEGAN), or researching who you should be emailing to get more diverse bookings.  (how does that even work?  Really.  I have no idea.  I'm the worst freelancer ever.)


I'm not saying you shouldn't be taking those $20 gigs, because they do add up.  But there's a point where you suddenly realize you're exhausted, you can't remember where the hell the last two months went, and somehow you're still broke.  Maybe I could have just said "work smarter, not harder" and that would have sufficed. 

Maybe that's the biggest irony of all.  For all that I've always been a smart kid, I've never quite figured out how to work smart. 

Exhale

This week may well have been one of the most stressful on record.  I clocked a day on set, tech for one show, and fully costuming a burlesque act. 

It was down to the wire, but I finished the important things, and I rolled with the things that didn't end up happening.  And I learned a few things. Like... that apron I had planned for my burly-q act is totally unnecessary (and also to tie my bustle underneath my corset, because I almost got stuck this week.  O_o)

In the moment, having to finish ten thousand things in the span of about 72 hours is absolutely hellish.  But I say it over and over again, and it's true.  I work best when I'm standing on the edge of a knife.  I don't meander through my projects, I shoot through them with laser focus. 

This week, I'll be spending another day on set, and I have work or job interviews or rehearsal or shows EVERY DAY (except Wednesday.  whee!).  Let's hope we can keep this train moving along. 

Adventure time

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, about what's going to happen to me come Fall.  I'm (obviously) not going back to school this year (I wasn't accepted to the program I applied to, but we'll go for it again next year).  Kenneth has told me over and over again that I need to get out of Provision, and I know he's right.  I know he is.  But, somehow, I keep thinking that maybe I'd stick around for a couple extra months, which would suck me into another season, which would keep me there another year.  And I really just don't think I can take it. 

The thought of searching for another day job is enough to give me fits of anxiety.  It's really the last thing I want to do.  I don't want to admit defeat and crawl home, I don't want a new day job, my whole plan for Singing Raven is hackneyed by lack of time, money, energy, everything.  And I don't want it to be.  Somehow, when other people decide that they're going to make something happen, they do it.  They find the resources.  They find the place that will nurture them and get them moving on the right path. 

I want to do that.  I want to find that way.  I want to figure out how to finance it, and where to go, and just fucking DO. IT. ALREADY.  Because I'm tired of being someone else's doormat. 

I'm not even prepared to wait for fall.  I don't want to think that way anymore.  I don't want to sit here at the desk that's never been mine, and look at the clock and think... once this next show is over...

I'm having such a hard time realizing that I don't have all the answers.  I'm not magically imbued with everything I need to succeed.  It's not a bad thing.  It's just that... I need other people.  I need other people for SO many reasons.  Even if it's just to drag me out of the house long enough to notice that there's a help wanted sign in my neighborhood, that I might not have to make this crazy commute every day.  Or to tell me about some nifty free seminar, or book recommendation, or place to go to ask for information.  I don't have eyes everywhere in the universe.  I can't be in every corner of the city at once to see these things.  But other people can see them, and my friendship with them can make their accessibility so much easier. 

As absurd as it sounds, I've been neglecting the one rule I thought was obvious to me from the start.  It's WHO, not WHAT you know. 

A day of rest

It isn't often that I get a day of rest. 

The truth of the matter is, five years into my Chicago adventure, I'm still just as awful at managing my money and time as I ever was.  I have, at least, gotten better at habitually doing things that pay me, rather than doing things that require a constant flow of spending money. 

But I did indulge today, and headed out into the wild, wide world (ok, my neighborhood) with my cousin.  My cousin who lives barely half a mile from me, whom I haven't seen in about six months.  Because we're both very similar in disposition, and prefer to decompress on our own. 

We went out for coffee and sandwiches, and to wander the shops, and generally just ogle all the things I wish I could thoughtlessly indulge in.  It was a good time. 

Two weeks from now, I will be elbows-deep into what could be my last rodeo as a Stage Manager ever. Depends on how I feel once it's said and done.  It'll be an adventure.  Today, at least, was a day of rest.

Singing Raven Photography

Have I mentioned I take photographs?  Of course I have.  I've beat to death the notion that I am the photographer who doesn't photograph, that there are so MANY reasons why I can't just bugger off and do as I please. 

There really aren't that many reasons.  The biggest one is probably actually depression, which can be significant, but I've been good for a bit, so work's been getting done. 

I take photographs.  Live performances, mostly.  I'd like to shoot bands, but I also do some theater and burlesque work as the need arises.  Comes with the territory of being a burlesque-dancing photographer, whose day job just happens to be for a theater. 

You can check out my photos at www.facebook.com/singingravenphotography

Nifty, yes?

So... it's been awhile.

I had been on a roll here, I think.  If I remember May correctly.  It doesn't seem that long ago, but yet...

I came back and was too starstruck.  I didn't want to drool all over my blog about sexy Germans.
And then I got busy.
And then I got comfortable.


And then I got fired.  So here I am.

I have one more week at work (really, I got laid off, not "pack your stuff" fired.) and I've been trying to put together some sort of plan for my imminent future.

Just what, exactly, am I going to do with myself?

I've been listing the myriad of vintage patterns I've picked up lately on Etsy.  You can check them out at www.etsy.com/shop/ravenwcatz, if you're curious.  Mostly stuff from the 70's and 80's for the time being, but once I've inventoried the lot, there might be some older goodies popping up here or there.

I'm thinking about starting a blog.  Ha ha, you say.  You already have one.  You're writing on it right now.

Let me be more clear.

I'm thinking about blogging.  Having a burlesque blog, one for my photography, and one for these infernal patterns, as I work through and catalog them all.  I think it might be fun to comment on them.  Everything from the evolutionary dead-ends of fashion to finished projects, if I'm so inclined.

I have to remember to apply for unemployment.

I have to remember to register to vote.

Did I mention my birthday is in two weeks?  Yep.

There's a lot going on here, and I hope it doesn't slow down.  Even if I don't have a job in October, it looks like I'll have several gigs lined up that should carry me partway.

Mostly, I can't wait for this week to be over.  Because after that, I won't be obligated to care anymore. 

I'm not dead. I promise!

Things have gotten very busy here for me, and by that I mean:
~I had a bunch of performances all in a row for which I was crazy behind in finishing costumes/choreography/what-have-you.
~THEN it was almost time for me to go on my mini-tour seeing Rammstein.
~THEN I saw them.  In Chicago.  And Detroit.  On the rail.
~THEN (well, not really THEN, more like WHILE I WAS DOING THAT...) I got into the coveted afterparty in Chicago, a surprisingly chill deal wherein I did a little dancing, got Richard Z K to sign my ticket, was TWO FEET from Paul Landers, but all I had in me to say was a lame hello, and generally behaved like a socially inept dweeb.  BUT I GOT IN.  Baby steps. Schneider was also there, but he was pretty preoccupied with some other chick, and since I was busy being awkward turtle I figured I'd just avoid that whole situation.  (not like "PREOCCUPIED" preoccupied.  But he was talking to her, and I was just sort of orbiting them all like some sort of awkward-feeling asteroid (Or Pluto, perhaps?  It has to be awkward not really being a planet anymore.), so.  Yeah.)
~and NOW I'm staring down the barrel of four performances in the next two weeks, four in June, and four in July, not to mention the start of rehearsals for Lebowski (BECAUSE WE'RE DOING THAT AGAIN THIS YEAR.  WHEE!), plus PUDDLE and the Windy City Burlesque Fest, and all the prep work that I have to do for THOSE things, and... Urgh.

So... Busy.  busybusybusy.  But it's good busy. 

P.S.  Paul Landers is wonderful.  I have such a crush it's shameful.  I couldn't say a damn thing to him because I was afraid of sounding like a weirdo.  It was like being in high school all over again, except we're grown adults and there's no reason I should feel that way around ANYONE anymore, particularly someone I might never see again. 

P.P.S

See?

A (very) personal project

Every once in awhile, I get a brainwave that has nothing to do with how much money I could be making.  It doesn't happen very often anymore, since I live in a constant state of financial desperation, but once in a great while, it occurs to me that there are things that I would like to do, simply because I have a passion to do them.  This is one of those moments.

I was supervising a theater rental last night (I brought Kenneth along with me, bribed with coffee, but that's another story.), and I was remarking about how I had no idea what I wanted to do with myself, as I don't even trust myself enough to know that what I want is really what I want, or is good for me.  I've been continually frustrated by this self-mistrust lately. 

Driving home, I dropped Kenneth off at the train, and took Lakeshore Drive up north.  I rarely drive on LSD, because the traffic can be hellish, and really, it's out of my way, unless I have to drop people off at the train for any reason.  Zipping up the shoreline, I hazarded a glance out at the endless darkness that is Lake Michigan.  And I remembered how much I love the water, and how it's really been nagging at me that I wish I could get out of the city and go spend some time at my family's cottage in northern Michigan. 

And then I remembered a goal I had had when I was about 16 or so.  I had decided that I wanted to photograph all the lighthouses on the Great Lakes.  When I was 16, I decided it would be AWESOME if I could make the whole trip on foot, because then you would really be in tune with all the minutiae of the world and the water.  For the record, I think it would take about a decade to walk around the ENTIRE chain of great lakes.  Thinking about it right now, it would probably be a really cool thing to do by bike, if I wasn't planning on carrying a zillion pounds of gear, or bringing companions.  As it stands, my current hope is to be able to start in Chicago, end in Buffalo, and pass through about ten thousand towns along the way, dead, dying, post-industrial, or resort. 

I want to photograph the lighthouses, yes.  And the lakeboats, and the lake, and the water and the trees and the sky.  But I also want to record a narrative of the midwest.  The Great Lakes region.  Canada and the U.S.  The collective voice of my home, the people who live there.  The history that runs through everything like water.  The whole span of human history, crushing in front of my lens simultaneously. 

I want to take the summation of all my feelings about those woods and that water from my entire life, and I want to express them. 

My end goal is twofold.  I'd love to write a book about the experience, stuffed with shiny, full-color digital photographs of my journey. 

But I'd also like to take the absolute best of the photographs, be it ten or a hundred or seven-hundred-thirty-two, and create prints.  The platinum-palladium prints that I learned in college, that lent such a timeless antiquation to my subjects.  And I'd like to have a gallery exhibition.  I want the narrative of my lakes and my history and my boundless love to be shared, to be known. 

So... I'm going to start researching, with the goal of departing in the summer of 2013, and just being an adventurer for however long it takes.  I need to know a lot of things before I go.  How many lighthouses *are* there?  What else can I plan on visiting?  How much time can I allot in case I find something I *didn't* plan on visiting?  Hotels?  What happens to my apartment?  My cat?  Who wants to come with me, and for how long?  I imagine this journey is going to take the entire summer, at the very least. 

And I don't want to neglect the other part of me either.  I'd love to do some research into the burlesque scene of every major metropolitan area I will pass through on my journey.  I'd love to make my personal journey one where I build bridges in the present-day as well.  And it wouldn't hurt to get paid to perform every once in awhile on my way either. 


I expect this project will be coming, sooner or later, to Kickstarter, in the hopes that I can drum up support for the grandest adventure I've always ached to have.