Last night I went to bed without any clothes on. It's simply too hot for them. I haven't turned down the covers on my bed in over a week and every morning I wake up in a sweat. This morning I glanced at the edge of my bed. The Roomie had dropped off my mail. The Roomie had seen me naked: tits, ass and all.
Why didn't HE knock? you say. Why not just leave it in a common area? Because I live in the living room: no door, no common area.
Now I've never been shy about my body, mostly because as a dancer you learn at a very early age that there is no time for shame in the dressing room. Change your clothes and get your ass on stage! But for the past year that I have lived in NYC, I have not had a private space to call my own complete with a door to keep me in and others out. So when I am naked, anyone else who is around is exposed.
In such situations, notions of privacy are absolutely redefined because just can not and does not exist in the traditional sense. I have found it a waste of energy to "cover up." It's just too hot and I've got too many other things to deal with. It seems that "privacy" has ONLY come to exist in my mind: when I am sleeping and unaware that The Roomie is tip-toeing around; when Dancer D and The Roomie have their own doors closed or are not at home at all. It even goes beyond the literal: if I have a gentleman visiting who I'd like to give a kiss, suddenly in my own home it's a PDA. Say I'm crying, upset and need sometime to myself; others are automatically invited into the situation simply because they are aware.
I am always naked.
Physically and emotionally there isn't much place to hide.
Ironic because I generally wear my heart on my sleeve, but I feel some kind of way when I don't have a choice - when naked is default. I debated whether to even post this blog - it might be an overshare, but naked is default.
I am naked as the expense to saving money and building a dream.
I am naked until I can do better.
I am naked because I don't have another way to be.
I am vulnerable and open with no place to hide.
In fact, the only thing that has been left to do is to make a dance about it.
Home, a diptych
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2 comments:
I get the feeling that you are hoping that Dancer D. or whomever else reads this blog. (I could be wrong) Writing about it may be cathartic for you but direct conversation is the key to solving most situations, probably including this one.
Yes you are wrong... This post is not about trying to solve a problem or confrontation. If I wanted to confront anyone, I would.
What you are right about is that writing (and choreographing) is cathartic for me. It always has been and always will be. That's what this whole blog is.
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