Pictures!

The moment has come. I know It's what you all have been waiting for.

Pictures of my life at Turning Stone are HERE, people.

Without further ado, let me commence the show-and-tell.

Me in work mode, waving to a little kid. Check out the sexy bazooms. The costume used to come with this beautiful necklace, but it gave me a rash. So now it's just bazooms.

Playing/dancing with the stiltwalker


The segway that leads the way through the casino, complete with speakers pumping cheesy music. We call it the mechanical goat or the electric gondola. Yes, that's an inside joke, and it's funny as hell! Too bad you don't know it...


Another action shot

This is a good shot of the whole gang at work in a different part of the casino, even though it's dark.

Casanova and his courtesans dance

Me and the showgirls. My roommate is the one on the left (hi Kristin!). Isn't she gorgeous? (Psst, she eats cake too!)


One of the living statues


The statues and showgirl feathers.


I couldn't resist posting this one of the statues backstage at Lava. And speaking of which...

A view of the Hellclub from above. Those things on the floor are what the aerialists spin on 20 feet above the ground. Our usual VIP booth is the one to the right of the steps.

So there they are. Proof that I'm not making all this up! This week should be fun because on Friday and Saturday we're dressing up in Halloween costumes and performing the dance from "Thriller." You'll hear all about it, of course.

Hope you enjoyed them!

On Beauty

I'm hoping you won't hate me for this post. But it must be written, because my goal for this blog is full disclosure about what's going on in my head and my life (within reason!). So get over it and enjoy.

I am pretty. It's taken a lot of hits over the head to convince me of this fact. When I was in high school you could have yelled it in my face and I wouldn't have believed you. When I was in college and was literally told so on several occasions I started to wonder if it was true. Then I went to Japan where I was a giant, out-of-control, frizzy-haired monster; definitely not pretty. When we returned I got married, and the only thing that mattered to me was that my husband thought I was beautiful (awwwww! Stop that gagging!).

Now, at the Casino, something interesting is happening. I am one of the Beautiful People. Granted, it's not too difficult to attain this status when the casino-goers generally are missing teeth and/or limbs and carting their oxygen tanks around (I kid. But only a little). I think this is true because as I sing and dance through the Casino, people are constantly stopping to tell me so. It's quite nice, actually. Also, I noticed soon after arriving that when we all walked through the casino it was a little like this:

There's boys in there too, but that's the general reaction

It's a heady thing, being one of the Beautiful Ones.

Last night a friend and I went into one of the fancy restaurants for dessert after our shift. Usually when we go into this restaurant it's in costume and character, to sing to the clientele. As we walked up in our street clothes the staff oohed and ahhed about how different we looked. They immediately gave us a choice table. Everyone came over to visit and talk to the "real" us, from waiters to restaurant managers. Our waiter wouldn't let us pay for the dessert.

We were special. We were celebrities.

Would this have happened if we weren't pretty people? Maybe, because we're talented, too, and people love it when we sing. But I don't think it would be so easy to win people over. Beauty equals power. Being beautiful gives me a protective shield. People are kind. Doors open easily. If I would choose to, I could easily manipulate people. I'd like to think that I'm above this, but I'm probably not. I can get away with a lot if I just smile, and I probably have without thinking too much about it.

Don't hate me because I...actually wrote this post. I won't go there again, I promise, but I think beauty, sexuality, and power is an interesting topic. I wrote a whole paper about it last winter. If you're interested in further discussion, give me a shout-out!

Life as a VIP

Wow, it's been a long time!

Mostly I've just been ashamed because I keep forgetting to take pictures to post on the blog, and so I've been avoiding you completely. Oh, the shame, the shame.

But this week's the week. You will get pictures! There, now that I've put it in writing it might just happen...

But I digress.

I spent Friday night as a VIP at Lava, the nightclub at the casino (if you remember correctly, it's reminiscent of hell, complete with stripper poles). Okay, so I know it's just a small casino in the middle of nowhere, New York. But I'm not gonna lie.

I felt like hot shit.

Maybe it was the security guy who personally lead us to our booth. Maybe it was the girls on swings high above us, their tassel-covered breasts glowing in the red light as they gyrated. Maybe it was the aerialists performing with strips of fabric 20 feet above the ground. Or maybe it was the sexy fire-eaters flirting with the flames just feet away. Or the security guards/waiters waiting to anticipate our every need.

Whatever it was, it was pretty cool.

Other than being the VIP at nightclubs, I've been having a grand old time going to haunted houses with my coworkers, drinking into all hours of the night, going to the gym and soaking in the beautiful lap pool and hot tub, eating free food, and learning to juggle (that last one is not going so well, but whatever). Oh, and there's the singing-for-five-hours-a-day thing, which sometimes sucks but more often is sort of fun.

I know it's not real life, but it's my life for the next two months, and I'm going to enjoy every minute of it!

On Saturday night I got home at about 10:15 and the frat boys across the street were sitting around a fire. They drunkenly called me over and we started to talk about the Casino. I told them about the jugglers and showgirls (they were very excited about the latter), and then one guy asked me what I did. I said,

"I'm an opera singer."

"Oh..." he said. He paused, and then he asked,

"Is it awesome?"

"Yep," I said. And it was.

Then they started to break apart the fence belonging to the apartment complex as another guy poured more lighter fluid directly onto the fire.

Classy.

Love and Power

Love flows, even inside a Casino.

It's an amazing experience to start singing for someone and see their eyes widen, their attention focus. Many of the people I sing for are unsure of what to do with the attention and the sound that I am giving them. They remain uncomfortable the whole time. But many others respond with their body and soul, whether they mean to or not. These lovely people often baffle themselves. Several people have started crying, much to their confusion and amazement. It is a profoundly moving experience to touch someone like that.

I especially love that the truth of beauty and humanity through art comes out in the middle of a Casino, the center of materialism and falsity.

Take that, bitches!

This truth that I hold inside me and let out through my singing makes me infinitely more powerful than all the people who are technically "running the show." My love and my voice is power, and I've been afraid of that power for many, many years. What a gift to discover this and get a chance to use it day after day, to focus on what is important, which is the connection between me and whoever I am singing to.

All the rest is just noise.