Vanity, Money, & the Glass Ceiling

Clubbing.

What a time of life. And I can confidently say that club life is a dying activity. But this article is not about death; it’s about rebirth.

As I do my routine jog around UM campus, I see the youth of today. I look at girls with their grunge Kate Moss looks, boyfriend jeans, slicked back hair. I’m certainly in the future. Androgyny when I was their age consisted of a polo tee from Abercrombie and jeans.

Today it’s cool to look like someone out of a Nirvana meets Shakira music video, girl or boy. How that happened with the educated elite I’m not sure. Laguna Beach I understand. But sometimes the only direction for change is down, depending on your point of view.

Anyways, I write with more seniority. Each and every day. More seniority. 

Time felt weightless until the age of 26. I knew it was all downhill from there. The irony is that I had to go down to come back up. This means I had to let my old self die in order to live again.

On my walk today, I had an epiphany while dancing to the music on my headset. Yes, I still listen to good music. It’s a bit slower now, perhaps more groovy. It still makes me want to dance.

So I pictured myself at the club. I loved the club. The club was good to me and I to it. Dress up. VIP. Drinks all night. 5am closing. Repeat 6x a week if I wished. It was grand.

However, the last time I was at Space I realized how little I enjoyed dancing next to the other people there. It seems the bad-energy or no-energy people outnumbered the good. I was groped twice while simply walking, and yes I pushed them and yelled a shit-ton, embarrassing them. Who taught men to behave this way? Later, I was recruited to a Russian mafia table with like six men who invited me back to their penthouse, when it was already 6am at the club. The whole time I was checking to see if I felt weird in case they drugged my drink. You never know, unless your promoter is pouring the freakin bottle. So I got the hell away from them.

See? Experiences. It is hard to find good people. When I dance on the sidewalk to the music I want, I have space. I don’t have to worry about someone being inappropriate with me. I don’t have to endanger my life with international tourists where I might end up who knows where.

I have personal freedom. So where I might look weird – I’m really just genius, and safe.

And so I questioned – why did I ever love clubbing so much? Now yes, perhaps the culture was different back then, and so was I. But the answer came to me. I loved clubbing so much because I’m a vain person. I needed attention coming from a family and situation that could not afford me much. So when I got on the platform to dance, I felt eyes on me. I got attention because I was a pretty girl. And that felt so good coming from a place where I often felt invisible.

Perhaps that’s why some girls & women continue to dress the way they do. I was never a prostitute or a professional dancer. My first Ultra in 2008 I so desperately wanted to be one of the go-go dancers on a platform. I wanted to dance and express myself to the world. Hear me roar! But instead I would do that at the club for almost a decade – expressing myself. Sometimes dancing to be seen. Sometimes dancing to lose myself.

I still love to dance. I’m not sure where that will take me. In the near future, it will take me to Ultra 2022. 14 years of dance. I can’t believe it. I feel so young on the inside. And look great on the outside if I might say so myself.

Part of my feeling good also comes from knowing I just bought a new luxury car – hot red, hot rod. And while I’m proud I lived up my youth, purchased my own sexy ass car, and hold a career, I’m questioning what’s next. 

I certainly don’t miss club culture based on last impressions, i.e. the subordination of women by men. But I do miss good people. I used to laugh a lot. I used to smile a lot. And perhaps in youth, some innocence is preserved. Generosity is more common. Selfishness hasn’t grown into a terrible soul-eating disease.

I miss good, kind people. All that to say, this proverbial glass ceiling, not in career, but in personal happiness, comes from being selfish & scared. I can’t be anymore of a person than I am now if I don’t let these things go. And it’s a hard place to return to when trust has been burned. 

I’m not a youth, but I have wisdom. And I know being scared & being selfish are only going to get in my way.

I’m trying to trust new people. The right people add a lot of joy to my life. 

And this might be my vanity talking, but I’m aware of special people like me – and the thing about being special is that it’s hard to find the others.

I don’t need a lot of people in my life, but I do need good ones. So I’m on the hunt. Let’s see. You probably won’t find me in the masses anytime soon (lol with the exception of Ultra).

I achieved a socialite status, which is cool to say. And I do have a handful of people that I met through those glory days that I still keep up with. But it’s a fucking revolving door. The new 18-year-olds are out on the scene everyday. Being hip or a socialite today doesn’t indicate long lasting fulfillment or friendships, but it might add some joy.

It’s all a river of change. So don’t let vanity, money, or glass ceilings get in your way. You’re allowed to die & be reborn.