The dream begins with masturbation.
I’m not sure that this is a real fact but I’m going to write it here alongside the faithful statement that most of you trust my writing (at least) and so a small misguided assertion designed to resemble a fact won’t bother you.
The fact is: 80% of us masturbate while we sleep.
The other 20% of us masturbate publicly but 80% of us masturbate while we sleep.
I did no surveys. I took no polls. I just sat here imagining everyone I know, separated them into SLEEP MASTURBATES/PUBLIC MASTURBATES, and then came up with a number:
80% of us masturbate while we sleep.
I hate to implement you into a category of Human you’d rather Other but, you likely masturbate in your sleep. It’s a normal part of our sleep cycle: Desire and release.
If you masturbate publicly, you’re lucky. If you happen to be one of the minority who perform this cycle of desire and release while awake, you don’t realize how effortlessly vulnerable you are and you’re lucky. You aren’t part of those of us who would rather wait until we are alone and asleep to even think about what we desire. You desire and you desire and you desire in public, among colleagues, online, with lovers, all the time. What gives you the right? Everything give you the right. But, then why don’t we all know that?
Why is it so crucial for me to yearn for self-pleasure in my sleep the instant I begin dreaming? I don’t know. The dream began with masturbation. This was 2:30 PM, I had just eaten my first official burrito-from-a-burrito-place, I went to bed avoiding non-digestive results and I dreamed of being a lonely woman with nowhere to go.
Normally I would now write “(That’s what I am)”. But, lately that’s not true. Lately, I am very busy. This is the first day I’ve had to myself in weeks. Consequently, I dream of loneliness. I am wrestling with change.
Previous to Kara, my projects all lived on my computer with none of you ever seeing them. Now I am public. The pressure to progress daily is felt viscerally.
We shot the first episode of Kara’s web series on Saturday. I’m afraid to watch the playback. I am worried it won’t be good enough. It won’t be as good as my writing on this blog. I am not an actress, not a television producer, not a film maker, not anything it would take to know how to make a web series. I don’t know why I think I can do the things I can’t do. I don’t know why I do them. I especially don’t know why I am doing them publicly.
If I put on Kara’s wig, it’s an easy thing to do: Make a show, put it online, everyone will love it. If I’m sitting here as Rachel I know: Not everyone loves everything, most people love to hate things, what the hell have I done.
Scrutiny. Is. Stressful. For some of us. What are the rest of you doing that makes it so easy for you to openly be who you are?
Every time I do something, I’m forced through self-critique and anxiety, waves of regression, forceful pull-back, as if each minute of my life has a time-gravity component, the weight forcing a slow motion momentum through my day, each day a heavy bag of THAT JUST HAPPENED and a collapse of confidence or even will.
Time fills up, people move in and confusion takes over, steady haze of take-it-take-it until it’s all taken and despite knowing that I’m meant to be Doing Things, that Someone Who Does Things is an attractive person, that Doing and Living are synonymous, I eat a burrito and fall asleep for two hours. I masturbate in my sleep.
Masturbating in public is not what I do. Writing publicly is not what I do. Featuring myself in a series, broadcasted online, in competition with The Already Funny and Wonderful, that’s not what I do. To those of you who can masturbate while you’re awake and being watched: Is there a formula to your integrated confidence?
How are you doing this?
Can you all honestly write in and tell me: Are you actually as busy and fulfilled as you say you are?
Everyone I know is busy. Every where I look, people are busy. There is business in everything that everyone does. How is it then, if I’m not sitting home alone for enough hours a day I want to roll over and give up on everything I’ve begun. Why?
I just started a new job, I have two projects that require daily work, I’m dating and I don’t know how that happened plus all of a sudden (let’s blame Spring or maybe a recent personal abandonment) I am addicted to the company of my friends.
This is exhausting. But, I thought this was what people did. But, how does anyone do this?
The harder I try to create Life the more I feel that I’m not meant to live. There is not enough of me and I can’t figure out why.
Where is energy? Why isn’t the sunshine ornamenting my mood with the word MORE?
Because there is no more.
There is no more energy. I have gone non-stop between projects, work, my dog, my friends, and now layer on Fear, fear of occupational failure, romantic disgrace, social abandonment, financial meltdown…I don’t have any more energy.
Nothing makes sense to me lately. I did the laundry on Saturday, I ran the dryer once, I forgot about the laundry, the laundry smells today and isn’t that a disgraceful metaphor for my recent underachievement: There is a woman with a body and brain and a home and a life, a full woman, who promises herself renewal only to leave herself bundled in a heap until she ultimately smells and needs to be treated. She then masturbates in her sleep to self-medicate and when it doesn’t work she tells the world about it maybe in writing or maybe in a vision of her writing but either way she hides behind representation because the public intake of her real self is too stressful for her.
Some of us are not wired to be around you.
I don’t know how it happens: Introvert/Extrovert. How are we chosen? I don’t know how. But, I refuse to believe that introverts need necessarily go ignored. I refuse to believe that just because my fear takes up most of my energy I have to stop mustering whatever energy I can to do the things I know I have to do.
Ok, this web series might be really strange and hardly watchable.
But, actually that describes most of the shows I’ve made so far. And, you’ve all enjoyed those, mostly, I think.
To be terrified of achievement, to hide because it seems to make no sense that we would be the ones to succeed, to give in to the public masturbators, to let Kara and whichever Kara you’re most apt towards hating at the moment intimidate you out of continuance, is really probably what’s robbing us of dreaming about anything but the pursuit of pleasure.
I don’t think “masturbation”, and now I should be clear, what I mean is, the self-involved, self-fulfilling production of work that only satisfies the maker and not the audience, I don’t think it should be done in public. I don’t think I want to masturbate in public. Or, rather, I know I can’t.
I don’t want to make beauty to prove that I’m beautiful. I want to make beauty to give you beauty. It takes longer this way. It takes understanding what you need. If all you needed was a beautiful woman, I probably would not make it very far as an entertainer but I’m convinced we’re all smarter than we realize. I’m convinced of your intelligence. I just have to remember my own. Publicly. While awake.
If all we do is dream, we’ll never touch reality. Pleasure is part of reality. It is as exhausting as pain. Of course I’ve been publicly in pain. It is obviously time to take pride in swapping pain for pleasure.