Source: Adult Industry News
By: Julie Meadows
Howard Stern got a lot of flack when he started out. Too rude, too crass. Potty mouth and so on. Adam Sandler was torn apart by critics with “Billy Madison”. These people have their own sense of fun and style and people love them now. I’m not sure I can remember any females in history that started off a little rotten and got better with time, but I do know that esteemed literary types are not finding my brand of humor to be very funny. And I don’t understand why.
Chicks are very prone towards being respected or just sex symbolized, sometimes both. I am not a college graduate. I am a loser in life and I have found a humble way of owning it by using self-depreciating humor in conversation and story telling. I don’t have to throw around any woeful stories. Life is life and you either feel sorry for yourself or you roll with it.
Oxford’s Dictionary of Current English defines the word ‘loser’ as “1 – person or thing that loses, esp. A contest (is a bad loser). 2 – colloq. person who usually fails.
I am a loser. Tattoo a big fat ‘L’ on my forehead. I failed at everything. Do you know that I tried out for cheerleading in seventh grade, picked the one cheer I didn’t know out of a hat and went out onto the auditorium stage and made up a cheer that was obviously not the original cheer? I half-assed threw my limbs around in what I thought would look like a very physically articulate and precise gestation, half-assed yelled the stupid cheer that I could barely remember and stopped halfway through my makeshift routine to stare blankly at the sea of faces, and then dramatically, emphatically, sighed. It was the sigh to beat all sighs. It said so much more than anything that could come out of my mouth in the form of words. It bore the weight of a lifetime (I was only thirteen, but bear with me) of being uncomfortable, awkward and out of place. It carried sorrow across that room, frustration, and most of all, embarrassment. It told my life’s story and it was all of the effort going right out of me in front of the entire school of junior high students. And they laughed. I’ve never heard a room fill up with laughter in such an explosive way. It was breathtaking, and as soon as it happened, I was on the floor holding my belly, in stitches! It was the funniest goddamn thing that had ever happened to me. Hilarious. And the moment I started laughing so hard I couldn’t stand up, they started laughing harder. A cacophony of cheerful energy. I have never felt so intoxicated by attention. All that tension built up in me, and then turning it into the most raw and honest kind of release was like heaven. I felt so relieved. I made those people laugh with my pain. No one remembered who made the goddamn cheerleading squad (it certainly wasn’t me!). But everyone remembered that moment. It was the only thing anyone talked about, and I was a star for that day.
Now I am trying to put those experiences down on paper, but I get silence instead of the laughter I so want to perpetuate. Do I suck as a writer? My friends think my shit is hysterical, but are they being nice? I don’t think so. My husband is the most honest person I know and is quick to tell me when I’m being a freak, an ass or just stupid. He loves my stories, too. Whatever is going on, I imagine being a female porn star is a lot like being a child actor in regards to how the industry and public treats them. Just a few common parallels…
Child actors are what? They’re cute and good with dialogue. They are pushed into the limelight by their parents (who are usually just frustrated actors themselves), and their cuteness is all used up until they aren’t cute anymore and the work is gone.
Porn star’s are what? They’re sexy and open with their bodies. They are pushed into the limelight by their partners (who are usually just frustrated lovers themselves), and their sexiness is all used up until they aren’t sexy anymore and the work is gone.
Both have problems finding work afterwards (unless the porn star has turned escort and has hooked up with a guy who is rich and so she doesn’t have to worry about working, just about having absolutely No freedom because he monitors her every move and she isn’t allowed to talk about porn or sex – herself – and is set financially but utterly imprisoned and becomes a raging drug addict and alcoholic… which would have probably happened anyway… from having to find a job after porn!). It is a tricky thing and I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit!
I don’t want to grow up and if my stories are underdeveloped, then it’s because I am underdeveloped, and I don’t see what’s wrong with that. Youthfulness is important. Like I told the soon-to-be-father I know who explained his worry about needing to grow up fast so he can raise his child, don’t grow up too fast! Youthfulness is a big part of being a good parent. You have to scrunch up your face in a hundred different ways and make them laugh to really form that friendship bond, which incidentally, is probably more important than the parent bond. My stories are my babies. I can’t help it if laughter makes more sense than a lot of scolding.
Maybe I just suck as a writer. It’s disheartening because that means I am only good at sucking dick… and quite frankly, I wasn’t very good at that, either!
