25 November 2011

With a Passion.

For two months I've been reading a book called The Passion Test. It's intended to help the floundering discover their true calling in life by concentrating strictly on things for which they are passionate. It's taken me so long to get through it because my holiday agenda has suddenly become full, and it requires a lot of undivided attention for list-making and self-searching and all that...

I never, EVER thought I would need a book to help me find my passion. I mean, I'm obviously passionate about so many things so why would I need help deducing what to do with my life? But a year after taking up professional bartending and slowly eliminating possible careers, I thought a little help was warranted. My entire formative years were spent in a theatre and on a stage, so I assumed performing was truly my passion. I had the resume, I had the talent, and I had the love of the craft-- check, check, check. Then why was I not pursuing that?

It's more complicated than I'm willing to share here, but the abridged version states that I haven't written off acting, but rather I'm anxious to discover other possibilities for myself. From the few chapters I have managed to complete I have discovered some valuable insight to the things I hold dearest. I wasn't surprised at the results, but I was shocked at how many other passions I actually possess. Revelation: I don't need to find my passion, I need to hone my passions. 

Last weekend I went to Vegas and I had the best time with people I had only just met. Like I've said before, I am social and outgoing. My unbridled confidence with people is one of my strongest qualities. I'm not afraid to talk to anyone because I believe everyone has something to offer. Plus how boring must it be for those people who watch the game but never play? I have never aspired to be a wallflower, nor have I ever been happy with myself when I behave as such. Las Vegas was an amazing trip because of the awesome people in my group, but I can only hope they enjoyed themselves as much as I did. Personally, I  can without a doubt say that I let go of all my inhibitions, had fun, and partook in everything I wanted. It helps that Vegas is not reality. Vegas is a state of mind that allows its habitants to shed the practical denim jacket of real-life and wear a glamourous cape of luxury. I adore Las Vegas because everything is on full blast. No expense has been spared and it's a condensed dose of extremes. Drinks are strong, women are gorgeous, and parties are amazing. Last weekend was no different. 

Six of us went to celebrate Popov (a co-worker of Denver) turning a quarter of a century. We drove out late afternoon on Friday in one of those vans designated for airport shuttles, and bounced to house music the whole way there. Of course we mixed a few celebratory screwdrivers when we reached Baker, so that definitely helped the mood. Denver has quickly become a close friend, but by the time we arrived at the valet of The Palazzo I had gained a few more fun partners in crime. 

At the clubs, I felt ignited with energy. I wanted to do everything, dance to every song, and relish every moment. Alcohol has a way of expediting those tasks, but I think I really allowed myself to surrender to the Strip. Once inside XS, I was summoned to a table of Marines celebrating after their annual Ball. Dancing up on the platforms with an officer in full dress was the perfect American moment. Meanwhile, Birdie had made herself at home on a silver pole designated for guest dancers. Her astounding talent was quickly recognized, and soon we were collecting dollar bills that'd been thrown by her fans. 

On Saturday Denver and Birdie utilized the suite's black-out shades while Popov, Carraway and I went to place bets. Carraway in particular taught me a lot about how to do Vegas the right way: know the odds, gamble with your player's card, and always take a town car. I enjoyed having a seasoned professional as my date that day, and walking from casino to casino I felt like a celebrity on her day off. I even made friends with Cedric, my bartender at the Bellagio sports book who made me an Irish coffee unlike any other. I was soaking up every moment. Saturday night I wore a white dress that, on the hanger, I mistook for a shirt. I normally do not wear anything that exposes the legs I have spent so many years resenting, but I owned my look that night. And I'll be honest, I don't think I've ever felt more gorgeous. (Friends who have seen the photos, please just agree with me and we'll be alright.) We went to another club that evening, but left early to eat cheeseburgers and shakes. Carraway and I stayed out 'til three or so at the blackjack table, but sadly my good luck charm that had worked so well that afternoon was tarnished. We left poorer than we'd arrived, but I felt pretty rich that evening. 

Okay, so maybe my passion is partying? No. But, I will say, that a lot of finding out what your passion is has to do with how well you live moment to moment. I live with passion and love, and everyday I learn something incredible about myself and my place in the world. Last weekend I learned that I can have a great time anywhere, with anyone, under any circumstance. (Well, as long as there's glamour, drinks, and stilettos.) I'm no closer to knowing what I want to do with my career, and I should probably pick up The Passion Test again. However, I find myself wanting to jump into The Great Gatsby instead. 

1 comment:

  1. a good fun weekend of drinking is all you really need :) sometimes reality is better left on the back burner Enjoy Vegas while I can't! Haha