Olive Oren


Currently reading: M Train (Patti Smith), The Immense Journey (Loren Eiseley)


On Kismet, Libertines and Phoenixes

I was hesitant to post a blog on here, I think we will always teeter on that delicate line of demonstrating we are multi-faceted human beings and oversharing to the point of dissolving the mystery but Plato famously named opinion as the medium between knowledge and ignorance, and in all honesty I'm curious to see where this takes us.  Primarily my hope is to add to the archives of voices of actual people who engage in this line of work because I feel the media is becoming more and more presumptive in their portrayal of us and our stories, a phenomena that can often result in erroneous content and misconceptions.    

Writing for me has always been an intimate act.  I’m that friend who writes long, effusive letters leaving nothing to the imagination.  To share here could be conveyed as a definition of my reality, I think it’s fair to say it is and it isn’t.  That I feel comfortable at all writing about my experiences on such a public forum is a direct result of how incredible and welcoming the men and women I’ve met in this industry have been.  Before I begin to blog at random I'll provide a hint of backstory.  

Since my adolescence I’ve become slowly more and more intrigued by freedom.  How can I further let go of attachment?  Who haven’t I met yet?  Where haven’t I gone yet?  To say my appetite for experience was insatiable feels insufficient.  I was constantly starving for newness, for a good story, for a stranger's bed.  These questions led me to all the obvious answers: travel, polyamory, art, etc. but I digress.  

This is going to sound horribly cheesy, but my stumbling upon this profession was destiny in motion.  I knew nothing about it and was dating someone at the time who introduced me to this hidden world whereby I was immediately enamoured.  I have always been comfortable and ravenous with my sexuality and found conventional morality prescriptive and restrictive.  All of a sudden I found people who shared these sentiments, a switch was flipped, it was like Gidget’s change to colour tv.  I made a website faster than you can say “pretty woman,” stayed in school, toured on break, entered a poly relationship, and life was one big blur of amazing.  Unfortunately there is an annoyingly pragmatic side to my nature, and around this time I decided to take a step outside of my crazy fairytale existence to reevaluate my long-term goals...life is long and beauty is ephemeral.   

Last year I finished school and knew it was time to be a boring girl for a while, if for no other reason than to assure myself I had an identity outside of “hot piece of ass, gives great...”  It's been a busy year and my career reached an exciting milestone, a criteria of sorts which I had set for myself before allowing myself to return.  I love my day job and it gives me something to fall back on if my investments implode but I'll be the first to say it, this is my dream job.  A desire to offer a semblance of normality to my future children keeps me moonlighting, which job is the moonlight is up for you to decide. 

After this hiatus I’m finding it even more important to live authentically and deliberately, I think humans only truly thrive when doused with compassion and understanding.  We need to be touched, to feel heard, to absorb passion deeply, and often.  Recently I revisited a dear old friend and it reminded me of how mutually fulfilling these encounters often are.  To name something is to destroy it so I will simply chronicle it as an event that would have made Dionysus proud.  

My last meditation is to sit back and appreciate how precisely Monet was able to encapsulate a particular time of day during a specific season in his stacks of wheat series and wonder how he felt about late afternoons on the brink of summer.  Maybe it’s just me but I find this light bewitching and full of possibilities.  As we race towards the heat and the sun lingers longer and longer in the sky, flickering above the horizon, I can't help but put on my favorite Dylan record and dance. 




Olive Oren