This January marks year two of learning, loving and playing the ukulele. A teeny, tiny in-tune Baby Belle and I braved the cold and crossed the city, both bundled in layers. Striking out to discover the music I've been missing. Playing music. How could it be anything but fun, its called Playing! Our first level lessons were held at Musidium a beautiful and unique venue with international and historical instruments hanging from, laying on and positioned all around the room. It was inspiring and daunting. Level 2, however brought with it a change of location. Now, we are surrounded by the hardwood and high ceilings of a yoga studio. The sound of our ukes strumming together and our voices in broken harmonies echoed throughout our practise. The only thing I'm worried about is karmic dis-chord;)
For as long as I can remember I have loved music. The harmonies, the feeling of unity, like finally learning to breathe. Growing up my I remember my Momma playing her shiny guitar with a dove swooping gracefully beneath her strum. I remember singing in choirs and weekly music lessons. Music was important. That guitar now sleeps surrounded with dust bunnies and a bone Jilly buried under my childhood bed. My childhood house has a out of tune upright, an abandoned guitar, 2 warped tambourines and a third generation ukulele. When the world gets in the way the first thing to go is the music. When we feel sad there is no singing. We don't hum a ditty when rushing through our daily lives. The music taps it's toe, to the rhythm we ignore. Which would explain what I have been missing. In honesty I haven't been as focused on the Uke as I'd like to be. Its tough to find time between blogging, writing, learning to juggle and everything else I've told myself I have to learn, never mind editing, mixing and all the rest of the things that go into being a one-woman-band.
Where do the hours of the day go? After what isn't nearly a full day's accomplishment, I find myself distracted. Splitting myself between the many endeavours that have started to crossover, spilling into the time allotted for my next self imposed lesson. Here is where the chips fall. I want the music. Period. Plus Hubby wants to jam. That's cute, my Hubby wants to jam with his Wifey. If I want to get to the point Hubby wants me, I have to practice, nobody wants to jam with a nincompoop. So, the lessons here are: If music is important to, it needs to become a priority and Tenacity is not an asset until you've chosen what to be tenacious about. Also the spaces on the musical staff are F,A,C and E. So, now you know, the music industry has always been based on looks.
Recently, I fell hands first into a new avenue of my acting career. There is no training course, no manual, I am on my own- to make it up as I go. Now, this position is by no means a full time job, but it's paying a bill. To clarify there was never a thought in my mind that show biz was sane or sensical. But this, this is a kicker. My new position in the industry is from the elbow down. Yes, yes, it's true I have become a hand model.
About 3 months ago Hubby and I watched a video about a woman who hasn't done dishes, laundry or any other household chore in over 10 years. She wears gloves all day everyday and has someone pick her up, drop her off and open all doors- to protect her hands. She claims they haven't seen daylight in over 6 years. She makes six figures a year. She acted like a jerk. If you'd asked me then I would've said hand models are almost worse than..well, body models. Who tend to be hungry but fun. So, now that I have a few hand jobs under my belt (pun intended) how do I feel about it? It's weird that people make a living at this. I arrive on set- "I'm the hands." then I am shuffled to a dark corner, given a hand makeover and told to wait. It's flat out weird. 'What do you do for a living?' "Oh me? I hold the spoon in the cereal commercial and caress my smooth hands in the dish soap ad." Typical day at the office.
People on set compliment my hands, then chastise themselves, saying of course she's got nice hands...I mean people, they're hands. All 10 fingers. yippee skippy- let's write her a cheque. They also assume it is my main form of income. As if there are only a talented few who could do such a high stress job. The work I am getting offered in my creative field is for 2 things I didn't have any control over. The talents I am working so very hard to improve? Well, they don't rate. Typical. Someone's grandpa (I'm sure) is fond of saying: "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth." I say, this job is more like a gift llama, and it spits;) But as long as these hand jobs keep heading my way, I will take their money in my 'beautiful' hand and run. Though it may seem a little premature, I thought I would plan my award speech for most outstandingly accomplished hands: "I want to thank genetics for giving me the talent of having hands. I want to thank myself for never breaking a bone and my.... Oh wait that's it. Who else...? Oh yeah, gloves. That is all."
Lately, I have been working near the airport. The jet stream kicking up wind and blowing it back into my face. The bitter winter bite hurting my cheeks and my feelings. Watching the planes take off, land and circle, as the snow begins to blow I am reminded that I haven't had a vacation in eons. As freelancers Hubby and I are always on call, living shift to shift, answering every call to arms. Okay, let's not get dramatic, but seriously, I found myself getting jealous of the passengers in taxis, knowing their luggage was packed with swim suits and sunscreen. *Foot stomp! The work-a-day Joes all around me taking advantage of their vacation days. My parents spent a week in sunny Costa Rica. Friends of mine are wintering in tinsel trimmed LA. Even folks honeymooning in not so tropical Europe. Purchasing last minute steal of a deals to get out of snowy and wind burnt Dodge. For those of us who can't afford a getaway what can we do? How do you relax when you can't go on vacation? These questions burn more than my frostbitten cheeks.
Rest, relaxation and rejuvenation are essential to living happily. Now, that's not to say that travelling abroad is automatically restful. Most people I know complain the week before vacation that they have so much to do before they leave and then complain again the week they're back, because they have so much work to catch up on. Others say they need a vacation from their vacation. Once you get where you're going it takes 2 days to unwind from the stress of travelling and that doesn't include jet lag. People complain about the cost of travel. Tourist destinations swamped with visitors who wish the place they're visiting was the place they left. The human condition is such that we are never happy. Once you get what you want, you don't want it. Typical malaise.
In the past when travelling for vacation, I've worked hard to relax, release and leave my unwanted baggage at home. This is the most difficult part of vacation. Just relaxing. Knowing that a mojito soaked sunburn isn't in my near future, I will be brave. Friends, bloggers and world travellers alike, harken to this: Take a vacation everyday. Go to your happy place, you might not get as much vitamin D, but your soul will be ready to take the trip. Bring home souvenirs from day dreams to remind yourself that life is good. Easier said than done of course, but what is life without effort? So, as I stare wistfully at the open skies, I remind myself that vacation is a state of mind. And the taxes and fees don't apply.
This past year after listening to recordings of Jackie O's crackling voice and the soft tinkle of the ice in her glass, I realized, there is a great woman behind every great man. Wait, wait, that's a freaking gem. Has anybody ever said that before? I should put it on a magnet that doubles as a coaster. But back to Jackie, hearing her poise and dignity mere weeks after watching her husband's head explode, attending the VP's rushed inauguration aboard Air Force One and moving her young family out of the White House, well, quite frankly, she's a testament to the human spirit. Really though what were her options? Fall apart? Become a public nuisance? Live as a White House squatter? With tenacity, grace and unwavering public support throughout her life, after being Mrs. President Kennedy she became a heck of an editor, mother and female role model. Are there down falls of being the World's Favourite First Lady, yes of course. But the real question here is: Where am I going with this?
Alright, so here's a surprising revelation. I am SELFISH. Whoa, wait stop the WordPresses! Now, am I mean? No...ish I am not typically mean. I can be brutally honest but a fellow blogger reminded me that mean and honest are different even though they often trade clothes. Support, love and generosity aren't things I have a problem with, so how am I SELFISH?? Deep breath- I like things to be about me. It's not that I am competitive I just like winning, I honestly I do, but who doesn't, c'mon. My grade 7 music teacher would agree with me when I say, I am not good at playing second anything, including fiddle, clarinet and briefly the tuba. This feeling of shameful selfishness was triggered by my Hubby, I love him, who got a nod of approval, I love him, from a big-wig, I love him, and I, I love him, despite my creative efforts, I love him, got none. We, of course like most happily married couples we consider ourselves a team, so his win is mine. Could he have been as charismatic and brave without me, he says not, but somehow I feel like the happy good wife standing beside the podium, hands clasped and clad in Chanel; though that last part would actually be great. The problem: Who am I if I am not being recognized? I don't want to be a polite #2, I want to be the beautiful Princess.
My Hubby is a Superhero. He is brave and he keeps getting better, with a little help from me:) And though we're never actually competing for the same things, I still tend to get a little bent out of shape when he wins. I guess it's just bold faced, green eyed vixen, old fashioned, unglamours, almost Hulk like jealousy and that's the worst part of my particular brand of selfishness. Why is it that I feel less like an equal partner when Hubby is recognized for his achievements? He's worked hard. He's super talented. There are many reason for his past and future successes. He is going to continue his upward climb. So, I thought while this first world problem was fresh in my brain I would take it as a life lesson. Sometimes Hubby wins. That doesn't mean I've lost. Sometimes I am gonna get picked last. But watch out when I do finally get picked cuz I am gonna ram that ball so far up your, what...? Okay, so maybe nice needs a bit of work. Perhaps I should try to be the world's best #2, which is kinda like winning, but feels more like being the first loser. Good thing Jackie has a few more lessons on poise and dignity, cuz clearly I need'em.
As for you my Hubby, I hope you're winning streak never ends.
Ah, stress, how do I hate thee? Let me count the ways. Oh wait, there's a gazillions ways I hate you. For all the reasons I can think of, including but not limited to: My neck seizing. The tactical targeting of my immune system. Dotting my face with breakouts. Sweating- profuse amounts of sweating. Trouble sleeping. My short temper. I am snappy. I don't like anything about myself or anyone else for that matter. My tolerance and patience is zip! Then there's the stress eating, which just makes me feel worse about the rest of these shenanigans. So, I decided to take a deep breathe, a yoga class, a long walk and a nap...you know, just to see how the Stress with a capital S reacted.
Well, Stress isn't stupid and it's oddly patient. Avoidance doesn't equal Stress-execution. Stress waits, while I am hovering in warrior pose. I awake from my nap to find it staring me in the face. Stress is a Siamese twin joined to me at the heart. Stress you persistent eh-hole (this stress is very Canadian;)) you just won't leave me alone. So, deep breath, I pick up my blog and write a letter to stress:
Stress,
I do not accept you. The way you make me feel and the way you steal my energy for things I should be psyched about. Every time you tag along I feel like I could puke or punch someone out or cry. How do you expect to make friends if you treat everyone like this way? Wouldn't you rather be enthusiasm? Or perhaps butterflies? If you would like to explore alternate careers, please let me know and we can talk it out.
Hopefully,
Melicious
PS You've made my butt look fat in these pants- what's your plan for that?
Dropping this letter sealed with a kiss into the Universal mail box, I hope Stress gets the jist. But like any courier UMS is hit or miss. As for me; I will continue to encourage myself to grow, participate, put myself out there. The more I act like the person I want to be; the easier it is to be that person. Slowly, but surely I have begun to realize the things I was stressing over might not be so bad. The fear of failure was stressing me out- but the need to express myself and live regret free is a way bigger win, well worth the stress. Change is stressful, but it's something I can handle. I'll just catch Stress, then quarantine it, rehabilitate it and release it back into the wild. Otherwise let's hope all Stress needed was a strongly worded letter.
Okay, okay, so this is gonna sound crazy, but it's a true story. Two Novembers ago I found myself shopping for no reason in a store that was way too expensive. Sometimes the urge to soothe the self-loathing Sundays with retail therapy overtakes and I am powerless against her demands. So, recognizing I wasn't purchasing something of purpose, I was merely filling the gap, I took it down a notch. After perusing the mounted deer head painted white and the ironically scratchy sweaters, I stumbled across a teeny $12 motivational soap dish. Huh, it was the cheapest thing in the whole store so I bought it. Proudly purchasing my soap dish I was happy also extremely happy I had put make-up on and was wearing my vintage glasses since unwittingly, I'd landed smack-bang in hipster haven. Swinging my brown paper bag out of this teeny boutique, I remember forgetting what I'd even bought until I unwrapped it at home. A motivational moment each time I wash my hands. A single solitary action and meditation matched in the single serving size of washing your hands. Didn't seem like anything so special, until I realized it was.
Having a motto, a plan, a strategy, a safe word. Affirming yourself. Every self help Schmoe hosting a weekend seminar is spewing catch phrases to live happily. People are begging to be happy. People are blogging to be happy. There are groups of people who don't know how to be happy. People fighting for the joy they were banking on. Multitudes of folks who don't know how to be themselves and need to be taught by a stranger. When will we understand why these people wanting so badly to be happy can't be? When does sadness become a national health concern? The one thing they've got going for them is they know they can be better, happier and they hope to be saner. Ah, hope, happiness and sanity: the trifecta.
There's a reason that self help is so popular. You are just the right self to help you out. But flip a coin and I agree the mumbo jumbo is no bull. Knowing that each time I wash my hands I affirm myself. I pledge to lead by example. To be brave and true. That's a big assignment. That's a lot to ask of myself but the soap dish commands it. It continues to demand excellence. Every day my soap dish holds me accountable. My superficial purchase that was to be devoid of meaning actually became the mantra behind my initiative to change. Of course there were other factors: thank you Momma, Papa B, Hubby, BFF, Bucy & Bean for all your support and snuggles. But honestly, I think it really was the soap dish:)
It's easier said than done. You know how I know that? I've said a lot, and it never gets done. I am a logical thinker. The straight line, the path of least resistance, the straight and narrow. Growing up I always thought I knew better. Watching the poor decisions of others, I could predict the situation outcome. Not only did I think I knew better than my friends, but I knew better than my Parents and every other adult. Did I actually know better than any of them? Probably not, actually, I know for a fact that I didn't and still don't know best. Because if I did, I would be able to say it and then do it. Plus nobody likes the know it all, just watch any movie set in a classroom, recognize the know-it-all? She doesn't have many allies- unless it's test day.
Over the last year I have come to realize that getting things done is a complex 7 piece puzzle. Now, you may say, Melicious, 7 piece puzzles are for kids. Well, this 7 piece life puzzle is a challenge on the clearest, happiest and most balanced of days and not even attemptable on the dark, hazy lonely afternoons trapped in your own mind. You see these pieces change shape. They never fit together the same way. It's not a puzzle you can memorize. And each Let's Do This! puzzle is the same 7 pieces in a different configuration. There is a pieces for saying you want it done, actually wanting to do it, planning to do it. There's a piece that organizes and one that initiates. And a piece for actually doing it. Oh and the last puzzle piece is the one that keeps you doing it, because nothing gets done and stays done without a bit of tenacity. The important parts of solving a puzzle with ever changing pieces is knowing that it will always be a new experience and new outcome plus discovering new things you didn't know you didn't know. Be warned there is no picture on the front of the life goal puzzle box.
So, may I suggest that all this talk is getting us know-where? See what I did there?*insert coy wink. There are so many things people want and feel they deserve, demanding their ideal outcome but when it comes down to being a wo-man of action, they may fall short. Refusing to see the obstacles standing between an off-handed marathon remark and standing at the finish line puffing with the satisfaction of a job well done. If getting what you wanted was easy we'd have it already. If the universe was just going to take care of us we wouldn't have the drive to change, to improve, to excel. There is nothing shameful in being the know it all, the brown-noser, the tryer or the eager beaver, as long as you know it will take a lot more than you know, to get what you want. It will take all 7 of those puzzle pieces to build the picture you want to be.
Note: Life Puzzle for ages 15+ But everyone should try at least once.
Working from home can be dangerous territory. As an unpublished writer it's great-ish. But I am looking for ways to add to a thus far unpaid creative endeavour. We've all seen them, those ads to boost your income. Work from home. Make extra cash. Earn up to $3000 a month. Supplement your income with your computer. What they fail to say is that those plans often take hours a day, with multiple links, hundreds of envelopes, lots of writing and little factual reward. Les Sighes. Building a business from home is tougher than it seems. There are seen and unforeseen pitfalls. Growing up in a household with both parents working from home taught me many lessons about the separation of church and state. So, I thought I would pass some of those tidbits along.
Productivity in an at home business is threatened at every text, update and tweet. Learning to focus on your tasks is a task in itself. The benefits though can out weigh the opposition. By working from home I am able to keep my overhead low. The commute is short but the comforts are a temptation. People assume that since I am home I am free for a visit, which I typically cannot resist. Getting up in the morning I can launch my pyjama clad self directly into funnelling those creative juices. When those juices dry up I am able to switch focus to something mundane- for example laundry- essentially double dipping. Without a clock to punch I often loose track of work hours, which can lead to late nights and sleepy mornings. In loo of a cubicle it's important to create your own in house workspace. A place for work alone. Even if it's a special table splay, it's a centre to focus yourself. Ideally mine would be a vintage roll top writer's desk, though that's still a ways off. Create a task oriented routine, including meal breaks. By chopping your day into bite sized segments I've found an ease for consumption and creation. Working from home means your work may never end. Being your own boss means giving yourself a bonus for good work. Though it also means cracking the motivational whip. Balance is key but that key is big, heavy and easily lost.
The world often treats an at home employee as lessor than a work a day job Joe. No matter who you talk to it's value is difficult to pin down. Being a workaholic I have learned that I am capable of working myself like crazy no matter where I am. The most important part of being your own boss, your own publicist and the company janitor is diligence. Having a stick to it mentality will help you avoid the very obvious distractions. The not so obvious villans will always sneak up on you, but if you're ready to focus on your goals, you can remain on task. Strategizing my non-paying creative jobs and making some extra stay at home money would be great. I just wish I was getting paid for napping, bon bon eating and blogging. Which will come, as long as I can stay on task. Oh yeah, it's just that easy, said The Secret. But for now at least, working from home is where my heart is.
This time of year is full of insipiration. Motivational tips. Cute videos and tales of redeeming glory. So, I thought I would jump on that bandwagon...seems like a safer bet than the Leafs. These inspirations are for all my inspire-ers:)
1. There is a girl I know who volunteers because she wants to. She bakes and posters. She shaves ice and visits with people down on their luck. She is truly a good person. She inspires me to be generous.
2. There is a woman who mediates. She hears what is being said and how people are saying it and listens without judgement. Knowing the value of an opinion she saves it. She inspires me to use my words carefully.
3. There is a friend who challenges me. Who gets my goat. As if knowing when I need her and why, she keeps me on my toes. Reminding me there are so many possible outcomes to any situation. She is a survivalist. She inspires me to think out of the box.
4. There is a mother who loves her baby everyday. She hugs and kisses and sings to her. She protects and cares for the needs of her young. Putting herself second. She inspires me to choose love.
5. There is a person who knows me. I mean really knows me. The good, the bad and the fugly. Who doesn't blame others when problems arise. Who digs deep and struggles through, despite rising odds and inconsideration. She inspires me to stay motivated.
6. There is a dog who chills. She sleeps and snores. Reminding me that a day of rest is something we all need. That sometimes you need to curl up in a blanket and snooze. She inspires me to take it easy.
7. There is a couple who live together, work together and play together. They share opinions and oppose obstacles- together. Standing side by side they are a united front. They inspire me to work on my relationship.
8. There are two cats who stretch, yawn and primp. They taught me that the simple act of purring can be beautiful. They remind me that grooming is a very important tool for world domination. They inspire me to refract my inner beauty outward.
9. There is a certain board game that requires skill and planning. Strategy and secrecy. It takes diplomacy and fortitude. A misstep can make a difference between winning and losing. It inspires me to use my skills wisely.
10. There is a waitress who knows my name, my order and just how I like it. She knows how my day was, by how I walked through the door. She helps me to recognize who I am and how others see me. She inspires me to be a brighter light.
11. There is a gym teacher who makes me sweat. She helps me smile through my practise, even on those days when I feel like I am not progressing. She lets me lean on her those days when I need support. She inspires me to push myself further.
12. There is a small business owner who is constantly reinventing herself and her company. Following trends and predicting the needs of an ever changing customer base. Teaching me about where the current of business can lead, if I just point myself in the right direction. She inspires me to be open minded.
13. There is a baby who is just learning everything. Each day holds new opportunities to grow. She smiles and sighs, and sometimes she cries. Never knowing what can happen next. She inspires me to take each new challenge as it comes.
Oh yeah, I how could I forget: There are a few readers who's dedication inspires me to carry on, even when I feel uninspired to do so. And for all these people I am inspired to be a better person. Who did you inspire today? It's never who you expected. You're probably on this list;) Oh and I hope to inspire people to have fun. As for the tailgate party for this inspiration band wagon, there will be a veggie option:)
There is nothing new. You know how people say that? It's all just recycled versions of a joke that was already punched, an idea that was already patented. It's all been done before. Which for a creative person hurts my feelings and my chances. How can I break away if there will never be something new ever again.
Often people hear my off hand remarks and ask: what's that from? Offended I would say I just made it up. My interrogator squinting in disbelief, scrolling through their witty bank, searching for inaccuracies. But I'll stick to my creative guns. I would be amiss to say I have no inspiration. That I am museless. Or even uninfluenced by my environment, my interests or tastes. All of which I am and do and are and want to be. Creating something special or even just a hint of it is a daily goal. Something every creative person should strive for. I'm not saying that every night is a night to write a song about or a game changer. But I'm thankful for the nights that are.
So, if everything has been done, what's left to do? The only thing left is for me is to do, is do it. The only way for me to change it is to do it uniquely. Meliciously. Not like Frankie, not like Usher. My Way. The only person who sees the world the way you do is: wait for it: you. And the only person who can do things with that oh so special Meliciousness? Well, that's me. So, I guess that's where we creative folk find ourselves. Does the attempt to be brave and bold make us creative? Not necessarily, but there is the undying notion that everything old can be new again. And I am just the vintage lady to find that tarnished treasure, shine it up real pretty and present it with new life. Oh yeah, and sell it to you at a much higher price, of course.
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