Twas the night before Rapture and all through the lands.
People in tin foil hats, were still making plans.
We'd all seen the signs. End of days nigh.
Just ask a Mayan or Conspiracy guy.
I thought what's the point of a blog here today?
So, I went on Xmas vacation, hip hip hooray!
I can hardly believe that it's already here.
See you in two weeks, Have a Happy New Year.
There are children all over who grow up dreaming. Sometimes they are too shy to talk their peers. Perhaps their mouth works just a hint faster than their brain and they often find themselves chewing foot. Maybe they find their own thoughts more amusing and entertaining than reality and well, just a wonderful place to play. Those starry eyes drifting; lost in a teeny insect world, or on an intergalactic journey. For little bitty me, imagination was my best friend. We would read fairy tales and mystery novels together. Yellow jacketed puzzles that we'd solve just in time to start the next. We'd write dark and brooding poetry, as that was the only kind we knew about until haiku. But movies, they were our home.
There are so many lives I have lived through movies. I have been a warrior, a dancer, an outcast, a vigilante. I have fallen in love with the bad boy, and the good boy who pretends to be the bad boy but gets caught up being bad until his true love for me snaps him out of it. There have been to millions of Christmas', tonnes of Weddings and oh so many narrowly escaped terrors. Movies have always been a special part of the world for me. A chance to jump into someone else's imagination. Maybe even explore uncharted islands, star systems or the future. I've attended Proms where the whole grad class knows the same dance moves. Having wishes come to life. Making children out of wood. Flying elephants. Then just as quickly drafted back onto the front lines. Dark and dirty. With just a hint of hope. The smile of the inn keeper's son, and suddenly the rain doesn't seem so bad. Without warning the band starts warming up and you're dancing. Singing songs that reflect the hopes of the world around you. Being a part of the magic is an important part of me; and my imagination agrees with that.
The movies might not always be good. A lot of the time they will be rotten. You'll forget about them. Perhaps you'll fall asleep before the end. But knowing that eventually, no matter how bad the movies get there will always be somebody who wants to make them great again. There will always be a writer searching for the greatest idea they've ever had. Each character is a chance for the makeup artist to perfect their craft. Then there's the lighting guys, the boom operator, the focus puller. And as we all know there's the cast. There might be a lot of movies out there that will never surprise us. They may never get noticed. They may even let us down. But every once in a while there's a movie that finds our imagination, wakes it up and asks them if they want to come out and play. And this time of year has my imagination pulling all-nighters, but with another trip to the concession stand, I should be able to pack enough high fructose energy to keep my imagination and I going, at least until Boxing Day.
Dear Santa,
How are you? I thought I would ask so that I could prove that I am considerate and should in fact be on the nice list- in case there were concerns. I know I've seen you twice this year, but I didn't have my list with me. Plus, when I saw you up close I grew genuinely worried about your health, specifically your blood sugar level and cholesterol. Have you been pre-screened for diabetes? At your age, (what are you now 70ish?) these are things you should start to worry about. Especially this time of year; it can be stressful and strenuous. I also think that we're ready for a new fashionable update to your look. Of course you're comfortable with the red velvet standard, but we've made many advancements in apparel technology. You know you can you always ask Mrs. Clause, for something other than socks and underwear. Which reminds me, jolly red man, there are a few things I have on my list.
1. Socks and underwear. I have worn through the pairs you gave me last year. There are holes and snags, stains- on the toes of my socks and frayed elastics on the waistbands of my underpants. A couple pairs of wool work socks with red ringers and a 3 pack of panties would be great.
2. Mittens, of the handmade woollen variety. Preferably to match my fav hat. Replacing the sentimental mittens I lost already this year.
3. A new North Face winter coat. The stuffing on my current Charlie Brown jacket is sticking out my armpits, tar-lessly feathering me. I look like an ironically overgrown chicken pretending to be a vintage lady.
4. A juice Tiger- or similar non-fiction device for juicing fruit and veggies. A big star beside this item. Though that is mostly because my Hubby has now convinced himself that he needs one, even though we had an industrial juicer sit on our counter for 3 years and he never used it.
5. Roomba or Air purifier, something to help keep the fur-babies in check. I don't know about Reindeer, but dogs and cats shed like it's their mandate to weave their tiny white hairs into every fibre of every fabric and build fur pucks underneath all of our fur-niture.
6. Is there room in your sac for a vacation? I mean a really, real vacation. One where I don't have to do anything? But absorb some vitamin D, mojitos and get sand in every nook and crevice.
7. A Christmas tree? I think my Momma & Papa B have forgotten that the Christmas Spirit actually lives in the Yuletide boughs. I don't mind decorating it, as Bro will help me. We'll even take it down.
8. A world tour to see my friends far and wide. A party with the Home team advantage for those near. And a country wide sprawl to visit with the Happy Hatress, the East Coast Momma, the Winnipeg Whirlwind and the West Coast Doppleganger.
9. Oh, and a new web host for my Blog. With an easier myPad application. Cuz from what I hear, easier is typically faster and more fun.
Well, Santa I don't want to keep you much longer, just wanted to make sure you got my letter. I know it's short notice, but I put the wrong postal code on my snail mail. BTW- pretty strange how it's HOH OHO, I assume as per canadian postal services those O's are actually Zeros. Here's to a Happy Holiday. Maybe I'll see you at your timeshare in the Canary Islands, as Hubby and I wouldn't mind sharing our vaca with you and the Mrs.
Happy Christmas, Santa, I love you.
Melicious but Nice
P.S. Jilly wants a new garbage ball she finds on the side of the road. And Lucy wants some more time dog-free.
This is that very special time of year when the phrase you hear most is "We should get together!". And in most cases we do. Every weekend and evening jammed packed with travelling, talking, catching up and Christmas carols. Oh and don't forget an extra special visit with Sandy Clause, cuz I didn't write a letter this year, and my list is long. Now, every year is the same thing. Keeping up appearances at a break neck speed for the first 2 weeks, then all of a sudden you realize: You've only been sleeping 4 hours a night and between work and play you're all booked up 'til Xmas Eve and solid through to Boxing Day. Well, Honey, I am here to tell you, we are in the final week. The countdown to downtime has begun. And baby, oh baby, I'm thinking Turkey and Gravy, which is strange, cuz I usually don't eat meat.
This has been a long month for me so far. Filled with parties, pub crawls, public appearances & double shifts. Bringing with it good and bad. Rampant with tiny bad luck spurts. If you've been following along, some of this is old news. I have lost my sentimental mittens; made for me by my Momma's BFF to match my toque and winter coat. I dropped myPhone into the toilet; but it's sorta back to normal. My watch strap snapped. I've bruised my elbow, badly. I have fallen down once or twice. I've strained my muscles by pushing myself at the gym so I can eat whatever I want during this holiday's never ending buffet circuit. But there have also been tiny rays of Daylight saving grace. I've hugged and been hugged by so many people that I love. There has been dancing, oh so much, that the earth moved. Dance parties, dance off, dancing myself right into a neck brace. Oh! and wine. I have had a lot of wine, beer, vodka and it has put me into the Spirit... though it's a good thing that I have spread it out over a month. I haven't gained weight (yet) and am still on target for my New Year's goals. As the next weigh in is Dec 31, apropos of a typical predictable New Year's Resolution. So, I have endured a lot of 2 steps forward, 2 steps back, turn around touch the ground. But treading water while giving and receiving with people you love, ain't too shabby.
This time of year is always a mad dash. There is social pressure to be the best person this very special time of the year. But it's always a scramble to the finish line. Breathe deeply, we're almost there. Online gifts must be ordered by now. Last minute mall sprawls for those special add on items. Stocking stuffings stuffed into sacs and stored safely. Baking and basting almost ready. And soon the holiday parties will slow, and the family dinners will start. So, dear readers as we gain momentum on this holiday juggernaut I remind you that we are 7 days from the big one and then (fingers crossed) we'll be able to settle down for a long winter's nap. Hopefully. I do wish that we could keep Christmas with us all through the year, though I don't think I could afford it- financially, emotionally or sentimentally.
Hubby and I are at that delicate age when people start asking you about babies. When are you going to have them? Is it soon? And I want to say yes. I want to say I can't wait. But I'm scared of this world I might be bringing them into. There are tragedies everyday. Big tragic awful things. People hurting people on purpose, for profit, against all laws both natural and criminal. That's nuts. And it breaks my heart. But seriously, as Marvin Gaye said: What's going on?
After voicing these concerns people respond that one little baby could be the person who changes things. The one voice who finally gets through to the rest of the world. This tiny unmade baby might be the answer to all these big and tragic problems...To that I say, anybody could be that baby. To my Momma and Papa I am that baby. But I'm having a tough time changing this big messy world we've become. I don't like this world I live in. I don't like the fact that people hurt children, I don't like the fact that I can't help every child be safe. There is so much that needs to change. Though no matter how much I change, it's still not enough. Why can't I just help everyone, and fix everyone, and hold everyone, so that we all feel better? I mean I don't litter, I recycle, I pick up my dog's poop, I do the little things while fighting the good fight. I try to make everything brighter.
The trouble here? Is that nothing I do makes those big differences. How do put in my order for those? Can we start soon? It would be better for all of us, trust me. And deep down, and in some of us really deep down we all know what's right. When will the little guy be the winner? And I don't mean, poor me, I'm not a winner. I'm not being a Sad sack. I work hard to win the races I run. But why doesn't the big guy share? I mean how much can one person really absorb in their lives. Corner offices, fifteen minutes of fame, square footage, ocean frontage, reality television, a regalia of yachts, making a million dollars a minute. When is more enough? And at what point does more just equal more. If I had that much money; you would have to call me Brewster, cuz the money would go out so fast. But even now, being a middle class canadian artist couple, I wouldn't mind giving up a little piece of my world if that meant that others are going to be safe and healthy.
The sad part is that all of these Super intentions come at a difficult time. A time that may be the worst in history and we all hope things will never surpass this monument, but as long as there is darkness in the world, and parties fighting for evil. Our world will never get ugly enough for them. As for where we are now, there is always someone hurting in this big wide world. It may not be me getting hurt, but that doesn't mean I am unaffected. If I can't change it when I am grown up, how can I ever expect one tiny baby to change it. Or Oh wait, I am supposed to wait until my baby is my age now, and by then because of how I raised them they will be able to make a difference? That isn't a likely outcome. If things are this bad now, in 30+ years where will we be? Things should be fixed before he gets here, so life can be what it's supposed to be for everyone. A world I would be happy to bring a baby into. Kind and bright, safe and sound. If I don't feel safe myself, why would I want to give this mad world to anyone. The rule is- don't do to someone else what you don't want done to you- or something like that. And I don't want this to be a world where they could be shot at school, or the movies, or the mall. How could I do that to them?
The Starving Artist will appear tomorrow.
I didn't write a blog today, I totally forgot.
I had the day off of film you see, but still worked a friggin' lot.
Jammed my day with this and that, but nothing's really done.
The hours of daylight slipping by and me, I had no fun.
Time goes faster with each day. And I am starting to foget,
What was it I was going to do? And have I done it yet?
So, I worked out, I sweat and stretched.
Impressing teachers how I've progressed.
Holiday shoping halfway done, some thoughtful planning and gifts for fun.
I coddled my iBaby, sleeping in rice.
Walking in the sun felt nice.
Taking along the Tinker-Stinkeroo
Boy, oh boy did she have a #2
Picking is the grossiest bit, but not as gross as leaving it.
Which most my neighbours think is fine.
To them I say "this grass is mine."
They are wrong, I know it's true, so sometimes I pick up their 2's too.
I took a shower, washed my hair.
Departed for my shift with flair.
On to a party, as the staff, My team was great, we shared some laughs.
A late night home and early morning soon, I should be done my work by noon.
Then I'll come home to start the fun, the weekend's here. I'm on the run.
So many visits yet to come.
Happy Holidays, let's have some rum...
Sorry, I couldn't think of another rhyme. Have a Happy FriYay! and a great Weekend:)
A little bit of bad luck goes a long way. Cell phones are a modern appendage. They are the gateway to the universe, the twitterverse, the blogsphere, and intergalactic entertainment time travel. And these tiny little upwards-of-expensive devices live by 2 rules. I mean, they aren't even as complicated as Gremlins. The rules are simple- Do not drop it, and do not drop it in water. As you well know I am not one to follow rules. So, I dropped it- in the toilet. And not just any toilet, a public toilet, at a wing joint. Argh, sigh, job well done, truly a stellar moment in my technological history. Take that rules!
The moment it happened without a thought I thrust my hand into the bowl to retrieve it. Popular opinion is split, those who reach in and retrieve and those who cut their losses. I am a retriever. It was a clean bowl, and that phone is my link to the outside world. It would also cost way too much to replace. And I am not due for a hardware upgrade until the 36th of Septnever. Holding that drippy white digital box, my brow forcefully furrowed, squealing "Oh my Rod, I dropped my phone in the toilet, I can't believe I dropped my phone in the toilet! What do I do? What can I do? Help!" Swaddling my wee wet white technological sponge in paper towels and caressing the now black screen. Rushing my patient upstairs, searching for an urban legend rice repair, awaiting lackadaisical first responders. The only option for providing such grainy apple care was to hit the road, trudging to far off destinations. Finally sliding my swaddled baby into a ziploc full of hope. Needless to say it was a quick end to an otherwise pleasant night. I have been worried ever since. What should I do? How long should I wait? Is an iPhone comfortable in rice because it was made in China? How many hours, days, weeks before this tiny apple would be unsaucy and ready for fun? Would our relationship ever be the same?
I fretted and fidgeted about this little device all day. BFF says perhaps it's a sign. That being unplugged from online reality, might be a good thing. Thrust back to pen and paper. Writing my blog in my mind and on the back of my hand. Like a teenage girl in the early '90s. Counting on my watch to actually tell the time. Brass tacks baby, back to basics. But I don't want to be the stupid girl who forgot her phone was in her back pocket. And even though everyone knows someone who's done this, now I'm that girl. And she sucks. If everything comes out alright and my teeny apple dumpling flickers back to miLife I am going to buy one of those $80 waterproof unbreakable protectors I've been making fun of at Future's Best. The money is worth the peace of mind. Then I can continue on not following rules, and dropping that delicate little appendage any dang place I want to. Also I pledge never to take any hardware to the loo again, maybe I'll buy a couple of Betty and Veronica comics to keep myself occupied early '90's style.
The hottest trend for holiday events this season is "The Ugly Sweater Party". If you are not familiar with the concept it's pretty self explanatory, but here we go. Scour second hand racks for the ugliest Xmas sweater you can find, and I mean the ugliest! Bedazzled, adorned, appliquéd and flair-ed to the max. Hubby and I were invited to and attended an Ugly Pub Crawl, an Ugly Sweater Holiday House party and 2 late night burger runs which were accidental Ugly Sweater destinations. There are so many things I love about the ugly Sweater epidemic, so here we go.
- It levels the playing field. Being clad in an ugly sweater is similar to being in a school uniform. No matter who you are you look ugly. It's actually better if you look like a tacky shack, wrapped up in a bad idea, tied with a yuck bow.
- Santas, Snowmen, Angels, XmasTrees, Elves, Bells are the images we wrap ourselves up in. Forcing the Holiday spirit. And I mean forcing. Even a Scrooge looks holiday season happy.
- You are hot. I mean you are warmer than you think you could ever be. It also encourages consumption of beverages, including eggnog and spiced rum. At house parties there is the possibility of overheating and passing out...from heat.
- Matching sets of sweaters are the cutest ugly looking pair a couple can be. Unless of course you count the holey sweats those same couples wear at home.
- There are bonus points available for ugly sweater skirts,ugly knit tights and other ugly add-ons including but not limited to- elf shoes, reindeer antlers, light up brooches, red plaid tights, Xmas earrings and uber-long Rip van Winkle style hats.
- When everyone looks silly, stupid and sweater-ed, there's a sense of camaraderie. Fighting the good fight in the name of the Tryers! (Tryers: a social group that strive to participate at the cost of their own ego)
- It's just plain fun to see people look ugly and be able to make fun of them as such
This busy season, take the time to be ugly. It's a warm, warped and wonderful way to spend time with friends, both old and new. In the name of the Ugly Sweater, I wish you the very best these Hideous Holidays have to offer. Oh, and if you see me coming, ring your bells and light those brooches, cuz it's about to get ugly.
There are 364 Un-birthdays, un-birthdays every year. Well, today is not an un-birthday. Today is Hubby's special day. And trust me it's tough to have your birthday so very close to Christmas, even if you are over 30*insert foot stomp. But the biggest problem I have with this time of year? Hubby buys his own presents. He picks them and purchases them sometime in the summertime. Promising me he only wants this one thing for his birthday and this one thing for Christmas. Am I glad he bought himself a hover board? Yes, and No. Yes, I'm happy that he's gonna get something he really wants. No, I'm unhappy that I didn't get to pick out something especially for him. No, because I don't really want a hover board until it really hovers on water. No, because birthdays aren't supposed to be preordered and in the mail 7 months before the actual day. No, because I can't afford to give him another gift after he's given them to himself. It has been 4 years since I have bought my Hubby a gift, for Christmas, Birthday, Anniversary or Because it's Tuesday. And on this day; his birthday it makes me sad.
Considering the many gift giving foibles I have exhibited in the past, it is understandable that Hubby may be cautious about getting a gift lemon. But, I have gotten much better. For example, I am cheap. I am forgetful. I am bad with dates. It's taken many baby steps to tiptoe away from those not so awesome qualities. Like, my all in one daily planner, notification system and life coach that now fits nicely into my pocket. There is no longer an excuse for forgetting birthdays. I have been working my butt off and I'm trying to worry a little less about money. I mean, I still want to make sure that the gifts have implied value. That the gift I am giving is precious to the receiver. Keeping it special for the birthday boy or girl or Xmas lister, I try to remember inside jokes or something mentioned in passing. Giving a great gift is tough, but I'd still like to try.
The giver/receiver relationship is a special one. It is a chance for the giver to prove themselves. Prove they've listened, that they know the receiver, that they thought about it. They become a proven entity. But the receiver really is the lucky one, they get to feel that surprise of something special, the wonder of the details and the work put into the gift by the giver, they get to feel celebrated and loved. They develop a grateful nobility. Growing up I was taught to wait for the special day. Plan of course, send your letter to Santa or the Birthday Squirrel. The rule was we weren't allowed to buy anything for ourselves in the 2 months leading up any gift giving day. Though, I guess Hubby hasn't technically broken that rule, as he bought his gift 7 months ago. Anyhow, I wish the Happiest of Days to my loving Hubby, please consider this blog your gift. But next year, it's Wifey's Choice.
A few blogs ago I initiated a challenge. My goal was to focus and narrow in on one of my passing fancies. Writing. Now, you may say, Melicious you write everyday. Aw, you noticed? But I don't write with a goal in mind. I have a tendency to vary my interests. Which is great for those Squirrel! moments, when I can't remember what I wanted to do, I just look around and see something shiny and decide to play with that. In my short busy life, I have been an esthetician, a bartender, a box office attendent, a drive thru attendent, a cruise director, a bead stringer, a stationary creator, well, you get the point. Hubby is proud of coining the phrase: "Melicious loves to collect. She collects other people's hobbies and jobs.". He's right of course. It's a rare genetic form of career hoarding. I mean how embarrassing would it be if someone asked me a question I didn't have the answer to, or worse, wanted me to do a job I didn't know how to do. I might look stupid. The upside of course, I love learning. I hereby plant this flag as the Master of Being Jack of All Trades.
The love of learning is key to the actor's life, otherwise how would we know what you to do if we were supposed to act like a cop, a robber, or a pizza delivery guy- who's really an undercover cop. These are important questions. Learning is also the tether that keeps the writing ball in play. Being able to predict the outcomes of situations each different character finds themselves in. The characters are important and their lives are as different from each other as they are from my own. Imagination and learned information is the key to unlocking the stories of the fictional folks in Book Town. I mean stories would be pretty boring if the only character the writer knew how to write was themselves, unless of course it's an autobiography, in which case that's acceptable. This blog is mostly about me, but that's what blogs are all about. My writing and acting are all about others. And in most cases fake people. Learning how the world works and how people fit in as cogs in the grand scheme is a ticking coo-coo clock, waiting to chime the hour. And I always want to know what time it is.
The laser beam that has become my focus may start to burn right through my artistic obstacles which include but are not limited to: fear of failure, fear of success, regret and laziness. My brain is still jammed full of half baked ideas and schemes. But knowing that if I don't actually put the effort forward I have only myself and my distractions to blame. So, for now I am focused on becoming the next big thing in YA literature that goes mainstream. Turns into a billion dollar franchise, with a beloved series of movies and trademarked memorabilia. It's a cosmic goal, but I am aiming for the moon, hoping to end up amongst the stars. The passing fancies on the back burner have been simmering for a while, and I look forward to bringing some of those stew pots to the front burner and then eating my heart out. There are very important things that I still need to learn, but I will never lose my lust for consuming the knick knack info that sticks in this noggin and tickles my fancy. Those tidbits eventually become a part of my stories and the stories of Book Town. I am writing here and in aCloud to help us learn that fancy things come from passing along the information we've learnt. So, that's today's lesson. An apple for the teacher, if you please.
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