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."
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:)
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:)
After taking 2 very long weeks off for this special time of year. I realized there were a few things I learned. So I thought y'all might benefit from learning yourselves.
Things I learned on Winter Holidays:
1. When my parents got a new dog I suffered from a severe case of sibling rivalry.
2. December is the month I decide to ruin myself, then I spend 8 months after that in a remorseful comatose of self loathing and depression.
3. As soon as I do not have to blog I have a bazillion great ideas.
4. Despite my objections- I did in fact want something sparkly for Christmas.
5. Not having an outburst outlet, means I burst out.
6. I miss making up inside jokes.
7. A New Year's resolution may start a few days late cuz you have left overs from Christmas that would be a shame to waste.
8. I am easily convinced that sitting around eating bon-bons is hard work.
9. A box of Ferreros that costs $5.99 seems appropriate to eat in one sitting.
10. Window shopping is recommended while wrapped in winter layers. Otherwise anticipate breaking a pig in a blanket sweat.
11. A musical revolution over 200 years old can still bring me to tears.
12. January is a strange month for weather and behaviour.
13. There should be a special Oscar category for CGI or motion capture actors & tigers
14. Family is a bountiful source for blog fodder.
15. I really like spending time with Jilly. She's truly the bestest tinker.
16. My trio's tradition of doing mini Christmas before we part for the season is a great way to ease into the holiday hubbub and bally-hoo!
17. There's something special about a new snow fall, especially the white fluffy floaty ones.
18. There are worse people I could be than myself.
19. Turkey+time =toots
20. Keeping a New Year's resolution is tough if you don't really want to.
21. Pig is a delicious animal.
22. Being a meat eater is not for me. how can I love one and eat the other?
23. Christmas carols late at night on Christmas Eve in the church I grew up in makes me cry, then laugh until I start crying again.
24. I am lucky to love my family as much as I do.
25. Even though Hubby says he only likes black athletic socks, a new pair of purple argyles really bring out his personality.
26. People should stop bullying Justin Bieber, he's a good boy.
27. Being the loudest person in the room means I should probably try listening.
28. I can still remember all the dirty/made up lyrics for most of my fav childhood Xmas songs.
29. I enjoy being happy and jolly. But other people tend to be annoyed/overwhelmed/intimidated by the level of my enthusiasm.
30. A Christmas threat becomes empty if you beg your Momma for the 90 piece nativity set and ceramic tree.
31. My favourite parts of returning to work after the holidays are the hugs and New Year's well wishes. I would like that type of reception all the live long year.
This is not the entire list, but I worry that too many lists that are too long- can wear out my welcome- and I want to be welcomed until my next holiday:) Here's to you and yours! I hope you had the most magical of Christmas times. I hope that Santa was good to you! And that all your New Year's resolutions are on track. Or at least at the train station.
 Alternate titles include: The Resolutionator, My Body/My Self, Everything Old is New Again, You Say Goodbye, I Say Hello and This is Going to be the BEST Year Ever- the Farmer's Almanac said so. Well, jingle my Xmas bell and ring in the New Year! I've missed all 6 of my loyal readers! And am enjoying my new found popularity in the Russian market. Who knew they were fans of the middle of the road humour I am all about. Hmmm*insert shrug. There have been a multitude of changes over the past 2 weeks... For one you might've noticed the image to the right...Why yes, that is my new logo. Oh really? You think so? I'm a big fan too. I am also planning on a huge website overhaul to celebrate my first blog-iversary- Exciting times for those of us on the ground floor. Many more floors planned, but I am awaiting zoning by-law approval. Now, this Year's resolutions include soon to be classics and renewals of the ever popular standards. For example I am taking level 2 Ukeology with my Fav teacher Judy Marshak, a continuation of last year's initiative. There has been significant progress on my YA novels, so that's coming off the back burner and being put onto the mid-burner. I am back to being a pescetarian, which is a type of omnivore. A fancy way of saying meat makes me sad and sick, plus fish can't cry, they don't have tear ducts. Hubby and I have also started juicing. The amazing flavours of cabbage and kale finally in one condensed murky glass...that was sarcasm, though most of his concoctions have been a dis-licious veggie blast. The whole eating right and exercise thing seemed to be working, so that is to be continued with renewed fervour. Which brings me to what I have been worried about...I owe us a weigh in. Sigh. I'll be honest, all the goodies and boozes and baddies caught up with me this holiday season. For example, Hubby and I finished a box of Ferrero Rochers in a sitting, mind you it was a Sons of Anarchy marathon, so it was over a few hours, but still. Those delicious hazelnut nuggets went down like butter... which I also ate a lot of. Looking at myself in the gym wall mirror this week has given me pause. I am definitely up... but just how much is yet to been seen. So, I guess it's time for us to see what comes of bad decisions.
And now for the moment I've been avoiding: Week 12 measurements
Height still 5'8"
Weight 173.6 (-2.6 lbs)
Bust 40 (-/+)
Natural waist 33.5 (+.5")
Hips 44 (+1")
Arm flex r:13.5 (+.5") l:13.5 (-/+)
Arm rest r: 12.5 (-1") l:12.75 (-.75")
Thigh standing r: 25 (+.25) l:24.5 (-/+)
For a total gain of .5 inches but a loss of 2.6 lbs
That is one strange weigh in. I knew that I would be up, but to also be down... It's a wonder that people don't drive themselves crazy with their numbers. From what I understand the muscle I gained before the holidays helped me to fend off some of the weight, though not the bloating. Oh and as had been the pattern no inches gained or lost on my bust line. Surprise, surprise, surprise. I am definitely happy to be back on track, it's not necessarily a fast track, but now I know what direction I am going. So as soon as that Pot of Gold is gone I will be back to my strict no junk regime...I mean who can resist that chocolatey flavour rainbow?
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.
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.
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.
Please find attached 2 relatively related rants:
Rant the First
Hubby and I are chronic renters. We prefer small cozy city living. Snuggled up in tight quarters. Small spaces but with great windows that on a clear night can see all the way to Bloor St. But to make way for progress our panoramic view is quickly depleting. It is a sad day for open space loving small townies like us. I liked the view from here. It's a great location... Location, location. Real Estate has never been my forte. It sounds really interesting at first until I realize the stories I hear about these amazing gems with nob and tube aren't in my future. I don't want a fixer upper in the city that's been lived in by 15 different people and none of them cared. Bleached and barnacled and tired from city living. It's not my cup of T.o. There is a dream though, a teeny little quiet dream. The wish is to have a house that's been in someone's family for generations and, this is silly; it's been deemed historically significant. Our house would be a part of the history of something bigger. Our very very very fine house, would have 2 cats in the yard. A story to tell. A song to sing. Our house would have personality. The stairs would creak and the wind might whisper on occasion but it would hold the secrets of history. Of course, it would be a pain to maintain all the structural integrity in accordance with the local historical society bi-laws; a challenge Future Me willingly accepts. But for now we live in a city shoe box, without a story. And the wide screen we were watching life on is shrinking. I guess I'll really have to go outside.
Rant the Second
The giant hole that is my backyard is a muddy disaster. Clay and gravel and slick squishy mud coat my pathway home. Covering my boots and imbedding itself in my tread. Stomping and dragging my feet the whole way. Trying to shake off the filth. When I do get inside the view is like an exposed root after the tooth has been ripped out. The bottom which is almost 4 stories down is dotted with tents to protect the men working in these conditions. Giant flood lights click on at sunset and push the crew to quitting time. The holes have been drilled, the rebar impacted. Cranes have been brought in to move the cranes in. The skeleton structures floating over head. Suspended and riveted. They are sleeping giants. Not quite ready for action. But I can hear them practicing their shriek, stretching for the long job ahead. I get why people want to live in the city. I mean obviously I do, it's just that how many more of us does there need to be? In such tight quarters and with all this mud and dog pooh, you can't ever wear nice shoes. Fancy city night living shoes. Shoes you hoped to look nice in, ensemble shoes. Been a long time since my feet were fancied up. Also down side, there is a lot of stomping in my building. Mud clots dot the hallway carpets. But winter is coming. The anticipation of frozen clay is killing me. Though, I don't think it will be a respite. By the time it gets cold enough to freeze everything's gross and soggy anyway. The once dirty route now becoming treacherous. It will be a slippery layer of icing on top of the so-hard-it-hurts-to-fall when you fall on it permafrost. (Notice I said when. I accept I will fall. It's slippery) At least while I am hibernating this winter, trying to pick the pooh out of my boot tread, I can watch the cranes spin and twill and finally grow up to be elevators. A dirty festering hole like that? The dentist would recommend a filling, at least 9 out of 10 of them would.
Growing up in a small town, there's lots of time for reflection. Time to sit by the river and wait for your enemies to roll by or read the Art of War. It's up to you. There is always more time and it's never to late to write your wrongs. My Grandma Far was a fan of two nuggets of truth. 1. What's for you doesn't go by you. Which means, if you're destined to have something or you've earned it, you'll get it. And 2. The whole world can't be wrong. Meaning, if you're the only one to see things your way, you're probably wrong. And I am. I have been wrong a lot lately. Which is not to say I haven't been trying, I've just been trying the wrong things the right way and ignoring the right things the wrong way
The strangest part about being wrong is that you don't realize it until it's too late. Sad, but true. If l had stopped to listen to the oh so very many voices of reason while on this tunnel vision express train, I probably wouldn't have F*ed things up...quite so badly. There were warning signs- I ignored. There were beacons of information- I ignored. How about the pony express telegrams I received, but instead of reading, I did what, oh that's right- I ignored them. Hubby says that people need to go through a selfish faze, especially when their goals are as lofty as mine. Here is the problem though. I am double crossing myself. Hedging my bets. By putting in the effort for the things I need to be good at to achieve my goals, I risk losing the things I am already great at. And I don't like that, it feels wrong.
When it feels like the world hates my guts, there is special person I turn to. The man behind the curtain. My Papa B; renowned grump and philosopher. Plus sometimes I just need to talk to my Daddy. As I wept onto my smart phone, my Papa B apologized for giving me his guarded and easily aggravated genes. He is convinced that he is responsible for the not-so-social quirks my Bro and I share. Which are many and widely varied. This might explain why the only person the 3 of us really trust is my Momma. I know he's wrong about giving me all my quirks cuz I got a few from my Momma as well. But where things really go wrong is when the two gene pools collide. My Papa B's shrouded mystery with my Momma's need to shout it from the rooftops. My Papa B's grumpiness with my Momma's need to please. Papa B took an hour on a windy almost winter day to talk me down from a lonely breezy, freezing ledge and what I needed to hear most was the last thing he said: "No matter how wrong you are. If you apologize and mean it, there will always be time to right what you've wronged, if that's what you want." And I want to. Living life right is about maintenance, it takes work. You're never wrong for wanting to better yourself. But there is a right way to do it. As for their genes, they may never fit me and look flattering. But my Mom's genes will sure look good with my New Balance *insert coy wink for my funny little play on words*
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