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.
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.
 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?
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.
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.
The Script: Are you satisfied with your long distance plan? Would you mind if I called during dinner? Is there a better time or number that I that I can reach you? I am not going to call, I am just asking. There are just a few things I would like to discuss with you for the next 2 hours but we're not going to sort anything out or save you any extra money. This will only be a short survey, and when you accept; my first question will be to ask you if you understand what a survey is. Would you mind being recorded so we can play this conversation at our national convention when we can all laugh at you. And joke about how irate you get talking to our customer retention manager; who 's actually just the guy in the next cubicle. Please listen to this slightly untuned white noise music station from the world's last dial radio. You're call matters. To you.
Uncle. I give up* Insert waving of white flag. Mr. Phoneman, you make me pay monthly for using my computer; which I also had to pay for. It's just bytes of life for Rod's sake. You throttle the amount of information I receive. If you think it's too much, you unplug my encyclopedia. You tell me I can't have all the channels that the really great shows are on. The specialty channels are where everything well, for lack of another word, special is, just share it, would ya'please? Are you always going to be the meanest and most expensive bill that lands on my step? The most controlling member of my private life? Would it kill you to give me a break? I mean how much more do you need?
Big Bad Businessman, would you mind if I stole your social identity? How would you like it if I were to come into your office and told you no more? Just straight up tell you that I wasn't going to tolerate this treatment anymore. What would you do then? I mean, it's hard to do anything about the fact that large corporations are a joke. The 23 top employees get paid like rockstars and then you screw the rest us. This is the reason we now have to live in a Twinkie free society. I'm excited for the day when my outrage will affect more than my status on FB. And as far as long distance is concerned, I know Hubby and I have the most cost effective package for talk & text with a premium price tag for the Ultra light-super-maxi-high speed internet. Obviously, we have to have the best, I mean what are we cavemen?
There is a group of people who shine. They've got that certain something. That intangible spark. The X Factor. The Voice. They are a gangplank walking, chicken skin giving group. Overflowing with that very special something that sets them apart from the herd. The unique flare; a thing that people want to look at, talk about, dream about, drool over, wonder at, remember and cry over. It's hard to describe what makes a person a superstar, but I am willing to bet, it has something to do with three easily identifiable markers. And the unlikely combination created within that Shinning star. Creating a chemical reaction worth watching.
Talent- These are the people you can't stop watching. The people who sing the doors off- Whitney, Celine. Or the way Ansel Adams can make you feel thirsty. In this group we have dancers, writers, actors. Daniel Day's dedication to lifestyle immersion. They are the fireworks. They burn so beautifully bright. Typically they burn hard and fast. Streaking across the sky. Just catching them in the corner of your eye is lucky.
Confidence- Maybe it's the Cee Lo Green variety. Perhaps it's the confidence that Christina has in those mini skirts. It's that strut the angels have when they're telling secrets. The way a lead singer makes eyes at the camera. It's the stance. The swagger. It's shivering and sparkling. All the Bam Bam, all deliciously wrapped with a tiny little bow.
Personality- It's the distinctive late night gap toothed laugh. Then it's about creating a catch phrase. It's Farah Fawcett's blonde fringe. Monroe and Chaplin with their distinctive walks. Andy Warhol painting an iconic eye. The breathy vulnerability heard from the blues. It's the devil in their eyes. Unexpected punchlines. The suspenders and heart shaped glasses. It's a big floppy straw hat and pink boots.
The things that make you go boom. As a performer I fall into 1.75 of these categories. My personality is a solid 8.5, my confidence hovers between 6-8 and my talent varies greatly from passing to fancy. It plays into my favour that I am tenacious with a side of lazy. The good news is I am starting to know where I am going as a clear destination. I won't stop, cuz I can't stop. I am figuring out what it takes to make myself someone that burns brightly. A show must go on type of girl. I am on the road to giving goose flesh. They say knowledge is power and I am learning quite a bit about this crazy place and this even crazier business. But I don't think I'll ever stop lookin' at the stars.
So, it was six weeks ago that I faced facts and stared the terrible truth dead in the eye. Not liking what I saw I decided that it was time for action. I am the captain of my own destiny and if I truly wanted to reach the end of this life long journey without reget, it was time I took the wheel. Since then I have up-ed my effort, my enthusiasm and my fiber. It was time for a change or 12, and I have been working my way through the ever lengthening list tortoise style. This is a race I want to win.
I have been visiting "gym mirror me" 3 or 4 times a week. She looks a lot more comfortable in her lulus, they don't bunch as much. Nothing less flattering than a yoga pant camel toe. Though, I don't believe I am ready quite yet for the apparently fashionable gym rat short shorts. A fad which is strange to me because who wants more of their skin touching the common elements? Interestingly, I have started to schedule my workouts. Finding time between the skimmed milk wonder twins who play their music too loud and never break a sweat and the grunting guy who reminds me of that viral video where that Russian strains so hard his insides fall out. Watching others in the gym setting I finally get why at home gyms are popular. It's amazing how much better it would be to have my own wall of frosted mirrors, wind machine, bow flex and a slightly dimmer, more flattering light.
My eating habits are back to mostly veggies with the occasional bacon slip. Eating clean foods like arugula, kale and whole grains. With a daily boost of fiber, just to add... interest. I think I finally get what those cryptic commercials mean by 'regular'. Salads and live sprouts are at the top of my list. Late night binges have almost disappeared. Though there are days when I still crave junk. It would be a lie to say that I never think about hot wings, Doritos and orange Crush. But I think that's the fear and self-defeat talking and they weren't invited to this party.
Even though I haven't lost weight I feel tighter. My big jeans are loose. My skinny jeans are still too skinny, but I don't look like Molly Muffin top anymore. Which is a good feeling. Now I am able to sport my whole wardrobe, not just my fat pants. The worry that after dinner and drinks I will swell and push the seams to extremes is gone. I feel more confident wearing flirty skirts and leggings. It's a good start. The worst*fingers crossed* is yet to come, when I hopefully*arms crossed too* I become too small for all my clothes and they hang off me like some bigger girl's hand-me-downs.
Anybody who says improving themselves was easy is only saying it to make you feel bad. Life is hard. Being good is hard. Living a good life well is harder. And being the best you and becoming a benefit to yourself is the hardest. Things are getting better and less hard. Firmer yes, but not harder. I am starting to see what a difference little changes can make, and I can't wait to see what some bigger changes will, well, change:). So, stay brave, be bold and sweat those pre-Xmas stresses out. And even though I thought I would have made more numeric progress, I feel better than I have in months. So, how could I complain about that? Wait, I'm sure I can find a way...
And now for the moment we've been waiting for: Week 6 measurements
Height still 5'8"
Weight 176.2 (+1.8)
Bust 40 (-/+)
Natural waist 32.5 (-.5")
Hips 43 (-1")
Arm flex r:13.25 (-.5") l:13.5 (-/+)
Arm rest r: 13.5 (-/+) l:13.5 (-/+)
Thigh standing r: 24.75 (+.25) l:24.5 (-.5)
For a total loss of 1.75 inches
P.S. BFF says it's not the weight that I should focus on it's the measurements. Which except the bust are heading in the right direction. Which is a good thing/ bad thing I think.
Baby steps, taking your time and half measures- I can't say I'm a fan. I have been told once or twice *insert throat clear* I mean a lot, that I put too much pressure on myself. Expecting to achieve life long dreams in dog years. C'mon Melicious get it together! Yesterday's appearance on a National morning show was exhilarating. Being invited to a movie premiere, picked up at the Breaking Dawn (Twilight reference) in a schmancy car and broadcasting my smile across the country was amazing. So, why, as soon as I finished did I feel like I was under-achieiving? Why couldn't I just allow myself one day of gratitude and celebration? Oh, that's right, because I put a lot of pressure on myself and never quite live up to my own insanely high standards.
There are so very many reasons that I should celebrate. I have a loving Hubby, a great group of friends-that I don't see often enough-wicked family, a steady job, a few great ideas and my health. Plus the Puppa tink and Bucy goose, which goes without saying. So, why is it I can't just be happy with what I've got? There is a theory floating around that it may be genetic. Allow me to elaborate: My Momma opened a retail store this past week, before finishing her current term as Councillor, while still working a full time job. My Papa B who builds bathrooms on the weekend, while digging up the front and side yard and runs a company with 5 fulltime staff. Of these lists I have also left off their volunteer habits, their assorted groups and clubs, oh yeah and sleeping/eating- a highly undervalued commodity in our household. I am not blaming them- it's better than being raised by some no-good-lay-abouts with a reputation for no-good! But watching them strive to better themselves has challenged me to do the same. Only worse, because I do it Artistically.
While attending performing arts school I learned to express myself. To climb every mountain and dream the impossible dream. Well, here's a surprise, artists don't get paid much, so to supplement my pro-bono art, I work really hard at other things. But this leaves me tired and uninspired...and a bit pouty. My big fat bottom lip hanging out just waiting for a bird to perch. Don't get me wrong. I am of course grateful for all I have, I just thought I would be further along on this journey. Closer to having a vacation. Closer to finishing my book. Closer to being thin. And just closer to not being so far away from my-sometimes unrealistic- goals. Here's the thing, I know that half the fun is getting there, I just wish the directions were a little more clear. Though, I guess I am to blame for that too, as I keep changing the destination...but that's a story for another time.
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