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."
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 As an unpublished writer it's great-ish.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.
 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?
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 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.
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.
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*
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.
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