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.
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.
There are some people who don't like the idea of a little girl (or boy) wanting to be a Princess. Well, I thought it was time we clear the air in this stuffy castle tower. The only problem I have with a little girl (or boy) wanting to be a Princess is if they don't realize it means a lot of hard work and hurtful stereotypes. A Princess has to be ready for anything.
There are many different types of Princesses. Some are born into it, some marry into it and some who've chosen that life path. The anti-princess people have only ever seen their side of the argument. Princesses are entitled, demanding and weak. And sadly, I admit that they can be right. That some real life Princesses are not good people. But some real world Princesses-especially those who don't have an official title- are invaluable to their kingdom.
Being an unregistered Princess, I have been judged. I'm naive, though I consider it hopeful. I'm over sensitive, but I prefer the term tender. A Princess who chooses their path knows there will be pitfalls and hopes to avoid them. Leading her subjects to safety and ultimately happiness. But the most important part about being a Princess is fighting for what is true and good. Love is a huge part of that. What else could invite tiny woodland creatures to your side? Have them compose a tune in your honour and convince them to make you the most beautiful ball gown...I mean obviously, you must be lovely. It is a Princess' duty to protect the weak. Being a Princess means that you have to work hard at being the royal beacon your kingdom can follow and be proud of. So, take that Princess-haters, but swallow it with a spoonful of sugar- it'll go down easier:)
The hardest part of any art? The middle. All creators of all art forms know that the idea is exciting. Creating an original concept, all your own- what could be better? The planning and pitching can be a hard but rewarding way to share your art. It's the middle. That becomes the hardest, longest and most challenging part. When the art becomes work. And that's not what we signed on for as creative folks. Creative people can have a hard time fulfilling their own dreams. And the amount and quality of material an artist creates is dictated by their commitment to their goal and personal deadlines. Making art is a hard career. It's easy to loose interest in art that becomes work. Especially in the middle.
This theory applies to acting. Auditioning is a challenge. Creating a character from the sides provided. Convincing a table full of folks who know what they're looking for, that you are that thing. The waiting until the word comes you were cast. The first day of rehearsals and getting to know your castmates- awesome. Building your character, complimenting your cast and memorizing the words written for you to express yourself. Then the middle begins. Strangely the middle lasts until after opening, through the run and into the final week of shows, when the work suddenly doesn't feel so worky anymore. It becomes art again. And that art becomes fun again. It applies to music. Sitting with your instrument, your band, your creativity, writing what comes to mind. Fooling around until you're happy with what this tiny idea has transformed into; a fully formed music baby. Then comes the strumming and rehearsal of the song. Followed by playing that song until you've forgotten why it was so special when you wrote it. Painters know that a new canvas holds untold opportunities for expression. The minute a brush hits the surface, it becomes harder ever finish, the long lonely hours spent planning and painting. Don't even get me started on writers. There are scripts, novellas and poems sitting unfinished in drawers and on desktops. Millions of secret art, awaiting their fate in the unfun middle. Art is hard.
This is the unseen side of art. The hustle, the bustle, the grind. Beginning, begging and borrowing. Trying to stay motivated through the work. The constant possibility that you and you're art may not be as special as they thought. The fear that you will let the ever present "THEM" down. That the people who believe in you might have misplaced their faith. The fear that you might try your hardest to produce the most special art that you will ever create. Only to have no one notice. To be alone in your art. Art is meant to be shared. But what if you aren't an artist? What if after years of trying, lying, starving and striving, you're not good enough? Well, my friend, just that fear alone says you're an artist. So struggle, sweat and swear. Maybe cry a few times. As for my Art? I can hardly remember the start and I am no where near the end. But I am closer to where the dreaded middle ends, and it becomes fun again...I hope.
Oh Pop culture how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. When I was growing up there was a lot of story telling. Joke telling. You heard about hip songs from that one friend who knew music. You read fashion magazines to learn style. You quoted television shows. If you wanted information about what was hip, you went to a hip person. You couldn't outright ask them, of course, because then they'd know you were not hip. You had to absorb and translate their hipness. But now! Oh my little pop culture, how you've grown.
Have you danced lately? Have you whooped'em Gangnam style? If not you should. It's really fun! Pop culture is no longer just regional- it's become a global obsession. With social media, we've all become entertainment editors- choosing, sharing and championing the next big thing. The best part about that is everyone can be Pop! No matter where, no matter who, you can set a trend. I am in love with it! Truly in love with watching mash up videos created by fanboys and girls. Tip and trick instructional videos. Watching Pop icons mock themselves- shocked that their 15 minutes is passing so fast. Doing the circuit and schmoozing with Seacrest. SNL and CNN equally intrigued with the Pop movement of the moment. Pop culture welcomes the weird, the wacky, the talented and the terrifying. There is room for us all.
Technology is helping us tell stories. Recording our jokes and teaching us that being hip comes from being yourself. When things get sad, just take a deep breath, hit the search bar and wait for that special viral feeling to overwhelm you. Or get out your camera and make a music video. Smile! Dance! Post, share, laugh and love the culture we're popping together. Then crank up the speakers, whip out that lasso, sing a song in Korean and Pop goes the world again.
With my 5 month summer standing contract drawing to a close, I thought it pertinent to explore my employment history. I have always been highly employable. I have been a secretary, a baker, a masseuse, a mortgage sales girl, an event coordinator, a retail therapist, an actor, a marketing rep and promoter, a coach and just all around glad hander. You name it I have tried my hand at it. And even if I didn't like the company or my job or my boss or all of the above; I always gave one hundred and ten percent. But 110% at $8.50 an hour doesn't work out to a whole lot in the end. Also my bosses have always loved me; with the exception of two of the craziest most hurtful women I have ever met. They were practically perfect in every evil way. Congratulations! It's tough to be the best at being the worst.
In my entire life I've only been fired from two jobs- Job 1- My boss was one of the previously mentioned crazies and I truly believe I was fired because of my great performance and her inability to follow through with commissions promised. The second was as a teenager I was denied my Bronze cross, though not a job exactly it would have led to my becoming a lifeguard, getting a wicked tan and ultimately getting a free ride at Penn State as a high-diver and all this because I wasn't serious enough... Chaw. Please. Like anyone has ever taken the Hoff seriously.
Having a steady job can be great. That solid stream of income. The sense of community you build with your coworkers. It's nice. though doing something you don't love can be hard on you...but as an Optimism Expertise, I decided to take what I could from the experience and create my ideal job position.
The dream job description:
A job that has me traveling. Travel can be continental as well as global and even astrological. Going to strange places for interesting reasons. A semi-full-time position attending fun events to promote having a great time. Where I talk to media about something really cool that gets people excited. And inspires them to start and keep doing something. I want to meet with people and discuss fascinating new ideas about global issues and I want to host really great events. I want to ambassador something. Something special. I don't think that's asking for much. I am free to start as early as Monday. Is there an opening in that department?
P.S. Is it weird that I didn't even quote salary? I guess a job you love is its own payment. Ha!
I am drinking my own Kool-aid. While sitting on the sofa my Kitty swiftly and silently planted herself within arms reach; a sure sign that she wants some loving'. Upon realizing she was there, even though I didn't want to become involved in a furry-purry-festival, I recalled writing about being an affectionate Momma the day before. So, I held myself accountable and began a fur-affair. Uh oh! If I write it it comes true. I am holding myself to a higher standard. If I say I am going to do it in a blog post, it gets done. I am becoming the personality I created online.
There was a time not so long ago, I was filled with big dreams and they tumbled out of an even bigger mouth. But they just fell to the floor and lay there like dead leaves only to blown away by the hot air my big mouth kept huffing. With the fickle nature of any artist, I would start a project and then loose interest. But writing it down really does force you to be accountable. People are shocked by the amount I can write and how quickly. Is it all good? I'm no Stephen King, but I manage.
Having a great idea is one thing. Having a great idea actually become something, even if that something isn't very good, is better. Magic says 'You miss 100% of the baskets you don't shoot." Well, 100 is too many percent. I was tired of being unhappy- so I faked it. I pretended to be happy...and now I am. I am really, really happy actually. I feel more like myself than I ever have before. Not everything is perfect but Roddammit, it's a lot better. Learning to love something by working through the hate is the best training for life. Life will always be hard work, even the easy things can be a challenge. I never thought I could actually enjoy working this hard and not getting paid for it. But I also can't believe that I haven't been doing this longer.
My actions have started speaking for me. Even louder than my words if that's conceivable. Accountability and being true to one's word are great new character traits I have cultivated in myself. I am practicing what I preach! And I love everyday of this weird and wacky life I've chosen. The best thing is you can change the things you don't like about yourself, as long as you're able to let that Crazy-lazy-no good-all talk-Biatch-go! And I gave her the not-so-nice exit music and her digital walking papers. Optimism agrees with me, I think I'll have another half full glass of Kool-aid :)
PS: If these blogs actually come true I would like the following: 1. Book deal 2. International comedy tour 3. Secluded country house on a hill near a lake, surrounded by trees; the perfect place for writing 4- 9. Items to be added as BFF, Bro, Momma and Hubby submit their wants.
My new uke arrived in the mail on Monday. Well, arrived isn't the right word. I mean I picked it up from the 7/11 mail depot in the world's biggest box and carried it all the way down from Dundas on Monday, Monday. Just another manic Monday. Unpacking this giant box, removing layers of paper and 2 subsequently smaller boxes- I finally unveiled her. And I played that pretty lady all day. Played it 'til my fingers bled, if this were the summer of '65. I strummed and loved that Big Lady. Problem is I am undecided on what to name my new uke. Her older-way older and stubborn sister's name is Betty, pretty little antique Betty. Stubborn pegs not gripping the strings; going out of tune every song; Betty. The two names I have been tossing around are the Big Lady or Baby Belle. So for now, until I decide I will use both:)
Hubby and I have been playing Faque Band (Fake Band) since Rockband came out on X-box 360. Though since I started learning a real instrument we're jamming like a real Faque Band. Hubby plays the guitar and sings, but he always Garfunkles me. I want to be Garfunkle. Can both of us be Garfunkle? He should be Paul, I mean that's obvious. C'mon Garfunkle and Garfunkle sounds like a law firm that only deals with clerical errors. That's something we'll have to work out.
When beautiful Baby Belle arrived I started dreaming about the awesome sauce family band Hubby and I could build- but it seems like it should be an audition process more so than a birthing process. We would be looking for children who could conceivably be our children, but we're far too young to actually have naturally. A la Brady bunch Partridge bus. We need a bassist and pianist and violin/fiddle. Children must be self-sufficient and capable of taking care of themselves, preparing meals and cleaning the tour bus etc. Birth-parents must relinquish all rights to family photos and "memories" as they have now become part of the Unnamed Family Band paraphernalia for fan clubs members and 8 special collectors editions commemorative glasses available from your local gas station. Please submit your child in the comment section below; attach a photo, resume and reel if possible:)
With this unnamed family band dynasty goes the woes of what should our first album be called? Should we self-title, perhaps we should use an inside family band joke? What is the thought process that goes into picking your album cover art? Can you imagine the pitch session? Would it be my job as the performer to come up with the idea? Or is it an uncreative studio exec with branding expertise...?Should it be a cartoon? Real life shot? Sexy photo? Serious musicians with instruments in hand? Hiding half covered face or faces shrouded in shadow? Colour or black and white? Just a landscape? A shot taken by a band member with photography enthusiasm. What image best suits this sound. The pairing of an image with a sound. These are all very difficult decisions. Wow, it's hard to play Unnamed Family Faque Band and hold down a non-paying job as a bloggist. I tell you, I might have a slight addiction to being a Jack of all Trades. But can I help it if I am sorta good at everything...?
It's because to them you're the most beautiful girl in the room. The one and only... The girl of their dreams. Their calendar girl. You can call me crazy and even though it may be true, I love boy bands. There is something special about the way that formula works. There's a lid for every pot. An object for every affection. The quirky one, the sensitive one, the bad boy, the tough one, the brainy one. Whatever your flavour of the week, there's a boy just for you. They are the neapolitan of music- chocolate, vanilla or strawberry... Why choose when you can have all 3?!?!
If I think back far enough, I remember NKOTB then BSB then N*Sync now One Direction, with some Take That, Boyz II Men and All 4 One sprinkled in for flava. How deep was my love, you might ask? Well, it's truly, madly, deeply the most predictable love of all. I know, I know, it's not COOL to love boy bands with their pop music and choreo-dance moves, their cheesy lyrics or their manufactured sound, but I'd be the first person to tell you, I'm not cool. It's possible that I might be the reason they exist. I am a 30 year old married woman who still goes gooey when 5 teenage-looking boys harmonize about how lovely I am... Well, I think they're talking to me...
The boy band is not a new phenomenon. It's been happening since screaming young women could buy an LP or Cassette tape or CD or MP3 or a special release collection from iTunes. It's been happening since Beatle-mania- it's been happening since music began. There will always be a special place on the Billboard charts for the boy band, though for one reason or another they'll never be taken seriously as musicians, unless they live in a Yellow Submarine... No matter how involved boy bands are in the writing and production of their music, they remain judged by the rest of music-land and post-pubescent society as lame. Like being a boy band with a squeaky clean-teeny-bopper image is a bad thing. Teaching our girls that it's better to what? Chris Brown that shit? or get busted for drinking and driving? Wouldn't it be better if we encouraged our girls to daydream about things a little less violent and legally limited? It doesn't seem like a big deal... But instead, we want them to grow up- stop listening to that bubblegum? But I love bubblegum and I am double-mint-serious.
In a perfect world, the boy band would be celebrated by more than the screaming fans holding out hope that someday, if I could just meet Joe, I know he would fall in love with me... Cause he's the young one, and we're closest in age. I mean that makes sense...right? To be screaming from the top row of the Skydome taking flash photos of tiny dancing shapes on a pyrotechnic stage! You'd love me if you met me....I believe in our love, Joe. I know it borders on creepy-stalker when I talk like that, but there's just something about being an awkward girl growing up awkwardly, being worried that no one will love you the way you are and having a boy band look right down the barrel and tell you: "You are the most beautiful girl in the world." and even if it's not true, I believe it anyway.
This is the scariest question I get asked every time I meet someone new. I sit there and wonder how to answer. Scrolling through my brain for the most accessible and/or acceptable answer. In all the pretend conversations I have with myself on a daily basis, I always forget this is the one that needs the most work. I am always meeting new people, some of them I meet at work though, so they never ask me...Well they ask me what ELSE I do, cause no one can sustain themselves by acting alone. For them I have many well rehearsed but still cockeyed responses. The problem I have is with everyone else asking. Cut to a nice girl or inquisitive boy struggling to make conversation with the socially awkward me... "So, what do you do?" Suddenly the world's magnetiscope shifts to me, I begin to perspire, my bones quake, and all I can think about is how my Mama looks forward to the day when I settle down and open a restaurant (which I think is way more stressful than acting). The seconds tick by and a gurgle of response starts building. Ultimately, I sell myself short. But legitimately, what do I do? I mean I Do a lot of different things, but is the questioner really asking what I do to pay my bills or what I do because no one pays me? The things I do because I want to? I guess that's a question for them, why are you asking what I do? Because it's a question you know with an answer longer than "yes"? Or because society has taught us that a person is what they do? Instead of what they eat, which kinda stinks, cause I would like to be a peach for a few sunshiny days. I try never to ask what a person does, cause even though I am very nosy, I find most things people do boring. And I don't mean I find most people boring, 'cause I love people, I just find 78% of jobs to be soul sucking and time consuming and resent filling for most people. A perfect example, let's look at the GO Train at rush hour. There isn't a smile on board, no conversations (which I thought surely there would be, Hello: Train 48, which was one of my dirty little secrets) no one sings or solves mysteries to the dining car, just a bunch of commuters pretending to sleep. If that is any indication of what those people Do, I don't want to do it. I want to go bopping down the street with Jilly on a Thursday afternoon, belting out Karmin and know that I worked on me today. "So, what do you do?" I do ME, I am a liver of life (though I am not sure liver can be a verb), I am a goal oriented me-aholic. Is that an acceptable answer? As I am apt to do, I answer my own question, "yes".
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