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.
Writing, every person who can write, does. That's not to say that every person can do it well. And people who practise can typically write even better. Well, people, I can do it, I do it well and I practise. That should stand on it's own. But it doesn't, writing is something that is beautifully read in the eyes of the beholder. The value of those words and stories depend on the reader. People who can read, do it. And do it everyday. And people who can write will continue to do it. Hopefully they do it well. Otherwise what would happen in a world without stories?
I want to write stories and tell tales and maybe even spin a yarn or two. I always have. I want to tell stories to people. Stories that roll around in my head. The characters I hang with when I am on my own, and the mischief they get into. But I want to be able to work on them, because I love them. But asking for money for something you love. Well, that just makes me feel guilty. Wanting to be working at something you're in love with, seems greedy. Most people are happy with a job, a steady pay check- Too bad if you don't like it. Do it for the money. I should be happier that I am doing what I love and that is it's own reward. Oh and it really is. I love having inside jokes in an online world. I love that I have been tough enough on myself to stick with it. But it does seem kinda lack luster when your big launch happens and it's just you typing at a computer and your dog waiting to go for a walk. Also there's a missing thank you cuz I want to reward you for reading. For making this an emotional success for me. I do want to start working on more of a contractual basis, you know like a job. But here's the problem, I don't have any experience.
I don't have experience? Okay, I am not sure how much more practise I will need before I start gaining some "experience". I have not dealt with deadlines. Because daily entries for 11 months straight, is a flimsy work ethic. Oh a track record. Perhaps a school newspaper? Head of the Young Voices of Canada club? Maybe I have 2 years to work as an unpaid intern in a publishing firm or daily rag. I should have a degree in journalism with at least 5+ years of online media editorial experience. Alright, alright already, I am so I'm not Arianna Huffington. And I am not saying I am Tolstoy, I would never be that presumptuous. I will, however wait for a critic to say it, then quote it on my FB fanpage and the outside jacket of my book, well series of books. Sorry, tangent, I was also writing my Oscar speech, but I can't decide which category I am accepting for. As far as I am concerned I have already climbed that well written mountain, in my mind. Now how do I photoshop this resume to prove I am up here? Cuz people are never going to believe I was. Okay, okay, so maybe they're right I do need a bit more practice. But I am on the journey to becoming an above average writer, if I do say so myself. And I just did.
Procrastination, complacency and a short attention span. Have you ever met someone who just wasn't quite reaching their potential? Someone with great ideas and no follow through. Maybe a talented loved one who won't take a chance on themselves. The uncertified baby yoga instructor who doesn't want to spend the time for certification. A close friend who's holding themselves back from the successes they could attain. The biggest difference between success and complacency is actually doing it. And the hardest part of doing anything? Is doing it. It's no accident that some people succeed, contrarywise, it's no coincidence that others fail.
My fear of failing myself (or the standard to which I hold myself) has garnered me a semi popular blog, super amazing awesome wicked friends, a matching set of under eye baggage, a loving Hubby, a pair of saddle bags and the satisfaction of a job done- not always particulairly well, but I am completing my tasks and I am continuously challenging myself. With persistent motivation, I am like a dog with a blog. I have recognized how varied and difficult my goals are and I am confident that my stamina will be recognized- fingers crossed. Even if it is just by my Momma. I've decided that I am unhappy being anything less than the person I want people to see me as. Keeping it together is hard work, I am tired, but everything, good or bad, comes at a price.
Working in an artistic arena I have had oppurtunity to meet all types of creative people. Key root of the word being create. But within the ranks of the creative there are people who sabotage themselves and others, for fear they will be left behind. Writers who've never reached a climax. Dancers who don't stretch themselves. People who fall short of their potential. Playing it safe because the fear of failing is more powerful than the possiblity of success. In my endeavors I have made an agreement with myself that I won't be 'a day late and dollar short' to my own life.
So, here's my challenge to you cyber folks. Encourage all those under-estimaters to a challenge themselves. Then challenge yourself! Make a plan. A marking post to measure yourself by. It's amazing how achievable dreams become when you break them down into bite sizes and add a dash of healthy competition. Today is the perfect day to be brave, be bold. Take your dreams by the procrastinators and hold on tight for a wild ride. Instead of complacency, how about y'all come play with me! I can probably pack your things in my under eye baggage:)
Is lying to yourself really lying? I mean if you truly believe something about yourself, could it really be wrong? Growing up things are black and white. Stealing is bad. But the older you grow, the greyer things get. Stealing to feed your hungry family is bad, but not for the same reasons. It has been a long time that I have been telling myself I am a better person than I might actually be. I have been telling myself (and you) that we can be the people we want to be. It’s just not as simple as I hoped. Being a good person is the most difficult thing I have ever tried to do. The effort required to make the person you are on the outside into the person you dream to be on the inside is an ongoing struggle. With obstacles rising up to meet you every single day. Temptation to be mean. To be selfish. To be too tired to be the best friend you hoped to be. To be strong in the face of adversity. To really stand up for what you believe and what you’ve told yourself to be true. To gossip. Being a good person is the most challenging person to be, it's a never-ending battle. That’s what makes a good person so special.
People say that life is short. And all you have is today. Though there are times when you feel you’ve lived this day before. The hours dragging before it's even time to start. Starting something and sticking to it. Sounds easy enough. But I feel like I’ve been waiting to start my whole life; I just didn’t realize that actually doing it- this whole living the good life thing- would be the hardest thing I’ve tried. It’s exhausting. High kicking and selfless giving and trying, I mean really trying. It scares the crap out of me. Living like you're dying is tiring. I am tired. I have been lying to myself, thinking that I was doing this just for me. And I am not; I am doing this for you mostly. And also how I feel about me when you’re happy. The fear of disappointing those who believe in me is greater than this weariness. I started this brand new me in hopes that I could force myself into believing that it was true.
There are days when I can’t bring myself to smile. Days when life has piled up and things have started falling. Dropping, despite my efforts to catch and juggle everything. This blog has benefited from my tenacity. But my body has suffered because of my laziness. My Hubby doesn’t get the attention he needs, because I am too busy working at a job that doesn’t help me feel good about myself. My Puppa-Stinkeroo misses me 5 days a week. My Kitty is back to being aloof- because I am not there to wear her down. My friends haven’t seen me. My dream is in a holding pattern. Well, I guess I lied to myself that this steady job was worth all the things I wouldn’t have time for. The very best thing I found is that I have learned so much about who, how and why I yam what I yam. I need to have the freedom to live life as the best me. Stop lying to myself and stop lying. Period . Everyone is all to fast to remind me of what a great paycheck it is… Yeah, but c’mon wouldn’t you rather I be a happy broke ass instead of lying to yourself that money is what you want? It’s never been about the Fame, the Fortune, the Fanfare. It’s all a lie anyway. The only thing that I am not lying about is how great I feel trying to be the best I can be, even though it’s the hardest thing I’ve done. But you know what they say: Fake it ‘til you make it. And I am gonna make it this time. And that’s no lie.
Today is the first day in the rest of your life. While riding the stinky Dufferin bus I noticed a sign: Don't look back, you're not going that way. Which applies to life but also driving..? Wait, no, not driving. You should definitely look back while driving-actually I think that's why cars have rearview mirrors. Anyway, I am looking ahead in life. Today is the day. Today is a day for doing, for hanging in there baby, for reaching for the stars. The problem most of us face is motivation, no wait, prioritizing... No, the problem is overstimulation or is it laziness? Maybe it's indecision, but I never can quite put my finger on it.
All my life I have been inspired by stories of Princesses who fall asleep and wake to a life in a castle with a Prince. Well, that's all grand and great for them, but they were born Princesses. I'd always dreamed of touring the world- well at least North America- performing *insert talent here for overcapacity stadiums. Now, you may have noticed I didn't insert a talent...that's cuz the dream only got as far as riding the tour bus and greeting the screaming hoards with autographs and oversized sunglasses. My talents vary though it's tough to pin them down. I longed for the prestige of being a Fortune 500 -30 under 30: Having invented an easy way to finally achieve perfect unfluffable hair or flawless makeup that prevents you from sweating, really anything that would make life easier. Perhaps a Robo-Tony to keep my life in order, ya know, something big. I have big dreams and found myself trapped in the cycle of talk about-do nothing-move on-begin to talk of my new dream. That's the dream pitfall; sometimes you get trapped in a place that looks like your house with a woman who doesn't looks like you but somehow you know it is:)
So, wake up sleepy Jean! Today is the day to start. Today is to be seized. Since starting this diatribe in February I have realized how hard it is to actually do it. But now we're past the point of no return. I can't just stop- give up- go back to dreaming. Though now my dreams are bigger. Which after realizing how much hard work they take, makes no sense, but they are. The great thing about seizing the day- it becomes yours. Do with it what you will. Talk is fine. Dreams even better. But DOING is the most integral part of getting closer to your dreams. For too long I have been a Grasshopper- waiting for the world to give. It is time to be an Ant. The best thing about Ants is they know how to work together to achieve their goals. And it turns out I have big dreams. So, work with me people:) or just work it!
This past week I was asked to write for another blog. This is my first guest blog! Check it out! The Misfits & Mascara website is dedicated to teaching the art of productive procrastination. And I was asked to blog about the difficulties of creating something for yourself. Check the link above!
Sooo...If you know me, you know- I am loud. I am a loud talker, laugher, I bang into things, I am not a quiet person. It's not on purpose, and it's without Melicious intent, so what's the big deal? I know, I know, just because I think the next thing that might fly out of my mouth could be the day's funniest statement and that the more people who hear it the better, doesn't make it so...
That's why I started a blog, as I am getting more comfortable with my; this is the Voice, my own real life conversations are becoming crisper. The writing is helping me speak... A duh, a doy. Surprise- that's why public figures don't just wing it, and speech writers make a tonne of mola. It's because sounding natural, concise and clear is hard.
Take this blog, if you read some of the earlier posts...Whoa, even I have trouble following the through lines. They are round-about-ey (not a word, but should be) and confusing- no wonder nobody was reading them. As I started to blossom into this young writer you read before you, the stories become straight forward. No more interesting, but at least understandable. Understandable writing is probably the most important thing about writing. Otherwise, ehtocus ahosduss ahos, hahaha-right?
Practice! With practice comes...well, perfection, but that may be over shooting a bit a this point. Let's say with practice comes less humiliation. A daily blog forces me to create something everyday. Force is a strong but accurate word. Word choice. Every word in the english language has a different implication, and choosing the right one is important. Be brave, if you write something and only 2 people read it, odds are 50% of them will like it. Of course, I am not a stats Canada employee and haven't fact checked that statement, but I am assuming one of those people is my Mama,(Hi mom!) and she mostly loves my work... when the language is tame:)
Creating an online avenue for myself is a great way to keep me at home and out of real life alleys, though being the scaredy cat I am, I generally choose the long, well lit way home. Having a place to come and be myself is wicked. I just wish you would come here and be yourself too. I want #FreakChic to reign supreme. The time of the nerd is passed. It is now up to us to let people know, what they want to do, they can do. And that even if you're a weirdo, you can be part of my team. So, I might be loud or choose the wrong topic, but I am getting better... Writing will change the way you feel about words. I am starting to go lightly but carry a big online schtick.
Alrighty, it's that time of the year again. The time when the government gives you, (or your spouse) a bit of money to say: Hey, thanks for giving us money all year and to divert us from what's about to happen. TAXES....taxes. As a "self-employed performer" who must collect her HST from each "employer" or "client" tax time for me can be stressful, should I stay or should I owe? And here's the kicker I don't understand taxes and receipt counting and totals and TFS accounts and RRSPs, GICs, UFOs etc. I don't get it. Why are there so many lines and factors? The cheat sheet shorthand guide is ten million pages thick, and you can file online but you have to print out all ten million pages too, and then keep it for 8 years? Oh, and if you're a canadian citizen, but you don't live here, you pay our taxes and you pay in your current country? Hello, help, I raise my hand meekly to ask a question. How does property tax work? Where is the beef? Is it possible for a person who doesn't work at a government or accounting office to understand these things? Why are they so complicated? Wouldn't it be better if everyone could understand? Unless, it's just me. In which case I say play through sir, and I tip my hat to you. Oh, and I don't understand those HRBlock commercials, but they're memorable, so I guess we can consider it mission: accomplished.
My loving Hubby is a shoe box man. Every receipt goes into a box, which stays somewhat chronological but that is the only things organized about them. I on the other hand, have been trying, for the last 8 years, not to do that. Though around Sept I usually forget and end up organizing 4 months the night before I drop them of with Alice the accountant. Alice is smart as a whip and a breeze to be around with a comforting rainforest slideshow screen saver. The perfect accountant. The last one was a slightly sticky looking bald man in a stale office that had a squeaky door and exposed ceilings that looked saggy and spongey. As for Hubby and I this year we will be filing as husband and wife for the very first time. I couldn't be happier for Tax Season:) Happy taxing!
While working in the aesthetic industry I was entranced by a multi-step dermal care system. Like a un-exfoliated snake charmed by the sweet sounds of the skin flute (oh wait, that's a different story) I bought into the practice of wash-rinse-remove-cleanse-massage-rinse-exfoliate-massage-rinse-re-rinse-spot treat-age target-moisturize and seal. Though I have all these products with their various accessories scattered, stacked and stored in my teeny condo bathroom, none of these products are the same shape or size, oh no, they are as irregularly shaped as they are infrequently used, stacking, tumbling and taking up space much to the cha-grin of my hubby. And surprise, surprise, I am not easily motivated to do un-fungrueling things for myself (ie: gym, taxes, multi-step systems of any kind), especially after a grueling day of thinking about what I will write for you tomorrow, I can barely muster the enthusiasm to rinse and remove my under eye concealer, which has become a crutch, spackling my newly acquired uber-dark-bags, though it was not long ago I could go without a stich of make-up *implied shocked mock-cheerleader voice (I say mock as I worry about someone actually remember I wasn't a cheerleader, or that my high school didn't actually had a squad). Speaking of cheerleaders, I could start wearing football eye blacks- they might actually create the perfect diversion to what's happening up here* implies a circular gesture to dilapidated** face area. It seems I might actually be getting older, though I thought older/wiser were part and parcel- in fact not so, just the older part is ensured, Older/wiser requires pre-registration. Soooo....let's get a bit more honest than you might like, while watching "THIS is tha Vo-ICE!" I was picking, one might even say digging, at my dead dull lifeless skin, each cell precariously clinging to my face, snuggled up against the winter winds and displaying a serious lack of vitamin D, why? Why won't it just go away, slough off would ya? With you gone I am free to reveal the radiant creature my 3D dermal-dimension-insert D-word here, product line promises is underneath many-MANY layers of contaminated surface skin, I'm like an old gas station, applying for a building permit. Hazzah, I realize with relish- step 7 is my only hope, though step 7 alone cannot rescue this post-February-still-Blah-late-Mardi Gras-early Leprechaun mask, it will take the Tenacious Twelve to save me now. Twelve time consuming steps to the rescue, swooping in to save the day. With this team of super-stringents at my side and on my bathroom counter, I begin grooming the H-E-double hockey stick out of myself! Plucking and prodding, massaging and scrubbing, moulting layers of dead snake skin, finally unveiling the skin within, my face renewed and dewey, which my mother says is the key to youthful beauty. Soft, satisfied and sealed I slither into bed, ready to Face (see what I did there?) the coming morning. With a theme song I awake- a bright and cheerful morning- Whoa wait, what do I spy? Three white-headed friends who've taken up residence: Olivia, Janice and Pusie, which I feel is grossly fitting. Are you kidding me? Alas no joke, though today's theme song continues reminding me 4 heads are better than one... and they are growing on me:) though hopefully not for long.
**Side note: I thought the word was delapitated, it's not, your welcome.
Two weeks ago, I was sitting curled up, sipping on a glass of tequila, reading The Huff Post Guide to Blogging. As I sat there I wondered what my first blog would be about. When the warmth of the tequila spread across my chest as only tequila can. I realized that this was my first blog. Then I got procrastinaty and "forgot" write it. So 2 weeks later here we go for a real start without the tequila.
Although I am behind on all fonts*wink, I have been training my brain and my fingers. With the new addition of the ukulele, Lil'Betty to my schedule this January aswell as this blog, a vlog, a one woman show, a stand up routine, fitness program and a few tv series pitches. I am getting new calluses everywhere and feeling procrastinaty again, but I should be able to do all that in a year? Right?
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