In an industry where youth is celebrated- sought after and faked, turning another year older can be a lot to recover from. Birthdays are supposed to be special. The one day to feel celebrated. One day a year where you are the number 1, top banana, king of the day; unless of course you're a twin. A day to be doted on. Loved and adored by those who love and adore you. Receiving birthday wishes from all those who think I'm something special. Family and friends eager to enjoy my company. But how does getting older really feel?
My Grandma Near; before she lost her mind to dementia said to me: "I don't remember getting old. I was 22 then I was 80, but that 22 year old is still in here."*pointing to her noggin. Then she asked me how babies were made. Strange disease Alzheimer's, forgetting who you are before your done with being yourself. But that's a story for another day. Growing older I have started to understand the importance of making memories. The urge to celebrate and be with the ones you love. Growing up, well, growing taller I can't help but wonder what the future holds for me. And most of all I've realized that just because you're not doing something doesn't mean things aren't happening. You can't stop progress. I think that getting older is a good thing for me. It's hard to admit that I won't be a reckless teen or self-involved twenty-something ever again. I am becoming a responsible adult. I am growing into my hit- acting-wise. Which should be a good thing*fingers, legs, arms and toes crossed. I am digging on being a grown up...except the ever increasing creases.
After all the indulgence birthdays bring, I will be happy to get back to veggies. The day after my party I had a sugar hangover and my tongue was swollen from sour candies. Plus my just-washed-jeans were a little tighter that morning. My body had just started being healthy for reasons of business and pleasure. And was starting to feel good. But now that I am one year older it won't be so easy staying in shape says Hubby who's been (infuriatingly) the same size since we met. Happy Birthday to me. I am glad to make these new resolutions with you. Here's to a Happy New Year of Melicious:)
For my first day back at it I decided to take it slow. I pumped my tires full of hot air, literally and figuratively. And this fat bottom girl got on her bike to ride. Huffing and puffing before my hula hoop class even started! And stinky with the shame of looking at myself standing awkwardly in a room with a solid wall of mirror. Trying to keep it fun and easy, I registered for a hoop burn class. How hard could it be to hula hoop? Not hard for the first 5 mins- then for the rest of the 55 mins- very hard. Add onto that the tricks and spins and doubles and turns and all that jazz I was out of my depth. But teacher says I am a natural- plus my classmates were nice! But I'd be surprised if hula hooping had drawn a bunch o'jerks. I mean it's a sparkly ring you dance inside- not exactly MMA. I am confident that my bum, abs and thighs will scold me tomorrow- but that's always a day away.
Getting back on my bike I headed to the rec centre for a swim. My non-athletic brain thought that if I doubled down on the fitness plan I was more likely to stick to it. I spent 15 mins in the fast lane being harrumphed at by men who wish they were Michael Phelps and 40 mins of arm and leg isolation in the medium lane, where I was the fastest and harumph-free. Until a fast- laner felt like slumming it in the medium lane and while passing people, he kicked them! Dude C'mon! Wouldn't you rather be challenged by the fast lane instead of shaming the mid tempo swimmers? But I guess he needed the ego boost or an excuse to kick people. My oh my, my neck is strained from only breathing one way during my strokes- ah hello, muscle memory, where were you on that? You were trained to go both ways. Either way I was pooped, my goggles were fogged up and I was sweating- in water- weird.
Then in the changeroom it hit me. An omg- I haven't used that muscle in a millennia arm cramp. Just at the moment when my shirt got twisted over my head, locking me in a kama-shirtra death grip. Standing there blind and topless, waiting for a helping hand when who should be the first responder? Why yes, it is a 64 year old naked polish lady. Asking sheepishly for a helping hand while trying to cover my totally exposed boobies, she drops her towel and brazenly untangles me. With a polite thank you, I dress myself and hop back onto my bike. My bottom feeling less fat and my body already sore. So much for taking it slow. I fully expect to wake up tomorrow with a sore everything, but I think I'll register for the noon hula class anyhow. If there's one thing I've learned is that I've told you that we won't stop. And now that I've got this giant rock rolling down the raider's tomb, it's time to get the idol, wait it's time to be the idol.
While attending my second industry TIFF party of all time I realized. There is a lot of really great hair in here. Great hair, great outfits and huge egos. The ego though I think is inflated by nerves and the constant fear of making an ass of yourself. People celebrating at these events are typically over-anxious about their art house film that took them 11 years and their entire line of credit to complete- not to mention their parent's money and a friend providing craft services just to keep it going. A labour of love will give you painful contractions.
Watching the potential success of others can be inspiring and disheartening at the same time. With the limited implied value of that little movie your making it's an emotional pregnancy. From conception to birth and even after; all through the awkward teen years until they go off to university. And even then your grown up little baby will always be your baby. The sad thing is that if it took 11 years just to birth it, that is a slow growth rate. The worst part is that my concept zygote is still awaiting fertilization- and by the time that bundle of joy arrives I will be 41! And I never wanted to be an older mother.
Little baby film idea, your Mommy and Daddy have been waiting so long, wishing for you, dreaming of your future and how you'll complete our lives. So TIFF I promise you, you don't know me now but within the next 11 years I will be ready for you to meet my baby. Baby Movie concept: You'll be smart, witty and full of surprises. You're already keeping me up all night and have spoiled my figure, so I have nothing left to loose. It would be great to have an amazing hairstyle though, but I guess I have 11 years to get it right.
Yesterday was my 1 year wedding anniversary. Hurray! It's paper. The year wasn't easy but it sure was interesting and awesome. There was so much stuff to see and do. So, I wanted to let you know some of the things I learned:
1. My Momma loves buying hats.
2. Condos stoves do not accommodate an 8 quart roasting pan with lid.
3. If you ask nicely enough your Hubby will take care of it because you're so busy. (must be busy to qualify)
4. Positive reinforcement goes a long way.
5. It's easier to let Hubby do what he wants than try and convince him otherwise. Though he's finally realized that I am the one who knows how to find the fun.
6. Some people talk and some people do. But it's best to be a bit of both.
7. Actions speak louder than words. Except yelling, that's the loudest.
8. Telling someone to relax has the opposite effect.
9. Teaching each other to be better people is a fun activity.
10. Mastering social flow of conversation is key to becoming a social master.
11. Rock Hudson and Danny DeVito are both sexy for different reasons.
12. A bed is not sleepable until there is at least 2 teeny furry bodies in it.
13. Being married means giving gifts as a couple.
13a. It also means someone taking 1/2 the credit for your wicked gift.
14. My Hubby can be very persuasive when he wants to be.
15. An August anniversary is perfect timing. Except when it falls on a Monday after FanExpo.
16. Paper is not a good gift. Unless there is a former prime minister on it.
17. I would rather have chicken wings and a lemon drop with our favourite bartender than fancy-it-up for my anniversary dinner.
18. Being married to the Karaoke host is just as brutal as dating him. Drunk girls love the karaoke host.
19. People remember what they got you for your wedding. And think you use it while they're there to impress them- when really you use it all the time.
20. Gift certificates are the 2nd best gift.
21. I am a workaholic for the wrong reasons on the wrong things.
22. Working opposite shifts is hard on your relationship but great for shower schedules.
23. Being a newlywed has a different feeling, that doesn't last long enough.
24. Tough Ole' Papa B likes to hug us all- including Bucy and the Bean.
25. I did good picking such a rocking Hubby. And I even love him the days I might not like him.
26. Everybody can dance to Bluegrass.
27. I am lucky My other Mother is as great as she is.
28. Having inside jokes as a married couple surprises people.
29. People love giving newlyweds advice- especially if their marriage didn't work out.
30. Marriage isn't easy. But our lives are better because of it.
This last year has changed both of us. And for the next marital year we have already made our resolutions. It's exciting and I look forward to helping those things happen. We are becoming two braver and bolder people with each other's love and support; I wouldn't bet against these underdogs. Watch me! Watch Us! Watch out! The honeymoon might be over, but I am still over the moon.
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!
May is a month full of special days, especially Birthdays. And if you count backwards it's all those not-yet-parents celebrating Labour Day that are making May babies, heads up on that. I realized that May is My BFF's and Toronto celebrating over 100 years and Freud and Tina Fey celebrating their Bdays- which coincedentally would be the best/worst party ever. This year May is also the Diamond Jubilee; an extremely rare occasion- celebrating the 60 year reign of an 86 year old Queen. Known for having her head on our recently discontinued penny. But those aren't unbirthdays.
Is today your unbirthday? Odds are it is. What have you got planned? Today, I felt like celebrating. Like singing a song in a British accent, wearing a top hat, serving tea to a rabbit and a mouse then dancing in a solo high kick line. An oxymoron, I know, but I've been having trouble finding qualified high kicking applicants to fill those high flying shoes:). I realized that starting this blog was an excuse to celebrate 5 days a week. Well, maybe not excuse; perhaps catalyst is a better word. Every morning I go to my happy place (my laptop), open the spigot (my brain) and pour out a daily dose of mental floss (garble). I put my happy into this, for you. But what really amazes me- once I started writing and thinking happy- it was easier to actually be happy. I mean really happy. And seriously who could be unhappy on their unbirthday? Not this gal.*insert sassy finger shake.
My parents have always encouraged me to follow my heart. But it is only recently I have truly started to become myself. My Hubby is a huge advocate of living each day the way that feels best. And whether that means sitting in a dark room feeling sorry for yourself or whether it means standing on a rooftop and hallooing the world- you should do it. I realized this weekend that I am finally being the unbirthday celebrator I should have been before I started worrying. I started to worry a lot in my post high school years. I would worry about money, time, work, love, my varicose veins, losing at Jenga*insert long and complex list of irrational worries here. I didn't know how to help myself and thought I could just go around being whomever everybody wanted me to be. In the last 3 months though, Ho-oh, I am suddenly not so concerned with worrying anymore. I have realized that I can't totally control those around me. And that's okay- no one loves being controlled. So, on this my Unbirthday I would like to extend an invitation to: Join my Kick line, get a tambourine or play the spoons, but for Kevin's sake (Costner-that is)- Celebrate! The sun is shining and the air is sweet. You only have 364 more unbirthdays this year; what are you waiting for?
And though I didn't invite the Commissioner to this very merry unbirthday, I know he crashes all my parties. Just to ensure that things don't get out of hand, and that people are having the correct amount of fun. So if you see the Commish, tell him to stroke his burly mustache and smile, cuz it's only life and the party's just beginning:)
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?
|
RSS Feed