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."
It's easier said than done. You know how I know that? I've said a lot, and it never gets done. I am a logical thinker. The straight line, the path of least resistance, the straight and narrow. Growing up I always thought I knew better. Watching the poor decisions of others, I could predict the situation outcome. Not only did I think I knew better than my friends, but I knew better than my Parents and every other adult. Did I actually know better than any of them? Probably not, actually, I know for a fact that I didn't and still don't know best. Because if I did, I would be able to say it and then do it. Plus nobody likes the know it all, just watch any movie set in a classroom, recognize the know-it-all? She doesn't have many allies- unless it's test day.
Over the last year I have come to realize that getting things done is a complex 7 piece puzzle. Now, you may say, Melicious, 7 piece puzzles are for kids. Well, this 7 piece life puzzle is a challenge on the clearest, happiest and most balanced of days and not even attemptable on the dark, hazy lonely afternoons trapped in your own mind. You see these pieces change shape. They never fit together the same way. It's not a puzzle you can memorize. And each Let's Do This! puzzle is the same 7 pieces in a different configuration. There is a pieces for saying you want it done, actually wanting to do it, planning to do it. There's a piece that organizes and one that initiates. And a piece for actually doing it. Oh and the last puzzle piece is the one that keeps you doing it, because nothing gets done and stays done without a bit of tenacity. The important parts of solving a puzzle with ever changing pieces is knowing that it will always be a new experience and new outcome plus discovering new things you didn't know you didn't know. Be warned there is no picture on the front of the life goal puzzle box.
So, may I suggest that all this talk is getting us know-where? See what I did there?*insert coy wink. There are so many things people want and feel they deserve, demanding their ideal outcome but when it comes down to being a wo-man of action, they may fall short. Refusing to see the obstacles standing between an off-handed marathon remark and standing at the finish line puffing with the satisfaction of a job well done. If getting what you wanted was easy we'd have it already. If the universe was just going to take care of us we wouldn't have the drive to change, to improve, to excel. There is nothing shameful in being the know it all, the brown-noser, the tryer or the eager beaver, as long as you know it will take a lot more than you know, to get what you want. It will take all 7 of those puzzle pieces to build the picture you want to be.
Note: Life Puzzle for ages 15+ But everyone should try at least once.
 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?
This is that very special time of year when the phrase you hear most is "We should get together!". And in most cases we do. Every weekend and evening jammed packed with travelling, talking, catching up and Christmas carols. Oh and don't forget an extra special visit with Sandy Clause, cuz I didn't write a letter this year, and my list is long. Now, every year is the same thing. Keeping up appearances at a break neck speed for the first 2 weeks, then all of a sudden you realize: You've only been sleeping 4 hours a night and between work and play you're all booked up 'til Xmas Eve and solid through to Boxing Day. Well, Honey, I am here to tell you, we are in the final week. The countdown to downtime has begun. And baby, oh baby, I'm thinking Turkey and Gravy, which is strange, cuz I usually don't eat meat.
This has been a long month for me so far. Filled with parties, pub crawls, public appearances & double shifts. Bringing with it good and bad. Rampant with tiny bad luck spurts. If you've been following along, some of this is old news. I have lost my sentimental mittens; made for me by my Momma's BFF to match my toque and winter coat. I dropped myPhone into the toilet; but it's sorta back to normal. My watch strap snapped. I've bruised my elbow, badly. I have fallen down once or twice. I've strained my muscles by pushing myself at the gym so I can eat whatever I want during this holiday's never ending buffet circuit. But there have also been tiny rays of Daylight saving grace. I've hugged and been hugged by so many people that I love. There has been dancing, oh so much, that the earth moved. Dance parties, dance off, dancing myself right into a neck brace. Oh! and wine. I have had a lot of wine, beer, vodka and it has put me into the Spirit... though it's a good thing that I have spread it out over a month. I haven't gained weight (yet) and am still on target for my New Year's goals. As the next weigh in is Dec 31, apropos of a typical predictable New Year's Resolution. So, I have endured a lot of 2 steps forward, 2 steps back, turn around touch the ground. But treading water while giving and receiving with people you love, ain't too shabby.
This time of year is always a mad dash. There is social pressure to be the best person this very special time of the year. But it's always a scramble to the finish line. Breathe deeply, we're almost there. Online gifts must be ordered by now. Last minute mall sprawls for those special add on items. Stocking stuffings stuffed into sacs and stored safely. Baking and basting almost ready. And soon the holiday parties will slow, and the family dinners will start. So, dear readers as we gain momentum on this holiday juggernaut I remind you that we are 7 days from the big one and then (fingers crossed) we'll be able to settle down for a long winter's nap. Hopefully. I do wish that we could keep Christmas with us all through the year, though I don't think I could afford it- financially, emotionally or sentimentally.
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*
After long consideration on whether or not I would blog today. I gave into my own sense of responsibility. So, it's short but not so sweet. The way that language evolves sick can mean different things. For example sick can be a good thing. As in: that tattoo is sick. But for today we will be using the word in the traditional sense. I am sick. I have spent the last day rolling around, wrapped in blankets. Sweating and shivering. Getting up only to go to the loo, for a plethora of reasons...I will leave to your imagination.
In recent history I have called into work sick, when I was actually hungover. I have ducked out of events early claiming illness. But the worst I have had is a bothersome nagging cough and cold drippy nose. Oh how things change. This is the first year I didn't get the flu shot. I thought with my track record of having been flu free for 7 years, I would be safe. Never thinking the reason for my health was the one thing I didn't do. If I were a bit stronger I would kick myself.
In The Devil Wears Prada, the extremely thin receptionist says: ' I am just one stomach flu away from being my ideal weight.'. I on the other hand would rather exercise and eat veggies- to achieve that goal. The flu fast is not my wheelhouse. Neither is fasting in general. The gurgle of emptiness paired with the shriek of burning acid. Of all things pain related I suffer most with stomach pain. I can muddle through a headache. The bruises I get constantly are tolerable. It's the sick and dizzies that I can't stand. So, if you can hear my Pepto fairy- bring me some relief. Please don't make me Gravol.
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.
You have high blood pressure, you need to lower your cholesterol, try a no sodium diet. It's like you spend your childhood being told not to eat candy, cake and french fries. Then you grow up and your doctor says don't eat candy, cake and french fries. Well, then why do they even exist? Pure torture. Tempting devils (food cake) that ruin my mind and body. Walking across the city I can smell the grease and fire smoked goodness wafting out onto the street. Teasing my nose with those tantalizing fingers of smell. While undertaking the Starving Artist I have been trying to up my game. Sadly, I am now at the point where I want anything but those crisp and delicious veggies, followed by a cool glass of spring water. I want some garbage.
Hubby and I consider ourselves foodies. Though not the culinary adventure type Foodie, we're more a "Find your favourite and only ever order from there" kinda Foodie. If you want something, we know where to get it. We know what we consider to be the best place for that particular dish. We are open to exploring new places; brunches being the preferred time slot. The comfort of eggs accompanied by coffee and booze. The glamour of dinner in the light of day. Brunch is also way more affordable. And it's the closet you can get to having all the food groups in one meal. But having a partner who loves eating well and tasting good things, while I am on a plan is: Terrible. I am following a health and wellness plan to strengthen myself. But he's just as tempting as those city smells and what's worse, he knows my weaknesses.
So, in an effort to find a happy medium after a night of pizza and beer. I am nibbling on celery. Eating natural peanut butter on 86 grain bread. I am drinking a Delta (Burke) of water. Exercise and clean living. Who would've thought they'd be equal parts great and awful at the very same time. I am not really sure how people become obsessed... but then it could also be my view from here. My gym is on P1, the pool is not even a whole lap, the weather has been spitty and sharp. My dog hair covered floor, the guy at the pool with the heel cracks, my tank top that rides up over my muffin top. These are the things I see when I am sweating. Now, after working out on a Sunday, I am stretching, hoping that one day I'll look into the mirror, at the gym, the studio, in the change room or my bathroom and finally see a girl I am proud to be. The girl my Hubby sees. Plus I would like to get rid of my high blood pressure; the flush is really not a good colour for me.
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.
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