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.   
 
  This is a jam goes out to everybody's favourite party girl;) My beautiful Tambourine.
  
  To all you sexy business women walking downtown, looking sexy in their grey- scratch that sexy charcoal business skirt with matching blazer over a collared pinstripe blouse.  Usually your striding with great confidence. Legs clad in taupe pantyhose. What's that you're carrying? Oh, it looks like you're bringing work home tonight, something to do between dinner and This is the Voice. And though your short snappy haircut is shimmering in the nearly spring sunlight, I must raise my hand and ask you this...

WHat is up with those white New Balance runners?

 Boo! Hiss! I mean you are rocking your shit otherwise. Make up- Check!  Hair-did- Check! Job-requiring unpaid-overtime- Check! Lady-I mean it. There isn't a point in life when you have to give in to the Sneakers and skirt combo.  You can find very comfortable, supportive and visually stunning shoes, it has become an attainable dream.  Hurray for women's lib:) Whoa! With this new found feminism can I still remain feminine? "Oh Hell yes" *insert 3 cross body snaps. Colour me shocked. Somewhere, some woman put their hand up and said: "Can you try a litte harder? I am tired of my feet hurting." and then someone who knows the shoe folks said "Hey yeah, skirts look way better with pretty shoes." And so it was, shoes with straps to lock and load your feet.  Heels with magic soles made of cloud. Boots that cradle your ankles, lullaby-ing them to sleep. Look around Beautiful, this dream can be yours.  Your new spring shoes await you. Please, please, please, I know you can do it. You know you should do it. So do it, cause no one wants to be the Old woman who lived in the New Balance Shoe. 
 
  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.