Lately, I have been working near the airport. The jet stream kicking up wind and blowing it back into my face. The bitter winter bite hurting my cheeks and my feelings. Watching the planes take off, land and circle, as the snow begins to blow I am reminded that I haven't had a vacation in eons. As freelancers Hubby and I are always on call, living shift to shift, answering every call to arms. Okay, let's not get dramatic, but seriously, I found myself getting jealous of the passengers in taxis, knowing their luggage was packed with swim suits and sunscreen. *Foot stomp! The work-a-day Joes all around me taking advantage of their vacation days. My parents spent a week in sunny Costa Rica. Friends of mine are wintering in tinsel trimmed LA. Even folks honeymooning in not so tropical Europe. Purchasing last minute steal of a deals to get out of snowy and wind burnt Dodge. For those of us who can't afford a getaway what can we do? How do you relax when you can't go on vacation? These questions burn more than my frostbitten cheeks.
Rest, relaxation and rejuvenation are essential to living happily. Now, that's not to say that travelling abroad is automatically restful. Most people I know complain the week before vacation that they have so much to do before they leave and then complain again the week they're back, because they have so much work to catch up on. Others say they need a vacation from their vacation. Once you get where you're going it takes 2 days to unwind from the stress of travelling and that doesn't include jet lag. People complain about the cost of travel. Tourist destinations swamped with visitors who wish the place they're visiting was the place they left. The human condition is such that we are never happy. Once you get what you want, you don't want it. Typical malaise.
In the past when travelling for vacation, I've worked hard to relax, release and leave my unwanted baggage at home. This is the most difficult part of vacation. Just relaxing. Knowing that a mojito soaked sunburn isn't in my near future, I will be brave. Friends, bloggers and world travellers alike, harken to this: Take a vacation everyday. Go to your happy place, you might not get as much vitamin D, but your soul will be ready to take the trip. Bring home souvenirs from day dreams to remind yourself that life is good. Easier said than done of course, but what is life without effort? So, as I stare wistfully at the open skies, I remind myself that vacation is a state of mind. And the taxes and fees don't apply.
Willowing in the darkness that daylight savings brings
Hibernation drawing nearer
The hours and days gliding by on tracks, preventing diversion
Eliminating adventure, restricting exploration
Temperamental weather covering the hard pan dirt
Packed down into pathways
Wrapping us in single servings of loneliness
The darkness highlights the breath escaping warmed bodies
Visible in the early darkness
Streetlights haloed in the mists of nightfall
A tight hunched stance to protect from the elements
Pink cheeks burnt with the bite of another screaming wind
Warm noses chilled with the icy touch of bitterness
Leaves left and gone, given up
Tired from the effort of holding on
Finding comfort in the comforter
Wringing with the near winter chill
Hot chocolate ringing my dear's darkest ills
The winter's pill swallowed for another long season
Sleep's long fingers inviting
Beckoning, bleating
Their wooly warmth fleeting
Shadows and shivers stretching along our length
Savings with nothing to bank
A necessary lightness withheld
Unsprung and undercover we wait
Lured by the comfort of our love
Warmth wishing us well for another long hazy winter
Tucked sweetly in the loving arms of Mother Nature
Awaiting the sweet gentle bounce of green bursting through brown and grey
The spring of another celebratory summer waiting to unwrap us gently
But for now the long winter's embrace enfolds us
A chilling reminder of summer's quick step
We wait, ever patient, we'll wait
Hurricane Sandy is expected to make landfall late Monday night or early Tuesday morning. But we won't know her full affect until Wednesday. Now Ontario has already been dealing with a peer pressure system of it's own and the dire combination could, apparently, be just that. Winds could hit highs of 150 km/h in some areas. That's like a bajillion times faster than the average sexy hair toss. Waves on the Great Lakes could be five to seven metres high. Or maybe even as high as a million mouse boats. It's not a good time to be a worst case scenario Sally or a Debbie downright awful. So, how does one prepare for being without power? In a flooded home? I am not sure actually. Plus weather like this really blows my mind.
Now, those of you who know me, know me to be a teeny bit high strung. A worry wart. Obsessive even. But for some reason, I am not one who worries about a little bit of weather. That's probably because a snow storm seems a more likely Ontario disaster than a hurricane blowing in off the coast. It's not the big problems I am nervous about it's getting to and from work safely- cuz people aren't at their best when they're panicked. Kevin forbid the film industry take a day off- as they say the show must go On! And as fun as being sent home early from work might be...it has a tendency to bring out irrational behaviour. Including but not limited to: purchase of multiple 72 hour emergency kits, stockpiling water, barricading windows, weird FB updates and waterproofing personal belongings. I am also expecting to hear a few Mayan calendar conversations. Predictions of the future and our impending doom. Nastradamus and whatnot. Panic effects people very differently, but most of it's irrational. Except the panic that I've lost my smartphone, that's totally rational.
Uncertain times call for certain adventures. I am planning on packing items together so I know where to find them, if I wake up in the dark. Placing a flashlight next to my bed, just in case. I am also trying to eat the contents of my freezer- for if the power fails- it's bye bye fish sticks. All in all I'm sad this possible disaster is wind and water. I was kinda hoping the apocalypse would be of the Zombie variety. And that the day after tomorrow would be a new start for those of us wiry enough to plan for an undead invasion. Though if you ask someone who uses the Mayan calendar, you'd know the apocolypse isn't 'til December. So, for now, even though the weather blows, I guess we'll just have to soak it up. Hurricane Sandy wants to keep us on our toes, even if they are soaking wet.
* Red Cross urges people in the storm’s path to have supplies ready in case hydro power is out for up to 72 hours.
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:)
Dear Mean People,
I think you know who you are. Why must you be so mean? Also, if you fall into any of the following categories please consider yourself addressed: Judgemental, Grumpy, Pessimistic, Rude, Impatient, Disrespectful and Intolerante People. It has come to my attention that you are the worst. I am talking to the people who don't thank strangers for holding the door. A smile is not a target. Just because I am laughing doesn't mean I am laughing at you. It wouldn't kill you to share the sidewalk a little. The poop your dog makes is something you should pick up. Elevators are not a personal toot shack. Get your fingers out of your nose and get underwear that doesn't bury itself so deep in your bum crack. Which isn't really mean, it's just gross. But still.
The Canadian national average hovers at Pleasant, and I am alright with that- but if your group could make a conserted effort we could raise it! We really could. Being a nice person is not difficult for the rest of us. We live in Canada, a wonderfully diverse and sympathetic country. It's pretty darn great. A country full of apologies and those saying it have nothing to be sorry for. It sucks that nice people are nice to mean people, even though they're not nice back. I would never treat you that way, which I guess is why I am the nice one and you're not.
Signed,
The Unhappy Doormat
Dear Nice People,
Please, please, please never give up on being nice. I know that sometimes the world can get you down. I know it's gray outside and being sunny when it isn't can be hard. You can be brave. You can be the better person. Please keep opening doors for people. I will thank you. Please tell me if I've dropped something. I will thank you. Help an old lady with her walker onto the streetcar or a young mother with a stroller off. Hopefully, they will thank you. If we can stay strong together we have a better chance of not feeling so bad when the Meanies don't do the things Nice people hope they will. After a Rude Meanie tries to ruin your day, look around for a Nicey-nice, they're never too far away and share a secret smile. A knowing wink to the fact that things will get better.
If we can just keep trying to help the Meanies see that it takes so much more energy to be mean, maybe they'll stop. Now, change like that doesn't happen over night but it can happen. All those Sunday night classic movies and after-school specials can't be wrong. It's gotta be true that sometimes the Nice Guy does finish first, even if it is just a Hallmark moment. I am going to keep hoping for a theme song, a ray of sunshine and a miraculous turning of the tables. Not so that I can be mean to the Meanies, but so that the Meanies can see how much more fun it is on this side of the net.
As for you Niceys, I am looking forward to seeing you at the next meeting of the Canadian branch of the #1 Awesome Sauce Club. When I hope to pass a jolly new bi-law: Singing, not just for showers anymore. Until then keep your chin up little birds. Those mean old winds are strong, but this flight is a nice one.
Yours in Kindness,
The World's Nicest *itch
I don't know if you've heard, but we're having a heatwave. You can't go anywhere without people talking about it. Complaining- half heartedly. Only to correct each other with: "You'll miss this is November." At 6am while walking my Puppa stink I ran into my neighbour. We both smelled clean but looked wet. Crossing our collective fingers hoping today was a sweeter day. Knowing that soon we'd both be soggy again.
It's so hot that even my 12-step skincare regime isn't enough. I have to add 8 layers of sunscreen and another step of anti aging cream. The sun and heat are wearing my skin out. My hands are like crocodiles and my midsection is a haunting pasty white; bordered with irregular tan lines. My nails won't grow. My hair feels like a blanket laden with sweat. I've removed all my jewelry, I just don't want it touching me. All the city's women clad in sundresses and breezy fabrics; ponytails piled high on their heads.
On Saturday the sun came out after the spitting rain stopped. Not even close to the humidity cracking thunderstorm we we're promised. The storms we'd been begging for; the grass and trees needing it so badly. In heat like this everyone's looking for trouble. Men without shirts; hooting and hollering at the passing ladies. The Lakeshore blocked by high speed chasers and beer guzzlers. The sound of giant bumblebees without the sweetness of honey. People are restless and the animals are panting. It is hot. And were all trying to love it. Struggling through. Always uncomfortable, but it's Ontario weather, so what do we expect? When it gets like this our sports teams start loosing. The CFL, TFC and BJ's started their seasons well, now coming apart in the heat. My feet are swollen and I am bogged down and drippy. Trying to conserve energy, but ending up with none left anyway. Even Stephen. Six of one half dozen of the other. But man, it is hot!
All this aside, I needed an adventure. But this heat wears me out. It starts being comfortable outside close to 11pm, so you have to stay up that late just to go anywhere without sweating through your shirt. It's too dang hot. This past weekend I spent a lot of time on patios, in fan blown bars and the chilly A/C ofmy BBF. Hoping that I could find in some fun- and I did! My adventure started with a crosstown bike ride. The back roads were deserted; the streets we're open to a double wide lallygaging drift of a ride. All the stores I wanted to go to: Closed as though they forgot it was Saturday. So I settled for a bloody Marcy, a picker platter with smoked salmon and 'Baby it's cold outside' blaring from an ironic jukebox in 32 degree weather. The evening was catapulted by a flight of fancy; trying 9 new micro-brew beers. Suddenly, after way too much sun and beer came the invitation to my first ever penthouse- patio-party. A 2 floor condo with 2 bathrooms and 2 many people. Facing the CN tower and the lake. The city glimmering and calm. The temperature dipping and the breeze whispering through my hair. Finally a nice temperate adventure. Comfortable at last.
So, humidity and hops mix refreshingly well together. Turns out that by raising the adventure temperature, I managed to be hot and comfortable. Thanks Torontonians for keeping you're cool. But if there's a way we can swing it; I would like some of that rain I complained about earlier this summer:)
This week I spent a lot of time traveling. Time in airports; where every suitcase has a squeaky wheel. A symphony of out of tune squealing leading people to strange places and back home again. The televisions squawking equally in French and English. People tired from long journeys and others excited for their 's to begin. The sound of planes at touchdown. The smooth dulcet tones of landed attendants inviting their new passengers to board. The constant click of the baggage claim, telling you youre almost home.
Time on the highway; with lane closures slowing everyone and speed demons racing against an unseen timer. Six lanes of blacktop taking people long distances in a short time. Cars with lonely drivers singing along in voices louder than they typically dare. Cigarettes hanging out windows, for the first drag of the day or the last butt before home. Headlights brightening up dashed center lines and shining in my eyes.
Time on the subway; with snoring sun-stroked beach goers leaning against plexiglas partitions. Buses with inebriated minors acting out. Overdressed office women in uncomfortable shoes pretending to read their romance novels. The unidentifiable stain on the red almost velvet seat. Crowded bus stations with impatient commuters reading free daily newpapers.
People coming and going, the only thing they share is me. I sit and stare as people around me fill their commute with all the tools they've grown accustom to. Sleeping and waking at the right stop. Earbuds plugged into music mixed with the sense of solitude. I like being a traveller in the galaxy without leaving the planet. Each cosmos holding their own secrets and all of them revolving around the same sun. It is truly an awesome thought to sit as people flood out folding doors to offices, people on top of people, all working towards a different goal.
They say that life isn't about the destination it's about the journey. And this is a good one. Each day I hope to see something new, run into someone old and get to work on time. This weekend I want to sit in Victoria (a regal vehicle) with my BFF and sing with the sunroof open. Daylight coaxing more freckles out of winter hibernation. Coasting along to our favourite corny pop song. Her on lead vocals, Me Garfunkeling the harmony. Laughing all the way. Traveling together for more than just a ride. I am happy that this journey is filled with the sights, sounds and the sometimes awful smells that go along with it. Dear readers: Keep on trucking! And as always be prepared to merge:)
Weekends suddenly make sense to me. I have been living day to day. Jumping from gig to gig for the past 5 years. Without a steady job- other than this... So, the weekend never meant that much to me. It was just 2 more days of the week that I could be working or waiting for the work to call or sweating that it had been 3 days since I worked, etc ad nauseum. But when you're booked into a steady Mon to Friday work week; the weekend is two days off. Back to back, days where I am my own boss. Not worried about when my next job is coming. It's coming Monday. Those 2 days are allocated to my whim. And with this my first Free Weekend I learned the following things in no particular order.
1. The Horseshoe Tavern is Toronto's best music venue- especially if the band has a fiddle
2. Bone marrow, horse meat and cow tongue taste amazing if the chef knows how to do it right
3. Free beer is the best beer
4. A DJ playing to an empty room doesn't take requests
5. My bike needs a softer seat
6. A rare book doesn't have to be old but it helps
7. Law schools are designed to inspire greatness in their students
8. Sundays are designed for Mommas
9. My Puppa loves me more when I smell like bacon poutine
10. Scotland has born some pretty wicked people
11. Lucy doesn't want to play the game "look I’m a pirate and she's a parrot" while standing out on my shoulder
12. Bye, bye Birdie is wicked- this I already knew but it’s important to be reminded
13. Baby Belle won't play herself and I need to practice
14. Coffee in Paris is cheaper at the bar than at a table
15. New shoes make me feel great and guilty
16. A change of facial and body cream are a gateway to better cheeks; which means better smiling
17. Sunshiney weather brings out my freckles
18. My bike basket is not an acceptable handbag
19. Most people yelling in the streets aren't talking to me
20. Queen St though busier is better than Dundas for now
21. Having reliable people around means you breath better
22. Having a slogan on your shirt; allows people to stare at your chesticles
23. Being dressed up and looking good with someone you love is better than being in comfys alone
24. Having a BFF who is pretty helps to see the beautiful things around you
25. A spring breeze is best when blowing through the new spring leaves
26. I will never stop loving Jelly shoes
27. Rose water smells amazing on me
28. Whenever you get something you actually need. When you get home you'll find you needed 2 of them
29. Freddie Mercury still rocks
30. Stopping to smell the flowers sometimes means actually stopping to smell the flowers
31. Painting your toenails navy; encourages one to hum the Village People
I know, I know these aren’t shocking and amazing revelations, but it sounds to me like I had a pretty informative weekend. I just wish that I was taking a weekend from this- and getting paid again Today :) Ah the dream! Happy Monday to all you daily grinders, and Happy non-specific day of any generic work week to all you freelancers.
Yesterday, while lying in a shallow grave getting hailed on, I realized. I love my job. I know, I know, it sounds terrible. And really it is. I mean, it's freaking awful. It's cold and dirty and you have to use unheated port-a-pottys, and you stand around for 14 hours, and your jaw hurts from clenching it in the cold. You have no control over when you'll be finished; no matter how hard or well you work. Generally, you're just uncomfortable and itchy. The film business, ain't purty. There in lies the rub, I love it anyways. I love, love, love it; and it's a good thing I have a union that dictates what I get paid- cuz I would do all this crazy stuff for free- that's how much I love it. FREE!!! I would be a waitress, or a police officer, or a janitor in a movie, tv show or theatre production. The great thing is, I never have to stay the same thing more than a few days. Tomorrow always holds another character.
Here is my morbid dream, which I guess should be classified as a nightmare...I want to play a dead body 7 times before I die, and preferably in the following ways:
1. Blueing Corpse on a mortuary slab with the Y-stitches- I don't know the cause of death, the CSI team are just putting the clues together, there will hopefully be a "flashback" of the murder happening.
2. Falling down stairs- splayed out at the bottom.- Pushed by my jealous lover or a woman who wants to steal my husband and perfect life.
3. A cancer patient or other near survivor.- Not really something I want to do...but if I am playing people dying, this is one of the most likely avenues I'll have to take.
4. Impaled in the gut with a spear or jousting foil.- Going down in a medieval blaze of glory, a peasant woman secretly acting as a knight to save her family's business from a tyrannical Lord or Baron.
5. Eaten by a wild animal, preferably a bear, after a wrestling match.- While lost in the woods, without shoes I stumble into a ferocious bear's territory. He lurches at me from the rustling brush, and we struggle as he slashes and tears, I eventually succumb and the bear eats me, ripping me apart.
6. Swarmed by zombies or dragged away by demons- like in Ghost or Zombieland, with lots of screaming and grasping for help, clutching the hand of someone I know is going to leave me behind, I am too far gone already. I just hope if it's Zombies, my team of apocalyptic survivors shoot me in the head to honour my memory, keeping me from becoming a zombie myself. It's the least they could do.
7. Floating in a pool- eyes open.- a timeless classic, and I would hope it's shot in black and white, from the bottom of the pool. Classic death, drowned in a swimming pool.
All that terrible stuff being said, I would also like to solve a mystery, find a missing child, rob a bank, fly, unite 2 feuding families...okay, okay, let's be honest. I want to do everything. There's not a single thing that I wouldn't do or be. I have always been a glutton for punishment, not real punishment mind you, but working in film might be worse punishment as it's a lot more takes, a lot more angles, and a lot more direction, but I still love it. Why be a anything, when you could be everything?
This is the first time in my whole life, I have ever lived grown up. I am so proud I wanna high-kick all over. But this is also the first time I have had corners... Corners that around each one of them I catch my breath, cause I'm kind of a scaredy cat. And now we have a mirror that reflects the window reflecting back a scaredy cat vision of you. And the animals skitter. They skitter and scatter across the hardwood floor, they never had places to go before. Other rooms? They're always in other rooms making noises, sighs, grunts and wheezes. Playing in my paranoid brain is every theme to every slasher film, slowly building up the tension. Eeekke. Am I scared of my new house? I think yes. When I come home and there's no lights on and all the windows are dark...I get nervous. There's too many tiny nooks and crannies. Closets to hide in...Then I think, this is a new building, could there already be ghosts in here?
I spent all day in a post apocalyptic world pretending to be one of the only 500 people left on earth, in a scary underground location that's in the middle of nowhere. Oh and I am chilled to the bone breathing in 30 year old dust and squinting in the dark smokey air. My face is on fire, my nose is red and fragile. We are making a movie in the place that wind was created, the cradle of the slamming shutters and aluminum siding. There's also a haunting memorial where a dead body was found, at least that's the rumour. So when I come home and there's no lights on and the new door creaks, I tend to catch my breath, preparing for something lurking. It's never the same thing in the corners though, sometimes it's swamp thing in the shower or Jason in the closet, some sort of unmasked ninja bandits. I may be a little bit nervous but I hope that there is something universal keeping me safe in my house. Safe hidden away.
But at work, those victims are never safe...the bad guys just keep coming and killing and blood and guts and climbing and slashing, it's horrific. But I am going back to the past next week, so I just gotta hold out for that. It's a special olde timey kinda cold. It's a stinky, smokey, drippy, creaky and shaky feeling but otherwise safe. I am living other lives. And I come home with all the ghost and bad guys and scaredy cat feelings. Hoping to snuggle my Hubby, but he's not here and the lights are off, and it's just you and me, and my mind keeps on racing. Maybe I should watch more Mad Men, who could be scared of a world so beautiful?
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