Everybody I know is looking for a little Me time. You'd think that with all the blah blah about timesaving this and yak yak about efficiency that, we'd actually have some time left over. When I started working in this industry I sent and received faxes. Snail mail was how I was paid my commissions. Now we have email transfers and texts. Even just typing those words saves time. So, where does all that extra time go?
I can choose a digital playlist. Send evites and order decorations online for a party; that no one has time to come to. I can search recipes and movie reviews for food I don't have time to cook and movies I don't have time to watch. Research a new fitness regime? Start a collection? Stalk a superstar cyberly? Yup I can do all those things online, but I can't actually find time to do anything in my real life. Zoinks! Then it hit me. I am spending all my Me time online planning for Me time. Oh what a Melicious cycle.
Join me in celebrating the realization that my Me time can be uploaded to real life. Suddenly I have found 2 free hours. When hubby is at work. When the house is quiet and Jilly is excited to snug. A Me time quiet enough to read, but awake enough that I won't fall asleep after 2 pages. A Me time with a rejuvenating face mask and newly painted little piggies. Me time with a chitchat and chinwag with my Besties. But by the sounds of it my Me time is quickly filling up. If you're interested in finding some You time; Please submit your application for Me time. I look forward to considering your nomination and seeing a happier You, with bright new digits:)
It's been a few months since I wrote an ode to earhairs. It's sad but I long for the mysterious intrigue of earhairs. A tickly, thickly curling wisp that flutters in the wind. It's hooked and I can't stop starring! Of course, there have been a few memorable chin hairs and a mole hair or two, but nothing worth a dedicated blog to my outspoken affection for such furry occurrences. I have been trying to rise above the physical foibles of those around me. But what is it they say about the best laid plans?
Upon returning to my regular cop shop gig I have seen a few wily whiskers, but have taken the high road- for the most part. Ignoring a hair collar sticking out above shirt necklines, and avoiding eye contact with caterpillar brows. Honest I was trying to be good. Until yesterday, I discovered a giant ear hair...you will never guess where. In MY own EAR. I couldn't believe it. It was awful. Possessed by a tickle I felt in my ear canal. A creepy crawling, fluttering feeling that I couldn't shake. Literally I couldn't shake it off. Heading to the loo, I thought I would discreetly pull all the hairs from both ears, you know, all those tiny fine hairs that cover a human. The fuzz that reminds us we're not too far from being the animals we were. And trust me if I'd had a razor I would've shaved myself from the eyebrows down! Getting to the washroom I studied, inspected, looked and leered at my ears- seeing nothing, but I knew it was there. I started plucking blindly. Oh did I mention that I carry tweezers with me? Cuz, yeah I do. Everywhere I go, just in case. That's when it happened. The tweezers clamped down on something. And like deep sea fishing, it was a struggle to reel that hair in- or out as the case may be. When I finally triumphed over my well rooted foe, I was .5lbs lighter and my hearing had amplified 4 fold. How long could it have been growing there? As far as I am concerned- any length of time is too long. Now, I must turn my obsession inward, I have become my own earhair-enemy.
But it could have been worse, I guess. The group I associate with at work are a mature crowd. Their eyesight isn't like use-ta-be and most have earhairs of their own, earhairs they can be proud of. So, I figure as long as I can still see, feel and pluck my own unruly rogue hairs I am ahead of the social grooming curve. But maybe we could all use a little help from our friends. One of my colleagues has asked for a lady's agreement. Using my 20/20 vision I am to alert him to any strays I may spy...though to prevent hurt feelings I have been collecting a few hairs to alert him of all at once, instead of a daily hair check-in. It's better for us both that way. I get to marvel at those wiry wonders for a few more days, and he gets to think his super power is growing multiple magnanimous hairs in an afternoon. So my fair earhairs- it's been a while since we wrote, but you are a familiar friend. Honestly though, I could do without you whispering in my ear. Literally.
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:)
I am just going to go ahead and coin the term North Poehler! A Canadian who loves Amy Poehler- catchy I know! Whoa! That was too many exclamation points. Anyhow, while watching Parks and Rec, I was schooled about "Treat Yo'Self"! A yearly tradition when you get to spoil yourself for the whole day. Well, being the broke sass I am, it's not likely I'll get to Treat My'self anytime soon. But since it is my birthday, I thought I would write a
"Treat Yo Self" wish list:)
1. An iPad to aide in my internet takeover
2. Unlimited Hula classes
3. Full body massage with rose water facial and scalp treatment
4. Ukulele Manicure and Kandy Korn Pedicure
5. Vaca to a sunny beach so I can catch up on my reading
6. Create a Melicious Manners logo design
7. A pretty pink princess dress complete with tiara and blonde updo wig
8. Pin-up style vintage photo shoot and new head shots!
9. Limo for 8 going to Niagara Falls to do all the quirky museums and Ripley's and a room with a view of the Falls
10. Snap up those high priced concert tickets- Maroon 5, Pink and Bon Jovi
11. A $500 gift certificate to Lululemon
12. Mojitos and Playa Cabana catering all day long
13. Those dang Ikea shelves put up by a Handy Man
14. More lessons with Ukeologist Judy!
15. Dance lessons & circus training- but that might take more than a day
16. Prepaid personal shopper with a flair for vintage
17. I was going to do wishes up to my age, but I then thought better of it:)
This list doesn't sound like much of a Treat My'self day, it sounds like a MeliciousManners Better Yo'Self list with vacations and a few future plans thrown in for colour. Sigh. It's strange to think that my treats are learning, escaping and improving. My fellow North Poehlers, I encourage you to think about ways to "Treat Yo'Self"! Maybe you should watch Parks & Rec; 22mins of awesomesauce in it's 5th season of Wowey! Available on Netflix! Another exclamation?!? Really? I need less enthusiasm or more emoticons...emoticons it is:)
My Grandma Far used to say "What's for you, doesn't go by you". And even though I try to remember that, it doesn't make disappointment any easier to deal with. In this business, well it's a calling really, Hubby and I have been pranked often. I am using that analogy badly. We both work so hard, trying to achieve a destiny we have no control over. We struggle and strive and encourage each other. Our families support our tough choice, though it's not an easy one to understand. People root for us, even if it's just on FB. We have a cheering section. Good people who want to see other good people succeed. But the sad truth of the matter is, no matter how much we want something or how hard we work for it or how perfect we (the collective Royal WE) believe we are for something, there is always a chance of being disappointed. So, I thought I might take a stab at teaching myself and y'all how to deal with disappointment.
Dealing with Disappointment 101:
When dealing with someone who is disappointed: Listen. They know the motivational speeches - closed door=open window and all that jazz- And the Disappointee wants to apply them, but first they must deal with accepting the disappointment itself. And we must accept that they aren't ready just yet to see the bright side.
Commiserate. We've all been there. Not gotten something we were hoping for. Been passed over for a raise. Been out bid. Out played and out schemed. There is nothing wrong with wanting something. And nothing wrong with being sad you didn't get it. No matter what that elusive thing is, it still hurts.
A hug goes a long way. And so does a shot of Jack.
A good cry can help with the healing. In this tough as nails life we're living, we can forget that tears are a cleansing tool. Both for the eyes themselves and the soul. Watch Braveheart or a Kodak commercial, and have a good ole fashioned cry.
Play with a Puppy or Kitty or Baby, these tiny creatures remind disappointed people that life is good and things move on without blatantly saying it. Plus who doesn't like a snuggle from something furry? Or the sweet smell of baby powder.
Cookies! A great tool for healing, especially when sandwiching ice cream. Chocolate is a natural mood altering food. So just eat it. Now, don't give them too many, because people tend to over eat at pity parties.
After listening to their plights and woes, remember to be thankful that things will get better. Or at least aren't going to get worse... I hope.
As for you my Hubby, my Prince. Love is the answer. Someone who loves you, will never be disappointed in you, if you gave it your best shot. Be confident that you did! And YOU DID<3
Plus, this means that everyone knows what you're capable of now and won't accept less. Which is great for this writer, cuz you're a beautiful canvas for me to paint upon. Together we'll prove that you needn't be disappointed, though I know I can't promise you never will be. I am so proud of you and will continue to cheer you on, like so many others. But maybe we should watch the first 5 mins of UP! just to clean out those ducts, before we get back to the daily disappointing grind. Of course, of course, of course.
Never underestimate your power. Growing up is hard. Growing up unique is even harder. This goes out to all the kiddies who have it rough. It is up to us grown ups to teach the world tolerance, and stop the things that hurt those who can't speak up for themselves.
When I was little, I was odd. I know, I know, shocking? But I was. I was mature for my age. I loved vintage when my classmates loved grunge. I sang to myself and spoke to myself and yelled at myself when I got out of hand. I spent a lot of time writing poetry in the basement on our 2nd generation desktop computer. I spent hours every day dreaming, plotting, scheming and creating stories in my head. And for a long time I was alone. I was bullied for being different. I was teased by the cookie cutter people who didn't know how much more fun it was to be themselves. All through high school I attended MM video dances. Where nobody asked me to dance- so I danced with myself, well myself as a giant shadow on the gym wall. By senior prom- everyone knew me as the shadow dancer and I was the first on the dance floor dancing with myself to a standing ovation. I didn't fit in anywhere. All I knew was there must be a place where I belong. I knew there would be people who got me, I mean really understood me. I knew this because my mentors taught me.
Mentoring our children is one of the most important jobs we have as grown ups in this world. As North Americans we should be breathing a sigh of relief, that our kids can be safe, healthy and fed. We don't have to worry about fresh water or malaria. Children are the most important resource we have. So please help me teach those odd ducklings that it gets better. We are the change they need! You have the power to teach the world to love. So here's an apple for your first day teacher, it's going to be a long journey to prom, but I'll save you a dance.
The adage goes that you are what you eat. Well, I don't remember eating a heaping helping of passive agressive with a steaming side of sad-sack. This whole eating well thing is getting me down. I mean; Hey Ms. Craig, while I've been watching weight, and I couldn't help but notice, I have no idea who you are. I know Jennifer Hudson, Valerie Bertinelli and Kirstie Alley have all benefited from the meal plan mentality, even if only temporarily. But what do I look like a rich and influential spokesperson? (Which I could be if you wanted*insert gleaming smile ting) I can't afford to spend $15 a meal for $6.40 worth of food. And Dr. Bernstein you silver haired slim Jim, you've been around since fat people were invented. But those vitamin B shots are more expensive than Jenny, though I guess you save on the cost of food, cuz you don't buy any. I can't afford your fancy programs! So, here's my plan. Back to basics. Cut out dairy and simple carbs. On the upside, I am allowed as many veggies as I want. But really how many veggies can any one person truly want?
I have been trying to quit meat. With the exception of fish and local organic chicken and this past weekend which went entirely off the rockers. Going out on the road, I ate everything but the pig, with whom I was too busy commiserating our similar silhouettes, though his skin was better. Desperately searching for other sources of protein has me subbing in beans and chickpeas at every meal. Now, all those veggies are delicious. Low in fat. Fibrous and filling. But they also bloat me. It's not the same as the 3 day meatloaf bloat. But the musical fruit has definitely been busy composing, if you catch my whiff. Creating a strange alternate reality where I out toot- Hubby-the-Toots-Magoots...a strange and scary place, don't leave me alone in here.*insert gesture to my head.
With the increase of my physical activity and the slowly but steadily declining junk food intake I am hoping to see results. Not drastic ones, but the slow and steady tortoise kind of results. And am eager to post them for y'all. I am excited to be the change I want to see in the mirror. The greatest motivator? I found a clothing store that is perfect for ME! I mean perfect: A little bit vintage and lot amazing. But knowing it would be a waste to buy anything at this current size, cuz in a couple months I would have to get it altered- fingers crossed. And that if I reach my goal Hubby Warbucks will hopefully, pretty please with a cherry on top reward me. (You smell what I'm cooking Hubby?) Oh and as for this meal plan, I think it really can work! After a bunch of steamed broccoli with nothing except Toronto spice and 4 mini roasted potatoes. I had myself a tight and tidy one pan dinner. Full, happy and proud; I congratulated myself. Then promptly ate a butter tart.*headshake Well, if I am going to become what I eat, maybe I should start eating more awesome-sauce on wicked sticks and a slice of magic for dessert. Mmmmagic.
Picture this: A pretty pretty Princess wearing a pretty pink dress sits brushing her glimmering blonde hair and humming to herself. Two tiny bluebirds and one giant Cardinal hear her song and flutter down to perch on her shoulder and start singing harmony. Then two of the world's sweetest wittle bunny wabbits scoot under the fence, drawn to her by the birdie's #tweets. A baby deer pokes her head into the courtyard, curious as to what all the buzz was about. Did I forget to mention the Busy Bee family was there too? The Princess surrounded by her animal friends walks, well she glides really, to sit by her wishing well. Starting her song again she looks down into the wishing well. Princess: I'm wishing
Echo: I'm wishing
Princess: for the Prince I love
Echo: for the Prince I love
Princess: to find his dream job.
To be happy and proud of himself.
To be seen as the wicked talented dude he is.
To prove to himself he hasn't wasted anything.
To live and work at something he loves.
To gain the self esteem he sometimes lacks.
Cuz I am already proud of him.
Oh, and I wish for him to carry the load for a while, until I finish my children's book, sell it or indie-gogo a self publish and we can both be stable people and know that we've made the right choices for ourselves.
Disregarding what people have said about our rambling ways.
Realizing that no matter how silly our dreams seem they deserve to be realized.
And even though it's a hard row to sow, knowing that we've planted seeds, tended, watered and nurtured our imagination in the garden of our minds.
And even though we're a bit fruity, we're the sweetest kind.
I wish to continue on our tangled path of mixing business with pleasure.
Then we can live happily ever more, knowing that we were right to stick to our guns.
Please convince this geeky little boy wearing the cape, that he was right to dream big.
I also wish for a mini unicorn.
Echo: Wow, that was a really long chorus and it didn't even rhyme.
Your song writing skills are weaker than I thought, even worse than mine...
And I am a well.
Princess: Yeah, a wishing well!
The Princess and the birdies, the bunnies, the deer and the bees laughed and laughed and laughed until they stopped. Then the Well made all of the Princess' dreams come true. Her Prince came home happy and strong, with a mini-pony unicorn. And they lived happily evermore.
What a pretty, pretty picture that would be! Break an egg my Prince, my Hubby, my DreamMaker:) I am so very proud of you.
P.S. Check out Hubby's music video;) You'll love it!
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:)
At 2am after a night of working hard on an online submission audition Hubby came to bed angry. Mad that he hadn't finished more. Angry that things weren't as easy as he'd hoped. Put out by how difficult it actually was putting together something that he could be proud of. Both Hubby and I are perfectionists.... Did I mention that? But perfection takes time, effort and stamina. Also perfection takes a RED camera, lapel mics and at least 3 chimeras and 4 bounces- not to mention a choreographer, 1st AD and editor. The reason professional things look that way, is because they have the money, smackers, yen and pesos to pay for it. I can shoot as much as I want on my HD iPhone 4, but it's just never going to look perfect.
On take 3 of shot #5 I realized it. The reason we want so much of ourselves is because we want more people striving for perfection. Being the poor and starving artists we know what we can do, why wouldn't we expect that or more from a film crew of 80. This is the fact that makes us perfect for this industry of try hard perfectionists. If there is something that I have heard in every interview- every performer wants the best art to be made for the effort they are making. Would you do a nude scene? The answer across the board= If it was important to the story line, and if it is artistically done I would have no trouble doing it. That comes from a performer who wants the best for each project. The face in front of a crew of people all pulling to make something beautiful. Something unexpected. The performance of the season. In every performance they do. A true artist, of the starving variety is a perfectionist.
The inner monologue of the striver, the performer who wants to be their best goes like this: "Are my eyes blinking too much, on the next line I have to hit a mark accurately so that I am at my best angle, when I get to that mark I have to gesture with my left hand to the clue, while also picking up the prop I need for the next scene. I have to exit the frame from the left. While holding this prop, so I can have it in the scene we're filming in 2 and 7/8th days. Oh and don't do that thing with you eye because you don't have that action until you turn around." Plus remembering lines and saying them with the same intonation 27 times in a row. You must be a perfect performer to even do the basics of this job. That's not even taking into account the crying and screaming- and making that look honest. Be you an ugly cryer like Halle Berry or the cryer that let's the tears roll freely without marring your still beautiful face. Or how about fight scenes? Those are supposed to seem spontaneous, but they've been practised until the crew was ready to fall asleep. This is a tough job. So, here's one going out to all the starry eyed youth thinking that you won't need math and science to be a famous actor. It takes so much more than that. Study social science, biology and athletics. Geography and History couldn't hurt either. So, if you're coming down this yellow brick road, please pack a survival kit, cuz this life is tough and unexpected. But the rest of us perfectionists are up for it, if you are:)
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