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.
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!
They say you can never go home again and after meeting some people's families I can understand why they may never want to. But it is also true that you can never travel the same road twice and life has a strange way of sneaking up on you. While spending Thanksgiving with my Bro, Momma and Papa B, I was me and Hubby was himself. We didn't put on an act. We didn't have to be anyone else. There were a few times when our not-so-awesome-selves came out- par example- when seen fighting in the local chocolate store or overheard lecturing regarding health values while passing the highway Arby's, but a few hitches ain't so bad...I guess. Oh yeah, and there was the Dinner and a Movie event my Momma invited us to where Hubby of course hassled me about laughing too loud in the theatre, though who can resist the sound of laughter amplified by a beautifully resonant space? It would be wrong of me not to laugh out loud. No matter what, I love going home. But where does my heart truly lie?
They say home is where your heart is, and my home is in Toronto. The work I love is here, I met the man I love here, my life is here. I love the CN Tower and it's light show- currently on hold for avian migration. I love that there are kitchens in the city open for a late night eater. I love that there is sushi within 1 block of you, no matter where you are. I love the Red Rocket- even though I know I shouldn't. It feels like the start of an adventure every time I drop that shiny token into the clinking slot. I love complaining about our Dumb-sass mayor. I love how close I am to all these people I love. I love seeing a different style on everybody I meet. I love the passion for life and the hustle and bustle. How could I not love my home?
Then there's the darkness of a country road where my heart feels full. The darkness broken by the bright shining stars we hardly see in the city. I love the smells, even the poopy ones. I love the panoramic colours that span every horizon. I love the quiet. The feeling that the neighbours can hear what you're thinking. Having neighbours that have known me since I was this big* insert knee high to a grasshopper action. Here is a heartfelt welcome no matter how long it's been. I love knowing people and them knowing me. I love picking up a conversation I've been having with someone for the last 20 years right where we left off. How could I not love this home?
Hubby says creating a home is key to having a happy life. Home- a place to rest your head, your heart and your body. A place of comfort. A place to recharge your batteries. But what happens when 2 totally different places feel like home? A spilt like that can be tough to stitch together. There aren't many people who can afford two homes or even one home in this market. And after being threatened with the sale of my childhood home, I begged my parents not to sell their house; a place I consider my home. I know where all their dishes go, I planted the tree in the side yard from a sapling that was barely a stick, I know why the wall has that chip, I love this home. But Hubby, Momma & Papa B; here's the thing I want you to know, I've realized: A true home- the real place that your heart is, it's with the people and not with the buildings. Now, I have to stop, before all this lovey-dovey stuff makes me homesick-to my stomach:)
While walking my pretty Puppa-roo across Queen St on a beautiful fall day I realized something. Almost every store we go into offers her a treat. And my Puppa is excited for every gift. Whether big cookie or little milk bone, she over-eagerly accepts all gifts- then I saw- when she wasn't getting a treat her interest wained. Pulling without subtlety back towards the place she last got treated. Oh no. I have created not only a chubby Jilly Bean no neck, but a bad gift receiver and a greedy puppy. A selfish and no good spoiled brat. And that makes me a bad Momma. Not the type of Momma I want to be.
Before I cast all the blame unto Bean for her lack of grace when accepting a gift I must reflect upon my own. For all my pomp and circumstance and big loud voice and funny dance moves, I am actually quite shy. Now, as an actress you may think that's weird. However, I don't mind the attention of an audience- an audience doesn't try to get to know you. Doesn't try to figure you out. They just let your character wash over them. The only pressure on you is to give a performance you're proud of. That's a gift I can give! Otherwise, I am a terrible gift giver. Or have been, until recently. I have been giving cash at weddings and gift certificates for most everything else. I am sorta generous. I just don't want anyone to feel like they should ever have to give me a gift. So, I try and avoid those situations altogether. Until I made my lifetime friends- they won't let me off the hook. And they are the best gift givers I've ever met, so it's quite an obstacle. Their gifts have inspired my intention to be a better giver and receiver.
Here are a few of the key ingredients I've learned about giving and getting perfect gifts. Something special comes from listening, looking and feeling- both the person and receiver- presumably a friend or family member- and their surroundings. Take mental notes or have Siri take one for you. Create dates in your calendar. Paying attention is key. Customized gifts are great but allow time for delivery. Also you can never go wrong with a genuine smile, warmly written card and eye contact. Receiving someone's gratitude is a key aspect of the cycle of being a talented giver. And never underestimate giving someone the gift of time. Life is busy and short, why not give the gift of togetherness? A dinner out or a home cooked meal, perhaps an offer to help with that nagging DIY project.
In the past I have been equally bad at giving and receiving- but I'm working on it. That's a gift to me. However, that treat eating, greedy little fur baby dragging me down Queen St , never gave me anything but unconditional love. Well, there's a new Sheriff in town and Jilly better start rolling over to my new way of thinking. She needs to learn a new trick or two- otherwise this old dog won't get her any new treats. Plus I like browsing Queen St and not every store has a treat for the Stinker, some treats are for your gifted Momma;)
Happy Thanksgiving! And getting!
It is fall. October specifically; the fabulous month of my birth. The month when our bodies acclimatize to the chill. School is in full swing. The trees are exploding in their festive autumn colours. Mist hangs in the air late at night and early in the mornings. There is a sense of something slightly ominous. And who can blame you for feeling this way? With Ghosts and Goblins, Witches and Jack-o-Lanterns in every shop window. The crispy crackle of leaves under your quickening foot steps; chasing your shadow across a deserted parking lot. The feeling that there is someone just behind you or lurking around spooky tree trunks. October should be Heart-pounding awareness month.
Ever since I was a little girl I have loved being scared. I was the proud founder of Scary Chilling Regional Enthusiast Association of Movie-goers or SCREAM, a club of warped teenage girls eating Combos and being scared by my Papa B when he suddenly flicked on the lights. Five girls wrapped up in blankets, sitting in the dark, clutching each other's hands in anticipation of the next big scare. Watching what were the hot horrors at the time. Suspenseful dramatic thrillers with a tortured leading man grimacing about something that, by the end of the movie ends up being trivial even as a side-plot. Only to be reunited with his average girlfriend with the straight A's, then cruelly ripped from her arms in the last shot, basically cementing a sequel~ I mean Squeal!
Let's talk serious Horror for a minute- who would you be? Horror characters: Sensitive jock who pushes his girlfriend a little too hard to go to 3rd base, Slightly nerdy girl who only got invited to this party cuz your parents are friends, Total loose cannon outcast with nothing to lose and no one to answer to, or the hostess- who really just wanted everyone to have a nice time but now they're all dying? At what point in the story would your character give up? I think, I would end up being the one who outlasted everyone. Clumsily and narrowly escaping the tragic end befalling every one else. Be it crushed by a garage door, thrown from 2nd storey windows onto iron fence. If you die in a horror, you're going brutally. But when the chips really are down on the table, do you want to be the one who witnesses all your friends and probably family die? That's almost worse. Being alive when they're all dead. I mean, you're obviously going to be a suspect, you're the reason they were all there in the first place and their only connection. You can never run away or start a new life. That tragic story will follow you where ever you go. Whispering about that girl- sad about that night- oh, haven't you heard- she's the Grundy Island survivor. And that would be awful. Nobody would ever be your friend or love you ever again, because you're cursed. Which is one of the reasons I don't like big parties at secluded locations, where I know everyone. Happy OctoBOOOer:)
The Great Canadian Entrepreneur: a species indigenous to the northernly half of the north american continent. Though many species appear in southern regions, they tend to be a much heartier and parasitic breed. I was raised by a pack of Great Canadian Entrepreneurs, making me an Entre-thusiast. I am a big fan of people who've realized that what they have to offer is different and special and like Frank Sinatra, they're doing it their way. Living in a city as diverse as Toronto allows people to take the plunge, crossing fingers for at least a slice of the widely variant market, hoping for a group of dedicated followers. People who like you. Like what you do. And like the way you do it. In smaller markets the game has different rules.
I grew up in a small town. Well, not small for a town, but not a wide market. Not a wide cross-section of opinions. And really only 1 degree of separation between people. If I don't know you, there is at least one person I know who does. Side note: Small towns were the original FaceBook. My Papa B is an Entrepreneur. He has been for all the jobs I can remember, except the middle one he took cuz it was too good an offer to turn down. Though in hindsight, it was his worst and grumpiest and most awful time, and if you know my Papa B, that's saying a lot. He does not work well for others. Here we go again genetics. On every report card ever sent home for signing: "Melicious has trouble taking direction." Not a great quality in an actor, but the best quality in an entrepreneur. My Town Councillor Momma is a self starter married to an Entrepreneur. Which isn't much different. Having owned several at home businesses she joined my Papa B's company almost 15 years ago. Being the motivated lady she is, she is constantly morphing to fit the needs of her clients and anticipate their future goals. She's a great role model to teach a blossoming actor about being a chameleon. Making me an even Steven.
Entrepreneurs are a rare breed. A group of people who made it their business to do it well or at least differently. People who's job was created for them. Tailor made to fit their specs. What's the hardest part about being your own boss? Making your employee -yourself- accountable. Making sure they get to work on time. Finish their projects in a timely manner. Trying to inspire your employee to strive for something better. And brainstorming sessions can be a little lonely. But there's no greater feeling than a job well done. A job that you are responsible for. A job that you thought up, worked through and completed. You did it. It's on you if it fails, but the upside is that I am not dumb enough to let anything fail, if I can help it. Plus I think my boss is pretty great.
This past weekend I had the pleasure of being the best-man's date to my Bro-in-Law's wedding. It was a split crowd; people I knew and total strangers. People who love me and people I will never see again. There is a wonderful duality when you're popularity is rumoured and unconfirmed. And it's amazing what you can learn.
Things I learned about weddings this past weekend:
1. You get to dance to the summer's top 40 pop songs, and somehow everyone knows them
2. It's a celebration of love. Everyone's love
3. You don't mind offering to get drinks at a venue where the booze is free
4. There are so many people, it's not offensive to only spend a little time with someone
5. Everyone tries to put their best food forward
6. Family inside jokes are in play
7. Even the grumpiest of men has a smile on their face
8. It's okay to shed a tear over the people we love who couldn't be there
9. You know at least 1/2 the people at this party
10. It's one of the 5 times a year you can convince your Hubby to dance with you
11. A beautiful venue really can reflect the love a couple has for one another
12. Bridesmaids' dresses can be beautiful enough to wear again
13. Fall weddings rock!
14. It's okay to eat the meat at a wedding when an environmentalist plans the menu
15. Watching pretty bridesmaids share inside jokes about the bride makes me miss my bridesmaids
16. There is no such thing as a stress free wedding
17. Photographers need to take charge and shrink the lengthy posing process
18. DJs should be pretty or handsome to invite requests
19. Caesars for apps, wine with dinner and beer for dancing is still a deadly combination
20. No matter how I protest, I always work at every event a little bit
21. My 2nd Momma was just as nervous the 2nd time around
22. Feathers are so hot right now
23. A pit bull off his leash will go straight for the bride in the frilly shimmering dress
24. A great DJ will sometimes play the same song twice
25. Even if you can't hear or understand what someone is saying, you can assume it's something nice
26. A great speech can come in many formats
27. A blended family is the only kinda'family that exists anymore
28. No matter how early you leave there's always a chance you'll be late
29. A flowing 70's chiffon dress with a wide belt is a great choice for a three course meal
30. Deciding to be the most fun person in the room is not a tough decision to make
31. A cordless mic encourages pacing
32. McDonald's is the best at midnight
33. Summer Loving is still the best air-band song ever
34. A wedding brings a family together with so much more happiness than a funeral
35. A wedding vow takes love and laughter to sound appropriate to the couple
36. After planning your own, you know how much love was poured into every other wedding you attend
37. A night without Jilly doesn't mean a dog won't keep us up all night
Congrats Bro-in-Law and Sis-for-life, welcome to the club! We're new members but the hazing hasn't been too bad and the old members are happy to have us. I look forward to seeing our lives grow together. Enjoy your honeymoon.
Is lying to yourself really lying? I mean if you truly believe something about yourself, could it really be wrong? Growing up things are black and white. Stealing is bad. But the older you grow, the greyer things get. Stealing to feed your hungry family is bad, but not for the same reasons. It has been a long time that I have been telling myself I am a better person than I might actually be. I have been telling myself (and you) that we can be the people we want to be. It’s just not as simple as I hoped. Being a good person is the most difficult thing I have ever tried to do. The effort required to make the person you are on the outside into the person you dream to be on the inside is an ongoing struggle. With obstacles rising up to meet you every single day. Temptation to be mean. To be selfish. To be too tired to be the best friend you hoped to be. To be strong in the face of adversity. To really stand up for what you believe and what you’ve told yourself to be true. To gossip. Being a good person is the most challenging person to be, it's a never-ending battle. That’s what makes a good person so special.
People say that life is short. And all you have is today. Though there are times when you feel you’ve lived this day before. The hours dragging before it's even time to start. Starting something and sticking to it. Sounds easy enough. But I feel like I’ve been waiting to start my whole life; I just didn’t realize that actually doing it- this whole living the good life thing- would be the hardest thing I’ve tried. It’s exhausting. High kicking and selfless giving and trying, I mean really trying. It scares the crap out of me. Living like you're dying is tiring. I am tired. I have been lying to myself, thinking that I was doing this just for me. And I am not; I am doing this for you mostly. And also how I feel about me when you’re happy. The fear of disappointing those who believe in me is greater than this weariness. I started this brand new me in hopes that I could force myself into believing that it was true.
There are days when I can’t bring myself to smile. Days when life has piled up and things have started falling. Dropping, despite my efforts to catch and juggle everything. This blog has benefited from my tenacity. But my body has suffered because of my laziness. My Hubby doesn’t get the attention he needs, because I am too busy working at a job that doesn’t help me feel good about myself. My Puppa-Stinkeroo misses me 5 days a week. My Kitty is back to being aloof- because I am not there to wear her down. My friends haven’t seen me. My dream is in a holding pattern. Well, I guess I lied to myself that this steady job was worth all the things I wouldn’t have time for. The very best thing I found is that I have learned so much about who, how and why I yam what I yam. I need to have the freedom to live life as the best me. Stop lying to myself and stop lying. Period . Everyone is all to fast to remind me of what a great paycheck it is… Yeah, but c’mon wouldn’t you rather I be a happy broke ass instead of lying to yourself that money is what you want? It’s never been about the Fame, the Fortune, the Fanfare. It’s all a lie anyway. The only thing that I am not lying about is how great I feel trying to be the best I can be, even though it’s the hardest thing I’ve done. But you know what they say: Fake it ‘til you make it. And I am gonna make it this time. And that’s no lie.
At the tender age of 8 you don't realize how the hard work and effort you put in now will stick with you as you grow up. My parents were adamant about making me participate. I learned piano, French, took ballet, tap, was a member of 4H club, Explorers and was signed up for at least one season of every summer sport available to a young person in my small community. But my limited attention span caught up to me and I floated between lessons picking them up and putting them down, not really retaining all the details that make a person talented at those things. So, now instead of being great at a few things, I am kinda good at a lot of things.
There are times I wish my Momma had forced me to continue on with piano practice. Though really how can you force anyone to do anything- especially a tenacious 8 year who just wants to go outside and play? I wish I'd gone on a foreign exchange to France where I could practice my foreign tongue. I wish I'd trained my 4H calf to do tricks. Throughout my childhood my thoughts were always of what I was missing in the immediate moment, not what I would miss later. To an 8 year old; now is all there is.
Now, as a 30 year old I regret not sticking to my childhood skill sets. Being great at something during childhood is a wonderful way to start out as an adult. There are days when I long to speak French while sipping cafe au lait and eating a baguette. Or when I see a gleaming grand piano taunting me to tickle the ivories. Or identifying a type of cheese by the smell alone. Then there's the urge-however fleeting- to be more athletic and drop into a pickup game of something at my local playground. But my skills were never that well honed. And any residual muscle memory has long since atrophied.
The great thing about my childhood was the variation in the skill sets I learned and what I have retained. I can read music, which means I can easily go back and start playing piano again. Beginning with Baa baa black sheep, twinkle, twinkle & Hot cross buns of course. I can understand French when I listen to someone speak it; though I no longer think in French, I could polish off those rusty pipes pretty fast. I guess the great thing about the variation in my childhood experiences is that it taught me how to act. Or at least how to pretend to do almost everything, relatively well, which is the hardest part about acting:)
|
RSS Feed