Heading into the busy holiday season I thought I would try to organize myself. I would love to be one of those "5 year plan-It's all going according to schedule" girls but these are words I have never uttered. Ever. There are things I am good at organizing; like other people's events-which can be very helpful this season. But there are organizational tools that elude me, for example choreographing a Puppy and Kitty Xmas Carolling Concert- I don't know how those animals on the radio do it. Oh and Social planning. It's not my forte. Please let me explain. I am great in social situations, it's all the other stuff that goes with them that I stink at.
Firstly, I am not a good planner. Not to mean I can't make plans and keep them. It's just that I like to fly by the seat of my pants which means I leave a lot up to destiny. I make general plans with multiple options for amusement. Letting myself go with the flow- a BFF trick extraordinaire. It's a lot more fun that way. Unless of course you're married to the Commish, who must account for every minute he's on the clock, otherwise the boys upstairs will start giving him heat; and he's too old for that.
Secondly, I tend to double, triple and in rare cases even quintuple book myself. The enthusiasm of just being invited somewhere clouds my judgment, going against all scientific theories of time and space. Which I hope by this time in the year 2014 (baring the Rapture) we'll have solved. And I will be able to attend all events simultaneously on a fractured timeline.
Thirdly, distraction. I am easily distracted. Oh! A squirrel!
Fourthly, short term memory loss. Did someone say something about squirrels? If I don't write it down it's gone.
Fifthly, I forget every year this coming month goes by so fast and then the parties are over. It's a busy blur of festive cheer. Leaving us in the Daylight savings dark with nothing to celebrate until Valentine's day.
So, I hope this year to take advantage of some much needed celebrating. Despite all my social foibles. There something relieving about FB holiday invites going out early and the pre-event planning I've been involved in. So, this year I look forward to wrapping myself up in an ugly Sandy Clause sweater and enjoying all the miracles and merriment of the season. At least that's my plan;)
My face needs a break. This realization was quick and blemished. I've loved the same products for so long. But when BFF brought out her new cleanser, smelling of lemongrass and spring water; I was jealous. I have been using the same 12 step program for the last 5 years.
People have asked me how I manage to do all 12 steps everyday. The reply? Reverse packing it into the cabinet, so I have to move all 12 steps to get to step one. And I know that I have a very special case of OCD because if I have to touch it to move it, I will use it. It's there, paid for. It's got to be used up before I can buy something new. It's the rule in my house. It applies to everything, except for a few things.
There is something so predictable about my love for shoes. Something so Muriel's Wedding. I love My shoes. But there are shoes in every doorway. Hanging in mock organization. Hiding under the bed. In boxes stacked inside suitcases. The Comissioner hates it. *throat clear*game systems. To the uninformed observer it may seem like overkill but there are shoes for every occasion. I have costume boots and flimsy sandals. Green and brown and suede. Shoes for dancing. And peep toes fancies. How could I get rid of any of them:$ I might need them any day now.
Another jam packed buried treasure. My make up box. Every shade of the rainbow a piece from a different Mac collection. The shade variations and the exclusive colours tickling my fancy. Painting my face and changing my story. I am addicted to green mascara from the Amazon. And my sleepy time rose water nigh-night cream, a dreamy pre-bed ritual. Sephora calls to me like a siren in an otherwise ill fitting mall. Floating on a sea of serums and balms, gels and oils. Longing for the spice of life. Though my 12 steps remain the same.
With my tight fisted-ness and ability to deny myself the pleasure of shiny and new; I am boldy marching toward a new regime... Well, skincare regime. I am freaking psyched for the bright smelling clean feeling of brand spanking new! Having completed my 12 step program. One out, one in. So, without any of the potential hoarding episode my other collections are becoming, I will start anew. With that in mind this holiday season I will be giving bottles of wine wrapped in boots and makeup painted greeting cards. That doesn't sound sanitary...but it does sound Eco-nomical.
Baby steps, taking your time and half measures- I can't say I'm a fan. I have been told once or twice *insert throat clear* I mean a lot, that I put too much pressure on myself. Expecting to achieve life long dreams in dog years. C'mon Melicious get it together! Yesterday's appearance on a National morning show was exhilarating. Being invited to a movie premiere, picked up at the Breaking Dawn (Twilight reference) in a schmancy car and broadcasting my smile across the country was amazing. So, why, as soon as I finished did I feel like I was under-achieiving? Why couldn't I just allow myself one day of gratitude and celebration? Oh, that's right, because I put a lot of pressure on myself and never quite live up to my own insanely high standards.
There are so very many reasons that I should celebrate. I have a loving Hubby, a great group of friends-that I don't see often enough-wicked family, a steady job, a few great ideas and my health. Plus the Puppa tink and Bucy goose, which goes without saying. So, why is it I can't just be happy with what I've got? There is a theory floating around that it may be genetic. Allow me to elaborate: My Momma opened a retail store this past week, before finishing her current term as Councillor, while still working a full time job. My Papa B who builds bathrooms on the weekend, while digging up the front and side yard and runs a company with 5 fulltime staff. Of these lists I have also left off their volunteer habits, their assorted groups and clubs, oh yeah and sleeping/eating- a highly undervalued commodity in our household. I am not blaming them- it's better than being raised by some no-good-lay-abouts with a reputation for no-good! But watching them strive to better themselves has challenged me to do the same. Only worse, because I do it Artistically.
While attending performing arts school I learned to express myself. To climb every mountain and dream the impossible dream. Well, here's a surprise, artists don't get paid much, so to supplement my pro-bono art, I work really hard at other things. But this leaves me tired and uninspired...and a bit pouty. My big fat bottom lip hanging out just waiting for a bird to perch. Don't get me wrong. I am of course grateful for all I have, I just thought I would be further along on this journey. Closer to having a vacation. Closer to finishing my book. Closer to being thin. And just closer to not being so far away from my-sometimes unrealistic- goals. Here's the thing, I know that half the fun is getting there, I just wish the directions were a little more clear. Though, I guess I am to blame for that too, as I keep changing the destination...but that's a story for another time.
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.
If you know my Hubby, you know how he feels about superheroes. Specifically, Superman, the Man of Steel, the Kryptonian from Kansas. If you know me, you know I can hold my own when it comes to superhero showdowns. I know the differences between Heroes, Vigilantes and Anti-Heroes. And when it comes to a heated debate of Good VS Evil, I know all the players and they're powers. The real question is with all this backstory; what would my super power be and how would I choose to use it.
I think I would choose to be an alien, as most of the time I feel like I don't belong anyhow. Which is often its own superpower. Different is good. But I am that already...
Telekenetics and telepathy are both solid skill sets. But there might be an internal conflict with knowing the thoughts and motivations of every unprotected cranium. So the idea of those powers might be nicer than the actual ability.
Maybe I'd like the ability to manipulate time and space- or have access to advanced technology that would allow for time travel. With the understanding that a time machine can also travel to locations simultaneously in current time. Though once time is altered it splits realities and changes destiny and the outcomes of everyone and thing involved in the conflict. Which is a lot of pressure, knowing what can and should be changed, only to change it making it worse, only to change it again, and again...you get the idea.
I guess there is a reason that heroes are heroes. It is a tough decision to make not to screw anything up worse than it already was. And having a super power gives many opportunities to not be so super. What I do wish is that there were more real heroes taking care of those who can't help themselves. Also can I just say, it ticks me off that Clark Kent has a better job than I do, and that's not even his REAL job. Sigh, Wait, is jealously a super power?That's it! I will be the Green Eyed Vixen, though I can't help but think that sounds more like a villain... But villains really are misunderstood heroes...right?
Do people ask you favours? Do they want your advice? And thank you for your outlook? Do peers admire you? Does every other problem come before your own? Has something felt off? Are you behaving in a way that you're proud of? Is your karmic scale in balance? These are important questions and even more important- are your answers. In recent social interaction I have noticed people straying from the person they tell others they are. This is so brutal. It is your responsibility to try and be your best. Being an optimist gal, I want to see the best in every person I meet. Even the ones who've hurt me. I want people to want to be their best selves. It has gotten to the point people, where material goods aren't good enough. I want the fabric of our lives to be the woven of strong moral fiber.
Being less than your best can make you feel guilty. And there are so many kinds of guilt. Guilt for doing something wrong, or the guilt of wanting to do something wrong, without actually doing it. But then there's that feeling. You know one? That something is not quite right. Something is off and the universe is taking it out on you. I call that Karmic Guilt. When you feel guilty about something that isn't your fault. Or you think that things beyond your control are out of whack. It's full-moon-mania even though it's waxed and waned. This karmic imbalance is the worst. Nothing you did -directly- created it, but you're suffering with it none the less.
What posible control can you have over the whims of Karma? Well, Hubby is a fan of saying that intention is the most important part of doing anything. If you're intending something evil, karmically you will receive something evil. Conversely if you intend something fabulous, it should manifest equally so... But this is never my luck. I am an even-Stephen. So instead of one big fabu cosmic gift, I receive thousands of teeny weeny fabus. But I can't complain...because karma is listening. What can we do to rejig the karmic balance, if right now it's not in our favor? Do you give the waitress a big tip? Tell someone you love them? Compliment a stranger? I can only hope that by trying to be good, karma will see how hard I'm working at it and recognize that sometimes I fail, but I still deserve to get some points for effort. So, Karma, if you're listening; I hope to tip the scales in my favour and reach my ideal Karmic weight:) but I'm willing to put in the workout.
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.
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!
"That's why you're a good friend." This is something that people say to me. I don't mean, someone once said it to me. I mean, this is something people say to me on an ongoing basis. They of course give me the qualifiers for the specific situation in question. But I am a good friend, that is the bottom line. And most people know they're lucky to have one. A good friend is hard to find. Did I mention I am a sucker for funny quotes. My current fav is "A friend will bail you out of jail. A good friend will be in the cell with you, shaking their head saying 'Wow, that was fun'". Those are the friends we all need. Not necessarily the ones getting us incarcerated, but I figure if you're still laughing, it couldn't be all that bad.
A good friend hears the craziest thing you've ever admitted to anyone and says 'I totally know that feeling.' You never have to ask them to keep a secret, they just do. A good friend listens even when you make no sense and they can't understand what you're saying cuz you're crying too hard, and then makes you laugh even though you never thought you ever would again. Nobody feels lonely when they're with a good friend . Even if neither of you has spoken for hours. A good friend will name your giant zit, just so it feels welcome. A good friend always puts you first, even when you don't deserve it. A good friend will never hurt you. And if that ever happens, it will never be by choice. A really good friend flirts with your Dad sometimes, because you love him and you both know it makes him feel good about himself. A good friend sees you in your jogging pants, with a greasy bun, swollen and crampy and still asks if you've lost weight. A good friend is the most valuable key to reminding you of who you are when you've been beaten for so long that you've forgotten.
All those things are so great, and make me thankful for my good friends. But a good friend will also save a perfectly planted inside joke until they have your full attention. They will ask if you can come out to play. They make you scream. With glee, fear and wonder. They know that song you can stop dancing to or singing at the top of your lungs. They remember that off handed comment you made 4 months ago and give you the greatest forgotten gift. They will help you even if they can't help themselves. They will go to a party where they know no one but you, fully intending to make more friends. I am proud to call myself a good friend. It's not always easy, but I couldn't imagine not excelling at it. That would be a waste. A waste of how amazing my friends are. Thank you to all my Good Friends. Your love in my life has helped me to be who I am. It is because of your examples that I am such a good friend...so we're gonna hang again soon right? Cuz it's been a while since I got into some trouble:)
|
RSS Feed