Dear Friend

Dear Friend,
I know it has been quite sometime since I have sat down to this computer to input all the things in my brain, and that perhaps you may have missed my mentalities. But have no fear, John Cleese and Woody Allen have set me straight. I know what you’re thinking; “Gosh, that girl has friends in high places!”. Well, take comfort in the knowledge that you too could know them as well as I do, if you spent way too many consecutive hours trolling the internet; instead of actually being productive. But no matter the medium the lessons remain.
Let us begin with Johnny-boy, I can call him that, cuz he’ll never read this. In a recent column for Cracked, he reminded me that anything worth doing is worth doing for free, until you can convince someone to pay you for it. That little by little is the only way to consume an elephant. Oh, and there was also something about how getting what you want might be a lot harder than you ever thought it could be, but that doesn’t change the fact that you want it.
On the other hand Woody Allen’s reputation and repertoire speak for themselves. His work ethic is unparalleled. With over 75 movies under his writing, directing and starring belt, he is proof that if you make it, they will come. A true testament to the fact that, no matter what you do, if you like it, if it makes you laugh, think, cry, ache, it will effect another. Period. Full stop. The only thing stopping people from loving your body of work, is that you haven’t created a body of work.
It is with those ideologies, that I launch myself back into cyber-space. I challenge myself to keep growing as an artist. A writer. A performer. A beautiful disaster. And I hope that you will re-enlist as a reader. A cheerleader. And all out fanatic…though, I might have to be earn that last one. But I’ll take that bet, and roll the dice, and go all in, if it means someone will appreciate my body…of work that is.

Hearts and Stars,
Melicious Manners

Captain of her Destiny Ship

Lady Needs A Break

Ladies and Germs,
I have always been a happy multi-tasker. I love having many strings of my life weaving the beautiful tapestry of my story. But sometimes, those threads get too long and tangled. This is where I am right now. I am working on too many different projects with too many bosses and not enough sleep. So, as my creative self is stifled, rushed and in disarray, I must release myself from the self-imposed pressures of performance. I love writing this blog, but my fingers have been and continue to be, otherwise occupied. And I have to be okay with that- cuz that’s the way it is. So, until after things settle down, which doesn’t look like that long from now, I am going on hiatus.

Sad, I know, but this is the perfect opportunity for you to catch up on a nearly perfect year of blogging. Thanks for your ongoing support & love, it’s helped me the whole way. And I look forward to getting back to this again soon.

Love and glitter,
Melicious Manners

The Starving Artist: Chapter 53: Student Teach Thyself

Humans are designed to consume information. There are books and magazines. There are blogs and websites and conventions and lectures. The world around us is bursting with delectable knowledge to munch on. Everyday is full of appetizing opportunities to fill our minds. As children we learn from our parents. In school, we learn from our teachers. And as grown ups we learn from each other. Now, what we learn depends on where we learn it and how we’re taught. And since no two students learn alike, how can we quantify what knowledge is truly and deliciously powerful?

With the ever increasing availability of information, it is difficult to sift through and find the knowledge we need to survive, thrive and pass along. In this world of high tech, low connection interactions; FB status updates and Instagram poses have become our main source of human contact. Which is great on so many universal levels, let’s all agree on that, but can be the cause of so many other issues that didn’t exist even 10 years ago. As an internet savvy society, we are able to be active observers in the lives of those around us without actually participating. This is where knowing and doing meet and split. I find this passivity has made me lazy. Just because I know what someone wants to show me is going on in their lives, doesn’t mean I’ve actually learned anything about them. I miss long winded phone calls and brief catch-ups and brunches with long lost friends. I miss late night gab sessions filled with tears and toils over boys and truly learning who all these people are, not just who they want the world to think they could be. I want to learn about the real, damaged and delightful them.

Now, as a person with multiple personas, I can see my opinion being negated by they fact that my public identity and my private one are often at odds with each other, but I am learning to live in the spaces where my realities cross-over. Those lovely green and purple areas of life. My identities include: Gracie the kindest, sweetest and most humble version of myself. She is the person I would be if the rest of the world wasn’t such a jerk. I’ve learned it’s easy to be an optimistic sweetie pie on stage and online. Now, Melicious is a bit more vile. She gets mad with those jerks for being Jerks, and then there’s Melissa, who knows that she’s a jerk most of the time. The happy green mix of yellow and blue is learning that even if all of my identities merged into one, there would still be a world full of jerks both online and off and dealing with it daily. In the end, I guess the most powerful knowledge is learning who you are, what you want and what you’re willing to do to get it. I am willing to go for it and now I am trying to learn how to do so. Hello, my name is Gracie, Melicious and Melissa and I am an information over-eater and highly sought after trivia teammate. And I just needed to share that knowledge with you.

The Starving Artist: Chapter 52: Learning To Say No

As an artist I have found myself being asked to provide my craft for free. To perform for exposure. Without thought to effort, time or cost. And in the past I have taken all those gigs; anything just to share my talent with an audience. Gaga says it best: ‘I live for the applause.’ Now, as an artist I know it’s difficult to quantify what my craft is worth. But I know for dang sure it’s not free. And I cannot live on the applause.

So, lately I’ve found myself expanding my vocabulary. And I’ve found comfort in one tiny word: NO. So small but so mighty. Oh yeah. It feels good. Like taking back the power position in my art. And making a choice to make art instead of flinging as much as possible at the wall; hoping for something to stick. If I choose what I do, when, for what and why, I can hold myself to a higher standard. I become a creator with passion instead of pressure. Cuz if all I’m doing creatively is taking on more so I can take on more, then all those important and paying gigs are devalued. And if I devalue my art, how could I expect anyone else to see it’s worth?

Since I’ve started using no, I’ve noticed the yeses increasing. Now, I know that the universe is about balance. So, turning something off, turns something else on. When you start rewarding yourself the universe congratulates you and gives you a, wait for it, reward. By saying no, you can decide who you want to be as an artist- and better focus on that. You can start creating better art for a better world. But seriously now, don’t get me wrong, I love freebies. I can’t say no to a promo gift bag;)

I Fished My Wish!

I know, I know it’s TalkBack Tuesday, but I took yesterday off for my Birthday weekend celebration wrap up. If you know me, then you know I have troubles surrounding my Bday- which of course stem from mild childhood disappointments exaggerated over time blah blah blah first world problems. And if you remember last year was a disappointment; as the Commish was in attendance in all his pleasure wrecking glory. But I pledged that this year was gonna be better and it was; here’s why.

1. I was specific about what I wanted to do and who I wanted to do it with.

2. I asked for my a few of my wanted-needs. Those things I feel weird buying myself and avoid doing because deep down I’m a cheapo.

3. There was no pressure. It was planned spontaneity. Which is my favourite.

4. I performed, which is my first love. And though it’s ‘work’ it’s something I’d like to do a lot more of…even on my birthday.

5. The Commish was banned from all birthday proceedings. Yeah he was! And thankfully he kept his distance.

6. I am happier in my everyday life than I have ever been. Which is amplified by special occasions…which bodes very well for the upcoming holiday season.

I guess what I wanted to say to all those FB messages, the strangers who sent over bday shots and my many social circles was- ‘Good job, folks! That’s a wrap on Project Bday 2013.’
Special shout outs go to my Hubby who spoiled me, BFF who bookended the weekend nicely, GFF and my on the road Showgirls. You know, I’m starting to think this whole Birthday thing should be a yearly tradition. Though I’m willing to try it quarterly. ❤

Spin Gracie Spin

Once upon a time there was a happy little burly gal named Gracie. Now, she was no ordinary girl. She was a little off kilter. Not in a sad or embarrassing way, but in a never know what you’re gonna get- chocolate kinda way. And lately she’s been feeling a little nuts. Mind you, that’s way better than feeling sherry-cherry filled, which is just gross.

Now, this beautiful little disaster has been a busy little body, trying to juggle all her different lives and loves. She’s usually pretty organized, but lately she’s been close to dropping plates, balls and spilling milk all over the place. Which stinks, cuz she doesn’t have time to replace any broken dishes from the matching set of 12 or cry over the milk? Not Gracie, that’s who.

Gracie is a girl on the move with many irons in the fire. And the craziest part is she’s constantly looking for more to do, more places to be, more costumes to be made and more…well, just more of everything. In the coming months Gracie is undertaking and overstretching and happy to do so.

I guess the moral of the story is: If you’ve got a problem, yo, She’ll solve it. Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it. And if you ask this chocolate covered-milk spilling- iron firing- nut nicely enough, I’m sure I can fit it in somewhere. Or just throw it to me on the count of three and then don’t move, cuz all this juggling is making me dizzy.

Thanks for the lovin’,
Gracie in the Middle. For more showgirl sentiments check out: gracieklutz.com

The Starving Artist: Chapter 50: Kick, Stretch & Kick, I’m 50

Wowsa, can you believe I’ve written over 50 chapters of the Starving Artist? I mean, I can barely recall a Monday without serious cyber reflection. Now, not all of these entries have been deep or even meaningful, but they’ve all been a slice of me. And a benefit of sharing myself I have been about to shed unwanted weight, both physically and emotionally. This blog has become somewhat of a dumping ground for my overactive and cluttered brain. A healthy and hyperspace form of nearly free therapy. But the part I’m most surprised by is how much I’ve learned about myself and how much happier I’ve become.

In the past, I’ve found it hard to celebrate the little wins. I glean over them onto the next without pausing to think about how things have changed. Speaking of celebration, I am 20 days away from another milestone, my birthday. For some people getting older is tough. It’s as though they see life as a hallway with doors closing as they walk past. A journey with fewer and fewer detours. They treat life like the tedious daily grind it can be. As though each day is just another brick in the wall. The shuffle of tired feet and the shuffling of papers. A sad and sorry state of affairs if you ask me. I’ve always considered myself an optimism expert with a dark side. But in these last few months I’ve been feeling evermore that life is a tisket, a tasket, a little yellow basket. And this basket can hold as much life as I can carry; and with all the exercise I’ve been doing lately, I’m pretty strong.

Over the past 50 Mondays my life has changed and rearranged and continues to shape shift. As though my journey is aimed in the general direction of happiness, but the ocean of life keeps tossing me to and fro. Though if you know me, you know even stormy weather has a silver lining. The biggest secret I am busting to share though is: Even in a sea of trouble you can sail on a boat named Happiness. It’s all about how you read the maps. And today’s maps read like Thank you cards. There are so many things to be thankful for, and I am thankful for most of them. I am thankful that I’ve stuck to my guns. I am thankful that I am creating art again. I am thankful to be back in the work saddle again. I am thankful for dreary Sundays I can fill up with knick-knack nuggets that needed my attention. I am thankful for a Hubby who wears my gloves. I am thankful for my inspiring BFF. I am happy to feel at home. And I am happy to be 50, without looking a day over 32…for at least 20 more days.

The Starving Artist: Chapter 49: The Ruined Soup

There are women who whip together culinary delights with the simple flick of the whisk. There are women whose homes are inviting; as though banana bread grows in their oven. Domestic Goddesses draped in gingham aprons, spooning out comfort by the bowl. I am not that woman.

This past Wednesday I was struck with the impulse to utilize the veggies from the fridge that were pushing their expiration date. There was cauliflower and broccoli, garlic, cobs of corn and collard greens. And I thought to incorporate the most veggies, a soup was my best bet. Now, there is something special about soup. Something that reminds me of community and togetherness. It’s warm and soothing. And as you may remember, I’ve been sick. So, obviously soup is the best choice! Right? Wrong. It was a culinary disaster. A bubbling crock pot of what’s now being called- Poop soup. Yes, Poop soup and for 2 good reasons. One: the green goopey sludge was high in fiber, actually it was only fiber and water. And two: it stunk up the whole house for days. And I mean STUNK. Like broccoli left in a dirty pot while you’re in Jamaica at an all inclusive resort. It’s just sitting there, stinking up the place and reminding me of my failure.

Now, you may be saying to yourself: Why on earth is she writing about failed soup? Because, like most things it’s not about the soup. Lately, I have been feeling happier and more pathetic than I can ever remember being. I know, I know, those are two very distant emotional relatives to be in such close quarters. But that’s where I’m at: Finally starting to fulfill my creative needs. I am performing on a semi- regular basis. I’m happy, satisfied, challenged and loving it. Here’s the pathetic part; like so many others, I gauge my success by how busy I am. By the hours worked in a day. And by how good my soup is. By these standards, I fall somewhere between wretch and a warning sign. I mean, it’s not exactly Soup-nazi status just yet, but the threat of no-soup is very real. So, while stirring tears into the bubbling green glop, I knew that even the best soup in the whole world, made with all the serenity and love of a talented Kitchen Wizardess, wouldn’t have helped me feel any better. But at least that would’ve been edible.

The Starving Artist: Chapter 48: Stressed For Success

The saying goes, the moment you get what you want, you don’t want it. Well, ladies and gentlemen, for me what I want is to perform. I freaking love it. I love the rush, I love the sound of an audience- even a disinterested one, I love the sound of my own voice. I love writing, I love getting up in a soapbox and I love listening to the sound of my own voice as I read what I just wrote. And I feel that by doing what I’ve always wanted to I am a success. So, when’s this whole ‘I don’t want it’ part gonna kick in?

The hopeful answer I’m looking for is: Never! But choosing to follow your bliss can be a double edged sword. The part of you that longs for personal and creative fulfillment, often conflicts with the social expectations of ‘success’ or ‘normality’. Society, in general, looks at a 4 bedroom house with 3 kids, 2 cars in the driveway and a miniature schnauzer as a reflection of life decisions well made. While the broke artist, living off KD in a tiny shoebox with a Beta remains unrecognized for it’s value. Therein lies the debate: Is success a thing or a feeling? Obviously, if you’re going to be pedantic, a feeling is a thing. But it’s not really. You can’t hold sadness or throw empathy or put your dirty laundry into joy. So, let me answer one question with another, what is your normal and do you feel like a success?

Success by nature can be measured in many ways. And it’s the belief of this (not so humble) writer that by doing a little bit of something you love each day; you work to build your own success story. Okay, so it’s not the national tour in a pimped out mega bus with your face plastered on the side kinda success. And so what, it’s not the first Pulitzer prize for World’s Bestest Blog success. Or even what I love doing pays the rent success. But maybe striving for deep-down-inner-personal success is the most valuable of all successes, cuz you have to live with yourself everyday. *Sigh. I could listen to myself talk about this all day, but instead I’ll wrap it up with something else you’ve heard ‘people’ say: If you love your job, you’ll never work a day in your life. And that’s a success no matter how you measure it:)

The Starving Artist: Chapter 47: When Size Matters

In a recent conversation my GFF reminded me ever so emphatically that I hadn’t weighted in, in months. Consider me rectifying that situation with this post. Now, I know that you’re all just dying to know where I fall on the spectrum. Well, let me give you a little more info, that may or may not interest you.

Truths
1.I completed the 30 day squat challenge, to amazing results.

2. I have fallen off the gym wagon in my effort to climb aboard the Burlesque wagon. Slipping from 4 times a week to 1- And my body is telling me that I need to get back on the pole.

3. People seeing me in my all-togethers is an excellent motivator to be more comfortable in my birthday suit. And if I could afford a custom made birthday suit I would pay through the nose.

Wins
1. I now fit into all my jeans. Even the dreaded skinny jeans that just a few months ago cutoff circulation to anything below my waistband.

2. My summer shorts are way too big for me, but all my fall clothes seem to be perfect. So far.

3. I am happy. Tired and overwhelmed and nervous and broke but happy.

So, since I started this endeavour (almost a year ago) I have made a big difference in my own life. I have become the change I want to see in the world. Or at least in myself. By measuring my progress I’ve been able to quantifying my advancement. And not to be sappy, but I am happy. I mean I am starting to get happy again. It’s amazing that I didn’t realize I had such a capacity to love myself. Especially since I didn’t notice how much I liked myself, which, to be totally honest, wasn’t a whole heck of a lot. It’s weird how much my life has changed and the things I miss…but as my Momma says: It all comes out in the wash. And now, I can wash and wear those skinny jeans.

Height 5’8 1/2″ I gained a half-inch and Hubby thinks it’s all neck
Weight 166.4 (+2.2 lbs)
Bust 37.25 (-.75″) whoo hoo! Yowza!
Natural waist 31.25 (-/+)
Hips 41.75(-.75″)
Arm flex r:13(-.5″) l:13(-.5″)
Arm rest r: 13 (-/+) l:13 (-/+)
Thigh standing r: 24.25 (-.5o”) l:24.25 (-.25″)