The Modern Emily Post

Ladies and gentlemen, it is with distinct pleasure that I announce I am 1 final exam away from finally being qualified to tell you what to do;organization wise. Now, now, I know you’re not as excited as I am. But I want you to know, you’re on the ground floor of what could be a very good thing. In all the text books I’ve been consuming, one thing stuck out: There is no organizational expert for the modern maiden, or man. With chapters dedicated to video cassette organization and paper catalogues, I think I’ve struck upon my niche. Or perhaps, it’s struck upon me. I will be able to create streamlined systems for the tech we have and the clouds we depend on. I will also be capable of parring down your clutter and building new habits and routines. Which will save you time, energy and lead you toward living the life you want. So, as I sit down to take the test that will seal my organizational fate, I’m revved up and ready to become the Modern Emily Post. And I will Post, right here;)

Prepare Ye! Prepare Ye!

So, hey, how’s it goin? It’s been a while. You’re looking well. Okay, now that we’ve dispensed with the pleasantries, we can get down to serious business. About 3 years ago I started blogging. I would sit down daily and write my musings. All the things I wished I could teach the world. Sadly, I didn’t have the ‘expertise’ to really influence change in anyone. Well, that’s about to change. I am training to become a professional organizer and etiquette expert. TADA! Didn’t know there was such a thing did’jah? Huh? Well, there is and I’m about to become one.

When I started this little bloggidy blog, I called myself Melicious Manners. Melicious was a clever nickname, which I’ve always loved, cuz it looks like delicious but sounds devious. The Manners part came later. I modeled myself after Miss Manners, a helpful non-digital blog, created to help Sally-House-Wife with all those tight spots and tough messes. I had unknowingly branded myself as the modern day Emily Post. And apparently that’s just what the world needed.

So, where does that bring us? Oh right, very, very soon I’m gonna be able to boss you around like a good big sister does. Okay, maybe not boss you around, but give you hints on how to live a nicer life. Hopefully, one free of dramatics and miscommunications. I’ll be able to help you get on track so you have more free time. And I’ll do it all with that special Melicious Manners flare we’ve all come to love, or at least read. So, please join me on this sweet journey, it’s gonna be Mmmmmelicious.

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 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;)

Where Have All The Words Gone?

Creativity is something that needs to be nurtured. It needs coaxing. It has to be cajoled and convinced it to come out and play. This is the best and worst thing about being creative- it’s work.

My family is creative. At least we’re creative thinkers. We can turn a phrase and make up words, terminology and conceptualize like you wouldn’t believe. Though, if you read this blog you might already be hip to that info. What you don’t know is that words we’ve made up become real; at least to us. So ingrained that the whole family -even those who marry into it- know what they mean. When I spend time with my family, I am firing on all cylinders. With each joke I am aiming to one up the last. It’s a mental workout. Sadly though, this intellectual intensity isn’t readily available in my daily life.

Now, now, that’s not to say I am not mentally stimulated by my day to day routine, I am; it’s just not brain boot camp. Plus if I was always ‘on’ I might find myself spending even more time alone. I guess what I’m trying to say is being creative doesn’t just happen, it’s a decision that needs to be made. Maybe it’s writing in a journal when you wake. Or it could be baking a cookie mansion. How about designing and building a performance art piece every month? Then again it could be writing a blog, where you get to create anything you want. So, even though I haven’t been writing as much as I would like, I know that I am being creative elsewhere. And it seems to be paying off. But I do miss these words we share.

The Starving Artist: Chapter 51: The Optimistic Skeptic

My Papa B is a cynic. He taught me to see past the words to what people are really saying. To suspect the worst from people, then be thankful whenever that wasn’t the case. He’d reinforce that doing things yourself was the only way to get them done, never expect a free ride and eventually looks fade so you better have a fall back plan. He taught me to question everything, which is probably why I believe in ghosts and they scare the bee-gee-bus outta me.

My Hubby on the other hand, worries about my naivety. He worries that I will be taken in by smooth moves and a steady gaze. That the kind words of a stranger trying to sell me a bill of goods will outweigh all my common sense. He sees me as an innocent Pinocchio, being whisked away to donkey island, which is fun until you realize the error of your ways. And my ears are big enough thank you very much.

As for me…Just call me, the optimistic skeptic. It’s my hope that by expecting the best from everyone that they will realize their opportunity and aim a little bit higher. Hopefully encouraging kindness and achieving a new personal best. That leading by example and sharing that support with a genuine hope for everyone to win, we can start winning together. Wow, that sounds like a lot to ask a smooth talking stranger, huckster or fiend. But being an optimistic skeptic means it’s not a shocker when those strangers fall short of the ideal dream world outcome I’d hoped for. It’s the best of the light and the dark. Luke and Vader. Dee and Dum. But seriously, how cute is it my Hubby thinks I could ever be blinded by a kind word and a glistening set of washboard abs? I mean really.

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 Sick Bed Chronicles

Blerg le grrr. I have a serious sinus infection, I smell like soup and my bed isn’t made. Plus I’m not feeling particularly creative. So, as I lay in my sick bed absorbing antibiotics, I am also trying to figure out how to get back on the horse. Back in the saddle. And blog like I have never blogged before.

But so far, it’s not working. I’m a dry well. A sore-throated nag. And I have oh so much to do. So, I’m gonna stay in bed and nurse myself back to some semblance of wellness.

So, it might be a day or two before I’m able to pour out my heart minus the mucus. For now however, I’ll lay ever so still. And watch as my kitty tip toes across the duvet, climbing aboard my congested chest, curling up and giving me a kitty massage which makes me feel just a little better; though she could use a few lessons.

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:)