Uncertainty...Unplugged

Okay, so here's my first-ever attempt at a video for this blog. It's too long and I ramble and almost start crying at a couple points. Also note the wide-eyed look of shock and awe.

God. Sounds like a Monday.

Day 220: The Occupational Hazard Series

Hazard #1208: Crushing Creative Drought
Hey, I know it's not sexy to blog about why you haven't been blogging, but I think enough creative-types read this that it's relevant:

I'VE GOT FRICKIN' NOTHING.

Banging out these effing Depression scripts for three weeks straight has completely tapped me out. And this is what happens when you exist in that middle space where you're working a job that you thought was Close Enough to your dream but you're still dying to do your own creative work. The effing job steals all your juice!

So instead of your crafty little Writer Brain perking up when your 95-year-old grandfather refers to Skype as 'Psych,' you just stare dully into space and pick at your hangnails. It's a travesty.

Hazard #491: Carpal Tunnel WTF Is Going On With My WRISTS
Or there's the times when you have an idea – like how wine menu descriptions could easily be human personality profiles – but your wrists have been on fire for four days and the idea of typing that story/blog post/whatever fills you with dread.

Last week there was some kind of horrific convergence of me typing for 10 hours a day and getting back into Ashtanga (50 Push-Ups A Class) yoga and my wrists are brutally sore. Because writing is my vocation and I have an incredibly active imagination, I let my crazy spin out into a world where I could no longer write for a living and lost all use of my hands and went slowly insane and ended up dying homeless and alone with coyotes gnawing on my face.

This is what happens in my head.

It's scary in there.

And then (after a few gins) Ross says: "Wash a couple Advil down with a large glass of Suck It Up and you'll be fine." Thanks, pal.

Hazard #902,035: Clutching, Sleep-Preventing Financial Panic Attacks
Hey remember that Artist For One Year thing I'm doing? Remember how SELLING MY CAR was a key factor in making in happen? Remember how that hasn't happened yet and how I took on a pro bono project where I'll have no way of generating income all freaking summer?

And then – omigod this is hilarious – remember that PERFECTLY timed cherry on top of the $500 water damage bill, $375 special assessment and a condo fee increase? And the fact I haven't done my taxes...for three years?

BAAAAHAHAHA!

*Sob*

Day 219: Read This Immediately If Not Sooner

Thursday night we went to a Spoken Word Festival event at The Auburn. Evalyn Parry performed and when she read the poem below, I bawled my face off. A lot because I, too, feel passionately about outsiders and our great potential to make serious and awesome change in the world. And a lot because it was the first time I understood that Boyfriend (geek) and I (artist) are in the same category. More on that later.

I asked Evalyn if I could publish this and share it with you. She said yes. Love her. Now...read it and weep. And then please continue kicking ass and living like you effing mean it. This one is for you.

This one is for

the non-conformers and the system buckers
it’s for the girly men and the lady truckers
the organic farmers, the local food growers
the old-school, mechanical, push lawn mowers
the two wheel riders, the trouble makers
the public-transportation-takers

it’s for the girls who cut their hair, and the ladies who refuse to shave
it’s for everyone who has ever been brave
it’s for the time you didn’t behave

it’s for those who remain hopeful when hope seems lost
it’s for my first year women studies prof
hell, all my patient first year professors, my true hearts,
my midnight confessors, for all the dressers
I’ve ever found at the curbside
and all the things that have saved my backside

it’s for the Michigan Womyn’s Festival founding foremothers
my tranny sisters and brothers
the straight-but-not-narrow
all my ex-lovers
the crunchy granola hippies who dance
aviators, horse back riders, gals who wore pants
before pants were something a proper lady should wear
it’s for the bleeding hearts, and the ones who care
and the ones that march and the ones that fight
the people who bother to write
a letter to the editor, who stand up to their managers
the union organizers, the city counsellors
it’s for everyone that dares and everyone that speaks
for those who listen, for those who can’t sleep
and those who can’t rest
for those who are trying their best
for the freaks and the punks, the misfits and the nerds
for everyone who ever contributed words
and meanings
to the Oxford English Dictionary
for those who know they will never marry
for the rebels and the genderqueers and polyamorous
for my grade 11 boyfriend who drove a VW bus
for the outlaws, and the in-laws who got over their misgivings
and attended their first same sex wedding
for everything with wings

it’s for the radical thinkers and the babies in incubators
for second-chancers, and the morris dancers
for those whom, given the choice, always chose “other”
it’s for Stephen Lewis and all the grandmothers
for the fearful who took to the streets anyway
for the artists who keep going even though it might never pay
for those who light the way
for those who made it through another day without a drink
for all those who think
for anyone who chooses to get things done
for the catholic priests who are handing out condoms
for the improvisers, and the bathhouse raid committee organizers
and the war tax resisters and the brave fighters
for those who go to serve in anyway they can
for the ones who were shot down and for those ran
for those who defied their orders, for the doctors without borders
the single mothers, the sperm donors and the Henry Morgentalers
the crisis phone line callers
for those who refuse to give up and refuse to give in
who won’t shut up
who know it’s not about whether you win
or you lose
but about the scope of your dream and your right to chose
an opinion and your right to change your mind
for those who are kind
it’s for those who hold fast
and for those who are outcast
or downcast, for those who can’t move very fast
for the flags at half mast
for the tired organizers and the ones who outlast
and all those who have already past
this one is for you

this one is for you

this one is for you

to

wield.

Read more Evalyn goodness here.

Speaking of Genius...

Watch this:

(Don't know who Elizabeth Gilbert is? She's the author of Eat, Pray, Love – a beautiful, hilarious, bestselling memoir that Oprah fell in love with. Which catapulted her to ridiculous, freakish, unwieldy success.)

Day 217: I Heart Steve's Mom

My friend Steve is on a journey of self-transformation, but his mom is knocking on Enlightenment's door as far as I'm concerned. I need to meet the lady who wrote this list. (I'd also love a play-by-play of Steve's childhood.)

Some highlights:

2. Sit in silence for at least 10 minutes each day.

3. When you wake up in the morning complete the following statement, “My purpose is to __________today.”

9. Don’t compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.

14. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.

16. Get rid of anything that isn’t useful, beautiful or joyful.

18. Spend time with people over 70 and under 6.

20. Don’t forget to call your Mother, you will never get that unconditional love from anywhere else.

Day 216: When The Magic Got Lost

My wrists are sore from writing. My brain is sluggish. My body fatigued. My creative well depleted and dry. My deadline...tomorrow.

For more than two weeks straight, the pace of the Depression Project has quickened and the intensity increased. We were like horses: hitting our stride and running full-tilt across the prairie, then fatiguing, straining, sweating and bleeding, gutting it out until we saw home.

I got to that point where I was done with the journey, but the journey wasn't done with me. And so I kept going. And past that point – that limit – I found something.

This project is amazing.

What we've made here is so incredibly powerful, the fact that only depressed teenagers get to see it is a crime. It's that good.

I wish I'd taken it when I was young – at that point where I started to second-guess myself and look outside for answers. The point where I started to let my childhood dreams die. Where there was no more Santa Claus and the magic started to fade.

This course we're making is a lesson in dreams and possibility and purpose and connection. It's like an arsenal of weapons against the tidal wave of bullshit a person has to wade through on the inelegant passage to adulthood. Those soul-sucking expectations that weigh down your wings and tarnish your shine. The choices that took you off your true path and onto the superhighway of Someone Else's Life.

How do you expect to make a living at that? Get a real job. Make money. Lose weight. Get married, have babies. Look out for Number 1. Find a hobby. Buy more, save more.

School Rules. The Cult Of Cool. How We've Always Done It.

Normal. Better. More.

The damage we spend our twenties undoing. The person we spend our thirties finding.

No wonder we got depressed. It's shocking more of us aren't. No wonder we're angry, confused and feel ripped off. No wonder.

I wish all of you could see this course. I wish all of you HAD seen it...when you were twelve or thirteen. Whenever the magic got lost for you. When you stopped believing in fairies and dragons. And resigned yourself to something more ordinary.

I miss it. The magic. Don't you?

Day 215: Go See This Movie...With Me

Dudes. Seriously. Go see 'Letters from Litein' at The Globe on the weekend of April 24th. It's produced and directed by the film guys I'm working with on the Depression Project and YOU MUST SEE IT.

Not because it's a documentary made right here in YYC.

Not because it's about Africa and y'all better get used to hearing A LOT about Africa.

Not because it's about school children from Calgary traveling to Kenya to help orphans.

Not because Canadian independent filmmakers rilly, RILLY need bums in seats ON OPENING WEEKEND.

But because you're gonna watch this and fall madly and hopelessly in love:

Chills, no? Mistiness in the eyes? An intense desire to bring ten friends to opening weekend?

It opens on April 24th at The Globe Cinema in Calgary for two weeks. Go to the film's web site for more info. Or if you want to get in touch with Matt Palmer (producer/director) directly, email him at mattrix at telusplanet dot net.

ALSO! I'm totally going on April 24th. I want to rally a massive crew to show my support. If you want to be part of a bad-ass posse of cool kids, email the words PINK BANANA and your contact info to: blog at melaniejones dot ca.