Give kids a *really* scary halloween!

When the neighborhood kids and their folks show up at my door with a hearty "Trick or treat!" - I produce a large wooden bowl and ask:

"OK, who wants a carrot? Fresh orange? Lemon?"

The looks of horror on those little masked faces are memorable!

As is their parents' laughter ..

But the evening is saved for the wee goblins -- I give 'em candy bars!

Happy Halloween - I'm off to wait for the Great Pumpkin with Linus.

;-)

When the worst becomes the best

There's a story about an ancient Japanese farmer whose teen age son was chosen to be a Samurai warrior - the military aristocracy of the time.

This thrilled the old man - he loved his son so deeply, he believed his becoming a Samurai would bring the greatest pride to him and his family.

The day before the Samurai were to come by to take the young man into their fold, the son's horse fell on him, breaking both legs.

The next day the Samurai warrior guards came and left - without the teenager. His injuries prevented him from joining the ranks of the adventurous heroic champions, heralded for their conquering celebrity.

The farmer was devastated. Filled with shame and hurt and anger that his son could not become a Samurai, he bemoaned his fate to the villagers for weeks on end, while his son slowly recuperated in his sickbed.

Able to walk once more, albeit with a noticable limp, the boy was once again at his father's side, helping with the family farm. The old man saw this as a constant reminder that his son was *here* instead of galloping around the country with the valiant, gallant ranks of the stouthearted Samurai.

One evening, after they finished their chores, a villager came by with news that the entire battalion of Samurai that his son was to join had been decimated. All of them, killed.

Tears welled in the father's eyes as he looked at his beloved son with a new awareness - his favorite child was alive. Alive and working alongside him - and would continue to, day after grateful day, for the rest of the old man's life.

What he had experienced as the worst thing that ever happened to him - in reality, turned out to be the best.

This story reminds me of Jim Carrey's experience when he was cast in the sketch show "In Living Color." Carrey had been hoping beyond hope to be cast on Saturday Night Live. Not only was he devastated that the new Wayans Brothers show was untested but also on the new FOX network - which enjoyed a very small audience in comparison.

It turned out to be the very best thing that ever happened in Carrey's *life!* He was given much more free reign to create characters and act - plus, the fully integrated program was seen as "hip, now and wow!" compared to the tired SNL.

Thanks to ILC, Carrey has gone on to experience a career beyond his wildest dreams, artistically and financially.

I don't know about you, but this phenomenon has happened in my life more times than I care to admit - that what appears to be the worst thing that could happen to me turns out to be the best.

I just need to remember this truth always prevails - even if it drags us through a most miserable drubbing on its way to becoming that uplifting reality! :-)

No two days alike

One of the great things about being a performance coach is working with so many different people with so many different talents!

A young woman I coach in New York City who *loves* music - all kinds of music - and the artists who create it, has her feet on the ground, her eye on a prize, is a great person and has a generous, communicative personality to boot - is going to be auditioning for a VJ gig on MTV.

There are four steps to the audition - each one of which she should knock out of the park (since the World Series just concluded - congrats, Cardinals!).

You go, girl! Good good luck - and as soon as you're booked, I'll put your photo and story on my blog to start the international sensation you're sure to become! ;-)

I'm also working with a singer/actress who is part of a trio creating a cabaret act to be performed in Seattle right after the first of the year.

And I'm working with the trio!

The show centers on the unique story of each woman as she makes her way through the trials and tribulations during the period between World War I and World War II.

All the *three-part harmony* music they're performing is from those eras - when the world pulled together to fight *for* freedom instead of against something. Costumes throughout the show range from military uniforms of the time to smashing evening gowns!

Through their songs, they're also bringing up interesting facts about that significant historical time that many audience members don't remember or don't know.

With any luck, the night club at which they'll be performing will be "dressed" as an old-fashioned USO canteen, and audience members will have paper uniform caps to wear to fit right in.

As soon as they have an opening date, I'll post their photo with the information. So far everyone - all ages, races, occupations - I've told about the upcoming performance says, "Sign me up!"

It's a blast to work with these women - each talented, with something to say.

At the end of our last session, they blended their voices to sing Happy Birthday to me.

Now *that* is a splendid memory that will last me the rest of my life.

Thanks "girls!" (I can see them saluting!)

Another coachee is learning to be a writer/director/actor. His background as a professional athlete gives him the discipline required to do well in all those areas!

It's amazing I can sleep at all with all the exciting opportunities my coachees are creating for themselves.

Seriously - I tend to get as excited as they do in these situations. It's a problem! ;-)

Baby steps

I've had the most marvelous experience over the past few months - I sing once a week to a baby who will be born around the first of December.

His mom and I have no idea what this will mean when he is born - we're hoping he comes out with a little musical acumen - but right now I talk and sing to Brock directly. That's his name.

His mom says because I have a lower voice, he can hear me well - apparently deeper tones register more clearly through amniotic fluid.

One of the reasons I sing slower and sweet songs to the Brockster, the Brockmeister, the Brockarama ... is because it settles him down. He is large enough at this stage - we believe he is going to be a very long baby - that when he kicks, his mom wonders if he's going to break one of her ribs! Ow!

So when and after I sing, he settles down for a bit so she can go about her business without encountering a foot through her chest!

I'll save the upbeat songs for after he's born - though there are some happy Christmas songs I'm crooning for him, like "It's a Marsmellow World."

His grandmother sat in on the last session - she seemed to settle down as well .. perhaps this is something I should pursue as an avocation ... ;-) Brockolamadingdong's mom insists she can't sing, but I'm going to give her a few singing lessons so she will surprise one and all!

It will be fascinating to see if he recognizes my voice when he pops out - or if he will try to make singing sounds while his mother still provides womb and board.

Some of the songs I'm writing for him:

Brock around the Clock
Jailhouse Brock
It's Only Brock & Roll But I Like Him
Like A Brock...

hold it .. his mom's on the phone ..

um, OK. "Jailhouse Brock" is out, "Brock of Ages" in.

;-)

Good news...

I wish I could share exactly what it is right now, all I can say is that it's *good* and that I couldn't stop myself from cheering and doing a virtual cartwheel.

:-)

Don't you love it when people share their good fortune? So it can rub off on you?

This good fortune is based on a long time labor of love, which looks like it will materialize in a way that I can actually share with you thanks to the assistance of someone who knows how to get it done!

I can't stop smiling.

I'm posting this so you can catch the well-deserved leg up and good fortune vibe just by reading it!

Feeling plain?

Check out how media create beauty!

Apologies, forgiveness and trust

There is an *astonishing* number of articles published about these three subjects on the www.

I hope people are doing more than just reading about them.

My driver's license photo

Great.

My last driver's license photo look like I'd been smacked with a wiffle ball bat, so I decided to get another photo with my new license this year.

Everything in place - a hair appointment, weight loss, different look. I'll look like I've had a makeover!

Oh, yes, easing up to the state license building, I ooze a well-coiffed confidence.

As soon as I open the door?

Deluge.

Torrential rain.

Run - no, dash - no, *rush* into the building.

Not. In. Time.

Eeewwwww.

Sigh.

Another five years, I'll try again.

And remember to bring an umbrella.

I'm classy!

I'm taking a Seattle community college creative writing class, that is.

The teacher, Steve Lorton, is passionate about story telling, words and characters - his enthusiasm for not stopping until we do great work is infectious!

I'm writing about things far out of my comfort zone, which is the reason I'm there - stretching and challenging myself to come up with the goods in a place I'm not used to being. It's great to push harder and dig deeper in my creative process.

I'm sure it's because, given what I do, Steve says he can't understand why I'm there, taking his class.

Humbly, I submit that to reveal why he wonders this would make me sound like I'm bragging.

Or brilliant (eyes flutter).

Or .. possibly because I signed up for another class and stumbled into his room, so he actually does not understand why I'm *there.*

Hmmm.

Meanwhile, I've met many kindred spirits - all of whom are passionate about writing, many of whom are not from the U.S. Anyone who knows me knows I thrive on international points of view.

Everyone in the class is a talented, creative personality, representing all ages with a vast range of interests and careers, including a top Seattle poet.

Lots of deep thinkers and potential friends!

I'm having fun and reaping the exciting rewards of creating far outside my normal box. I *love* this place!

Right -- back to my homework ...

The bug

I can't believe it.

I thought I left acting behind many years ago in favor of exclusively writing, directing and coaching people to perform for the camera (actors, broadcasters, etc.).

But recently, through no intention of my own, I've been performing in public situations -- and today I thought: it's time.

Mind you I act while coaching my actors all the time, but it's not the same as auditioning and getting the gig!

It's not in stone, but my hunch is that 2007 will find me getting out there once again.

I was *sure* I would never pursue acting professionally again. I bet my actors will get a kick out of it.

I guess you can take the girl out of the craft, but you can't take the craft out of the girl.

Funny, life.

Homeless veterans

Do you know that World War II veterans by the thousands suffered from "shell shock," or what we now call post traumatic stress disorder?

Even though they were fighting for a worthy cause, believed they were on the side of right and had God in their corner .. many simply could not handle the fact that they killed people. Legally.

Many were hospitalized without any fanfare or publicity. Others left to fend for themselves.

While most soldiers, hopefully, are not forever left emotionally or psychologically crippled by their memories or knowledge of killing people - men, women and children - legally, too many are.

Over the years, the problem of caring for soldiers who have been wounded by their experiences has grown exponentially. In too many instances, soldiers are discouraged from receiving help for mental issues; in others, they are afraid to reach out for assistance.

Families whose veterans have come home forever changed - and not for the better - can give you first hand accounts of the acclimation difficulties they have encountered.

Many of the veterans we see homeless, lost, addicted and scorned by many "good" citizens are, in fact, left over from having served their country in ways most of us would never consider. It's too nasty. And there are the mistakes they made .. along with the memories .. the memories.

Memories not just of their actions, but the misery they have witnessed happening to their friends, comrades, innocent civilians and even the enemy.

This is part of the American collateral damage not cared for or about after they have followed the orders for which they were underpaid and in all too many cases, misled into what can only be considered horrific circumstances.

America's own evaluation of the situation in Iraq has recently been evaluated as the result of "arrogance" and "stupidity" on behalf of those sending our troops into harm's way.

Vets are coming home without limbs, faces, and in too many cases a job, a family or their right mind.

Since I am treated at a Veteran's Administration hospital (I am an Air Force vet), I can tell you that I have seen noticeably many more amputees there than ever. The one thing these maimed veterans do seem to have: a great attitude. You go, guys and girls!

But there are others who are trying like hell - and unsuccessfully - to put their minds back together. The psychiatric clinic waiting room is full and we hear that there are more budget cuts on the way.

If it's true that we create our own reality, I wonder if these lost vets even have any idea of what they are capable of creating, considering that their experiences may have made them feel blocked from creating -- or recreating -- anything other than their horrifying past.

I try to at least say hi and chat, because they seem to enjoy a few minutes of my time and I figure there but for fortune go you and I ...

Tick tock tick tock

The bad news is time flies.

The good news: you're the pilot.

--Michael Althsuler

Pertinent processing...

It occurred to me that I have fired people and they have still felt good about me and the process.

I realized how that happens.

If the firee isn't made to feel attacked or excluded from the process - that is, the firee is drawn into the decision-making process? There is generally agreement on the outcome and no hard feelings.

A mutual understanding results - I've even had friendships deepen after such an interaction, normally considered "negative."

Dealing with people with an open exchange feels to me like it's most effective and creates the least pain for both parties.

If they are made to feel excluded or attacked? The decision dictated with no empathy or inclusion of how that decision was made?

The normal response is that the person is left angry, hurt, sad and possibly even grief-stricken. They don't feel appreciated or cared about; they have not been treated respectfully or compassionately.

Simply putting out edicts and demands in a hurtful, demeaning way makes for great script dialogue.

Negotiating for what we want or need inclusively, compassionately and interactively is effective and makes for a great relationship, even in the toughest of times.

I wish more people knew this stuff.

Breakdown!

I do believe I'm the poster child for meshugenah this week.

"Meshugenah" is a yiddish term for mad, crazy, bonkers, batty, unglued, whacko, insane, nutty- ah, right - you get the idea.

It isn't often that I go 'round the twist, but I have the past couple days.

Being collateral damage from the emotional upheaval in someone else's life is possibly the least fun I've ever had. Like, ever.

Not sleeping or eating or making much sense myself while trying to make sense of what in reality makes no sense at all as well as maintain my livelihood so I can pay those ever present bills has been a bizarre challenge.

But - thanks to having an appropriate person to share my state of (half a) mind and trusted friends I've worked through it. At least for now. Who knows if it will pop back here and there but at least for now I'm back to my normal, stable, feet firmly on terra firma state.

I have no idea what the outcome will be in the grand scheme of things, so the only thing I can do is take the best care of myself to feel grounded, nurtured, cared for, cared about, respected, appreciated and clear about my own life and relationships.

It's also important for me to make independent plans for the future -- since there is nothing else I can control.

At least watching my school of colorful neon tetra fish swim, dive and zap back and forth across their aquarium helps me relax and keeps me smiling. Especially Pete, the joker of the group-

Um ... "Pete, the joker of the group?"

Hmmmm.

Maybe I'm still a *little* meshugenah... ;-)

Time out!

Whew!

I feel like I've been taking an emotional battering over the past several months because of some serious changes taking place around me - so I decided to take a serious time out!

I normally think of a "time out" as a way to remove one of my pups from the room where she might be misbehaving.

But it's also a way to take a breath of fresh air when the environment gets murky.

Step out - get away from the desk, take a walk outside, turn off the cell phone, turn up the music and take a time out!

Suspend communication to get back on track, regain my "sea legs" and figure out a way to prevent a repeat of future unforseen blindsidings and nasty surprises.

Hey, maybe even take an artist's retreat weekend at the ocean - reading poetry, literature, writing, listening to good music and perhaps even watching a favorite DVD.

Time out - walk away from situations and people who do not feel trustworthy.

Use it wisely and that time out just might change your life in a profound way when you least expect it.

Happiness is a choice

Did you know that?

A cultural economy of loneliness

Are *that* many people in America *that* lonely or afraid of being alone?

There's a difference between being lonely and being alone.

Lonely people can feel abandoned, desolate, isolated, separated, dejected or withdrawn. You can be lonely in a crowded room for a number of reasons - which may not even make sense. In fact, perhaps the loneliest you can feel is being in a relationship that is not working. You're not alone, but you are miserable because you feel so lonely.

OTOH, you can be alone and happy. Or content. Men like their "cave time" alone, according to the Venus/Mars metaphors. I enjoy my alone time to take walks, write, read, clean the house or whatever suits my fancy.

Or you can be afraid of being alone. You can feel "less than" if you're alone; incomplete, needy or like a loser.

If we're lonesome, it just means we miss someone. Wish they were here. Not the same as lonely or fearing being alone.

I've been thinking about products and places and services advertised and simply available to supposedly take care of those things, and came to a shocking conclusion: they seem to be the majority of products and services advertised.

Stuff people buy or rent to give them the false hope that in some way their lives will be less lonely. Or that they can fill up a sense of emptiness that exists in their targeted consumer.

Sadly, I'm not sure any of those products or services will solve an individual's loneliness or emptiness, though one or two may allieviate the "problem" of being alone.

Even more sadly, people with a lot of money will discover throwing it at these things doesn't work to fill up what's missing, and those with little money only find themselves living with less money but just as much misery, loneliness, a life lacking purpose or emptiness.

And they all can find themselves with habits that can be difficult, if not impossible to break without help to quit and find something positive to replace them.

The list of goods and services extends from the ridiculous to the sublime: think about it - everything from breath mints that are supposed to make you more approachable to shampoos, cars, clothes, make up, shoes, alcoholic drinks, cigarettes, wha'evah - that make you sexy.

Then the places to *be* sexy: online sex sites, chat sites, gambling sites, casinos, clubs.

The saddest places to me are the restaurants - where I see couples having a meal together when they can barely speak to one another; and watching good people give their hard earned cash to religious zealots who care more about money than the well being or the souls of their "flock" of viewers.

Then there are things that people use to help their fear of feeling or to fill the emptiness: drugs, alcohol abuse, gambling addictively, workaholism, eating disorders - all addictions, really.

Interestingly, a dear friend who read this column pointed out that some people are lonely - and blame others for their loneliness - when in fact they are simply very difficult people to be around: they either cannot or choose not to look at themselves as a remedy.

People who gossip are lonely. They talk about people - in many cases people they don't know - in order to ingratiate themselves to others, seeking a bond they believe should exist - now that they have shared this "secret" and usually negative information about someone else.

TV is can also be a vacuum for lonely people.

I guess I just wish everyone knew the secret to fill the void - to be kind to themselves and others, to appreciate and love themselves, to generously share their lives, to find their purpose, pursue their passion and not be suseptable to those greedy, heartless pimps who prey on them.

Those predators whose only purpose is to give hurting, sad and vulnerable souls the temporary - and false - high of somehow feeling cared for and about, less lonely or not alone.

I wish you a life of kindness, love, generosity, sharing, purpose, passion, and fulfillment.

Please note: all these things are FREE!

A new viewing habit!

I'm watching Alec Baldwin Tina Fey and Tracy Morgan in 30 ROCK, NBC, Wed, 8pm (7 central)! (USA)

EDITED TO ADD: Um, sorry, Kids .. Not crazy about the pilot, but there's a lot of hope for building a great show there.

Are you enough?

Imagine you're a beautiful, slender, wealthy, famous young actress.

But because sychophants, other people around you and the critics give you grief, you believe you are simply not good enough being just who you are, the way you are.

You somehow believe you need to, oh, lose weight. Maybe even lots of it. Or that you need a boob job - they're not big enough as nature provided them. Or maybe an eye lift because all the partying has dehydrated your skin, which has started to wrinkle because of it.

Every tiny element of your body, your face, your hair magnifies exponentially with every glance in the mirror. Oh my goodness! Is that a .. a .. GREY HAIR? The small strand somehow now appears to be the size of a jungle vine so large Tarzan and Jane could swing on it together - carrying Cheetah and their menagerie with them!

In your altered state of reality, you actually see them oscillating across your face!

Ahhhhhh!

What's a girl to do?

Lose even more weight ... smoke cigarettes ... drink a lot of alcohol ... take drugs ... become promiscuous ... or all of the above? If you're like so many younger starlets, you've captured our attention because we can't stop looking at the train wreck that is going to happen without a powerful intervention.

Unfortunately, unless you have people in your life willing to sit you down and insist that you stop this extraordinarily self-destructive behavior, more - and larger - problems are most probably rushing toward you.

But chances are you are making so much money and are considered such a celebrity that too many people don't want to lose their job because they rely on you to maintain their lavish lifestyles and bountiful bank accounts.

That can put you in a pretty lonely spot, despite being surrounded with people who are working for you -- who say they adore you and all you do -- and supposedly watching out for your best interest.

Interestingly, the message you've been given somewhere early on in this progression of madness that appears to everyone on the outside like it is an abundance of riches, is, believe it or not, *you are not enough.*

You're not good enough at your normal size, you're not good enough if you start to show your age, you're not good enough if you don't change this or that about your exterior -- nothing to do with your interior. Your spiritual base (no reference to religion), your personal confidence, your self esteem and self appreciation, your generosity and sincere focus on others is ignored.

This, unfortunately, is a "value" that is passed on throughout American culture. You're not enough. You're not good enough. You're not (fill in the blank: smart, cool, hip, loveable, pretty, strong, fast, tall, thin, young, old, wha'evah) enough.

I have worked with so many genuinely beautiful people - inside and outside - and it's amazing how many of them do not appreciate what terrific people they are. They feel something is missing. That they are not enough - just as they are. Inside, they believe they are missing a key element that tells them they are enough.

Here's a note I hope you read and heed: you are enough.

Work with what you've got; appreciate who you are. Where you are starting from *right now* to make any changes in your life is just the right place. Time, age, location - where ever you are? It's perfect for beginning to do anything you wish with your life.

And there is always room for improvement. I watch my weight to be healthy, active and maintain the high energy I need for my life and my work. I take classes to learn things I want to know; I love the sense of growing by doing things I've not done before.

But I'm not talking about fixing me, I'm talking about making adjustments that enhance the quality of my life and relationships.

I enjoy taking calculated risks - I do what I love and love what I do. I muster the courage to be as honest as I can with myself and those with whom I work and for whom I care.

All these things come from a sense of - for better or worse - a basic sense of confidence. Heck, I believe I'm *plenty.*

My problem is, as my best friend says, that my light shines *too brightly* for a lot of people. Too smart, creative, energetic, enthusiastic, accomplished, yadda yadda yadda.

Too bright? Me?

Nah.

I'm *just* bright enough.

;-)

Workaholic vs Passionaholic

On my near daily 3+ mile walk this morning, my actor/friend Jarrod Turpin and I were discussing workaholism.

I've been "accused" of being a workaholic, a reputation I've fostered for the industry so they'll see me as a completely dedicated crazy artist -- which is good.

But if others are concerned that they shouldn't approach me because they believe it gets in the way of my personal life? Um, no I really don't consider myself a workaholic.

Since I work for myself, I keep the hours I wish or need to - some days longer, some shorter - and try to keep them in the general arena of "office hours." Although I do work later Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays because I have some folks to coach then, other evenings are free to hang out.

Occasionally I work on the weekend, but it's not a regular thing.

I write daily because I can't *not* write. I enjoy it and I get a little nuts if I don't. Besides, I'm a writer, right? Take away all the stuff they try to pile on the craft's definition and the simple fact remains: writers write. How much I write depends on what else is going on in my life. Generally it's a minimum of two hours a day. That can shoot up to 16 if I have no other plans.

But if I have plans with friends, an invitation to a screening or other opportunities to hang out with people I love or care about? I restict my writing hours. I make time daily for my wee pet family and the humans in my life!

It's no accident this blog follows on the heels of the one about "priorities." My priorities are very pets-home-friends-family oriented.

So as Jarrod and I made our way up the first monster hill of the walk, he said, "It sounds like you are not a workaholic -- but a passionaholic. You're 'addicted' to your passion, but not in a way that makes you do senseless repetitive tasks that in the end don't amount to much of anything - or at least isn't important in the grand scheme of things.

"You're not a slave to it. You enjoy it and it does not create problems in your life. It's constructive, not destructive. You don't need a 'fix' to keep you going; it doesn't drag you down, it lifts you up. You create things, things that make a difference."

Addicts indulge in behavior or chemicals or mind meddling in order to avoid feeling. To avoid the reality of who they are and to avoid making any changes in themselves. I indulge in my passion to discover daily who I am, how I feel, welcoming changes that would enhance my life or work and to learn more about other people.

I'm as passionate about my relationships as I am my work, so although there should be a different suffix to the word than "aholic," it's the only one that seems to exist at this point in our vernacular.

A passionaholic.

I should have a business card that, instead of listing all the jobs I do, just says, "CP - passionaholic."

Thanks, Jarrod!

Priorities

I'm always intrigued by people who share their priorities with me when their behavior doesn't reflect what they describe.

Their lives appear not to reflect those priorities - or perhaps what they want their priorities to be.

Are your priorities really what you believe they are?

I remember Oprah Winfrey describing an interaction she had with an acting coach many years ago. Oprah told her she (desperately) wanted to be an actress. After working with Winfrey over a period of time, the coach told her that she did not want to be an actress - she wanted to be a star.

A term that today would translate to "celebrity."

Big difference.

Actors devote themselves to the study of all the things it takes to become a great actor.

Celebrities just want to be famous. Oprah asked why she would say such a thing. The coach told her: "Your priorities."

Fortunately, Winfrey took that celebrity and has worked hard to become the most positive, influential and wealthy personality in the history of television. Her priorities changed.

Three elements in our lives broadcast what our priorities are: time, resources and attention (emotions/thoughts).

In fact, these fundamental life tools reflect who we are.

What do you spend your time on? With whom? How do you spend your resources? Money? Labor? And you pay attention to ... ? What do you think about most of the time? What do you get passionate or emotional about - excitement, anger, proud, pleased, sad, regretful - whatever feeling dominates.

Perhaps most importantly - what are you *aware* of thinking, feeling, spending material goods and time on?

It's amazing how many people go through their days checking off "to do" lists without really being aware of what they're actually doing with their lives. I call it the "letting the world pass by" syndrome. Rushing from place to place without understanding or being aware what they're doing and why.

This is the most important question: do you enjoy what you are doing or find a reason to appreciate your life and how you are spending your - fundamentally short - life.

I'm crazy about my pets - so I don't mind cleaning up after them if they're sick, putting in extra hours of work so I can pay for an unexpected vet bill. I also enjoy looking after and taking care of my friends.

Hospital visits, taking care of them when they are sick or low. I actually do not mind holding the pail if someone has to hurl. I'm grateful for my friends, and that is my way of saying "I love you," and "I care for you," and don't consider it a big deal to be there for them when they need someone.

My caring karma came back to me when I had cancer. Friends from all over the world sent hats, cards, gifts, DVD's, CD's, tasty morsels indigenous of their country, and my online community that has been built over the past several years (we call ourselves "chalupas" from the old Taco Bell commercial with the little chihuahua. He said, "Drop the chalupa," which we took to mean, "Drop the pretense," "Drop the BS." Get real.) even sent me a check for $3,500.00 to cover some bills since I couldn't work as I normally did.

One member in particular, "ZW," who lives in Chicago, even came to be with me when I was dangerously ill during that trying time. As delusional as I was from having a screaming fever (one of those hats was stuffed with ice to try to cool me down) and being so ill, I still managed to be *insulted* when she told me she had to tell them she was my *daughter* in order to see me!

Exsqueeeeeeze me?

What?

Did I have her when I was 10? Couldn't she have said she was my, oh, cousin? Younger sister?

Interestingly, you can see how completely pale white I am ... and she's completely Chinese.

When I complained to her, she swore the nurse told her only immediate family could see me - like my *daughter.* Wink. So ZW was all like, "Yeah, that's the ticket. I'm her 'daughter.'" and the nurse let her in.

I told her I was delirious when I complained because I was actually so happy to see her! There's a lot to be said about holding hands when we're sick. Turns out right in the middle of chemotherapy I also had massive appendicitis.

By that I mean the normal appendix is like half an inch long. Mine was seven inches. I got written up in medical journals. I don't mind telling you that I was upset when I found out my appendix and three-hour operation got a lot of publicity in the medical community but they never used my name! ;-)

Oh - and another Chalupa, a sensational doctor with a national reputation, called the hospital and consulted with the doctors who were treating me.

Amazing, this internet - how it can be used to so positively help one another.

But I have to confess -- there have been too many times that I've spent too much time on that fabulous communications tool rather than on those things I consider my "real" priorities!

When I am aware of what my genuine priorities are? Less time on the 'puter, and for me? Less time watching TV unless it's quality time with someone special.

Fear

It occured to me last night that the world has become a mighty fearful place.

I don't mean the type of fear caused by the threat of terrorism, sky-high prices kicking the middle and lower classes in the ass and really terrifying things like no health insurance coverage.

I'm talking about the fear of letting other people see who we are.

Unnecessarily keeping secrets.

Protecting ourselves from illusionary boogie persons (I don't think all boogies are, you know, *men*) and people we are afraid will somehow hurt us -- who are not really in a position to harm us at all.

Governments sometimes help that state of fear.

My parents have never really recovered from the McCarthy era, when there was a fabricated fear fomented in the USA by a paranoid, alcoholic, megalomaniacal senator who looked for would-be communists.

The committee on unamerican activities set a notion in motion that somehow the government could see everything you do and that if you stepped out of line or were even assertive, you could be punished.

Many people raised at that time are afraid of speaking up to authority figures to this day, including doctors. It's very disturbing.

So many people come to my coaching practice afraid. Afraid of ... anything and everything, but mostly of being themselves.

Then when they start expressing who they truly are, they are afraid the people around them won't like them as they really are. Say what?

Meanwhile their partners are afraid their developing artist significant other will be seduced by some terrific looking actor and romantically whisked away to LaLa Land.

First, beauty is as beauty does, and beautiful people have their own problems.

Second, communicating with each other should be a pretty exciting time with all the changes taking place in both people. Alas, many are too frightened to try to deal with this or quit just as the going gets better.

These fears, BTW, pale in comparison to many of the fears I hear expressed by the folks with whom I work.

In the end, really ... what is the *worst* thing that could happen? Think about it. How realistic is it that those fears will *ever* manifest in reality? If the fear is based on reality, perhaps it's an ideal time to seek resources to address the fear in a healthy way - to deal with it in a way that leaves you feeling empowered and safer.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that the vast majority of the fears I see people suffer with day in and day out are not founded in reality. They actually do have a very real fear ... I mean, it feels real therefore it is real.

But once it's brought out into the light and seen clearly and dealt with it's almost always dismantled or diffused or even annihilated.

It reminds me of the old TV series, "The Avengers."

Dapper John Steed and the ultra cool, hip and martial arts-trained Mrs. (Emma) Peel would have to deal with a faceless enemy.

Writers would give the show lots of angst and *gulps* as we witnessed *parts* of the bad guys make mincemeat out of their victims -- sometimes including Steed and Peel. The bad guys were generally objectified, which made them very very scary!

When only one part of the body is seen by the camera, it's called "objectifying" the person. We'd only see a threatening hand turning the door knob or pulling the switch to a torture tool or the mind control machine.

Our imaginations would give the person objectified way more power than they have in real life. This includes starting a scene showing a woman's leg -- it's generally a sexist ploy, but it may not be depending on the context.

Anyway, when the climax of the show came? Heck, we saw a picture of the whole person. There was the bad guy we'd been so afraid of - an ordinary man behind the robot or monster or brainwashing bit or wha'evah!

The bad guy was *just a man.*

So of course Peel and Steed made mincemeat out of them because they knew how to fight and overcome any *person.*

I wish more people could be able find the (ordinary) man behind the hand.

Crazy times

Is Mercury in retrograde?

I've been sad for days and days.

People and relationships are coming apart all around me. Heartache, heartbreak, tears, fears and futures up in the air. I wish we could all just get along and intuitively know how to make it all work.

Although I know it's great when it's great, and it's worth it when we give our all to love and a good relationship, I am somehow feeling most fortunate to be single and *way, way* happy.

It all leaves me shaking my head and thinking about:

flip flops.

You know, those silly little rubber semi-slippers?

I have seen people wearing them in the most unseemly places. Their feet have to be cold. It's fall, for Pete's sake!

Shopping, concerts, church, reality TV shows, undoubtedly job interviews.

I have no idea when they caught on, but I have a feeling they started in California. Or maybe Hawaii. Or one of the warm weather Pacific Island nations - where they are part of the culture.

Maybe their feet feel free. Aired out.

Me, I find that little thing that sticks between your big and second toes irritating. They get too much sand on my feet when I walk on a beach - and slaps sand against my legs and all over the place with the flip and the flop of every step.

I prefer walking on a beach barefoot. If Brittany is reading this, she always sees that word as "bear foot" and laughs hysterically.

Likewise, "barefeet" becomes "bear feet."

I feel like I'm in a Seinfeld episode when she does that. I'm Seinfeld, of course. She's Elaine.

Anyway, I find it incredibly odd when I see people who live in cool and cold climates wear flip flops.

And it's not as if I walk around like Sherlock Holmes looking at people's feet with a large magnifying glass.

It's the sound.

Filp. Flop. Flip. Flop. That's a normal cadence. There's also the flipflopflipflopflipflop. Or the flipflop flip .. That's what I heard last time I was in Costco. That's a shopper shopping flipflopflip sound.

Today has been a fantastic day. Pampered, spoiled, celebrated, and self-indulged.

It's my birthday.

Cards! I love hilarious birthday cards. Here's one from my brother: cute picture of an older dog ... and it says ... "You're not getting slower, the squirrels are getting faster."

And from JB: A cat is laughing hysterically, saying, "In cat years you'd be a hundred and seventy-"

Hmmm. Any that do NOT refer to age?

Ah! Here's one: "Tired of getting those disgusting birthday cards that make fun of ageing? That ridicule anyone over 40?" You bet! OK, turn the page and it says.. "Yep. I guess the sense of humor is the first to go..."

Yeah. Funny.

Moving on to the gifts. Wonder what's in this box? I shake it ... nope, can't tell. I try not to go to wondering if someone got me something *expensive.* I try. But I know the person who gave it to me has *money.*

Oh, heck, I'll just open-

Oh. My. Gosh.

It's freezing out there now! Who would give me ... flip flops!?

(Maybe I should wear them to my opulent fancy French restaurant birthday dinner.)