The Secret Life of...

I finally saw The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.   This has been one of my favorite movies since my grade 8 English teacher let us take up an entire two classes to watch the original with Danny Kaye.   First of all I adore Danny Kaye, he is a comedic genius and simply a fantastic actor in my books.    I have a photo of the late great actor on my wall; actually it is a still from the original movie.   I can't remember what it was I loved about the film, only that I did.  I sat in rapture of the VHS I was watching.  For those of you who aren't familiar with this archaic word, it was back in the dark ages when the tapes were about the size of a Kleenex box and as loud as generators.  I have sought to find and re-watch this movie to rekindle my affections for it, but it has proved to be difficult and/or almost impossible.   I was thrilled to hear that they were remaking this classic, and somehow I managed to miss it while it was new in theatres.  

The 2013 version of this epic story succeeded my expectations.   I don't know that is received the best reviews, but in my books it had everything I could have hoped for.  The cinematography was beautiful, the acting was great, the music...  uh. (That’s a blissful, satisfied - uh)  While watching Ben Stiller long board like a pro, I harassed my little brother with imperative remarks- instructing him to watch the film.  My little brother IS cool he pretty much defines the word.  (I may be a little biased)  He, in a lot of ways, reminds me of Ben Stiller’s character, Walter Mitty mid to post metamorphosis.   Aaron is the type of person to backpack through Europe, climb a mountain in the Himalayas, and explore the Middle East while making friends with the Bedouins, surf sand dunes in South America...he is just cool!? 

Not sure why exactly I felt compelled to share all of that but... seeing this movie makes me want to throw caution to the wind!  I feel compelled to by a plane ticket to anywhere and live a life that feeds off of new experiences and adventures.   I want to climb a mountain, and explore the outer reaches of civilization.       Uh!   If you haven't seen the movie, WATCH IT!  Find it in a theatre or wait till it comes out, whatever you have to do... just watch it.   Be inspired to be fearless. 

Beautiful things don't ask for attention - The Secret Life Of Walter Mitty. 

 

Danny Kaye as Walter Mitty <3

 

 

 

 

MEmememememe Meeee....

This year my world has been turned upside down and backwards.   Virtually every singer claims to have sung before they could talk and that it mostly true for me, however, I only fell in love with singing at the tender age of 7.  I have taken singing lessons, and sang in choirs for just as many years, however, this year the program I find myself in has redefined everything I have ever associated with this art form.  The journey, process and pilgrimage to the illustrious and fabled “professional career” or the “near-to perfection” place that it seems so many have attained, is marked with blood, sweat and tears.  The blood might be fake stage blood but blood non-the less.  

Required of a singer is self-awareness acutely attuned to minor minuscule changes to strive for the next musical landmark. Countless hours are clocked in the practice room of singing scales, repeating phrases, words and syllables in incrementally different ways.   To the untrained ear, these antics would sound like the mumblings of a crazy person.  But such is the life of a singer.  This process of perpetually seeking new achievements and accomplishments becomes an addiction because perfection is continually redefined and becomes the carrot at the end of the stick. 

At this level, everyone is exceptional, and has talent to spare.  Sadly there is an epidemic that exists and has plagued a few people and myself as of late. It is a vicious mentality which blinds and debilitates.  I don’t have sight when I look back on how far I have come and my vision is 20/20 when I see how far I have to go.  I see only how I pale in comparison to those around me, and have little patience for my mistakes.   I only share this information to shed light on this mentally that seems to affect all of us to a certain degree.  I am realizing that it begins and ends with how we allow the dialogue to go in our minds.   The reality of a singer is that there are always expectations, but there are also days when we are only able to give 60%.  A very wise teacher of mine once said that not every day will be a 100% day, so if it is only a 60% day, make it your best 60%.  We need to be kind to ourselves and recognize the hard work it has taken to get us to where we are today.  It is vitally important to have perspective on this passion and art form, and to turn down the volume of the negative thoughts we sometimes view as fuel.   A friend of mine posed the question, that if our inner dialogue came from a person, would we keep them as a friend?  

 

I may have already discussed this quote on here but it is just so good I have to remind myself of it again.  

"Comparison IS the thief of joy."   -   Theodore Roosevelt

 

Prodigal's Son

I find myself again aware of a vacancy within me, a hole that can’t seem to be filled, a desire to again feel small and for nature to feel all encompassing.  Perhaps this thirst for nature isn’t what it seems.  Maybe under a microscope I would see that it is more than a desire for escape, or a need for my problems to feel small.   Maybe upon a close examination it is simply a craving for closeness to the creator of all I see and feel around me.  There, in nature’s cathedrals, is an intimacy that in vain, many have attempted to recreate with stone and stained glass.  No matter how far I run away, I still desire the closeness of “home.”  Despite my selfish and ignorant behavior my soul still seeks the solace found in Him.  I seek it in the wilderness because it is tangible.   I can see the wind move the budding branches of the trees, and feel the sun warm my face as grass gather at my feet and cool air fills my lungs with nourishing fresh air. Why do hours of hiking and exertion seem easier to accomplish than simply opening the word? 

A Brooke Fraser song is echoing in my mind… “...the comfort of you near is what I long for, when I can’t hear you I have learn to reach out just the same, when I can’t feel you I know you still hear every word I pray…”

I fail everyday... but You never do.   You are constant, even when I define the word inconsistent.  You forgive me! 

 

 

 

food for thought

Event's this weekend caused me to think of this quote by Sam Levenson.   It has so much merit. .   

For Attractive lips, speak words of kindness.
For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.
For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry. 
For beautiful hair, let a child run their fingers through it once a day.
For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone.
People, more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed. Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you will find one at the end of each of your arms.
As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself and the other for helping others.”
― Sam Levenson

enjoying the great indoors of Winterpeg: A To Do List

My Winterpeg do to-list when its REALLY cold outside:

Build a Pillow/Blanket Fort:  
Rediscover your youth and inner 6 year old and build a fort, it could be one person size, or a fort expanding over your entire living room.   Grab some flashlights and tell scary stories, or pop some pop-corn (not in the blanket fort)  and watch a movie in your own personal cocoon. 

Bake:

...An EPIC cake.    Play with wacky and wonderful flavors. 

Grab a box of cake mix - and then start adding things.   I made a cake with Nutella and Bailey's buttercream icing.  It was kind of amazing.  



Drink:

Have people over who are also sick of the freezing cold and enjoy some libations.  Bailey's in hot-water is my go to.  It really doesn't need anything else.   But try Mulled wine.
Play a made up drinking game.  *oh snap

Make Snow Cones -  experiment with different flavors.   Grab a bin of snow, and a couple cone-cups et VOILA!   C'est une party! 

JUST DANCE
My favorite video game gets my heart rate and is probably 12 on the 1-10 fun scale.   Hi-jack your friends wii and hit up redbox and rent the game.   You won't be sorry.

Light a fire - make some gourmet hot chocolate and pick up that book you've been meaning to finish and read by the hearth.   If you don't have a fire, go to youtube and search yulelog.  



Watch the yule-log for the hand!  Hours of entertainment. 

Write a to-do list, a to -see list, and a to -visit list.

Organise the photo boxes from 2000-2008.

Play hide and go seek with whoever's home... 

Play glow in the dark hide and seek....
Like Hide and Go Seek just with glow sticks! 

Go to Ikea, grab a camera and photograph daily life in Ikea World.  Or challenge your friends to find the best item under $5 or $10.

Any other good ideas out there? 

round 2

I woke up this morning feeling…oppressed by the events of the night before.  Maybe oppressed is a strong word, but the wind was taken out of my sails, and I felt like any excitement I may have felt was stripped away from me in one fell swoop.  I woke up, washed my face and brushed my teeth and wearily wandered into the kitchen.   The kitchen on occasion looks as though either a.  a bomb went off or b.  a mad scientist snuck into our house to use our countertops for his science experiments and then he leaves the remnants of his work behind as part of a cruel joke.   I assumed my position as damage control and began to “undo the dishwasher.”   I put away the cups, the plates, the forks and I go to put away the falling-apart wire strainer, when the little bugger stabbed me with one of his stray wires!  It literally was lodged in my index finger.   “yeeeaa…ooooo!”   I cried to no one.  I stared in shock at my bleeding finger and gauged the situation. Thoughts ran through my head like, “should I go to the hospital!?  What if it gets infected!?! Can I simply pull it out?! Does one simply pull out a piece of wire that has made its home in one’s finger??!”   I had a solid moment of panic at the sight of this foreign object under my flesh.   It ended up being much more like a sliver and a lot less like open heart surgery.   After my blood pressure returned to normal and my finger stopped pulsing I made myself a delicious and much needed coffee with my fancy-dancy Aeropress.   I scoured my kitchen for breakfast and brought my meager offers to my room to begin my transformation from bed bound zombie to dateable blondie04.  Fixing the strands of hair that were more matted than a hairball and blending and blushing away the night of the dead look that becomes me after waking, I was ready for round two when I kicked my coffee cup right over.  The coffee tidal waved onto my off-white carpet surrounding my cellphone and cords for my computer.   Thankfully sparks didn’t fly and the situation was quickly contained.   To add insult to injury, my favorite jeans decided to rip today, of all days. This day was off to a good start.  Insert unimpressed face.   

I walked myself bitterly to the school where I planned to attack the 20^th century theory assignment that was hanging over my head.  Thankful after 40 minutes of focus, I was able to complete a third of the assignment before my bus came to whisk me off to my next date.  I wondered why I had thought this was a good idea… and nearly talked myself off the bus and out of following through with this silly plan.  Arriving to the area I realised I couldn't press onward without caffeine.  So with a coffee to fill the void of coffee that my first coffee left, I wandered into the restaurant and silently prayed that this would go better.   My mind was put at ease right away when a handsome gentleman walked in and the conversation started right away.    I knew within 2 minutes that this was going to be a vast improvement.    I didn’t feel compelled to run for the door and in fact felt that the hour and half went by quickly.   My faith was restored.  

read this in a whisper with a hint of shame and a bit of irony

I am not sure if I should confess this or not, but I have joined the other 38 million-ish people and succumbed to (read in a whisper) online dating…?? (*ashamed face)    Ahh… it’s so shameful.   But after many conversations with fellow single ladies, we’ve come to recognize that this (sadly) is the way the world is going.   So for those of you, who have never had the pleasure (ha) of having to sign yourself up for an online dating site, let me walk to you through it. 
First of all you are forced to come up with a username, and chances are your name is probably taken.   So it ends up being, completely ridiculous, lackluster, or unoriginal like Cantcomeupwithausername101, or Blondie4. Oh the indecency!    This unfortunate step in the process is 2^nd to coming up with a header for your profile, which requires you to again be creative and express what you want from the site.   You are then asked to specify what it is you are looking for, and then tell the online dating pond a little about yourself.   Insert unimpressed face.   It is this process of peacocking and polishing your appearance for strangers that make this form of dating seem so frivolous and...*wimper, sad. 


My first date was tonight.  I have dated before, all people I had known previously for at least months prior, so this was brand new for me.    Talking myself through it, I coached, “this is good Alexa, you are putting yourself out there.”   “what’s the worst that could happen?”   “Play the interviewer…”  as piece by piece my hair went from poker straight to “care-free” curled.   To take my mind off the enormous jump of faith I was about to take, I calmed myself with youtube videos of Olef from Frozen. ( that little snowman has a lot of insight on life..) Dressed and ready to go I hopped on a bus to take me 40 minutes away from my little white house.  This is a rare occurrence for me as public transit isn’t my favorite when it is hovering around -100.   Again to take my mind off what was about to occur I dug my nose into pride and prejudice and got lost in my Jane Austin when...Osborne station approached.   Leaving Mr Darcy and Miss Bennett in the early stages of there romance I closed the cover and commenced the next leg of my journey to my own romance.   Sadly, and yet not surprising at all, this selected place of meeting was not a simple one-bus trek.  No no, it was two, punctuated with a 15 minute wait. Outside.  In minus a million!!    I like to think I am proactive, so instead of becoming a frozen ice sculpture somewhat resembling a human, I  forced my icy toes attached to my frozen feet to move forward to the lights up ahead that gave me hope of heat.   With a new perspective I saw golden arches glowing in front of me.   I hastened my steps with the hope of warmth and frost-bite free feet!   Those golden arches were more than shelter from the elements they were a haven complete with free coffee!?   How did I get so lucky as to receive such a gift from Mr. McDonald himself?   This reprise from the cold allowed feeling to seep back into my extremities, and prepare me for the last leg of my journey – the 4 minute bus trip south.   I left the shelter under the golden arches and careful climbed over icy snow to make it to the bus stop and waited patiently for 16 to come for me.  I loaded onto the bus and mouthed to myself the name of my stop, really blissfully unaware of what was ahead of me.  

I sat at table that was too close for comfort to the hostess desk and the front door.  After settling,  I heard a man’s voice behind me and before I could look up from my phone he was sitting down beside me.    We greeted each other and within 2 minutes I realized this was going to be a long night.   He was a good-looking gentleman, but there was no fire in his eyes and no pull in his smile.   I tried to ignite conversation that would uncover some passion but even topics of passion for him were like that of a spark.  My glass of wine was really too small for this evening.    My mom has given me wise advice and that is to play the interviewer… but playing the interviewer becomes wildly less fun when those interviewed only have one speed, one emotion, one expression, one tone….. oh the night began to drag after about 30 minutes.   Knowing the door was so close only magnified the agony.   Somehow two hours passed with a half picked at cheese plate, two empty wine glasses and very long pauses between fragmented sentences.  Somewhere between the glass of wine that appeared before me and the last bite of raspberry my will to go on vanished.  I wished, and if a moment allowed me privacy, I would have closed my eyes to maximize my wish potential that tele-porters existed and were small enough to hide in my bag. 


I know what I am looking for – at least I think I do.  I know I want passionate conversation, and someone who will make me laugh, and will laugh with me.   I need curiosity and cleverness combined with that underlying current of chemistry.  Maybe this online platform for dating will be fruitful, or maybe it won't.  I won't know until I've tried. So bravely I press forward.  

According to my mother, my grandma used to say, "there are more fish in the sea than ever came out of it..."   which I interpret as, if that is true then there is hope.