Because I'm happy?

I woke up crying again this morning. This is not the first time this has happened and I guarantee it will not be the last. As I lay in bed, unable to sleep, and unable to make the dark thoughts leave my consciousness one question floated by somewhere from the recesses of my mind, faint at first and then louder until it was all I could think.

Have I ever been happy?

The answer is most assuredly yes, right? It has to be yes. I grew up in a beautiful town, surrounded by loving people and was always encouraged to follow my passions. I must have been happy at some point. And even now, I have pursued a career in what I love, surely this must bring me joy. Rationally and logically I would have to say that yes, definitively, I have been happy at many points in my life.

Here's the rub though...emotions aren't rational and they aren't logical and they can consume your mind the way a spider consumes a fly. Picture it: Your emotional well being is kinda like that fly, alive, free, flying wherever it wants and sadness is the web. When first caught you will continue to flap your wings, pulling from the trap, attempting to free yourself but the more your struggle, the more you fight, the more the web closes in on you, the closer the spider gets until you are stuck in a web, wondering how you got there in the first place and if or how you'll ever get out.

As I lay in bed, tears streaming down my face, my mind wanders to the zoo. Odd, at a time like this, that I would think about the zoo. I think about the animals there, caged, set to routine, in some cases alone, far from home and I realize why they have come into my thoughts. My life, in many ways, mirrors that feeling. My life has become a zoo and I am an animal in a cage. Again, when speaking rationally, I know that I am free and I am extremely grateful for the freedom that I have based on many factors bestowed at birth. Here is where the irrationality of sadness rears it's ugly head again. I awake to routine, I eat at pre-determined times, I sleep far more than I should or not at all, I have lost the drive to breed. Just like a resident at the zoo I have become caged by my emotions. Unable to change the situation, I have succumbed to it.

And there is that nagging question again...have I ever been happy?

There is guilt that comes with this question. I love my husband with what feels like the entirety of my being. I know he tries his hardest to make me feel better when I am sad. I love my parents who have done nothing but tried to make a life for me that they knew was worth living. I love my friends and colleagues. I would do nearly anything for them and many of them have come to my rescue when I needed it most. This isn't about the amount of love in my heart...it's about that damn spider...that chokes off that love...that keeps my mind in a place where I am incapable of feeling anything but numbness. Numbness or anger. Anger at myself for not being able to shake this feeling. Anger at others for not seeing me here, trapped in this web, twisting in the wind. And there it is again...guilt...because I shouldn't be angry at anything but my own body chemistry. This is a physical problem and, as such, shouldn't there be a concrete physical answer? Yet again logic and emotion collide and the web closes in. I remind myself that happiness is not quantifiable. This ever present question of happiness may not be answerable...

Then another question sails by on wave of thought, fleeting and strange...am I going to make it?

The most honest answer I can give? God do I want to.

I want to be the fly that breaks the web.
I want to be the caged bird that sings.
I want to be the woman who finally concurs the underlying, lifelong issues.

And there it stands...I want to be. No matter how bad it seems or how bad it gets:

I. want. to be.

I am...

Mrs. Euphegenia Doubtfire, dear, at your service...

It is with a sad heart that I reminisce about a man who touched the lives of many, in various and profoundly different ways. When someone legendary passes away, no matter how, we feel a collective sorrow. It's as if everyone in this world, for a moment, is feeling the same emotion, the same loss. Although we do not have a direct personal connection with celebrities we still feel a connection, an attachment to that person, an attachment to the feelings that they have made us feel. As much as we are made to believe that everyone in the world is special there are those of us whose light shines just a little brighter than others. I think we can all agree that Robin Williams is one of those people. (I choose to use present tense here because we do not lose our light in death. Memory, in many ways, shines brighter than reality.)

I have touched on depression in my blog in the past and although I know that is the topic fresh on everyone's mind in regards to his passing I choose instead to discuss a specific memory of this silly, talented, intelligent and wonderful man. His legacy is that of laughter and tears, childhood reminiscing and adult maturity. I know it might seem odd at a time like this but my mind immediately jumps to drag.

Yes, that's right. Drag.

Everyone who knows me (or has met me for more than 30 seconds) can tell you that I have an intense love of the art of drag. I have studied costume design in college (Shakespeare was all about drag), lived with Queens (best roomies I ever had), gotten tens at a Ball (beaten out by a Canadian pop star! DAMN!) and just generally love the art, creativity and humor that creates an iconic Queen. Every drag queen that I have ever known is fiercely intelligent, funny as hell and has the unique perspective of an individual who has embraced both the masculine and the feminine within themselves. Do these attributes remind you of anyone? Robin Williams clearly had them all.

Mrs. Doubtfire came out in 1993. I was ten years old. I vividly remember going to see this film in the theatre and laughing until my face hurt, if I was allowed to buy make up yet I would have needed one hell of a touch up! This was, essentially, my first drag show. I know many people who instantly fell in love with Euphegenia Doubtfire, Williams' charismatic, witty and outlandish drag persona. At a time when equal marriage rights weren't even part of the discussion yet here comes a white, straight man donning a full body suit, old lady drag and charming the pants off of every one, liberal & conservative alike. Williams had this unique ability to incorporate femininity into his comedy in a way that was genuine and respectful. He played roles with such depth of feeling that you couldn't help but identify with his characters. This movie also features Harvey Feirstein, Danny's (Williams) gay brother and partner, skillfully helping Williams make his transformation into drag. For those familiar with the movie they will know the “drag montage” scene while they are creating the Mrs. Doubtfire character is full of popular gay culture references (in particular a pretty hilarious Barbra impersonation) in which Williams skillfully touches on his knowledge and appreciation of the gay community in a way that is not parody but respectful deference. It was not until many years later that I understood the subtle nuance of this scene. It was as if Williams was saying, “This movie is borrowing from your culture and I know and respect that.” I believe it was his nod to all the queens that helped inspire his characterization.

Mrs. Doubtfire obviously wasn't Williams only foray into drag culture. Who can forget his iconic role in The Birdcage starring opposite Nathan Lane? Or even his hilarious take on Aladdin's Genie (which also features multiple gay culture references)? Williams was a comedian who was not afraid to take risks and was intelligent enough to straddle the line between comedy and offense always falling on the funny side of the line. He portrayed characters that were warm and accepting, poetic and comical and the world, in my opinion, needs more of this brand of comedy. We need more people who truly take the time to learn and embrace new cultures and identities. In Aladdin the Genie famously says: “I can't make anybody fall in love with anybody else.” Well, Robin, one thing is for sure, you made us love you.

I will leave this blog off with a simple thank you. Thank you, Robin Williams, for sharing your life with us, for making us laugh, for making us cry and for most importantly making us think. There is one particular quote from Mrs. Doubtfire that stands out to me and had this movie been made in the early 2000s I'm sure it would have included a reference to same sex households:

“There are all sorts of different families, Katie. Some families have one mommy, some families have one daddy, or two families. And some children live with their uncle or aunt. Some live with their grandparents, and some children live with foster parents. And some live in separate homes, in separate neighborhoods, in different areas of the country - and they may not see each other for days, or weeks, months... even years at a time. But if there's love, dear... those are the ties that bind, and you'll have a family in your heart, forever. All my love to you, poppet, you're going to be all right... bye-bye.”

I hope that wherever you are now, Robin, you know that there IS love and you will live on in our hearts forever.

Depression and the S&M of SM

Well it's been awhile...and I could make up a myriad of excuses as to why I haven't written in some time but the fact of the matter is it's winter, I'm busy and I'm struggling. Now, now before you give up and stop reading I will say this isn't a “woe is me” post by any means. More of a series of observations I have made of late that I feel might apply to more people than myself. This is about my relationship between depression and social media...and I sincerely believe there is one...

For those of you that know me well (or are the least bit observant) you will know that I have struggled with Depression and Anxiety for nearly all of my adult life. I am obviously not alone. I would bet top dollar (USD, CDN) that many of the people I know have a history with these demons. It's like fighting a life long war. There are times when I win battles, there are times when I lose them but the war rages on continuously. I've been to therapy, I've taken medication, I've read books, I've done yoga, I've bought shoes, I've gone to the other side of the earth and back and I've worked very hard at making peace with this inner struggle. I have always lost. Actually “lost” is the wrong word. I have always come back to the fact that I prefer living with this disease than taking a pill that makes it go away. It's a part of me. We've lived together for so much time that I feel a very symbiotic relationship with these feelings. It sounds strange but I don't feel myself when I don't have periods of extreme sadness in my life. We've all seen/heard the “Depression hurts” ads and although I loathe hearing those words they couldn't be more accurate. There are days when it quite literally HURTS to get out of bed. It's as if gravity decided to play an evil trick on your body for the day, pushing down harder than it ever has before. Think about walking around all day with weights hanging off of your limbs (I know a lot of people compare this feeling to wading through water but I actually find that to be an extremely pleasant experience. This is not). Unfortunately, the physical pain is nothing compared to the mental anguish. Simple day to day tasks become nearly impossible to complete and sleeping (when insomnia doesn't take hold) turns into my only respite. When I hit a low point in this battle and my reserves are nearly spent, I hate myself. Self hatred is one of the worst forms of torture. There is little that you can do to talk yourself out of it because you're the one causing it. I end up feeling like the Three Faces of Eve, trying to convince the voice inside to stop being so negative. So what happens when I can't make the inside me feel better on it's own? I turn to social media.

For those of us out there that engage in social media interaction (and let's face it...you won't be reading this unless you do) we are all familiar with the idea of the “Facebook coma”. When you stare blankly at your Facebook account watching the lives of others scroll past while not really living your life at all. This is perfect (and I am using this word satirically here) when I am depressed. I already feel like life is passing me by while others live to their fullest potential. Now I have a WEBSITE to confirm this for me! Halleluiah! Social media is a place we turn to for validation. Validation that there are others out there who are like-minded (or not...),validation that we look good, validation that we are funny and for me, validation for why I feel so f***ing shitty sometimes. Now, underneath it all, when I am being rational, I know I feel sh***y because I am engaged in a lifelong battle with a really sh***y disease. When I'm depressed I can find any number of reasons on FB as to why I'm feeling the way I'm feeling. The highlights? “Wow, I used to be so skinny” “Wow, all of my friends are doing things that are WAY cooler than I am” “Wow, I didn't understand that really intelligent thing someone just posted, I must be an idiot” “Wow, I don't have a baby yet” “Wow, I don't even know if I want a baby” “Wow, I just spent the entire morning fighting with someone on FB for no reason. I am a terrible person” “Wow, no one liked my post that I thought was super clever” ... this list could go on and on and on. When you're sad, it's really easy to find reasons to continue to feel sad. The problem with social media and depression (the S&M of it all) is that you can be present in many people's lives without actually being present at all. You can shut yourself off from the world while still making it seem like you are a part of it. I can't tell you how many people tell me “I love you on FB”... this is such a double edged sword. Truth be told, I love that people get a kick out of me on FB. I do. I am an entertainer at heart and I love knowing that people find entertainment in the things that I do. (so if you've ever told me that you found me amusing on FB, thank you, I actually really appreciate that). The problem arises when I stay at home, instead of engaging in ACTUAL person to person interaction, and sit on FB because I still feel like I am being social when, in fact, I am not. The irony of calling it “social” media is it's really anything but. It's not social to sit in your room, alone, and watch your friends/loved ones live their lives. It is easy to hide behind my computer screen, feeling the way that I feel, while making it look like everything is fine. Isn't it funny that when I am being the most ANTI-SOCIAL is when I spend the most time being “social” on social media. Now don't get me wrong, I love being able to log into FB and see people that are all over the world and I love being able to stay connected to people who I love that I don't get to see every day. When I'm feeling better emotionally this is a wonderful way to see what's going on in the world, when I'm sad I will sometimes sit and stare at my screen and cry. Also, I am not going to stop using FB. I could say I will, that I'll deactivate my account and be FREE but, at the end of the day, I like FB. I just have to be very careful about keeping my relationship with this site a positive one. I have plenty of real reasons to feel the way I feel and how many "likes" I get on a post isn't (or shouldn't be) one.

So what is the point of all of this? I guess I figure that if I am feeling this way, others might be feeling this way too. I have recently read a few interesting personal accounts of people's battles with depression (I think it's mental health awareness month or something...) and it helped me to know that although this is a personal battle, there are others out there fighting the good fight too. So I'll leave you with that thought. That I, like many others, am fighting the good fight with myself. I don't wish to win (does anyone ever “win” in a war?) but rather, as I mentioned above, to make peace with myself. One of my favorite writers, Emily Dickinson, was a well known recluse. She kept herself tucked away in her house in Massachusetts and after her death her sister famously published her impressive catalog of work (she had previously only published about a dozen poems). My favorite:

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you–Nobody–too?
Then there's a pair of us! Don't tell! they'd advertise–you know!
How dreary–to be–Somebody!
How public–like a Frog–
To tell one's name–the livelong June–To an admiring Bog!

I can't help but wonder, what would Emily Dickinson's FB page have looked like?

Mea Culpa

Facebook. The land of cat memes, political discussions and perhaps, on occasion, a forum to truly open up an honest dialogue. Recently, I became embroiled in an epic Facebook battle. We all know the sort. It starts out innocently and before you know it you're arguing your point to complete strangers through a vehicle that is honestly better suited for profile pictures or puns than politics. This being said, this particular discussion was actually very important and necessary.

For those who know me (and I mean actually know me not “Oh you are SO funny on Facebook” know me) you will know that I like to take the piss out of things. I can be crass, I can be sarcastic and let's face it out right inappropriate. I fancy myself a regular George Takei (without the fame and good looks) I forget sometimes that Facebook, like any social media site, is a PUBLIC forum and that what I find in my head to be completely innocuous or innocent can be extremely offensive. Words have power. Again, those of you who know me, you know that I would never knowingly say something to someone to make them feel uncomfortable. This all being said I said something on someone's wall that was offensive to them. A person who I actually think is pretty damn rad. A person and a group of people I would never EVER want to alienate or offend. I used a word that was not mine to use and then as the pigheaded person that I am I tried to argue to the offended party that I knew better! (I mean really Leah, leave well enough alone here) The discussion unraveled so quickly that at some points I couldn't even really articulate what I was thinking and ended up digging myself deeper and deeper into a hole I didn't want to be in. I came off like an ass. There I said it. An ass. At the end of the day, what I believe and what others believe aside, if I've hurt someone's feelings that's where the line in the sand is drawn. Full stop. Go back. That's where Facebook becomes not fun anymore. And I have literally not been able to stop thinking about it since.

I won't rehash the entire debate because I'm sure y'all don't need to read all of that. It was centered around the position that a straight female holds in the gay community and what “rights” we have within that community. I have always been a proud “fag hag”, never really thinking of that term as a negative (although let's face it, the first word in that little phrase is, in fact, a slur). There are many ideas about what that term really means. At the end of the day, I am not gay and the path I have walked in this life is not that of a gay female. I'm more “gay adjacent” in that I feel a true kinship with this community. It has been so important in my upbringing and my development as a person. I fiercely guard my right to stand in the homosexual community because it has become my community. These people are my people. I think I instantly became so defensive during this whole debate because I honestly couldn't bear the idea of someone telling me I wasn't a part of it. It was, in a word, heartbreaking.

After this whole FB discussion I started reading up about the concept of the “hag”. Unfortunately, like everything in life, there are good hags, there are bad hags and there are down right ugly hags. Speaking of ugly, that brings me to fag hag generalization #1: that the hag is a dowdy straight girl who prefers the company of gay men and women because she can't get the attention of straight men. Now we've all met these girls and I won't err on the side of optimism and say that this type of hag doesn't exist. However, I will say they are the exception more than the rule. I have often joked “if you want someone to go shopping with but can't hold their hand through a break up or an AIDs test then hire a personal shopper”. Although that is a joke, the concept behind it is not. I can't tell you how many times I've been asked “How do I find a gay best friend?!” How do you find any of your OTHER friends? It's not like the universe is hiding homosexuals in this magical world you need to cross over into through a wardrobe. Much like any other relationship if you search for it, you probably won't find it. Searching for a “gay best friend” is just like searching for “Mr. Right”. These are concepts that have been constructed by mainstream media. As a young straight female they tell me I must find both of these archetypes or my life is just not complete. I am actually pretty fortunate. I found my Mr. Right and I have lots of male and female gay friends but I didn't find them by putting bait on a hook. I found them because we were like minded people who formed lasting relationships based on far more than our sexuality. Have I proudly spoken about my “gay best friends”? Absolutely. Do we rattle off jokes that are on the far side of PC? Yep, we sure do. Do they call me “gay” as a term of endearment and do I love it? Yessir. Because we are friends. There is trust built there. Trust that I haven't earned from every single Facebook user in the world. I also often joke about someday writing a memoir called “The life and times of a Fag/Drag Hag” because I literally have so many incredible experiences within this community. Experiences that I was fortunate enough to have because of all of the wonderful and interesting people in my life.

Now, slurs aside, there are certain words that get thrown around in gay vernacular that I do not think should be vilified. For example “gurl” or “fabulous”. I was told that using these words perpetuates negative gay stereotypes. Fair enough if you believe that. Here's where I draw the line (we can agree to disagree on this issue) I don't think these are bad words. I never will. I love my fabulous friends. And, to be clear, I do not use this word to strictly refer to my male friends. The gay community IS fabulous. When you look up the definition of that word you know what you find? Extraordinary. I can't think of a more fitting way to explain it. I understand that this community is far more complex than an episode of “Will and Grace” or “The L Word” (although on Facebook it can be hard to come off convincing about this). Not all gay men are femme and not all gay women are butch (as pop culture would perhaps lead us to believe). The gay world is just as varied and colorful as the straight world. Each individual playing an important part in the community on a whole. The unfortunate truth is that not everyone realizes this. People now-a-days watch a few episodes of “Queer as Folk” and think they know everything about gay culture and this seriously hurts the people living within the community. Now I'm a pop culture junky and the influence that the gay community has had on pop culture is immeasurable. Not to mention it's influence on art, music, dance, literature and social policy.

While we're on the subject of words, I will say I have never been a huge fan of the term “ally”. Honestly, I'd rather be a hag (if I need a title at all). The word ally has always struck me as super militant. Are we waging war? In the grand scheme of things maybe we are. The left versus the right. In these days where gay couples are on the verge of FINALLY being given equal rights under the law it can feel like an all out battle against those in this world who would dare to say that their relationships are more legitimate because they exist between a man and a woman. That they can stand against this group of wonderful, beautiful, important people and say “We have this little black book and it says you're wrong” would be laughable if it weren't so scary and detrimental. I think it's important to also note that in these times it is more crucial than ever for the gay community (and I include it's straight supporters in there) to stand together. Let's stop fighting on the inside. We're all on the same side and there are people who are decidedly not. But if we're going to stand together, I agree there must be mutual respect. Respect that begins when we listen to each other's needs.

So why did I write this? If I'm being honest? Selfish reasons probably. The need to have my words read how I mean them. The need to let people know that I would never purposefully disrespect anyone (except maybe members of the Westborrow Baptist Church...aint NOBODY got time for that). The need to let someone know that when they said “don't” I really listened and thought about it long after our social media talk ended. The need to say, I'm a part of this community, and it means the world to me. A need to say, when it's important, I've got your back.


Alright, now back to my cat memes...

Can you make money as a musician?

Short answer: YES!!! Long answer? How long have you got? Hopefully a few minutes to read this blog...that's why you clicked on the link after all. Any one who has chosen to make a living in the arts whether it be in music, dance, art, theatre, writing or any of the other categories that fall under "College of Arts and Sciences" have most likely been faced with this uncomfortable yet inevitable query. It comes in many shapes and sizes.

For example: "Oh you actually MAKE MONEY DOING THAT?" "What is your REAL job?" "When are you going to get a REAL job?" "So your life must just be a constant party?" "It must be really hard doing what you do?" "Oh so you do that on the side...like a hobby?" "Oh so you must make more at your day job?" And the always classic: "So do you teach?"

(Answer key: 1.) Yes. I do make $. 2.) THIS is my REAL job. 3.) Probably never...oh wait...I have ONE. 4.) Yes singing for a living IS entertaining but it's also work. I'm not exactly doing lines of coke with Keith Richards every weekend. When you're partying I'm WORKING. 5.) There are very high highs and very low lows but I wouldn't trade my career choice for anything. 6.) No. I don't "do this on the side" ... this is my CAREER. Please treat it as such. 7.) Nope. Not even close...when I'm "in season" I can make more in a weekend performing than I make in a month at my day job. True/sad story. 8.) Yes. Many of us do but we shouldn't have to hide behind the "music teacher" title just to be taken seriously. Musician is a serious title too. When did it get such a bad rap? Was it the 80s...yeah...it was probably the 80s. Side note: This is not a dig at actual music teachers...you know who you are)

Okay, okay...I know I seem as though I am ranting and perhaps I am. For whatever reason I have been faced with the "musicians making money" question more often than usual over the past couple of months and I felt the need to clear the air. I understand that my lifestyle is different than the average nine to fiver but to be honest how many people now-a-days are ACTUALLY following this 9-5 paradigm? I don't think that musicians (or anyone in the arts) should have to defend their career choices or how they make money to other people. You wouldn't ask a lawyer or a doctor "how they make money" so why are you asking me? I sing for 3 hours, people have a good time, I get paid at the end of the night. I don't think this is a difficult concept. I provide a service and this service is something that people pay money for. End. of. story.

Now I WILL admit that I have done a lot of good, bad and ugly gigs. That comes with the territory. And yes, I sing covers. My background is in theatre and I love performing. I have no problem covering other artists material. Please don't ask me if this is creatively stimulating because again the short answer is YES. Think about it this way...what did you do at work today? Make copies? Send faxes? Or e-mails? Well I sang a Jackson 5 medley followed by Sly and the Family Stone with a little TLC thrown in like a cherry on top. And I got high fived. By lots of people. When was the last time YOU got high fived at work? How many offices are throwing those around? (If yours does I wanna work there). Now obviously there are gigs that are better than others. Just like there are days at YOUR job that are better than others. Could I live without singing 'Don't Stop Believing" ever again? Sure...but I digress. Professional musicians are just like any other professional. We have good days and bad. We have profitable months and less profitable months. That's LIFE. It is NOT unique to musicians.

At the end of the day I have no problem explaining to someone that their pre-conceived notions about artists MAY not be correct. There are certainly dead beat musicians (stereotypes exist for a reason after all) but there are also dead beat teachers and lawyers and shop owners. That is based on the individual NOT the career. I am using this blog as a forum to air my frustrations because I have, of late, found myself getting very defensive and irritated over this issue and let's face it...that's no way to be. This question comes out of naivety so I can't really fault the asker. I also can't stand idly by and not say anything about it.

Here's the basic message I want to get across. People in the arts are legitimate members of the working community. We train for years to do what we do and should be treated with the same respect as any other profession. It is not easy to follow your heart and your passion. It is not easy to constantly have people doubting your legitimacy. It is not easy having a career with such extreme highs and extreme lows. Pounding the pavement can, at times, be exhausting and lonely and ultimately so so worth it. There are times when every performer has doubts and you have to get really good at (and secretly kinda love) rejection. I'm not asking to be treated any differently because I have chosen a field that is harder than most what I'm asking is to be treated like every other working member of society.

So next time you want to ask a musician "do you really make money doing that", stop, keep that thought inside your head and instead ask "Do you love what you do?" 9 times out of the 10 the answer will be yes.

And that my friend is worth more money than you can possibly imagine.

Why can't I be a 30 year old pop star?

For those who know me, and know me well you'll all agree that I have what some might call the "DIVA" in me. However, as I come ever so much closer to that pivotal three O birthday mark I have to stop and wonder...can I still be a 30 year old pop star? Now I'll begin with the fact that, I know, I am not currently a pop star by any stretch of the imagination (except maybe to a few Queens in Boston...but that's another story entirely) but should I have to "give up the ghost" as my time line creeps higher and higher age-wise? We've all heard the "Madonna is looking a little tired" arguments (and I've even made them myself) but look at people like Britney, Christina, Fergie, Beyonce, Alicia Keys, Usher, Justin Timberlake etc etc etc. Are they any LESS relevant because they are sharing the pop charts with the likes of the barely post-pubescent Beibers and Swifts of the world? Granted most of these stars got their start wielding Mickey Mouse ears or strutting on Star Search in the 80's...so my big question is: Is it too late for a gal like me to "get in the game?" (Please no Susan Boyle references...I'm not THAT old yet) Now granted, I'd rather fit into the Amy Winehouse mold (alcoholism aside) than the Britney mold...eh screw it...who am I kidding...if someone were to hand me Britney's career on platter I would take it without question (head shaving/marriages in Vegas aside). I've always said I wanted to be "drag queen famous" ... the kind of fame, or should I say infamy, in which drag queens everywhere are clamoring to buy Leah Canali wigs and painstakingly painting on my tattoos night after night to lip sync to my voice. Now THAT is fame! Unfortunately, as life tends to go, I'm more exhausted than fabulous most days now so how in a world where we have to work to live do we put the fabulous back in the equation? Is this even attainable or do I need to drop my fabulous standards (please lord noooo)? I think my first stop needs to be "reattain pop star level fitness" ... let's face it...when the body looks good the mind feels better. I also believe a lot of my woes have to do with lack of motivation and inspiration. I'd like to be able to grab hold of more of both of those "ations" in my life.

Here's my ultimate question internet? Is it possible to be a first time 30 year old pop star? (and please oohhh please tell me the only answer isn't The Voice or X-Factor or Toddlers and Tiaras or Jerseyrealworldhousewives or whateveeerrrrrr...my almost 30 year old heart can't take it)

Top 5 reasons why I still love Michael Phelps

Ok ok...I know this isn't a popular opinion amongst my North American comrades (American and Canadian alike) but YES I still love Michael Phelps. I just can't help myself. I'm a sucker for an amazing Olympic moment and let's face it...that boy has many. He shouldn't need to prove anything. He's DONE THAT. So why the hate America?

Before I bore you with more Pro-Phelp's propaganda I'll get right to it. THE TOP 5 REASONS I STILL LOVE MICHAEL PHELPS: 5. He's a total mama's boy. Can't get enough of his adorable mumma looking on proudly in the stands. I bet she wears sweat shirts with his face on it when she goes to her Curves workouts and knitting bees. 4. The kid has more Olympic gelt than most Chanukah celebrations. He has more medals than 148 COUNTRIES?! Are you KIDDING ME? He could pawn more than half of them and still have more than most people will win in a lifetime. (I understand swimming gives more of an opportunity to win just based on the amount of races there are but it isn't Phelps's fault everyone else decided to be good at sports you only get one medal for...no it's not your fault at all baby) 3. Abs. Let's face it, this could have been #'s 1-5 but I figured my argument needed more variety. Moving on... 2. His surly 'ttude. Yep that's right...I love it. Who says you have to want to talk to the press ALL the time?! I love Svetlana Khorkina for having the best stank face in all of gymnastics and I love that Phelps wears his emotions (good and bad) on his face. So do I Michael...so do I. 1. The men's 200 free relay (2012) anchor position. This race was almost better than sex for me. Breaking the all time record with an anchor position in a GOLD MEDAL winning relay. And yeah I know the other guys put him in front but he KEPT THEM there (unlike cough Lockte cough in the 400m. I like you just fine Lockte...you just don't hold a place in my heart like Phelps. It's like comparing Jordan to Lebron...you haven't earned it yet baby) Phelps just said BOOSH to the haters. I wish Jill Scott would literally follow him around the pool and sing "Hate on me Haters" after every race. The guy is one flipper away from being a real life merman. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love half aquatic half humanoid creatures. I'm sure many people would disagree with me about this issue. Frankly, my dear, I just don't give a damn. Phelps is a legend. Like him or not you cannot deny that. He is quite literally, the greatest Olympian of all time. Point. Set. Swim. (Side note: he's retiring after these Olympics...I totally respect that. Go out on top booboo. Can't wait for your terrible commentating in 2016...or for me to eat these words and watch you "un-retire" like Jay-Z. The ball is totally in your pool here.)