tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25364509644161462972024-03-21T16:13:50.267-04:00An American in TorontoThe Tales of a Bostonian TorontonianOpheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-30897723601523218122014-08-22T12:20:00.003-04:002014-08-22T13:00:01.324-04:00Because 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.<br />
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Have I ever been happy?<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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And there is that nagging question again...have I ever been happy? <br />
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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...<br />
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Then another question sails by on wave of thought, fleeting and strange...am I going to make it? <br />
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The most honest answer I can give? God do I want to. <br />
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I want to be the fly that breaks the web. <br />
I want to be the caged bird that sings. <br />
I want to be the woman who finally concurs the underlying, lifelong issues. <br />
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And there it stands...I want to be. No matter how bad it seems or how bad it gets:<br />
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I. want. to be. <br />
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I am...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSwP7yYBWJ4W877t-TcsVcpbcZxZlTZ9RcG9Ym213SIh60UbsJFM75kKq6iUvVlyrZlzJySggYcCjgyFeje0ke4eI6U-M9nSf1id4MraMrEJHSslJTnuncW_WUN_OGz98zwWrDiSWSm-ac/s1600/Happiness-Hands1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSwP7yYBWJ4W877t-TcsVcpbcZxZlTZ9RcG9Ym213SIh60UbsJFM75kKq6iUvVlyrZlzJySggYcCjgyFeje0ke4eI6U-M9nSf1id4MraMrEJHSslJTnuncW_WUN_OGz98zwWrDiSWSm-ac/s320/Happiness-Hands1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-17872293567883323062014-08-12T13:05:00.000-04:002014-08-12T14:59:12.921-04:00Mrs. Euphegenia Doubtfire, dear, at your service...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_z1DcfUSCL_yjTznmdnVNZ-tbfH8LKZVw3cDRnbV8XfwbeV-7wlihp9jJxgPNgJVFQanH7A1317EzIU0WKJaBtQZZDV3W4QEYyilVlLS_fQgr1ZPK6RH8u0H_mCvn3yhg5iAgZ38V-IT7/s1600/Robin-Williams-in-1978-011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_z1DcfUSCL_yjTznmdnVNZ-tbfH8LKZVw3cDRnbV8XfwbeV-7wlihp9jJxgPNgJVFQanH7A1317EzIU0WKJaBtQZZDV3W4QEYyilVlLS_fQgr1ZPK6RH8u0H_mCvn3yhg5iAgZ38V-IT7/s320/Robin-Williams-in-1978-011.jpg" /></a></div>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.) <br />
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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. <br />
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Yes, that's right. Drag. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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:<br />
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“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.” <br />
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I hope that wherever you are now, Robin, you know that there IS love and you will live on in our hearts forever. <br />
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Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-34151260802213722712014-02-25T21:12:00.002-05:002014-02-25T22:37:16.151-05:00Depression and the S&M of SMWell 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...<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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:<br />
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I'm Nobody! Who are you? <br />
Are you–Nobody–too? <br />
Then there's a pair of us! Don't tell! they'd advertise–you know! <br />
How dreary–to be–Somebody! <br />
How public–like a Frog–<br />
To tell one's name–the livelong June–To an admiring Bog! <br />
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I can't help but wonder, what would Emily Dickinson's FB page have looked like? <br />
Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-36892346459741000932013-04-14T08:32:00.002-04:002013-04-14T08:32:55.024-04:00Mea CulpaFacebook. 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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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Alright, now back to my cat memes...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjweTQCCvU02TZt9V8Q8NObCoTxLAfjC1o_Jl6zatcQqNd-lAX0KwoIAq1OnUfyAzt3PIdGLiUV8IXTHrX5K81RbuN3rqtiOQGoIdFauIRLq957VwVEZq2YnpDMifJqSjBP4tB5Vd9ESp/s1600/319926_438414136242139_1287512232_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjweTQCCvU02TZt9V8Q8NObCoTxLAfjC1o_Jl6zatcQqNd-lAX0KwoIAq1OnUfyAzt3PIdGLiUV8IXTHrX5K81RbuN3rqtiOQGoIdFauIRLq957VwVEZq2YnpDMifJqSjBP4tB5Vd9ESp/s320/319926_438414136242139_1287512232_n.jpg" /></a>Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-30234690583268859932013-03-07T22:39:00.002-05:002013-03-08T11:51:40.713-05:00Can you make money as a musician?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAqvz8MdEKm5nQXb2LHeqYBR3YsR30p2B1cEWXQOx0YdHB0iDsk27fN9va9YIwI74b4hiR8qASd20waStPHsdTTyI7tgHSELIoYsITsCeSXT7yb30EJ9hK8kjxzhIFWc1LqX5fkJqN2EKa/s1600/l.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAqvz8MdEKm5nQXb2LHeqYBR3YsR30p2B1cEWXQOx0YdHB0iDsk27fN9va9YIwI74b4hiR8qASd20waStPHsdTTyI7tgHSELIoYsITsCeSXT7yb30EJ9hK8kjxzhIFWc1LqX5fkJqN2EKa/s320/l.jpg" /></a><br />
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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. <br />
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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?"<br />
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(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)<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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And that my friend is worth more money than you can possibly imagine. Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-25417613467071154422012-11-02T13:06:00.003-04:002013-03-11T18:01:11.856-04:00Why 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. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQrMH4g8yxBV1Okmz1HAcRwgxQxqXtx0KYQuas9epEkYVOgDwqj3oiFRAYPewhTGiX3TW_Yy8MRGMp6jAo1K2Y68Csie2LE4VmWxiA4V0CdA6x9zG1GPOayROL69HbGNtjxqmnPQDBoMhK/s1600/britney.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQrMH4g8yxBV1Okmz1HAcRwgxQxqXtx0KYQuas9epEkYVOgDwqj3oiFRAYPewhTGiX3TW_Yy8MRGMp6jAo1K2Y68Csie2LE4VmWxiA4V0CdA6x9zG1GPOayROL69HbGNtjxqmnPQDBoMhK/s320/britney.jpg" /></a></div>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)Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-25343409558331674152012-07-31T22:05:00.000-04:002012-08-01T00:24:17.552-04:00Top 5 reasons why I still love Michael PhelpsOk 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?
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJx8j6QcOUPZ63XISiYBNpu_GWVc9vfVDzyc1n_vm2rc6TB9yyNkdTk_mkdnHwVyBaV-f5DvtUtUNeXzl_DWjhABGNxpWcCYU3mNpclvXaGmuaRA8l-RrcGzkGhXioWM4OM87wcuXRUSms/s1600/Michael-Phelps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJx8j6QcOUPZ63XISiYBNpu_GWVc9vfVDzyc1n_vm2rc6TB9yyNkdTk_mkdnHwVyBaV-f5DvtUtUNeXzl_DWjhABGNxpWcCYU3mNpclvXaGmuaRA8l-RrcGzkGhXioWM4OM87wcuXRUSms/s320/Michael-Phelps.jpg" /></a></div>
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.)Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-82729547442541968412012-06-04T17:37:00.000-04:002013-03-11T19:04:48.180-04:00Average Day BluesEver have one of those days that is so completely average it sends you into a whirlwind of "what am I doing with my life" ivity? Those days when you wake up from an average amount of sleep, to go to your average day job, and eat average food...hell the weather is even just average. I would gladly take thunderstorms over "blah". This sort of mundane state the day has found itself in has also put me in state of complete "meh" or "blarg" if you will<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEm0mJvRbs1g9QeNdffnqHI-wf9WzLv3GmwEZCjFFdxbQZQUOMXUYB0fyYR1Lq3t8P-1vfdF0E1F55dNGKWGGId0eP_phFuOqBTmNVPKlJfnAE06-QxAMO0IUXsngqhq-FN-_XUC6mm4J/s1600/eeyore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEm0mJvRbs1g9QeNdffnqHI-wf9WzLv3GmwEZCjFFdxbQZQUOMXUYB0fyYR1Lq3t8P-1vfdF0E1F55dNGKWGGId0eP_phFuOqBTmNVPKlJfnAE06-QxAMO0IUXsngqhq-FN-_XUC6mm4J/s320/eeyore.jpg" /></a> . Even this blog isn't particularly enlightening or entertaining...it's simply something to do with my hands while I muscle through this totally "non-day". The problem with these sorts of days is that they afford a lot of mind wandering time. Not great when you're already feeling pretty dowdy these days. Unfortunately, I have been feeling fairly "average" about most of the work I have been doing of late. There seems to be some sort of perception curve that switched on in my brain that says "You're simply not that great at very many things...you're "ok" at some, passable at others...but not great". I am extremely grateful to be finally making it a go of it singing career wise but lately I have been feeling more self doubt than ever before. This could be a product of over stretching myself, or the weather, or my period or a whole other host of emotional and or situational reasons but the fact remains it's pretty much a constant feeling. Before I bore you (those of you who actually read this stuff) with a big long blog pity party I will sign off with this thought. I think I have become Eeyore. That's right, the adorable, melancholy, constantly losing his tail (in my case my keys) average stuffed donkey of our childhood. So I guess...if you read this..."thanks for noticing me" ...Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-81455518911194982662012-02-13T10:27:00.006-05:002013-03-11T19:02:36.978-04:00Grammy inspiration<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW7fEABjV1ql2tXAzqRzZTcpnTO3GMkFIspxgdyIWMpWh2ty1yLlOYXmDzpVBABDh3qLuG0D9YKH0pMq1_Ux4fQ5_R6NGNG1MCoU3oQufcokAjCRyALmAWwkIEkabQ-HR5EdtHDtFZ0cCW/s1600/art-whitneyhouston3-420x0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW7fEABjV1ql2tXAzqRzZTcpnTO3GMkFIspxgdyIWMpWh2ty1yLlOYXmDzpVBABDh3qLuG0D9YKH0pMq1_Ux4fQ5_R6NGNG1MCoU3oQufcokAjCRyALmAWwkIEkabQ-HR5EdtHDtFZ0cCW/s320/art-whitneyhouston3-420x0.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5708642672261861938" /></a><br />
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Sometimes it takes momentous occasions for change to occur. I'm not speaking of slight change or even great overt change but a deeper, truer more organic change. A core shift. Winehouse was a blow to my heart, Etta was worse but Whitney...well what can I say about it other than life changing. When I think of an artist like Whitney Houston I not only see their breadth of work I see the humanity that lies beneath it. I think of her not only as a legend but as a living breathing, flawed and beautiful human being. The term "voice of God" gets thrown around a lot in this industry. I've heard Aretha described this way on more than one occasion and now the honor is bestowed on our most recent fallen soldier. (I won't even get into the fact that this title is most often linked to powerful female voices...that's a whole other blog completely). If Whitney is truly the voice of some other worldly power I can only say thank you. Thank you for giving her to us while you did. Thank you for letting us watch her glorious triumph and her soul shattering struggle. It's people like Whitney and Winehouse that remind us that talent is a blessing and a curse but that is it 100% ok to be HUMAN...to make mistakes and keep going. <br />
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When I think of Whitney Houston I think of myself at age 7 trying valiantly to in any small way recreate the sounds that came from her soul, her voice. I'm sure there are thousands of other little girls who can say the same thing. As I grew, truth be told, I was always more of a Mariah girl however like a guiding light to everyone Whitney remains a beckoning call for all vocalists. An impossible legacy to try to chase down but one completely worth the journey. There are some people who are clearly meant from birth to do what it is that they do. Whitney was certainly one of them. How could you hear that voice and not instantly think "wow". There are things that woman could do with her talent that no one has done or will ever do again. THIS is why we celebrate her. For being perfectly flawed and yet at other times just simply perfect. Think of how many weddings, first dances, first kisses, last kisses etc etc where shared to the voice of that woman. The ethereal quality of her being is undeniable. <br />
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I could go on forever speaking about this. I will leave you with the feeling I was left with after watching last night. A feeling that I want better for myself...that we should always strive for greatness no matter the pitfalls. I know that I have a lot of growing to do, musically and emotionally and I can't keep sitting by and thinking it's just going to happen. I need to become that little 7 year old belting Whitney Houston songs in her bedroom again. I need to go back to a time when no one said don't and I never said can't. Thank you Whitney for reminding me of my passion. <br />
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In death just like in life you are the star of the show.Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-50270799327482486892012-01-09T09:35:00.003-05:002012-01-09T12:48:05.250-05:00Bus stop misfitsThis post is dedicated to two young ladies who ride the bus with me in the morning. While I am headed to my joe job, they are most likely heading to high school. Dun dun dun... Normally I don't make it a point of observing teenage girls but these two remind me so damned much of me when I was that age I can't help but be intrigued. One is tall and gawky, the kind of girl that you know will be pretty when she grows into herself. The other short and solid, big head of curly hair, wears "Cat in the Hat" converse shoes every day and looks like the kind of girl who experiment with her sexuality later in life...if you catch my drift. The two of them are just so damned adorable I can't stand it. As a former high school misfit myself I feel a kinship with these young ladies. It's like looking into a mirror of myself from the past. I almost want to sweep them up in a big group hug and let them know it'll all be ok. Being the misfit also means you're generally the most interesting person in the room. Teenagers can't take interesting people. Seriously, think about it. Take a minute and think about the popular kids from your high school. How boring were/are they?! Having just been dragged kicking and screaming to my 10 year high school reunion I can assure you it's true. Not to say that these people aren't good people and that the wounds of high school treachery don't scab over with time but yeah...snooze. Although I might not have chosen the most conventional of lives I can be thankful life is never dull (even when it is if you catch my drift.) I want to let these girls know that they will find extreme satisfaction later in life when they realize they are, in fact, now the cool kids. So here's to you little ones...keep being you...Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-22575310837287646852012-01-09T02:02:00.002-05:002012-01-09T02:08:14.954-05:00Happy birthday Jo!Sometimes all you need to kick start yourself into doing something is the validation that someone else enjoys it. This entry is for my girl Joanna Mohammed who tonight (albiet probably drunkenly) asked me if I was still blogging and told me she thought I should because she enjoyed reading it. So thank you girl for getting me off my butt to start writing anew. If this birthday is a proper one you should in no way remember having this little convo with me but I appreciate it none the less. Knowing something you do is valued, even in the smallest way, is the greatest gratification. So here's to you Jo. Happy birthday! (P.S. You, Marla, Francois, Claire and the rest of The Diggs make Usher and Rihanna sound like tone deaf turds...you killed it!)Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-23150406755680269142011-03-24T17:09:00.004-04:002011-03-24T17:37:33.123-04:00You don't know beans...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-KsxuMa-5BGjniX9uisnaB-aTb8h-WG5XIyFhisF1wHu1nINsiZIAIh6cp0vTO-bc_OcZNHIbY7ASW23sPbm3nhHW_zmkWmdbqy5O92RNWNzeBIupbii_irKVwn-NHQB7Mt4SwlLWw6g/s1600/ghastlycrumb.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 316px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-KsxuMa-5BGjniX9uisnaB-aTb8h-WG5XIyFhisF1wHu1nINsiZIAIh6cp0vTO-bc_OcZNHIbY7ASW23sPbm3nhHW_zmkWmdbqy5O92RNWNzeBIupbii_irKVwn-NHQB7Mt4SwlLWw6g/s320/ghastlycrumb.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587763392376749522" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeJ5B_g77qW4LYs19icRO5IW6DpUv1FUEDSvRG5sJTT5-z0M0DPNCxWjwu0IlL9BGHQswyMST9b0W1NfZK3mKzlHawcfpeHkljGqTZXlusOmOiEdN_2vu40cgHNrxuiWSotHBVFCi2PsZ/s1600/beans.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 204px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeJ5B_g77qW4LYs19icRO5IW6DpUv1FUEDSvRG5sJTT5-z0M0DPNCxWjwu0IlL9BGHQswyMST9b0W1NfZK3mKzlHawcfpeHkljGqTZXlusOmOiEdN_2vu40cgHNrxuiWSotHBVFCi2PsZ/s320/beans.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587756923396147938" /></a><br /><br /><br />...until you come to Boston. So in the grand tradition of me not following through on tasks I set aside for myself to do, I have been neglecting my poor little blog for sometime now. All I can say is, I'm sorry little blog spot, deeply and truly sorry :( <br /><br />Sometimes, in this life, all you need to recharge your batteries is a change of scene. Luckily, I have a built in escape plan (namely going back to Boston to see my rents). This trip actually happened quite by accident and ended up being one of the better trips home I've made of late. Between jetting through NYC and catching up with my gays and then spending quality time with both family and friends in Beantown I feel newly energized, if not a little homesick. <br /><br />I'll leave you with a picture from one of my favorite artists whose work I was able to take in, in person, this week as it is on display at the Boston Athenaeum :) Edward Gorey, you are a genius.Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-85562693383287027462011-01-18T22:18:00.004-05:002011-01-18T22:53:24.900-05:00Talking to God<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyoEWqQgCj9Oom4Yp-ZpGXSMa7xkqyFCxrt2czUSbjCWsDbTzakwEoO2jiHLI91v8vDZAGU4b3MYB1mQleVOMm32zfBB96WFY60vWFwr_nCk_lWc8ZCL8gZ8WtLB0ZGc7ECsDvEAXcg8v-/s1600/babysinging.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 153px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyoEWqQgCj9Oom4Yp-ZpGXSMa7xkqyFCxrt2czUSbjCWsDbTzakwEoO2jiHLI91v8vDZAGU4b3MYB1mQleVOMm32zfBB96WFY60vWFwr_nCk_lWc8ZCL8gZ8WtLB0ZGc7ECsDvEAXcg8v-/s320/babysinging.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563740042741184434" /></a><br />"For a singer, your voice, singing...it's how you speak to God." -John Edwards<br /><br />No not THE John Edwards...either of them...this quote came from not a former vice-Presidential candidate nor a television spiritualist. It came from my co-worker, massage therapist, future doctor but most importantly actor/singer/dancer: John Edwards. Leave it to a gay man (a theatre practitioner no less!) to so perfectly put into words a feeling that I have felt for years. Why do I sing? Why do I love it so? And why are people so drawn to vocalists?<br /><br />It's my own personal conversation with the universe. Heavy huh?<br /><br />Not really...for those of you who know me (I think I've even spoken about this in my blog before) I have an interesting relationship with the big guy upstairs. Namely I don't really believe there is one. HOWEVER, I believe in something...is it a baby in swaddling clothes or an ancient man in a white robe that would make even the purest bride blush? No. It's nothing that concrete. Call it a feeling, an intuition, a dream,fat, a giant purple elephantin the room (how Hindu!)...I don't know but there is something out there driving us all. Just take a minute to watch the tides of the ocean or a particularly beautiful sunset (I very rarely see it rise unless I've been up all night) and you'll feel simultaneously so small and so immense. Thanks mother nature for making me feel so insignificant while so integral in the ebb and flow of the universe. (side note...I also don't know if "god" is a beautiful elven lady wrapped in vines and birds feathers, lithe and birdlike while also strong as the roots of tree...in other words, mother nature? I don't know) I do know when I sing I feel a connection with myself and the world and people around me. I think people are so drawn to those with vocal talent because they can sense the discourse that's happening with the universe. I know it sounds like new-age hooey but I believe that tapping into your voice helps you tap into a universal conversation. It doesn't matter what language or key or style of music, you're part of the discussion and that is beautiful. <br /><br />Let's face it. My relationship with my voice is one of the longest standing ones that I have (aside from my mumma of course) and like most long term affairs it has at times been so fulfilling and at others more trouble than it was worth. We have loved each other. We have hated each other. We have even LOST each other on occasion. But what can I say? I'm stuck with her and she with me. We had to learn to get along. Let me tell you, my voice has taken me far and wide. It's let me experience things I never would have, led me to some of my most special relationships and my darkest failures. If that's not proof that use of my voice is connected to the universe on a whole, I don't know what is. <br /><br />So thanks voice...we've been through so much and we've got a long way to go. I can't wait to see what we'll do next...Universe? God? <br /><br />You better get ready to keep on listening...Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-81679353073707885812010-12-10T13:37:00.004-05:002010-12-10T13:53:48.235-05:00Please tip your....singer?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoxf0bOhHCSjW-gT-DhNeJD96JNyuTwCF6wJ_1ivvyOycD1cPl2V8PyUw7pWCXaGwLH_0PO1PBQF3T9zGRffKphHfdAYc4dsuqS_Z8Er0zV9abimA9hNoGZs_p0I0Blh2iov4X2JR26OCK/s1600/tip.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoxf0bOhHCSjW-gT-DhNeJD96JNyuTwCF6wJ_1ivvyOycD1cPl2V8PyUw7pWCXaGwLH_0PO1PBQF3T9zGRffKphHfdAYc4dsuqS_Z8Er0zV9abimA9hNoGZs_p0I0Blh2iov4X2JR26OCK/s320/tip.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549128592545933234" /></a><br />Now I must preface this post by saying that the catalyst for this post was a table full of rowdy drunk business people throwing cash on my bandstand. What better to write about right?! This past wednesday at my weekly gig at the Hilton I nearly doubled my pay for the night with tips. One would think "that seems regular"...hotel, high priced drinks, pretty lounge singer singing popular songs, tips would be a regular occurance. WRONG! In my entire time singing there I have only been tipped twice...TWICE! This got me thinking...why is it that people will automatically tip their waitress or bartender but will neglect to tip their live performers?! Now maybe it's just because I am a working singer but if I see a band or singer with a tip jar I will always contribute. I know that often times these gigs don't pay so well so I feel the need help out my fellow artists. Now I know this may seem like a petty gripe and I know that waitstaff do work hard (I've done the bartending thing) but when I am working my butt off singing requests all night I expect to be compensated. Moral of the story if you request some obscure tune from god knows what decade/artist and we attempt to try and play it...TIP! IF you enjoy the performance and just spent almost $100 on booze, throw the performers a fiver on the way out! If you're in town on business and stop into the hotel lobby to relax and find yourself really relazing to the soothing sounds of life music...give a little! <br /><br />Thank you wealthy business men and women everywhere :)Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-54614119378789024422010-12-04T12:26:00.003-05:002010-12-04T12:47:17.745-05:00BURLESQUE!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhno6LxQggQw9IECVdnhIHRhPydtowGEiwSyE6-Khm0Ls5GOSf55IZunpVp0utqApuniUGKkoE_aTjn3cOu0X_sJvDly5aimPUlYBXJYfzGC9Px7A5ppbolo4cwGEMihyphenhyphenJfTGdVkpcMpSPY/s1600/burlesque-poster.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 215px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhno6LxQggQw9IECVdnhIHRhPydtowGEiwSyE6-Khm0Ls5GOSf55IZunpVp0utqApuniUGKkoE_aTjn3cOu0X_sJvDly5aimPUlYBXJYfzGC9Px7A5ppbolo4cwGEMihyphenhyphenJfTGdVkpcMpSPY/s320/burlesque-poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546881107574755074" /></a><br /><br />OK...run, skip, jump SHANTEE your way to this movie! Had a lovely "nips and soda" date with the wonderful Ms. La-Nai Gabriel and saw this last night and it ha changed my life. Ok...not really BUT this movie WAY exceeded my expectations (I mean I saw both Glitter and Crossroads in the theatre, yikes!) Granted the plot is a little predictable but who the hell cares when you have Cher and X-Tina belting their faces in sequins and pearls. Cher, I love you, you are the closest thing a woman will ever come to being a drag queen and it's fabulous. X, what can I say?! I have always and will always love you. Period. Maybe it's the gay man inside me but I was just all a twitter after this film. It was big, sparkly and fabulous. Such a feel good night!<br /><br />Moral of the story...if you sing acapella in your underwear reverb will follow! Thanks X!Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-88495637940170895052010-12-02T18:26:00.003-05:002010-12-02T18:30:33.366-05:00Stressball, thy name is Leah<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitG7h82RNryzIzTlQ1LxP_mP0aZWiCcwYqA_mR7rrLFAzTzzDzcIL6jV9UzCo-uieXmo2oiHnOecBORCZtCM9I9br0kCQ1RN0nz9di7B2tcSCcPrgVhtEJ74aD3eC4rnYaajVuyoI9X2-7/s1600/stress.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 285px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitG7h82RNryzIzTlQ1LxP_mP0aZWiCcwYqA_mR7rrLFAzTzzDzcIL6jV9UzCo-uieXmo2oiHnOecBORCZtCM9I9br0kCQ1RN0nz9di7B2tcSCcPrgVhtEJ74aD3eC4rnYaajVuyoI9X2-7/s320/stress.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546230923879411714" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Yep, pretty much every aspect of my life is stress producing at the moment. I've literally started breaking out all over my body (am I a 14 year old boy?!..next comes voice cracking! Joy.) I don't really know what the solution to this problem is just yet. However, I know something needs to be done soon. I'm sure my blood pressure is through the roof! Is this the virgo in me? Who knows...Ug.Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-41694646884874262692010-10-31T15:13:00.002-04:002010-10-31T15:17:49.766-04:00HAPPY HALLOWEEN!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDgKhxQWTQeYdMrZuOQEAGbW79BOa_KMwHggvdki45OnOafX365y_LeK1gB2WFJGzYUbw_sVOvax2w6xP72RtCSlcl7SNzq8-2bKV9tXd4dGhwhUjCbUc2eONhrWggWPkAq5wTpWZWdoBU/s1600/elsa-lanchester-bride-of-frankenstein-c10102251.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 258px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDgKhxQWTQeYdMrZuOQEAGbW79BOa_KMwHggvdki45OnOafX365y_LeK1gB2WFJGzYUbw_sVOvax2w6xP72RtCSlcl7SNzq8-2bKV9tXd4dGhwhUjCbUc2eONhrWggWPkAq5wTpWZWdoBU/s320/elsa-lanchester-bride-of-frankenstein-c10102251.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534291457214153298" /></a><br />If you know me, you know this is my absolute favorite holiday! So although I have been lax on the blogging as of late I had to pay homage to my favorite day of the year! HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE! I hope it's a spooky one! P.S. I want to be the Bride of Frankenstein in my next life! Thanks Elsa Lanchester for being such an amazing Halloween icon!Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-49124832531669651032010-09-13T16:13:00.007-04:002010-09-13T17:39:20.451-04:00The Mc (what the hell are you thinking?!) Mini<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRxwMXEr6-T7zujtYcAKv1BK8kEjpqLnd7YiEWycEyvwI-cXYPjK3x4YPU_6UpZUoLRnH7kBRlXkCH9Jjz1CuW-YYdFPc_Wkpk6UfEYQhsfCFQM7SDW6GdWk1ygAxWDqJ9fX6y2O53Mfel/s1600/mcmini.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 215px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRxwMXEr6-T7zujtYcAKv1BK8kEjpqLnd7YiEWycEyvwI-cXYPjK3x4YPU_6UpZUoLRnH7kBRlXkCH9Jjz1CuW-YYdFPc_Wkpk6UfEYQhsfCFQM7SDW6GdWk1ygAxWDqJ9fX6y2O53Mfel/s320/mcmini.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516514191510977186" /></a><br /><br />Soooo after a bit of a hiatus from writing I have run across something that begs to be blogged about. The McMini Sandwich at McDonalds.<br /><br />I will preface the forthcoming rant with this admission. I have not, nor will I, be trying this sandwich. I know it's sounds stubborn but it's purely principle after how much this particular menu item has irked me. You know what I NEVER wanted to see on a McDonald's menu the words, pesto, mango or baguette. Not to mention the words "Thai style" ANYTHING. Now I know what you're probably thinking...WHY are you so peeved by this? It's just McDonalds! Everyone loves a little dirty D's right?! RIGHT! There in lies the problem. I don't want people going into a McDonald's and thinking "wow this pesto is really great...I bet this is what all pesto is supposed to taste like". Wrong. It isn't what all pesto should taste like and shame on you McDonald's for making people think that. While we're on that subject, why the hell are you trying to "class up" your menu in the first place. I don't know many people that think to themselves "Gee I've got a jonesing for Thai food why don't I jont on down to the local Micky D's and have myself a sandwich". You know where people should go for Thai food...A THAI RESTAURANT!!! That would be like Taco Bell serving escargot. Nope, no...noooooooo......Also the advertising for this product is all over the map. It's a hand holding a sandwich which is meant to show how allegedly small this sandwich really is! GASP! You know what you can also fit in the palm of your hand? A REGULAR SANDWICH. Nice work million dollar advertising campaign. Nice work indeed. <br /><br />Now I will say this sandwich isn't all bad. At least the caloric punch it packs is worthy of it's "mini" name. For the Thai (grrr) grilled option your looking at 260 calories and 9 grams of fat (not too bad for a dirty McDonalds run). Make that Thai (grrr) sandwich crispy and you're looking at another 70 calories so that's 310 cal and 14 grams of fat. The pesto (also grrr) chicken of the grilled variety will run you 280 calories and 13 grams of fat and make it crispy and you're looking at 350 calories and 19 grams of fat. Ug. Guess Thai is the healthier option here folks. Moral of the story and we all know this...if you make something crispy (a nicer name for deep fried) it's going to cost you more in the calorie department. No matter how small the damned thing is. <br /><br />So ok McDonald's I give up...I don't know why you insist on trying to make your food more upscale but I find it ridiculous and it bothers me everytime I see an advertisement for some new and increasinly exotic ingredient. Thanks for trying but if your attempt was to bring culture to masses it's pretty piss poor in my humble opinion. I don't want people to think a mango is what comes slopped onto one of your fried sandwiches or that pesto should just taste like garlic and salt and not fresh basil! Let's call a spade a spade. McDonald's is crap fast food that is great when you're in the mood for some late night munchies but it is NOT a high class establishment and shouldn't attempt to be one. <br /><br />There...two cents given...Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-70287532336063805942010-07-31T12:35:00.002-04:002010-07-31T13:24:42.403-04:00East Coast girl, West Side renterSooooo...this being my first year actually living in Toronto I wasn't totally sure what to expect. I am directionally challenged so I still constantly get lost and having moved from a city I know like the back of my hand to a much larger MUCH more spread out city it's been an interesting transition. Now I am and always will be an East Coast girl...cue Beach Boys..."Now East Coast girls are hip I really dig those styles they wear..." but the east SIDE of Toronto, I have to admit, leaves a little to be desired. The Beaches area is lovely, couldn't complain about that at all with it's cute little shops and oh let me think PROXIMITY TO THE BEACH! However, a 25 minute walk north of Queen St. E to Main and Danforth places you in...well...let's just say NOT the beach. I have never in my life seen so many people on scooters who don't need to be (expect for maybe in Disney World, thank you free scooter rental) or payday loan places. In other words, that neighborhood seems to be the place people go who have been forgotten or who want to be. Now don't get me wrong, I did love our hilarious neighborhood amenities, Shirley Restaurant for late night chinese, cheap beer and people watching, Len Duckworth's for amazing fish and being made to feel like an outsider and of course the Mr. Sub with a liquor license because let's face it who doesn't want a sub and a beer?! However the neighborhood on a whole a little soul crushing. <br /><br />Cue our move west!!!!!! We are now the proud renters of a lovely top two floor apartment (did I mention we were in a basement before?!) in the ballin' St. Claire West area. There is a Thai Place on the corner, a streetcar stop within 2 minutes of the house and we live next door to a man named Anjelo Capone whoc sits on his porch and carried on wonderful conversations whenever you leave the house! :) Although I will miss my roommates I have to say life in the west thus far is good :)<br /><br />Sorry Main and Danforth but I'm not very sad to see you go...Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-81154714451214489742010-07-17T00:09:00.000-04:002010-07-17T00:12:40.709-04:00Falling down the rabbit hole...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOOZXZf0v3mWnDKirVH9C6K6MM99YvRyI9Da7uot66QsU_DTF20Ey6RuorWJGwnZ_P57HidKm3VO9gA_r-wN_eTVfZVd5LMLDkIOnCz_o89n91HPGUbZYAp-6qCK8NclgWsCebig9mAKx/s1600/alice+falling.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 251px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOOZXZf0v3mWnDKirVH9C6K6MM99YvRyI9Da7uot66QsU_DTF20Ey6RuorWJGwnZ_P57HidKm3VO9gA_r-wN_eTVfZVd5LMLDkIOnCz_o89n91HPGUbZYAp-6qCK8NclgWsCebig9mAKx/s320/alice+falling.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494723048229402930" /></a><br /><br /><br />Felt a bit like this today...Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-28148725854791704512010-06-06T21:04:00.004-04:002010-06-06T21:48:01.995-04:00Even the after dinner mints were too small...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8LBiD4DASlDhiNmojrl5roZPfDZdN8RVOIQ5D9hrpnUZopP_IRhxUgP9xtJCGfbX-61FGBnGx7HxcNSBfARKk1hNUAJFwCo2OC-DHmpYXcTD23zCGRkdDCMEYKkdKIfvxMZq30T-6xHOy/s1600/relish3.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 217px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8LBiD4DASlDhiNmojrl5roZPfDZdN8RVOIQ5D9hrpnUZopP_IRhxUgP9xtJCGfbX-61FGBnGx7HxcNSBfARKk1hNUAJFwCo2OC-DHmpYXcTD23zCGRkdDCMEYKkdKIfvxMZq30T-6xHOy/s320/relish3.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479842464598627698" /></a><br />So this is an "American in Toronto" first: It's restaurant review time. <br /><br />Relish. <br /><br />What can I say? We didn't "relish" it. In fact we felt cheated upon leaving. Just east of Woodbine and Danforth Relish looks like a cool little gastro pub. On the outside it looks like a fun funky little establishment. They even have live music which is a definite selling point for me whenever I walk into a restaurant. The ambiance isn't bad with a clean funky open concept kitchen and nice bar. Cas and I often walk pass this place and were excited to finally give it a try. Boy were we in for an unpleasant surprise. But let's get down to brass tax here...<br /><br />Food. Ah the food. Trying to capitalize on the popularity of the tapas restaurant craze Relish has smaaallll portions and high prices. This in and of itself isn't an egregious error. There are lots of places that over charge for small portions. That's the price you pay for "fine dining" right? However ANY price would have been too much for the quality of this food. To start I had chilled cucumber soup which was actually probably the best thing I had all night but let's face it...it's hard to eff up cold cucumber soup. Put cucumbers in blender. Hit start. There you go. A monkey could do it. And when that is the highlight of a night, you know you have a problem. I went with Harv, Cas and Mike. We each ordered two things and Cas and I had soup. The bill came to $123 and we had to stop for pizza on the way home (which incidentally we spent $1.50 a slice on and was FAR more satisfying than our whole dinner). I had the lobster potstickers ($7...there were three of them and one was burnt (if you're keeping score that's three potstickers, four hungry diners). The filling was alright but the portion wasn't worth the price. I also ordered stuffed shells filled with chicken and mushrooms. Frankly, I think I can make a better marinara sauce and there were only two of them (4 diners, 2 shells...I know it's tapas but COME ON). I believe that cost us about $8. You can make a hell of a lot of stuffed shells for $8, my mother does it all the time. Cas ordered scallops and some kind of weird duck casserole with white beans. I'm sorry but $14 for three scallops is ridiculous and the sauce was disgusting WAY too peppery and I LOVE pepper. The scallops were over cooked and sandy. SANDY! That is restaurant 101. Clean your shellfish. And don't over cook it. I didn't actually taste the casserole (it has chorizo in it which I don't do because I don't eat pork or beef) but my fellow diners seemed less than impressed. Apparently the chorizo was bacon bit sized and not at all satisfying. She also had corn and chorizo chowder which she described as "alright". I guess they do soups ok at good ole Relish. Harv ordered some pickerel which came with a cucumber salad that was actually cooked pretty well but I found a bone in my piece and the portion was minuscule. He also got the shrimp which actually had four shrimp (about damn time there are four of us) and at $10 it came in some sort of leek scampi sauce on top of soggy bread. Gross. Mike went with lamb empenadas which I also didn't try but was told were really weird and tasted like they were microwaved. Also the sauce looked like gravy out of a package. Mike also went with an artichoke and bean spread that came with garlic bread. That was $8 and probably the ONLY appropriately sized portion. It came with four good sized pieces of bread and the spread itself was actually pretty tasty. If you're keeping score that Relish: 2 (the soup and the spread) and Disgusting or badly portioned: 7. The beer was pretty cheap but when the only good thing you can say about a meal is "The beer was good". You know you have a problem. The service was alright but erratic and one of our two waiters seemed really nervous and kept horse clicking his teeth after he said most words. All in all when we were served the bill we felt cheated. Thanks Halal Pizza and Wings for being cheap, delicious and right on the way home. You saved our night.<br /><br />Now don't get me wrong. I understand the concept of tapas being small portions so you can try many different things. I actually really like this concept however Relish doesn't do it justice in the least. I have left many a tapas bar feeling satisfied and happy. I left Relish with a burning need to tell people NOT to patronize their establishment. And THAT is a damn shame. So here it is. If you live in Toronto, are in the East End and looking for a good meal pass right on by Relish and perhaps check out Bistro Carmino (Main and Danforth) or one of the many (inexpensive and delish) Ethiopian restaurants in the Coxwell area. Sorry Relish. You lose.Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-34050293016913801942010-05-10T00:07:00.006-04:002010-05-10T00:59:41.271-04:00Will and Grace have got nothing on us!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdOWOHOOR6BskUofxQxJBHVsJle-KhlWBJD0r_y__sC1MFSwy3vYl28gQwKdsI0oQFpoqZYc3yk-tArTtFUCy_whN95P5Gh6vaZsdEDuLHKFVxp-AJRV4JJtX82NemYXu7kv9FCqh_n6Tr/s1600/mobrown.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdOWOHOOR6BskUofxQxJBHVsJle-KhlWBJD0r_y__sC1MFSwy3vYl28gQwKdsI0oQFpoqZYc3yk-tArTtFUCy_whN95P5Gh6vaZsdEDuLHKFVxp-AJRV4JJtX82NemYXu7kv9FCqh_n6Tr/s320/mobrown.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469500537271893954" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZ9e8ICEbDujxWU3IzHF4aShShPEN4S8XxwROx1Fdl7n42B1B2lFisDE4L9CDko78Qx9240gJyyWDR-5EzYaYLppSWpCc9M0XeJJWxJBryngwxQZyHY-vtzK5xUgfS8GsHXcnU-AX71pm/s1600/fenway.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZ9e8ICEbDujxWU3IzHF4aShShPEN4S8XxwROx1Fdl7n42B1B2lFisDE4L9CDko78Qx9240gJyyWDR-5EzYaYLppSWpCc9M0XeJJWxJBryngwxQZyHY-vtzK5xUgfS8GsHXcnU-AX71pm/s320/fenway.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469500344680579106" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVhQ6Ac3S6RjjdesP-6-yCX4mSgtM0XwyDRPUENFNZw6MovB2fIahjZFoL8Vu2TSMi97N3RhHpDcOK42cKt2Sc-kWyec0zadwGMqN9L2he4IXLLGaOjfKXdbD89OArA2foURp1HWIfhMg/s1600/uptonogood.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVhQ6Ac3S6RjjdesP-6-yCX4mSgtM0XwyDRPUENFNZw6MovB2fIahjZFoL8Vu2TSMi97N3RhHpDcOK42cKt2Sc-kWyec0zadwGMqN9L2he4IXLLGaOjfKXdbD89OArA2foURp1HWIfhMg/s320/uptonogood.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469488554997000386" /></a><br /><br />This is the story of a man named Matty he was singing on the SOB, he is just a "little" gay, he loves Mohitos he'd just done A Chorus Line. <br />This is the story of a girl named Leah who was also singing on that blasted boat, she's a giant fag hag, she loves her Britney she was fresh out of school.<br />And that's the way that they became Will and Grace...Will and Grace...Will and Grace (Ok if you didn't get the Brady Bunch gay remix by now than I can't help you)<br /><br />So began one of the great partnerships of the 20th/21st century. The union of Mr. Matthew Gregory Nobin and Ms. Leah Allyce Canali. Now as any modern day fag hag knows life does not truly begin until you find your one true gay soul mate. The man that dots the i's and crosses the t's of your big gay life. Matt is one of those people that makes me truly believe in past lives. He's a person that I felt an instant kinship with as if we were picking up where we left off in some long forgotten incarnation of our lives together. I picture us in fabulous detail, living in bygone eras connecting in just the same way we do in this life. Singing and dancing our way through various centuries and historical movements (always costumed fabulously). Although Matt and I are often in different corners of the world I know what a lucky lucky lady I am to have found such an amazing connection with another human being. To quote West Side Story (one of my favorite musicals OF ALL TIME) Matt and I are "Womb to Tomb" "Birth to Earth" kind of friends. <br /><br />Now truthfully I'm lucky to have two special men that fill this much needed position. Being that I'm also a giant drag hag I can't leave out one Mr. Freddy Franklin. As Mr. Franklin said himself one day in a usual stroke of genius "Gurl I just figured it out gurl. You're the Grace. Matt is the Will and I'm like the Jack gurl just black and more gay!" (to which Matt and I responded that Freddy was really like a Jack/Karen hybrid) Freddy always brings a necessary bit of comedy and fabulousness to any situation. Yet he is one of the most insightful people I have ever met, he truly wants to know about people, which in this world is a trait not to be taken lightly.<br /><br />Now I could go on about this two gentlemen for pages and pages of this blog. I could tell stories of debauchery and support of love and lust of anger and of great joy. Really the point of this post is to celebrate because for the first time in too many years all three pieces of this puzzle will finally be in the same place, at the same time for the gayest weekend in all of creation. End of June. Pride Parade. Leah and her gays "reunited and it feels so good". Oooo...I feel it coming...yes...it's there...<br /><br />"Thank you for being a friend<br />Traveled down the road and back again<br />Your heart is true your a pal and a confidant.<br /><br />And if you through a party<br />Invited everyone you ever knew<br />You would see the biggest gift would be from me<br />And the card attached would say thank you for being a friend."<br /><br />Really, could I end this post any other way? Thanks Golden Girls. You've done it again.Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-23105157827993099842010-04-24T23:50:00.004-04:002010-04-25T00:31:58.721-04:00Lonely SaturdaysNow, when your significant other is a musician lonely Saturday nights are pretty much a given. When every other couple would be having "date night" my hunny is off gigging...this has never been a problem because I too am in the entertainment industry and understand the "never really working regular hours" schedule of a performer. I was gigging most of the time too. It took a long time to train them but I think my friends have pretty much figured out the "Leah never has time off when we do and we shouldn't be offended when she blows us off to work" rule. <br /><br />This all being said when you're NOT gigging, Saturday nights take on a whole new kind of loneliness. <br /><br />I knew from the start, immigrating to a new place would be no walk in the park. I would have to get used to transport, new places, new food (haha ;)) and in my case a whole new music/art community that I am a stranger to. Anyone who chooses to go into the arts knows the good ole feeling of pounding the pavement. Going to countless auditions, doing multiple low paying gigs until you score better ones, dealing with, for lack of a prettier word, rejection. This is never fun but for many in the arts we thrive off of that feeling. The exhilaration of every new audition, every new gig, every new chance to show the world what you've got. So when those chances go away...you feel...empty. I guess you could say I've had a dry spell, since I've moved to Toronto this is the longest time I've gone (since beginning a professional career post-college) without regular gigging. Now some of that regular gigging was good, some bad, some very very ugly BUT it was there, it was real, I was performing. Now I know I have a lot of growing to do as an artist, we all do but it's hard to accomplish that growth when you're home alone on a Saturday night while most of the people you know are working somewhere on their craft. I feel rusty. Like an old car left out in the rain for too long and never driven. Suuure it probably still runs but it doesn't look or sound as nice as the new model. Now I don't want to get too "Debbie Downer" on everyone, just like politics, self pity is not on the list of things this blog was supposed to be about. However, I was sitting here, alone and I felt the need to get some of the feelings I have inside me out. Somehow. I might not be singing but at least I can write. So write I will...I'm not sure what the answer to this lonely Saturday problem will be. Hopefully, little by little, gigging as much as I can because I miss my hunny on nights like this...but I miss my voice more. <br /><br />Good night everyone.Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-62567610098642920142010-04-19T22:10:00.002-04:002010-04-19T22:23:30.898-04:00A bicycle made for two<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1t4X3AaJB__8Sx6waoyZwXdcuMv7LqRIsM0U_K_Jn-CMFU7CqiZPyfVI9YlAXWXHytafFY4Xie6KMc9T6F6CqtKQxW2IsKvIwZpO1d3qNkzX6DhS4nQZ0YE2hX6Bl7fKDQhZ6pNo53UEs/s1600/oldfashionedbicycle.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 249px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1t4X3AaJB__8Sx6waoyZwXdcuMv7LqRIsM0U_K_Jn-CMFU7CqiZPyfVI9YlAXWXHytafFY4Xie6KMc9T6F6CqtKQxW2IsKvIwZpO1d3qNkzX6DhS4nQZ0YE2hX6Bl7fKDQhZ6pNo53UEs/s320/oldfashionedbicycle.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462036614824601970" /></a><br /><br /><br />For those of you who know me well you'll know I cannot ride a bicycle. This has been a thorn in Mike's side for some time now. Until today. Let it be known that Monday April 19th 2010 when I was 26 years of age I finally learned how to ride a bicycle. Now according to my mother I rode a bike for about 2 seconds when I was a kid, was told I needed to wear a helmet, decided that wasn't fashionable enough for me and any hope I had of riding the Tour Du France went out the window. Sadly, this isn't the first time I would let a fashion choice govern my decision making process, that's a story for another time. All this aside I did successfully ride a bike today and although I hate to admit it I'm glad Mike made me do it. I guess he had to be right about something one of these days ;) Thanks boo. Thanks for forcing me to do something beneficial for myself that I probably never would have tried otherwise. Something that I actually enjoyed quite a lot, once I got over the fear of falling and the fact that my crotch was on fire the whole time. It was a beautiful day and I had fun. And Mike has used up his one "I'm right about something" card for the year. Sorry buddy. <br /><br />Side note we also met an extremely cute 8 week old golden retriever puppy named Oscar. Absolutely adorable. <br /><br />Next stop...drivers license. Baby steps Lee...baby steps :)Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2536450964416146297.post-59260361968283383272010-04-18T16:49:00.011-04:002010-04-18T18:06:17.060-04:00Shame on you Jon Voight. Shame on you.Now I know I just posted about my favorite day...Hangover Sunday. I also wanted to make a quick post about this appalling article I read yesterday containing comments from a one Mr. Jon Voight. <br /><br />I'd never really thought much about Jon Voight to be perfectly honest. I know he does a really horrible FDR impression and that he fathered Angelina Jolie who I happen to like quite a bit. After that I couldn't really tell you too much more about him. I'm sure I've seen movies that he's in but he isn't particularly memorable and I never jumped on the "24" band wagon so that's a wash for me too. In fact Jon Voight never really entered into my consciousness, until now. <br /><br />Until this quote:<br /><br />"The American People are witnessing the greatest lie that is cleverly orchestrated by President Obama and his whole administration. President Obama feeds people poison, giving them the idea that they are entitled to take from the wealthier who have lived and worked in a democracy that understands that capitalism is the only truth that keeps a nation healthy ... [Obama uses] a socialistic, Marxist teaching, and with it, he rapes this nation..."<br /><br />Yes, that's right. Mr. Voight felt the need to write a LETTER TO AMERICA dissing on our current, breath of fresh air President Barack Obama. Now to begin I'm constantly surprised by Republicans in Hollywood (well actually I'm surprised by them anywhere) but ESPECIALLY the entertainment industry. We're supposed to be free and politically forward thinking. Now I don't really know the history of Jon Voight's career(I know he was the son of immigrants new to America) but I'm guessing at some point in time he was a "starving actor" pounding the pavement just like the rest of us in this industry. You know what's really helpful when you're a starving artist?! FREE HEALTH CARE. Living in Canada now I can say that Obama is on the right track when it comes to his health care reform. Unfortunately, the Republicans got involved and watered down the damn thing so badly it is but a shadow of what it could be. Nice work guys. However it's a step in the right direction, I don't care what you say Jon Voight. You know who DOESN'T need more money?! JON VOIGHT. You know who does?! ME! And deserving artistic people who have chosen to forgo large paying jobs in pursuit of our dreams. Not everyone can be a movie star Mr. Voight and some of us need a little help and I don't think it's too much to ask for those who have a lot to help those who don't. Something tells me that most of the people I know work a lot harder than you do Jon Voight with not a lot to show for it. So I'm sorry that we're taking away some of your precious "Pearl Harbor' money Jon but living in a democracy doesn't mean being a stingy bastard. I like to think the American ideal is that you can work hard, live your dreams and if you're lucky enough to make it where you want to go it is your responsibility to give back a little. I really don't think that's too much to ask. That tax money is a drop in the pan for someone like you Jon but it helps people not as fortunate as you tremendously. So before you speak out of turn about Obama poisoning our nation I would take a good look at yourself. I think it's greed that has poisoned our nation not the possibility of positive change. Look at what the last 8 years have done to us because greed got in the way. We keep taking and there isn't going to be anything left. To be perfectly honest I think that we live less in a democracy and more in a capitalist society. Under the rules of democracy ANYBODY should be able to run for president and win but we all know it doesn't work like that. It's the people who have the money that can run and we get to choose from that small demographic. Now this being said I am amazingly proud of our country for the man we did choose. I think his potential is astounding and his presence inspiring. Living in another country I have a first hand look at what the rest of the world thinks of us and it's not good Jon, it's not good. Obama is helping that stigma. I love that a man who has so much thinks about giving back to those who don't. That's the way it should be Jon. That's the way it should be. <br /><br />So now I'm off my soap box and my blog will again return to non-sequitor musings about youtube clips and not turn political. I don't want to write a political blog. It's boring and been done before. However, I felt the need to say something about this since it angered me greatly. That's my letter back to you Mr. Voight. You can leave the American people alone and your thoughts to yourself next time. It makes me really sad you're in Zoolander because I love that movie and you've ruined it. <br /><br />I'm with you Angie, I'm never speaking to him again either.Opheliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17594844856429635780noreply@blogger.com0