Melody's Daily Drivel

On Fame, Morning Breath and My Love

2006-07-28T15:47:00.000-07:00

Friday, July 28, 2006

On Fame, Morning Breath and My Love

"I would hate to be famous" Michael remarked, as I skimmed through a gossip rag. This online columnist was butchering the hair, wardrobe and reputations of Hollywoods most beautiful and successful, a practice I detest. "Why do people get off on putting down others?", I shrugged. Indeed, the press would likely have a field day with me, if they caught a glimpse of the real me first thing in the morning, in my loose-fitting pj's, without makeup, my uncombed hair wrapped atop my head in a sloppy bun and well, morning breath capable of taking down a large animal. Oh yeah, I'm sexy as hell. Pity my husband. He's condemned to a life time of mornings with me.

In all honesty, the media has been nothing but kind to me over the years. Any press I've gotten has been positive. But then, it could be a matter of volume and I'm not exactly in the same league with the Janet Jacksons and Paris Hiltons of the world. I've enjoyed my little bit of notoriety. (Plus, I've told all of my own secrets, which doesn't leave anyone with much of a scoop.) I think that if anyone suffers for my ambitious, forthright, no gutts no glory nature it's my husband. I had in my twenties dated a handful of industry people-actors, models, musicians, people who are not only comfortable in the limelight, they thrive there. But the man I married is a complete unknown. He isn't in the industry and he last thing he ever wants to be is watched. He's the most private, shy, grounded and unspoiled human being I've ever met. Personalitywise we are polar opposites. I'm out there, the ham in any sandwich. I'll talk to anyone and trip over my own feet to make them laugh. He, however, hyperventilates when I start acting up. He starts lookig for somewhere to hide. Now, you sort of have to expect some attention when you're with me, and in the case of a man as striking as Michael, quite a bit of it. He is completely clueless as to how good looking his is. I think if he knew, he'd be dangerous. He's 6 foot tall and slender with jet black hair and burgundy brown eyes. He has full "Angelina Jolie" lips, a German accent and more artistic talent than you can shake a stick at. He's a painter and airbrush artist. He has a small tatoo on his left sholder and when we first met, his had punky blonde streaks in his hair and two tiny gold rings in his ears. And he's five years younger than me, which is not a bad thing. He's too good for me, and I know it.

"Come on", I plead, holding a camera. "Let me take one. People think I made you up." He ducks behind a piece of furniture. He is as elusive as the Sasquatch of legend, only far less hairy. Yes, it's entirely superficial but his being so attractive really gives him an unfair advantage. Like when we are fighting, for example. It's very hard to stay mad at someone you want to constantly molest.

We met online of all places, long before it was the in thing to do. Waaaaay back in 99 in fact. And it was an unintentional match. I had recently separated from my sons father and was still so bitter I'd all but swore off men altogether and he was living in Germany. The desire to be together was something that grew as our friend ship developed, something we never imagined would happen, a dream we never thought we would realize.

But this is my life and stranger things have happened. three hour a night chats became phone calls and then one day, he called and told me he had bought a ticket to come and meet me over the turn of the millenium.

"I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering whether you're the one." he said. I was never so excited and so scared in my life. He'd seen dozens of photos of me from my music and modeling days, but I was older now and living a more domesticated life as a midwest mother. What if he meets the real me and runs screaming back onto the plane, demaning a ticket refund? I worried. What if the chemistry doesn't work in person? It was the mother of blind dates, a tremendous leap of faith I was terrified of disappointing him. as for him, i was already in love and as I told my dear friend Tony Graham, "I don't care if he has a third arm growing out of his back!" (To which, he laughed "You're crazy!" ) Everyone thought we were crazy but we were swept up in the most romantic adventure of our lives.

From the moment he stepped off the plane and smiled in my direction all doubt was gone. There was a rare and beautiful comfort in this love, as though we'd klnown eachother all our lives. He was more wonderful than than words, the sweetest man I'd ever known.

At the end of three weeks he proposed to me. [Should inquiring minds want to know, as they did then, He wasn't asking out of a need for citizenship, as his mother was American and living in France when he was born, having a Belgian father.] I was nervous... It was too soon, I thought.... but the day he left all I did was cry, burying myself in a sweater he left behind..... I called him the next day and told him "YES!" and he screamed so loud he surely woke half of Europe. He spent the next 5 months closing out his apartment, giving his job notice, and traveling all over Germany getting documents neccessary for the move to America. He arrived July 4th, 2000. We were married in Feb of 2001.

It's not been the smoothest ride, but we grow stronger the longer we're married. No one means as much to me, save my son, who since his natural father died has really come to love and look up to Michael.

This afternoon he will be traveling out of town for a few days, which he's done before, but I am as usual, anxious. I miss him already and hope everything goes smoothly and he returns to me quickly and in one piece.

"Give me something to remember you by while you're gone", I tease, snuggling up. "You're bad", he laughs, beet red. And then he does.

I do so love him.

Heroin, Miscarriage And Other Touchy Subjects

2006-07-23T20:12:00.000-07:00

Anyone familiar with me or my work will tell you I am not one to shy away from personal, often painfful subjects. In a world full of sugar coated shit I am brutally honest. Open, not to be confused with trash-talking and rude, I am easy to talk to and wear my emotions like a badge of honor. I am human. I will never present myself as anything but.

One thing I have been open about over the years is my being born drug-addicted to a teenage prostitute and adopted. This ugly truth profoundly affected me in life and I did not want to bury it under the rug only to have it surface in the media, contorted and confused. And yet, somehow when I did first go public with this in the early 1990's, while attemptnig to plan a benefit for Hale House in Manhattan, I was still met by some fearfully. It was misunderstood by some that I was presently a drug user, which was not at all the case. Being born addicted I was marked early, and still suffer from the effects. However, I of my own accord have never injected, ingested or smoked any substance-with the exception of alcohol, which I gave up 13 years ago. Still people wonder, people suppose, people assume and worst of all, people judge. I didn't want pity. I wanted people to see the plight of these innocent children and help porovide for research and rehab funding to help the infants and their families. They needed a voice and my own mouth was plenty big, speaking from experience and centerstage. Some say I'm courageous. Some consider me a fool, bearing all, sometimes to the wolves. I am not afraid of the truth. I can not live with lies.

Now I am working on a song tentatively titled "Little Girl Lost", about my miscarriage earlier this year.
"You can't write about that!", a friend told me.
"Why not?" I responded. "Why should miscarriage be a dirty word?"
"It's.... too personal", she said. "It's a private matter. " Women guard it like a secret they're ashamed of, as though they feel they failed as women, as mothers. No one ever knows what to say in such situations and so they say nothing at all, pretending it never happened, which is the worst thing anyone can do. A baby died inside me. Treat it like a death becuase that is what it was. She never recieved a name. She never recieved a funeral. She was discarded like a heap of human trash, by a medical community that saw her tiny being as no more than a sample to analize but my child was not trash. It was a life, a person I will never get to hold, know or love the way I wanted to. I won't ever forget her. The experience has changed me forever.

Now, this loss is still very fresh and the mere mention of it can reduce me to tears, but don't think all of my material is so bleak and sad. Right now this just happens to be where my inspiration is coming from. If I can help, comfort or bring understanding through my work, then I will continue to tackle the tough subjects.

My Very Humble Beginnings And Kudos To Jason Mewes

2006-07-23T15:57:00.000-07:00

With the press about the release of the highly anticipated and long overdue "Clerks" movie sequel "Clerks 2", there has been a lot of talk about actor Jason Mewes and his essential come back. As a former heroin addict-as was his unfortunate mother before him, now deceased, he struggled for many years to overcome an affliction that likely found it's root in a painful childhood. He, through determination and the unbelievable support of Kevin Smith - who sounds to me like the best friend a guy could ever hope to have in life- conquored an enemy that has taken far too many good people not only out of their professions but out of this world completely. I think his story of survival and hard-won victory touches and inspires me so much on so many levels because I have personally been deeply affected by my own birth mothers heroin use. I was myself a drug baby, born to a heroin addicted teenage prostitute and abandoned on Manhattans lower east side. I was the result of a year long affair she had with the 3 decade older seminole indian country music star Jimmy Cook-something he himself publically admitted to before his death. In "Pretty Woman" style, he unexpectedly fell in love with the tall slender blonde while in New York. He moved her into his Manhattan apartment, offered to buy her a car and got her into rehab. He claimed he would have married her if she would only stay clean but her attempts in Methadone treatment failed and he finally gave up on her. [She was in and out of both rehab and jail, resorting to crime to support her habit. She later died in her 30's of a heroin and cocaine overdose, her body discovered outside the Hudson street entrance to the New York Subway system.] I was born in '71, tiny, under-developed and undergoing the ravages of opiate withdrawal. I spent months in Bellevue Hospitals neonatal icu-only 9 pounds at four months of age. From there I went to a "shelter boarding home"-essentially an orphanage for homeless infants, to a foster home in Manhattan and then finally to live with my adoptive parents. My birth father had fought for custody of me, unsuccessfully. He was still legally married to the mother of his first 15 children (He would go on to have 18 including me, including sets of triplets and twins) and in those pre DNA testing days he could not prove his paternity. Whille I was thereafter raised in a stable, drug free home and have successfully avoided all drug use-including cigarettes-all of my adult life, the damage was aleady done. I have long suffered with dibilitating anxiety, agoraphobia and ocd-all of which doctors attribute to my neonatal addiction and lack of emotional bonding in my early years of life. I know too well the pain of living with stigma, illness and misunderstanding. In this way I live as any other former heroin addict, only no longer with shame. For I am as Jason and so many others are, a survivor. I am just as ready to defy the odds. I have chosen to be forthright about sharing my own story and struggles because I believe there needs to be light brought into the darkness. We lost children have lived long enough in darkness and fear.

I rejoice with Jason; I applaud him. All things considered, he has accomplished a miracle. No blame. No shame. He is his own hero. He is finally coming into his own, poised to show the world just how talented he is. He is a living example that no matter how tough your start in life may be, no matter how badly beaten down you can feel, we can achieve anything if we fight for it. We all deserve health and happiness.

Wherever you are Jason, you are an inspiration. I wish you every joy and success in life!

Tuesday, March 7, 2006 Things Are Looking Up

2006-03-07T17:29:00.000-08:00

So much has happened in the lapse of time since I last posted here that it would take a week to record is all in proper detail.

My son survived a scary three weeks of flu and bronchitis, on eight different medications at one point.
I became pregnant with a second child.
I miscarried a month and a half later, and was crushed.
Michael and I are still going strong. Can't explain the difference but it's as though the man actually loves me and wants to be wth me this time around. We're closer than we've ever been. I love my family more than words.

And due to improvements in our finances I will begin recording my first properly produced cd, starting with an upgrade of "Is This Love?" No more settling for four track demos or karaoke masterpieces. No drum machines and synthesized guitar. I plan to record at Oklahoma's premier studio, Bell labs-at which the Flaming Lips record, among others. Real live hired musicians. More bang for my buck. (It will cost me a pretty penny but I for the first time have it to work with. I am excited, thrilled, scared poopless. Time to show the world what I can really do!

I Am Happy!

2005-10-13T23:17:00.000-07:00

In the time it takes to say, "Please God, Thank You and Amen", your life can change in miraculous ways.

The last time I made an entry into this online journal I lamented about how miserable I was about Michael's prolonged absense, for example. Not only has he returned-unexpectedly and with little warning, a month ago yesterday. I had gone as far as to file for divorce, which when he showed up he talked me out of. His attitude towards me has so vastly improved I I jokingly asked for identification to verify it was in fact, my long lost estranged husband and not a well fashioned, alien planted hot-bot, put in place to ease my hurting (& horney? lol) heart. "Who are you?" I teased. He's that different. Or perhaps I finally did lose my marbles and I've fantasized him into existence. I'm delieriously happy. If I'm crazy, let me be. Right now I don't mind. I hope the happiness lasts. I hope he stays. I know as quickly as he returned he could pull out the rug from under me again and disappear once again, leaving Christian and I to anguish his loss all over again. For those who think I'm a fool for taking him back, try spendng a year without the man you love and tell me you wouldn't rather forgive him and have him with you?

And my son, now ten, is equally full of surprises. He's already in advanced math class, and breezing through it, strong in all of his other subjects. Well today I learned that my son has not only aced the crt tests but has been determined to be "highly gifted" according to the Otis Lennon IQ test. "Your son is a very special person", the gifted program coordinator informed me. "He's very, very intelligent. In fact, he tested in the top one percent in the nation!"
"You're kiddng!", I gasped. Now I knew he was bright but I thought myself biased, as most mothers are. "I noticed it a couple of years ago", she went on. "That he was different. I've been carefully monitoring his progress. And the incredible thing is his IQ is only going to get even higher until it levels out around 7th grade." The school is going to pay for special programs and opportunities to help him reach his potential. He'll be able to attend college early, among other things. I was shaking with excitment, crying in disbelief. My little genius. Who knew?! He's ten and already Mensa-eligible. Where on earth does he get it from? (I actually have been tested by a clinical psychiatrist a few years back and was found to have an IQ well into the superior range. "You excel in every area-EXCEPT Math.... I believe you suffer from a math disability", the man informed me. I could have told him that. I failed math regents two years in a row. I think they finally passed me for fear that I'd eventually end up in class with my little sister. "A disabilty brought about by the same brain abnomality that causes your OCD. You're by no means stupid. In fact, it's often the unusually intelligent people who suffer from mental illness." So what makes me bright, makes me crazy. Super.)

Christian's biological father, for all of his drug and psychiatric problems (He was bi-polar and went many years without treatment until only three years or so before his death) , was brilliant in equally scary ways. He was one of those people who could compute anything instantly in his head, travel all over the country without needing a map, write a song as he performed it, survive on a shoestrong and remarkable resourcefullness and unfortunatly for many in his life, manipulate masterfully. I used to tell him "If only you used your talents for good...." He was a sick, sick man, but genius. So, wherever my son gets the high IQ from, I Thank God he's got it. I hope he is able to do more with it than either of his parents could.

Life never ceases to amaze me. It's always full of wonderful surprises.

I am happy! :-)

Divorce Bites

2005-08-29T22:12:00.000-07:00

I spoke to Michael tonight and we have calmly decided to divorce. I have the first part of the paperwork needed to fill out-a sad task I do not look forward to completing. Once signed by the both of us, I will go before the judge (he is signing a waiver to contest) and it will be final in 30 days.

Michael's thoughts and feelings about me seem to change with the wind - from time to time he will tell me he missed me and wants very much to be with me again and just two nights ago he told me I looked great in my new photos and suggestd that once he's situated in his new apartment in LA we can go live with him there - but more often than not, he seems to be happy to be living a bachelors life, (sex, drugs and rock and roll) I am pretty sure once it's over he will feel a sense of relief more than anything. I however, am crushed. He's meant more to me than any man alive. But he's been gone almost a year and offers no promise of return. And right now, the thought of being with Jay or anyone else on planet earth, no matter how wonderful they may be, does my heart little consolation.

"You're 100% entitled to a divorce", the attorney informed me. "On the grounds of abandonment and incompatibilty. If he tries to contest it, we'll take him for everything he's got."

"He hasn't got anything", I sighed. "And the only thing I every wanted he won't give me." His love. "This doesn't need to be ugly. I don't want to hurt him. I just want us to be able to move on in good conscience."

Good comfort is another thing. Right now I feel like I could die.

Stranger Things Have Happened

2005-07-29T14:20:00.000-07:00

And you thought Ian Crawford first asking me out those many years ago defied the laws of nature. My managing to get my unknown ass on tv not once but twice. My impressing the likes of Richard Dixon-the man who discovered Rosie O Donell, Eddie Murphy and Jerry Seinfeld-and signing of all things a modeling contract with him. Meeting and falling with love with Michael online in Germany, and marrying him a year and a half later. Having a beautiful child when we were told we couldn't. Surviving a terrifying car wreck. Once being at the gate of Buckingham Palace to see Prince Charles and The Queen Mother. Being miraculously cured of breast tumors following a healing mass. Being adopted after being a drug baby, and by a wonderful family. Having a famous birth father. Escaping a rape attempt, a kidnapping effort and a murder attempt on the streets of lower Manhattan. Graduating High School. Cleaning my apartment right for once. I have had luck overflowing.

Hey, stranger things have happened to me, so why should these new opportunities surprise me? But they do. Do they ever.

I have been asked by a entertainment entrepenuer/investor to do a calendar, the cover artwork to be done by renowned pin up artist Jay Trembly - who has expressed more than professional interest in me.... (We've been chatting and talking on the phone for a couple of weeks now and find myself more than intrigued by the attractive, dark-haired painter.)

It's a scary thought to think you may soon be able to go to your local mall and pick up twelve months of me in my skivies. One may question whether the public has not suffered enough?

I'm not tall, busty and blonde. I'm not 18 but very near double that. At 34 I am not only starting over in my career but in the dating world-soon to be single after six years with Michael. I am so confused. Depressed over my inevidable divorce. Excighted by new career opportunities. Flattered by unexpected possibilties of love. Scared shitless of it all.

GREEN THUMB ACRES

2005-06-24T21:52:00.000-07:00

I love to watch things grow--children, flowers, vegetables, friendships, dreams-and of course, the greatest of all things, love.

I don't know what my future holds but I have seen the seeds of hope planted. With the right nourishment, I may find them blossoming in the summer sun.

I have invited Oklahoma musical legend Joe Settlemier and his wife Donna to have dinner with us in the next few weeks and I will probably serve a baked chicken and some of our fresh, garden grown vegetables and herbs. I may not have much to offer in my modest home, but I will offer the best of my bounty and hospitaility. I really want them to have a nice day with us. They are such wonderful people.

I can not wait until I have a house with a proper yard in which to plant a true garden. Right now I am confined to a potted patio garden, which provides a nice bundle for us but not enough to give very much away to family and friends, which is part of the fun. My mother and father both taught me well the value and pleasure of putting my hands in the earth-giving to it and recieving back from it. My parents used to have a grand garden when my sister and I were growing up in New York, all varieties of natural goods from fruit trees and berries to many vegetables and a jungle of flowering plants and vines to compliment the greenery on our half acre plot of paradise. The air smelled of forcynthia and lavender, strawberries and mint. To a small child with a mouth full of sun-ripened tomato (I was often scolded for picking and stealing away with them, laughing) and hands sticky with honeysuckle nector and red current juice, it was heaven. There was fresh corn, red potatoes and countless others for dinner-including the jalepenos (or perhaps something hotter) my father unknowingly grew from seed he obtained from a friend that we mistook for sweet peppers until for the first time my mothers chicken cacciatore burned the roofs off our mouths and sent us all screaming for the sink. With the exception of the now laughable pepper incedent, I want this same joy for my son.

Above are a few photos of my peppers and Basil.

God Is The Master Comedian

2005-05-26T06:29:00.000-07:00

God is the master comedian. I don't know whether to laugh or scream.

Admittedly depressed about my failed marriage, I decided to try and forget Michael and make new friends. I joined this online people meeting service-and would you believe they matched me with MICHAEL of all people with a compatibility score of 100%!!!! He is apparently a member of the same service, and is apparently, if meetpeople.com's match-making ability is worth it's webspace, my ideal match!

I couldn't resist sending him a message:

"Well, what-do-you-know.... You were matched to me with a rating of 100%. You know, we've really got to stop meeting like this. LOL. The universe wants us together! You can't fight fate!
HAHAHAHA. This cracks me up, to be told you're my ideal match AGAIN.

*Sigh* For me, you'll always be the one great love I lost.

Oh, btw, look at my profile and you will see I'm only on here looking for 'friendship in my area'. Not looking to score with anybody but you. Unless of course, Tom Cruise emails me. Then, you're out of there, baby. lol"

Oh, To Have Trish Bergins Talent and Johnathan Rhys Meyers Phone Number.... LOL

2005-05-04T22:13:00.000-07:00

My personal life is as always, full of drama. Things are weird with Michael, who is hot and then cold with me, on an off like a faucet and I'm tired of it. I don't know that my heart is in this relationship anymore. It no longer even resembles marriage. I have seen him only once in the the past seven months. Our phone conversations grow evermore alkward. We can and have gone weeks without speaking. I miss his friendship.... This is no way to be carrying on, esp if there is to be any hope of saving what remains of our union. I am understandably frustrated by the situation, lonely for companionship and I dare say I'm more than a little moody for the lack of sex. I fear that my attention is being drawn elsewhere, to real men interested in me and men no more than idle fantasy...... Such as lovely actor Jonathan Rhys-Meyers. I'd walk a hundred miles to stare into his green Irish eyes for five minutes. I have adored him since he appeared in the screen adaptation of Shakespeare's Titus, cast as the dark, edgy bleached blonde Chiron, whose villainous ways made me despise him and whose seductive sensuality left me aching for a breaking. Jonny's almost androgenous beauty is bettered only by the incredible energy and natural charisma with which he performs. He is a born actor, untrained, raw and real-his talent spewing from the very depths of his soul. His somewhat irreverent in-your-face honesty onscreen and off is both shocking and refreshing. I personally can not help but be intrigued, impressed by this very unique individual. I saw him on the late show the other night and nearly fell out of bed. I hadn't realized how much he resembled a young Elvis Presley until I saw the film footage clip of him as Rock and Rolls king in the upcoming tv movie about his life. He had the mannerisms down, the attitude nailed, and he can even sing, I'm told, and has, in other movies. Who else but this 28 year old Buttevant, Ireland native could pull off a gig like that? He portrays Elvis during his rise to fame and I suspect he relates to it so well because he feels the blaze of his own star on the ascent. He is himself an icon, breaking rules and setting a new style and standard. He is a delightful diversion indeed. Oh, if he would have me in a million years, I'd surely go to hell by way of heaven.... All lusting aside, he's an extraordinary talent and I would like very much to learn more about him and perhaps write an article for Nohmasohna or another arts magazine.

Professionally, my own career is growing more interesting. I'm still writing pr for some of the US and UK's hottest young artists. Aside from Lynett who is in negotiationss with a major label, Funusual handles several other acts, including Sony's Latin Lothario Domenic Marte, Bylli Crayone and Sonchild-an unstoppable father and son talent team. In 2003 Bylli's last big single ascended to number one on London's club music chart while then 11 year old Sonchilds "Merry Go Round" spent 7 weeks in the top 3 on the dance music charts in four countries: England, Sweden, Belgium and Germany. And now they want to sign me! I've been offered a maxi-single (like an EP) deal of my own. Would that be a collossal conflict of interest, suddenly in a position to cover my own PR? Haha. I also haven't ruled out the modeling offer which is still on the table. I am also currently discussing (with a wonderfully kind television producer whom I was recently put in touch with) the ins and outs of developing my own weekly puppet-based childrens television show on cox cable here in Oklahoma. (Oklahoma has only two community access stations and I happen to live five minutes away from one of them.) I am tentatively scheduled to meet with the cable people on the 19th for a free 3 hour class on the OU college campus on how to properly use the state of the art cameras and computerized editing equipment. I am told they would even allow me to go off site and on location with the cameras which means I could cover local news. Oh how the possibilities excite me! What my friend and former classmate, professional television achorwoman Trish Bergin does so beautifully on "Inside Edition" I could do for sheer fun on weekends. (Hey, so my viewing public wouldn't exceed a fifty mile radius, it would still beat sobbing over my disappointing relationship with Michael and stressing about my apartment and bills. I need to put my energy to positive use. I've been on national tv twice before as a talk show guest in addition to several music video appearences as a model and dancer so I'm not entirely green to it.) But I'm no Trish Bergin. I wish I had her grace and skill. She's sharp and sweet as ever.

I want to be Trish Bergin when I grow up. :-)

I want to live to the fullest, be all I can be. There is so much to do and I want to try everything. With or without Michael I am going to go for it!

Is That Opportunity Knocking?

2005-04-17T17:13:00.000-07:00

There is a certain record exec with a certain north-eastern indi label who-having heard the four songs on my 2000 EP including "Another Lover"-is offering a potential record deal! Now, I can't give away any more than that right now, but pray for me. This could be the second big break I've been waiting for!

He's Lucky He's Cute

2005-04-15T12:38:00.000-07:00

If nothing else, the modeling offer is good for a laugh-at my expense, apparently.

I mentioned it to Michael and he gasped, "Have they ever really seen you? I mean, you're not a big-boobed young hottie." Had he been standing there next to me I think I'd have kicked him in the shins. Now, I know I'm not Brittany Spears but goodness knows most men know they risk some sort of bodily harm by reminding their insecure 34 year old wife of the fact. And he wants to come back, does he?

"Apparently there's a market for ugly old bags with boobs down to their ankles." I responded, my eyes reduced to annoyed little slits. At 5' 4" tall and 105 lbs I have hardly gone to pot. I hate how the media at large has brain-washed American men and women alike to believe a woman has to be 18, bone-thin, blonde and have a rack and a half to be thought of as beautiful. True, that was me in the prime of my youth-the ideal I once went to insane lengths to attain. It indeed brought me adoration but not happiness. Anorexic, bulimic, depressed and too easily seduced, I was hardly a whole woman, no matter how I appeared. I am older, wiser, and love being a wife and mother-when I'm treated well. "Short, small-busted middle-aged mothers are beautiful." I want to do this thing now if only to prove that point.

"I guess there's a market for everything." says he, safely a state away. "I bet if you took close-ups of your feet some weirdo would buy them." Isn't he just the sweetest? My pretty little nightmare. He turns thirty this year. He's started balding. When he gets lazy he fills out a bit figure wise, as most husbands do as they get older. Is he any less a man?

Oh, yes, I can see it now.... The plug for the first Official Melody Calendar....

FINALLY CAPTURED ON FILM! : Elderly Female Sasquash. Twelve months of glorious grossness for your amusement and curiousity! Buy now before she disappears again into the annals of legend and lore! Pre-order yours today to avoid the rush.

Rush, ha. Now, THAT's funny.

Modeling and Men

2005-04-14T03:17:00.000-07:00

Life continues to surprise me.

Although Darryn and I have cancelled any plans for getting together (now that he has met and is involved with radio personalility Shannon Nicole), we remain friends. *Kym, the Canadian rock singer I spoke of earlier continues to call me and claims to want very much to come and visit me-but I hesitate. As handsome and intriguing as he is, he is involved with someone else who in my opinion deserves his faithfulness and I am still legally married. As for Michael.... he suddenly claims he wants me back. I am a bit confused.... Why now, all of a sudden is he game?

"Why, are you surprised?" he asked.
"Frankly, yes", I admitted. He had me quite convinced I was niether loved or wanted anymore and swore it was over for good. I do still love him but I have my doubts about whether it's possible to be truely happy with him. I don't think he's capable of making a meaningful commitment. He's left me three times in 5 1/2 years, hurting me in ways I can't even write down. This isn't high school. We're married adults, with a child we we're raising together. How do I know he won't leave me a fourth time, stringing me along for just a while longer, for his amusement and convenience? I won't be used. I won't be toyed with. I won't be fooled again.

It could be that the freewheeling bachelor life he anticipated with his overworked roomate fell short of his dreams. Maybe the stampede of sexy young girlfriends he was expecting didn't come. Maybe they did and he found out sex is easy to come by but love is not. Perhaps he finally realized what he had thrown away in me. Perhaps....he heard I was finally moving on and that good old male ego finally kicked in.... He admitted he was a bit perturbed when I stopped calling him altogether. What did he expect? That I would lie down and die without him? That I would join a convent and forgo sex for the rest of my life? That in the gutter I would stay, ignored and forgotten by he and all mankind?

He admitted he is lonely without Christian and I. He wants to try again. But I'm not sure I want to. He has absolutely no right to expect me to take him back with open arms after treating me the way he has.

But there is the part of me that still yearns for his touch, the tenderness with which he first loved me. I miss the sweet and silly side I know him to possess. He's brilliant of mind and artistic talent-a visionary too often taken off track. And though he can be a royal ass at times he is almost unfairly attractive, something continually brought to my attention by my female friends (and a few of the male ones!). It's superficial and hardly his most important attribute but it's impossible to ignore. It's the one that first grabs you. And seduces you. And haunts you.

"So, he's hot as fuck", Angie acknowledged, attempting to console me in the depth of my grief, not long after he left. "With a killer body and that oh-so-sexy european accent." She pauses to sigh. "So, maybe he would rather face blunt knife castration than ever see you again-At least you can say you were once married to Michael *Bardo" (I have changed his last name in these journals at his request....)
"Gee, Thanks", I grumbled, sarcastic. "That really helps. Please, do remind me how great he is in bed too while you're at it so I really sleep well tonight."
"Now, why would I do that?", asks she. "It's not like you're ever going to have him again."
"I hate you."

"I guess now I can tell you how hot I've always thought Michael is?" Tori mentioned, casually, sunbathing beside me. "I mean, he is so fine.
"I know", I muttered, flipping over to tan my back and hide my tears.
"I wonder who he's seeing now."
"Do you want me to cry?" I've heard through the grapevine he's been seeing some 21 year old blonde but I try not to think about it. These rumors are little daggers, dancing around my heart.

It is one thing to know other women find my husband attractive. It's yet another thing to hear about his exploits from his bragging best friends. And still more painful are the women who have pursued him right in front of my face. There was Anne, who during my previous separation from Michael proceeded to tell me at a party we'd aall three attended in no uncertain terms that she wanted to bag him and very nearly succeeded. I found her straddling him in a bedroom, pulling his shirt off.
"Oh, HELL no", I uttered, before going Springer on her ass. He is still my husband and I'll be damned if I'm not going to fight for him, I thought.

I should probably tell him to take a long walk off a short pier, or tell him in my best Bart Simpson voice to "bite me", but I can't. I will in my weakness probably take him back becuase I simply love him. Faults and all. But he's going to have to prove to me he's serious and earn my trust again. I am a fool who loves him I guess. Dang it. Sometimes I really wish I didn't.

Feeling sentimental, I wrote him a poem the other day, which I emailed him unexpected:

I don’t want to love you, when you’re mean or when you’re gone
I don’t want to need you, when I’m weak and you are strong
I don’t want to miss you, when it only makes me blue
I don’t want to want you but I do

There are few things I’m sure of
And one of these is this
When everything is lost
It’s the simple things we miss
The things we took for granted
Things money just can’t buy
Things we didn’t think we needed
Things no other could provide

I never knew anyone quite like you, Michael
with your gifts and your faults
and your brain and your beauty
You were the love of my life-my greatest adventure!

You were a gift from God, an answer to a prayer
And for our time together I will be forever thankful.

Be happy, my love. If not with me, then without me.
Find what brings you joy, what completes you
What makes you a better man
and -in a perfect world, what brings you back into my life.

@-----^----- I love you.

Perhaps this prompted his change of heart. Or maybe he's just looking for a puppet-toting maybe-model sugar mama to take care of him. His cryptic heart eludes me.

I have been booking myself with the puppets. I have my first big birthday party for 50 kids ages 4-14 next weekend and I have spoken to a student union officer about doing a possible performance at the University Of Oklahoma. He suggested we combine it with a larger program to bring a lot of people out.

Now, I may or may not have menti0ned earlier in this blog that I've been offered modeling work in the past and more recently-from calenders to lingerie catalogs and even propositions to do porn-all of which I've declined. I did work with the Richard Dixon agency years ago as a leg model, and gave a recent invitation to pose with a wealthy New Yorkers luxury car collection a thought but haven't done anything signifigant in modeling out of a desire to be appreciated for any actual abilities I have, rather than any physical attributes anyone thinks I may have.

I have been most recently asked to do a "tasteful" nude calender, the proceeds from which the investor suggests could finance the recording of a new cd. I gave him a run down of 101 reasons why I am not his calendar girl and he shot back 101 reasons why I am exactly the girl he needs. Having known him for years I know this man to be both reputable and trustworthy. He's addressing my every doubt and every concern in a way that has left me seriously considering doing this for the first time.

"How many men have to tell you you're sexy before you'll believe it?" he posed. One. Guess who. "If you have it, use it to your advantage. It might just jump-start your career."

I am not the prude, inexperienced young woman I once was. (I am now the occasionally naughty, slightly more experienced old hag. LOL.) And the reality is that no one is doing for me, not my parents, not my on again off again husband. I am doing for myself. I am a fighter, a survivor and I'll make a way from my son and myself using whatever God saw fit to bless me with. My ass wasn't at the top of that list but it may be that the time has come to put it to the grindstone.

PUPPET JUNCTION

2005-04-05T15:26:00.000-07:00

Now, I've done something unexpected. I've sunk my savings not into music or into a house but into starting a professional puppet company, named "Puppet Junction". Little known to people is my great love of puppets. I sat in with puppeteers in New York, at benefits at Dowling College, and entertained children in libraries and at parties for my own enjoyment. Now I will have a whole slew of professional quality puppets I can use for a paycheck-from fuzzy moppets to a 28" George "dubya" Bush, from a bearded biker to a cowboy/cowgirl couple and their plush puppet horse. And I will still have time to write freelance and for Funusual. Now that Lynett's new single is finally finished-and let me assure you with all of her almost inconcievable talent this young woman is destined to be a household name-my work as her publicist is only beginning. (www.lynett-online.com www.myspace.com/lynett)

I hadn't intended to tell Michael about my new venture, lest he laugh and think me foolish, but his mother let the cat out of the bag and he called me, surprisingly excited.

"I told you a long time ago you should do that!", he exclaimed. "You're great with puppets! You won't even need a script. You're funny just playing with people-adults too." I about asked him who he was and what he'd done to my husband. He is so impressed that he offered to design a proper website for me-which will be an improvement on the existing one whose url you find on my home page.
"Really?" I responded. "Cool!" We talked and laughed for a good hour.... and it was such a pleasant conversation we both sighed what a shame it is that it didn't work out for us.... When it goes right it is so incredibly right it leaves us giddy.... Gosh, how I miss that all too rare joy.... I daresay he sounded like he does too.... I think, rather than causing him to lose respect for me for daring to do this, it's renewed his respect for me. "I decided I want to do something fun", I explained. "I could be dead tomorrow and I don't want to be miserable for the rest of my life. Since you left, I have been so depressed. I find that I can endure, have a life without you." He heard me excited, trying something new and I suppose that makes me more appealing. Though spending that much on a risky idea made me nervous, the night I ordered the puppets (along with some new clothes and a few video games) I enjoyed the best sleep I'd had in months, uninterrupted by the nightmares and I awakened feeling very happy and positive about life for a change.

Look out world! The puppet lady is coming!

(It's not exactly professional music but it's wildly fun-a great way to destress and express myself creatively. And, Is there anything more intoxicating than the sound of human laughter?)

Three Cheers For Lily

2005-03-17T15:45:00.000-08:00

My friend Connie doesn't understand why although Michael and I are no longer together (little contact has dwindled to none) that I continue to speak with his mother and sisters.
"You need to stop that" she scolded. "It's weird and it's wrong."
"I've known her 5 years and we're very close", I explained, of his mother. "We speak every couple of days and have done throughout the past five years, not just about Michael but about many things in our lives. I consider her family and a wonderful friend. Last week her husband passed away. I'm not just going to ditch them because Michael doesn't want me. Christian and I love them!" Lily and I speak so openly and so often that she knows that (while I will always love Michael) I've started speaking to Darryn and she understands completely why I feel the need now to let go and move on with my life without her son. I promised I would always be there for her if she needed me, financially or otherwise, esp now that she is alone and understandably scared. These weren't idle promises; They were heartfelt. If I can help I will.

Do you think it's wrong to stay involved with my estranged husbands family?

No Surrender

2005-03-17T10:58:00.000-08:00

I have never in my life encountered a more driven individual than Darryn Yates. Had he not a lick of talent nor his striking good looks I don't doubt he would succeed through sheer will and steadfast determination alone.
"How do you keep doing it?" I posed. "How do you keep fighting for it with such a hunger?"
"I am stubborn", he explained, passionate. "I know I can do it. I'm willing to do anything."
Michael is as talented as an artist but he is so easily discouraged and not unlike myself, prone to depression. He makes little effort to develop or showcase his abilities when he could be preparing a portfolio, designing a website or showing his work publically. The ooohs and aahs resound when people enter my living room, lined with his paintings. People think he's an undiscovered genius but he lacks the same faith in himself. He bails at the first sign of difficulty, just as he did with our marriage. I believe anything worthwhile requires dedication and hard work. Nothing is ever handed to us on a silver platter. I have in me the desire for greatness but illness too often thwarts my efforts.
"Fear and doubt have knocked me down", I admitted. "I'm down but far from out."
"Good!" Darryn seconds. "Don't surrender. I have worked my ass off to get here. I spent eighteen months impressing these two top entertainment lawyers until they agreed to represent me. They finally did, because of my persistence."
Just as negativity can be contagious, so can positivity and his flame has reignited my own. Now I have a decision to make. I have saved a grand over several months-half of what I need to set aside for the down payment on a small house here on Oklahoma. I am now faced with the opportunity to purchase an incredible new Roland synthesizer with a built in recording workstation for about $2500. I would need to put $1000. down and pay off the balance in $500 monthly payments. This would strap me financially for a few months but it's doable. If I buy the equipment I will have to put off buying a house, or attempt to take the loan without a down payment, which is posible but will mean a higher interest rate and higher payments. If I buy a house, I will not be able to save anything after bills and will not be able to afford such a nice recording system.
"What does your heart tell you do to?" Darryn responds, asked for his advice.
"My heart needs music", I pine. "I have been lost without it. Only when my old set-up broke down and I couldn't afford to repair or replace it did I stop recording. I stopped writing. I stopped performing. I lost a very vital part of myself, and what makes me happy in life." But Christian and I also need a home.... I had determined to try and buy something soon, in an effort to coax Michael back. One of our biggest gripes when we were together was the lack of space and privacy living the way we were. I had been seeking a three bedroom house with a garage so we'd have plenty of room for the three of us, our animals and a makeshift studio for Michael's art. I wanted this for him as much as he yearned for it for himself. I would have given him all that I could, but Michael is notoriously picky and difficult to please and not even my buying a house would have been enough for him I don't think. I had wanted to give Christian a steady home of his own, a bedroom we could paint, a fenced yard and a family reunited-something I recognize as unlikely at this point. What I am looking at is a choice between the practical need for shelter and the finally possible dream. I asked Christian about his feelings regarding the situation and he told me with tears and a smile, "You do what you think is best. It is your choice. If you want to try in music again, I'll support you. I want you to be happy!" How did I get so lucky in motherhood?

What do YOU think I should do?

Copyright Infringement?!

2005-03-16T17:10:00.000-08:00

ARGH!

I'm sitting here innocently uploading the photos Darryn provided me, now cropped, resized and with graphics added by moi, to the main merchandise site for use on his promotional products, much to the delight of the sandy haired heart-throb.
"You Rock!", he applaudes. "I love it!" and "Great job!" and "Wow!"
"It's what I do", I shrug, a big pile of pink goo.
"Well, you're very talented." But while I'm thinking I'm doing well, winning brownie points with this sweet and talented man, I am accused by the merchandise site of copyright infringement, for using a celebrities name and facial image without consent! I wrote them back that I know Darryn and that he is well aware of my pr efforts. They responded that they need 'an agreement in writing from Darryn Yates stating that he authorizes me to use his image on the store products'. I realize it is for his and the protection of all personalities that they do these things but crap, we're on a time crunch. I need to finish this in time for his ep release and before the tour begins. I want to offer him my support but how much can I do if I can't get the store up and running with confidence? He says he will take care of it, and without a complaint but I know it's time he doesn't have.

ARGH!

Getting Back In The Saddle Is Hard

2005-03-14T16:08:00.000-08:00

I've already set up a messageboard for OnTracyLane and I am setting up a new online shop for Darryn next, to sell promotional products such as T-shirts, buttons, posters and even a Darryn Yates 12 month Calendar!
"Yay!" says he. "Thanks!" I am happy to help. He is absolutely swamped with work. And okay, so I have a little crush on him. Big stinkin' sexy hunka man deal. We plan to get together when he's in town, touring.

I owe Bylli Crayone an overdue press release I need to finish on Lynett. He's probably got a photo of me hung up somewhere chock full of darts at this point. I feel so badly. I've really been dropping the ball, pretty useless these past couple of weeks and am only now getting back into the groove of things. I was already down with the flu. And then came the string of bad news.

One Friday my aunt died, then over the weekend Johnny's Dad did. Monday I recieved a call from Germany from Michael's mother to inform me that her husband, Michael's stepfather for most of his life, had suddenly passed away from a heart attack. I had the unhappy task of calling him. (His mother had tried for hours in vain. I finally reached him at work.)
"WHAT?!" he shrieked, in shock of the tragedy.
"You need to call your mother right away." I told him, gently. "Call me back if you need to talk. I'm here for you." He did call me back this once, understandably upset. I don't know how his mother and younger siblings will all manage. His father was the breadwinner, the head, the stronghold. I feel for their grief. Thursday was the first anniversary of "Pedro"'s death- a somber day with a few tears shed. And then my sister Mary called Sunday to tell me that her daughter, my 24 year old niece has had a heart attack.

So I've been a mental and emotional mess, unable to concentrate worth a rats ass. It's time to get back in the saddle. It's time to put my house and heart in order. It's time to live, for any day breath could be taken from me.

Giddy-up.

A Blue-Eyed Boy From St.Louis

2005-03-13T19:33:00.000-08:00

I have decided to let go and let God when it comes to Michael. I have loved and cried and pained for him these past five months since he left and it hasn't bought him back to me. He hasn't been calling me and I've given up calling him. I will grovel no more.

I wonder whether there may be love to be found in the arms of a certain blonde, blue-eyed crooner from St.Louis. I've begun chatting online with singer Darryn Yates of rock band "On Tracy Lane" on a nearly nightly basis, gabbing about music, life and laughing. He is so sweet, so sexy--at once ambition-driven and down to earth, despite the fact that ever since he filmed his first video with actress Lacey Chabert (from Party Of Five & Mean Girls) last year women have been beating one another senseless in his pursuit. To be honest, I wonder what he sees in the likes of mediocre me.
"You're so pretty", he flirts, while I turned shyly to scarlet. "And sexy!"
“Even when they’re rock stars they're flirty!” I teased him.
“Well, with you”, he responded. “Not just anyone.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, I'm sure you talk to a lot of women…” I imagined.
“Not really”, he corrected. “They message me but I don’t ussually give out my email or screen name.”
“Well then I feel special!”
“Good”, he said. “You should. I think you're pretty neat.”

As I slowly get to know him, I have to caution myself against letting my day dreams run away with me.
“Would you....ever actually date someone you met online?” I hesitated, hopeful.
“Why not?” he replied.
“Think you’d ever date me?” Can you blame a girl for asking?
“So far so good”, he smiled….

"I have to go to bed now, hon", he sighed, well after midnight last night. "I wish you were here."
"Me too", I whispered. I wanted to crawl through the screen and into his lap to kiss him goodnight. I couldn't sleep. I had visions of Darryn dancing around in my head.....

Something about him won't let me go....

www.ontracylane.com <---- See what's so special about Darryn Yates.

BOOK 'em!

2005-01-12T18:18:00.000-08:00

No sooner have I hung up my "Writer Available" sign than I am swamped with assignments from the four corners of the earth. I'm working on newly signed singer Lynett's press release-she's a 14 year old prodigy. A Mariah Carey sound-alike and Jennifer Lopez look-alike, this kid is making noise and bound to make more of it. I'm revamping my website and helping Bylli compose the text for the new Funusual website. I'm Interviewing him for a Nomasohna music magazine article and preparing for one requested of me. I've been working on my own project (my memoir) here and there as I'm able.

Christian was home sick today, but is doing much better this evening. I feel awful myself, nauseous, dizzy, weak. While I'd love to have spent the whole day in bed I am instead propped up in front of the computer. Must focus. Focus. If I don't drop dead I might get all of this done.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ian is writing a "nonfiction" book. He's mysteriously secretive about it, says his mother Roberta.
"He won't tell me a thing! I keep trying to sneak a peek and he snatches it away!"

Should we be SCARED?

He already knows he's in mine and that it's very personal. He's read some of it, and as revealing as he found it, still gave me his blessing. "I'm not worried", he reassured me. "I trust you."

I am admittedly shocked by the support I've recieved from most of those mentioned in the book. I've contacted as many of them as I could-often years after I knew and had any dealings with them. I didn't want anyone to be in the dark. I wanted to spare feelings, protect friendships. When I actually offered to change the names of some, to protect both professional and personal reputations, I was more often told to leave it as it was. Let the truth be told, was the consenses. I think they understood I wanted not for it to be a hurtful tell all expose but an honest look into the real life workings of this often bittersweet industry in all of it's grit and glory. I wanted the real people to step out from behind the public personas. (The interesting and wonderful thing is, those people are perhaps more extraordinary in the graceful and determined way they deal with their own demons and less than ideal circumstances.)

Some-like my male supermodel ex, "Johnnie" the R&B singer, the well known Canadian rock singer with whom I shared a brief but passionate romance and my first manager-wanted fictitious names in place of their own. The model is in hiding-from a stalker who's already once succeedded in shooting him and the manager I could not reach to speak to about the sensitive subject matter pertaining to him. (The rock singer and I met while I was still legally married and he was engaged so it goes without saying that it would be professionally and personally embarrasssing for both of us had the affair gone public.) Some-like a world famous cartoonist I knew and a notoriously handsome headlining Hollywood actor friend of Ian's simply preferred any details about their personal lives not to be mentioned at all, and I agreed. They are wonderful people. They haven't anything incriminating to hide. It's simply a matter of privacy-which is both hard to come by and hard fought for in this petrie dish of a business. (That's a reality few lay people realize.) I've no desire to step on anyones toes! I'm just the storyteller, and the subject must be willing.

The vast majority were more than anything, flattered to be named. For example, Recording Artist Joey Kid (from Trilogy and C&C Music Factory) was tickled that I not only remembered our single smoldering kiss years ago but cherished the moment enough write about him with such affection. For Ian-third cousin to the late silent screen legend Rudolph Valentino-the memoir serves as a biography of his own career, following him from his early efforts to eventual success as an actor, model and singer-songwriter years later. For my son it is a keyhole, through which he can travel back in time. He can see his mother in her youth, starry-eyed, scared, human. (Note to Christian: Do as I say, NOT what I've done. I never said I did it right.)

I have tried to write my book with honesty, integrity, sensitivity, admiration and respect for these remarkable individuals, who have made my life more interesting and enjoyable than I ever deserved it to be. It is my sincere desire that my work will be recieved with the same love with which it is written.

Bellydancing WOULD be 'fUNUSUAL'

2005-01-09T16:22:00.000-08:00

"Bellydancing", I said. "I say you need a bellydancing division!"
Funusual World-which encompasses Funusual records, publishing and publicity-CEO and recording artist Bylli Crayone knew I was kidding, bubbling over with excitment. (His real name is William Buckland.) I've been assisting Bylli in small ways to organize aspects of the now revamped, renamed and rapidly expanding "LawTown Music" . After two years of "internship" with the company-writing web content, press releases (that were published in The Boston Globe), CD liner notes, biographies, and faxes (that went out by the thousands worldwide), I have been offered an offical job!
You're looking at.... uh, I mean...reading the blog of their new "staff writer in charge of US/UK publicity!"
"You've been a part of it from the start", Bylli explained. "And you should be a part of it's future success. " *Pushing chest out, smiling and feeling important for about 3 seconds, feeling like Dennis Finch from "Just Shoot Me" after being dubbed Vice President of answering phones.*
So I am stoked. Giddy. Honored. Relieved. The hard work finally pays off. I intend to give it my all. I'm going to be the best damn pr writer Funusual ever had! (Even if I am the only PR writer they ever had!) WOO HOO!

Having fun and getting paid for it. Can life get any better?

The Dirty Work

2005-01-07T09:14:00.000-08:00

[I have decided that this blog will not only be used for writing on specific subjects as I feel inspired but as a day by day account of my activities and life for anyone who cares (anyone?). What this means is that unlike my "refined" articles and my books, this will be a raw diary. Hopefullly it won't bore you too much. ]

"So, what are you doing with all of that talent?!", my long ago ex-boyfriend, recording engineer and artist Donnie Anson cheerfully opened, calling from New York the other day.
"Scrubbing the toilet at the moment", I replied, to which he laughed. Did he think I was kidding?

I've become so domesticated. Part of that is required of parenthood. Part of it demanded by marriage. I certainly can't afford to hire someone to do my dirty work, although it is a struggle on my own, esp when my ocd is acting up. (Sometimes Mom will come for an hour before work and help me.) One scrub of the toilet can turn into four and tasks become twice as tedious. I can be a 'bit' of a hoarder and so cleaning around the clutter is hard. If there is one gripe people have with me it's the mess-a continued source of embarressment and frustration. It does me great good to finally be dealing with it.

I've accomplished a lot in terms of ridding myself of excess belongings in recent months, before and after Michael's departure. I rid myself of a $30 a month storage space and went through boxes upon boxes of items. I had a yard sale. (It was hardly worth the trouble. I made about $8 and the permit cost $10.) I gave away bags of clothing to friends and once picked through by them, what was left went to the thrift store. I donated still more, as Michael filled the car with spare computer parts, extra shoes, old toys and duplicate household items we'd aquired in all of our moves together and apart. We gave away a table and chair set, a desk, a small bookshelf, a twin bed, a complete weight set and a microwave. And there is still a great deal to go through, mostly paperwork at this point. My apartment is neater, more spacious and after the first leg of the clean-out I redecorated, hanging border and new photo collages on either side of a sparkling new mirror in the living room. I bought a dart board for the living room, and added a few lovely bright green plants. I put down a new rug and lit a scented candle on the glossy green make-believe marble table. It earned wows from nieghbors, the apartment manager, and my parents, when they came over Christmas. (I think Michael thought things improved, but he is notoriously picky and hard to please.)

So while I haven't moved any moutains, won any awards, or embarked on any grand adventures abroad in recent years, I am doing what needs to be done and it will ultimately result in a happier, healthier me with less stress. And my son, husband and I deserve that.

On Life And Growing Up

2005-01-04T17:07:00.000-08:00

Ever recieve a backhand compliment? You know, those sort of unintentionally off center accolades that begin with things like "Did you really write that?"
"Why?" I respond, worried. "Is it bad?"
"No, it's really good." (As in "you ussually suck old gym shorts". )

I wasn't insulted when my friend Mary Ellen commented on some of my new work. We hadn't spoken in several months, both of us busied-she with her job, I with my family and family affairs. She hadn't read anything I'd penned in the past few years. So, if anything I am very much relieved to know I've improved since our high school writing class.

I was thrilled to hear from her-remembering my birthday touched me. She always was a thoughtful person, one of my best friends during a few of the worse years of my life. I was years ago suffering from anorexia, bulimia and dibilitating anxiety. Actually to think of me then I realize I have grown and improved in a great many ways. I am no longer a troubled and tormented teen, but rather a resilient survivor in her 30's, married with a son I adore more than anything in life. I am recording music again after years on hiatus. I have been preapproved for a home loan and plan to buy my first one in 2005. I am finally making some signifigant progress in my efforts to finish my book(s). For the first time I feel a wee bit in control of things, which feels very, very good. Wow, I stagger. I'm a grown up. And you know, being a grown up isn't nearly as hard as it was becoming one . That is a process that hasn't as much to do with age as it does maturity. The task involves not only sorting out who you are, but what makes you happy, and living life on your terms irregardless of what others think about you. I was terribly insecure. Too many years were spent trying to impress my peers or trying to prove to my parents that I was in fact, worth the food and shelter they'd provided me growing up. They loved me. I just felt unworthy of it. Too many years were spent fussing over frivilous things and not appreciating the true blessings of life. Like, my parents. Like, my husband and son. Like, my friend Mary Ellen and others, who through thick and thin have been there for me. Like, being comfortable with who I am, faults and all. None of is is born superhuman, but rather, naked, crying and confused. The fact that any of us gets anywhere in life is a miracle and an accomplishment for which we can all be proud.

NONSENSE

2005-01-03T18:00:00.000-08:00

DOWNRIGHT ADDICTIVE.

That's what blogging is. Journaling, only easier. I have no excuse for not keeping up with my diary any more. The bad thing is, it's so much fun I find myself wanting to write when nothing particularly interesting is going on. Like right now.

I sit at my desk, sipping from a glass of juice and adjusting my nickers. Panty hose are a curse created by men. (Same guy who thought up high heeled shoes, I bet.) Why do we case ourselves up like salami on toothpicks to the point we can hardly breathe, hardly walk and hardly see through the mask of makeup and mascara? For the benefit of our men we head out like scantily-clad circus freaks. Oh yeah, I feel sexy. Take me. Take me now. (Quickly, before I fall and break something!)

See what I mean? Nonsense. But it looks so damn good in print.

Inlaws From Heaven

2005-01-03T14:17:00.000-08:00

I have told my husband he can't possibly divorce me because I won't give up my mother in law.

No, I'm not drunk, insane or paid off. I don't wish her dead or departed. I don't want to see her her bound, gagged and thrown into a lake. She doesn't deserve any of the cliche ends the stereotypical dreadful mother in laws of the world too often find in comics and movies. When friends gripe about their in laws (wishing them to the moon or worse) I wish mine lived nearer to us. When they hide the photos of theirs away in a forgotten drawer, I display mine with pride. When they stare at me in utter confusion I smile.

My mother in law Lilianne is rare and wonderful.

She may be physically many miles away in southwest Germany but she is never far off from our hearts and minds. She's gentle and wise, talented and funny and I'm sure my husband got his good looks from her as well. She listens patiently when I'm upset and rambling on for $15 euros worth of phone time. She calls me back so it's on her bill. She always remembers my birthday. She has faith in me when I lose it in myself. When she came to visit us here in Oklahoma she criticized neither my cooking nor my cleaning efforts-and I am hardly 'housewife of the year'. She and my sister in law Inja so kindly sent all of us a big box of presents at Christmas-including gourmet chocolates and a ton of other German edibles (which we feasted upon until we couldn't move off the couch without the aid of a crane). When my husband and I separated she assured me we would stay in touch for she loved me not only becuase I'd married her eldest son but because she enjoys my sense of humor and thinks I'm interesting in my own right. She's alsolutely wonderful and I love her dearly.

So you won't find me directing her into heavy traffic, pelting her with poison darts or swearing her into tomorrow. I honor her for the treasure she is. I know I was blessed first to have met my beloved husband and my inlaws have truely been the frosting on the wedding cake.

Love Forcasted In 2005?

2005-01-02T22:45:00.000-08:00

2004 was brutal. My sons father passed away after a long battle with cancer. My dog died. My new husband left me. And my not-so-nice nieghbor tried to have me thrown out of my apartment because she hasn't anything better to do than to compound peoples misery.

2005 must be better. It has started on a good note. My 34th birthday. Man I'm old. When the heck did that happen? Last time I checked I was what, 24? I suppose it's better to be over the hill than under it. I'm not over it yet, but I'm certainly creeping towards it. My parents gave me a new computer for Christmas, with which I will be completing the first of my books and recording a new dance cd. My husband Michael came to visit from Texas for a few days over the holidays and things went remarkably well. Mikey likes me! He still likes me! He wants us to move down there but I not ready to make such a drastic move. My son is in school here and getting good grades. After the awful year he has also endured I don't want to yank him away from his friends and my parents and everything else familiar to him. Stabilty is key.

But I don't want to lose my husband and he is pretty stubborn about not moving back to Oklahoma. He has a job down there now and well, he just finds this place boring as hell. I find that with a good internet connection I can do a lot of my work from anywhere. I lived 26 years in New York and it was surely exciting, but stressful and costly as well. There is good and bad in all cities, just as in people. Being with those I love is most important. So I need to figure out how to work it out.

PHOTO OF MELODY FROM 2003

2005-01-01T01:39:00.000-08:00

Melody in 2003

An Open Letter To "Get Fuzzy" Cartoonist Darby Conley

2004-12-31T16:55:00.000-08:00

An interesting post in "The Brian Alvey Weblog" titled "Darby Conley Is My Best Friend" (dated April 18, 2004) caught my eye. It was a post addressing a previous interview Mr.Alvey had conducted with the talented “Get Fuzzy” cartoon strip creator and a fan who later wrote him pleading for Mr.Conley’s contact information. The author explained that while he had interviewed the well known cartoonist, he wasn’t his best friend and had no idea where to find him. The syndicate had arranged for Darby to call Mr. Alvey and he was thankful. With comment after comment that appended this published post, it quickly became one mass appeal from other fans for friendship and in some cases, more. "All of this fuss would blow Darby clear away", I thought, shaking my head in amazement. Though I didn’t know him very well or for very long, Darby Conley and I corresponded in the late 90’s-when we were both 27 and equally determined to at last make a mark in our given fields.
We'd met online. We emailed one-another. We'd exchanged photos (somewhere I have this great shot of him on a boat in shades with his similarly wacky brother-Singer-Guitarist Tim Conley from Georgia's beloved "Fuzzy Sprouts". Darby had named the cartoon after the band.) He had not long before left teaching elementary gym classes to pursue his true passion: a new comic strip he had developed called GET FUZZY about a single named Rob and his naive but sensitive dog satchel and his rude and mischevious (but somehow lovable) cat Bucky. He had been working hard not only on the actual artwork but at the task of getting the strip before the eyes of the San Francisco Chronicle editor-and was waiting on their response. I remember vividly his excitement and astonishment when they agreed to print it. They realized what I had-that dark-haired Darby possessed something special: A great idea; an even greater heart.
He was intelligent, down to earth and with the abundant sense of humor came movie star good looks. I must admit I let myself daydream of more than casual online friendship. I chuckle to recall how we’d spoken about Bucky as though he were his flesh and blood feline family, imagining his reactions in increasingly inventive situations. We decided if Darb and I were ever to actually hung out, jealous Bucky would surely revolt. (Surprisingly, Darby never owned a real cat.) And so, poking fun at the unfortunate unlikelyhood, I made and sent Darby a mock up of one of his Get Fuzzy comics-adding drawings of he and myself with an ice cream cone on my face-Bucky’s way of saying three was a crowd. Whether he’d found the gesture funny, flattering or frightening I never knew, but he continued to chat with me until he simply became too swamped with work. Shortly after, he signed with The United Media Syndicate and only four years later Get Fuzzy was published not only in every major newspaper in the United States but in more than 220 worldwide. There are Get Fuzzy Books and other merchandise. There’s even a movie in the works. Though I haven’t heard from him since, I remember him with great fondness and respect, and feel priviledged to have had the brief opportunity to know him. For all the laughter he has brought to the masses, none is more intoxicating than his own.

To Darby, I extend my sincere congratulations. I can think of no one who deserves success as much as you.

WELCOME TO MY NEW BLOG!

2004-12-31T02:30:00.000-08:00

WELCOME TO MY NEW BLOG! I've finally joined the blogging bandwagon. As a professional writer (and recording artist) you'd a thought I'd done this eons ago. I just got a brand spanking new computer from my parents for Christmas (they ended my months long suffering after the old one broke) and I figured this would be an excellent exercise in writing and a great way to reconnect with the cyber world at large in 2005. Hopefully you will find my efforts here worthwhile. I certainly will enjoy sharing my thoughts and experiences with you.

Please feel free to contact me at: MizMelody2001@yahoo.com
My Official Web Site: www.mizmelody.clubfreestyle.net