PRIDE.....or not

I spent yesterday afternoon on the rooftop of a Toronto apartment building with friends (and strangers) enjoying the celebration that is The Pride Parade. Turns out I actually know people who have an apartment on Yonge Street. Who knew? Michael and I have never been to Pride together since one of us is usually working somewhere, so this was a great opportunity to hang with fun people and get a great view from a 3rd story roof.

In spite of the fact that the parade itself is just a big party, many of us on the rooftop felt that it started off with a powerful and profound message. One of the very first groups to appear carried a banner which read, “We march for those who can’t.” All the marchers in this group had black gags around their mouths and some carried signs detailing the number of known brutalities committed (often by the government) against people who’s lifestyle was deemed unacceptable in many countries of the world. These brutalities ranged anywhere from loss of civil freedoms to public floggings or executions.

As we stood on that sunny rooftop, sharing jokes, dancing, drinking, eating and shouting our joy, someone, somewhere in the world was suffering simply because of who they are.
Isn’t it staggering that we’re still not done with that idea? The idea that if you’re not like me there’s something wrong with you.

And it's not just "those" people in "those" countries that are responsible for that kind of one-dimensional, small-minded thinking. I'll just be that there's someone very close to you right now who is thinking in exactly the same way.

What are YOU gonna do about it?

WHAT AM I UP TO?

I got an email this morning asking what I was up to, AND I was looking for a way to post some photos of our yard since my mother and I have been emailing about gardening. So....here are some happy summer pictures of just what I've been up to.

Here's Michael on the front porch at sunset in the new chairs he got for his birthday.



Back deck at sunset. Michael's basil & tomatoes on the right, wild flowers and greenery on the left.


Back deck in the morning. My favorite place to do coaching calls.


Fleurs.

I live in an area that is desperate to have visitors.....well, ok, tourists. All the marketing is about getting the tourists. Now, I don't always have particularly nice things to say about tourists when they come here, mostly because they tend to say and do really stupid things. On this occasion, however, they don't even need to come here for me to say mean things about them.

One of the things that gets marketed about this place is The War of 1812. I'd like to address all the would-be travelers who are staying home because the media warned them about possible terrorism and terrorist attacks. I think the next marketing campaign for my area should read...."Dear America....Nothing has blown up here since 1812...and at that point in history, it was YOUR bombs !!!"

Yes, I'd like to offer my personal guarantee that your chances of being injured in a terrorist attack in North America are still only slightly higher than your chances of being elected leader of your country.

In the words of Baz Luhrman..."A life lived in fear is a life half lived."

FATHER'S DAY

What does Dad want for Father’s Day? The traditional cheesy tie? Perhaps a fine bottle of scotch? Golf gear? The newspapers are full of suggestions for all kinds of things that you can buy for Dad. Now, my Dad, like many is difficult to buy for. What he wants, he buys for himself, what he doesn’t want or need, he doesn’t have. (A simple idea, really, that I wish more people would take to heart.)

So, instead of a ‘thing’, I’d just like to tell a story. I’d like to tell a story to let the whole world know what kind of a Dad I have.

I got married last September and, since we wrote our own vows, we decided that it was important to thank our parents for helping us to become the people that we’ve become. After the ‘thank-you’ portion of the vows, we presented each of our parents with a single rose as a symbol of out gratitude. There were a few tears as hugs were exchanged and as I embraced my father, he said to me, “You’re my hero.”

Depending on the dad, you might expect a few different things like a bit of wisdom or advice, maybe a gruff, monosyllabic utterance, or perhaps nothing at all. Out of all the things you might expect, “You’re my hero” is not one of them. Amazing words to hear. Words that make a pretty big impact. Words that demand, however, that I ask a couple of questions.

How can I be your hero when you taught me to build a fire, to drink a scotch, to complete a task? How can I be your hero when you laugh at all my jokes, when I get your unquestioning, unwavering support without ever asking for it? How can I be your hero when you’re my biggest fan?

Maybe we’ll just have to settle for being members of our own mutual admiration society.

I love you, Dad.

HAIR

So, we went to see "HAIR" at CanStage last night and were pretty disappointed. Well, actually Michael was really angry. First big problem, sound. It was terrible. Couldn't understand most of the lyrics half of the time and since the majority of the show is sung that means most of what you need to hear is missing. Second, the direction was so over-done that the pure simple message of the show had a hard time finding it's way through all the gak that got piled on top of it. Basically, over produced, over-directed and, because of the direction, over-acted. Lots of really talented people working waaaaay harder than they have to.

In spite of all this, the show, for me at least, still had some truly compelling moment which I think is a testament to the strength of the piece itself. Some of what it's original intent still survives IN SPITE of the director.

Can we just TELL THE STORY please??!?!?!? Shit! When will directors back off?

THERE'S NO CULTURE IN POP-CULTURE

I'm sure Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are very happy. HOWEVER, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that the 'media' (and I use the term loosely and sarcastically) stop plastering every magazine cover on the planet with their pictures. And the magazines that do not feature either Brad or Angie, or both, are the ones that feature Jennifer Anniston because everyone wants to know how SHE feels about things !!!

Jezuz people, get a life of your own.

There must be something, some little thing in your life that is more interesting than rich people talking about themselves. Do you even know how many behind the scenes agents, publicists and press agents are working day and night to position people on those magazine covers? Do you think the magazines just phone up and say, "Hey, we'd like you on the cover." HELL NO. They have to be badgered into it by an army of staff paid for by the feature-ees themselves.

What is this modern disease of having to talk an event to death? We talk and talk and talk and talk and talk about a thing, and then we talk about the opinions that came out of the talking and start all over again. And NOTHING EVER COMES OF IT.....it's just talk.

This is what they call Pop-culture. Which is exactly the same thing as calling that orange paste in a jar "cheese".

LEARN TO TIP OR DIE

OK, listen up 'cause I'm only gonna say this once. Well, that's not actually true. I'm going to say it again and again and again and again until all the ill-bred, ill-mannered ingrates out there grab a little sense.

IF YOU CAN AFFORD TO EAT OUT YOU CAN AFFORD TO LEAVE A DECENT TIP!!!!

And can I just make the point here that I am looking in the direction of British people, and seniors right now. It's time somebody stood up and spoke the truth. Are you from England, Scotland, Wales????? Did you know that when you go into a restaurant the staff will do everything to NOT serve you as soon as they hear your accent? Why is this? Because 98 times out of 100 YOU WILL BE A LOUSY TIPPER!

Now, let's get one thing straight. I still believe that a tip as a gift for exemplary service. That is why I WORK MY ASS OFF with every table to be charming, efficient, informative,....what ever it takes. Also, the more special things you ask for, the more 'unique' demands you make, the higher your tip should be !!!!

And I don't want to hear any crap about not knowing or not understanding how it works over here! For starters, if you're a tourist, ASK SOMEONE!! Or read a bloody tourist book. If you live here, maybe it's time you stopped watching fucking East Enders and realized that 10% IS NOT the norm for a tip anymore.

And as for you seniors.....I understand that you are on a fixed income. I understand that tea and a sandwich is a HUGE lunch for you. BUT A SHINEY, NEW QUARTER DOESN'T BUY FUCK-ALL ANYMORE SO DON'T BOTHER LEAVING IT !!! It's not 1942 anymore and the war is over so you can stop saving your bacon fat.

Like I said before, if you can afford to eat out, you can afford to leave a proper tip. Think! Think about it. Think about what you're saying with your tip. Does your tip say, "Thank you for working hard to make my time here enjoyable", or does it say, "I understand that the person who brings me my food is a part of my dining experience and I know that they went that extra mile for me" or perhaps, "I wouldn't know the meaning of 'value' if it performed oral sex on me."

I could list any number of reasons for writing this post, but it was set off by a particular occurrence. I had a table of 8 tonight, Scottish I think but hard to say....could have been a mixed group. They were in a hurry. Fine. I got 8 people, including the one who arrived 15 minutes AFTER everyone else, fed and watered and out of the restaurant in around 35 minutes. The bill?........$110.00. The tip?......about 7%. Thank you. I hope you missed your bus, twisted your ankle rushing for it and lost your passport on the way. Welcome to Canada. Bite me.

THE BEST MOTHER'S DAY GIFT

I'm gonna offer a piece of advice here. Advice? Me? How unusual.
If you want to do something really, really nice for your mother on Mother's Day, may I suggest the following script:

"Mom, I love you and care about you enough that I would prefer not to take you out for brunch/lunch/dinner on Mother's Day. I love you enough not to expose you to the nere-do-well's, slackers and pond scum that inhabit the restaurants of the world on this one day of the year. I respect you enough to keep you away from the squabbling families that have dragged some poor old woman out of the "home" and sit at the table arguing about who has to take her to the bathroom, as though she were not present to hear them. I honor you enough to take you out for a meal once a month, every month, for the rest of the year, rather than put either of us through the hell of the common Mother's Day crowd."

Call me naive, but I didn't want to believe one of the other servers at the restaurant when she said the Mother's Day is the worst day of the year, but she was right. It is, quite possibly, the worst day of the year to be a server. Most of the people you will serve probably don't EVER go to restaurants, except on Mother's Day (at least not restaurants with cloth napkins). And on the day that they are forced by their own guilt to take the matriarch out, because Hallmark has sold them the idea hook, line & sinker, they are so crabby about it that no one is going to have a good time....least of all the guest of honor.....WHO USUALLY ENDS UP PAYING.'

I tell you, if I took my mother out for Mother's Day brunch, and expected her to pay, I'd never hear the end of it. But, apparently, there are plenty of mothers out there that are so desperate to spend time with their darling ones that they are willing to put up with the disrespect and abuse just to suffer through two hours of haggling over the price of a beer. My advice to them........cut the deadweight and ask for a gift certificate next year. Go out with some girl friends and get drunk.

MOVING FORWARD...REGARDLESS

I am constantly surprised by the number of people that applaud my decision to take the summer off from show business. In a way, I totally understand the people who are IN the business thinking that I am perhaps either very brave or very foolish, but commending me either way. It's the people who have no idea what it's like to be self-employed, let alone a self-employed-actor, that surprise me. Even they go on and on about what a great thing it is that I'm doing, how healthy and sensible.

What is ridiculous, of course, is the fact that I had to talk myself into it in the first place. And even sillier is the fact that I have lived from job to job, always on the hunt for the next one, for years (something that strikes terror into the hearts of any red-blooded-nine-to-fiver) but was TERRIFIED of turning down theatre contracts to take a day job. How stunned is that?

I am happy to say, however, that it all feels like it's working out like it's supposed to. The day job is making me enough money to pay my bills and launch the coaching business. And, as of very recently, I have accepted two theatre offers that are very timely. The restaurant will proably lay me off at the end of September so I accepted an offer to play Cogsworth again in "Beauty & The Beast" which would start near the end of October. I also intend to accept the offer for a play called "Bach at Leipzig", (a fantastical farce about organists competing for a Kappelmeister position) which will fall into the Jan/Feb slot.

What is it about learning to let go and not micro-manage every second of one's life that we have to learn over and over again. I tell my clients all the time, and yet here I am, re-learning it myself. *sigh* Then again, what is that saying.......something like...a fool knows what he knows but a blind man can't open his mouth and prove that the possibilities are endless? You know what I mean.

WORK WORK WORK

Ok, I admit it, I constantly over estimate how many hours there are in a day and how many of them I will actually be able to use. I also over estimate how tired I am/will be when I get home from the restaurant. At least you can't ever accuse me of not being optimistic. Even when faced with no time or energy, I STILL operate under the delusion that I'm going to be getting some things done.

The past few weeks have been a blur of working at the restaurant, often on double shifts from noon to 10 or 11 pm, and working at the computer. At the computer I will either be working on my coaching website, www.yourlifeyourway.org, working on being a better coach with my Coachstart Manual, OR doing research or exercises for myself, OR doing research to create projects/exercises for my clients, OR writing articles for my newly launched eZine, MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE (is this tiring yet?), OR creating advertising/marketing schemes......blah, blah, blah. It's actually got to the point where I looked around the house the other day and thought, "This place is a pig style!" I've been so absorbed that my usual routine of cleaning and tidying on a regular basis has all but disappeared.

Part of the plan, when I decided to stay home this summer, was to 'have a life'. Surprisingly, in spite of the fact that I spend so much time either tossing fish & chips at tourists or staring at the computer screen, I've also done a fair amount of entertaining. And I've been entertained. And even had a very relaxed and lovely social afternoon (with the long-lost and fabulously funny Rebecca Northan (www.northan.com) in Toronto after an audition one day. I think, however, that my ideal model might be a bit closer to the 'work hard, play hard' school of thought. So far, I've definitely been working harder than I've been playing......but the summer is young.

IDLE HANDS....DEVIL'S WORK?

I guess it's true what they say....I really have been too busy to do my demonic work (you know, hedonism, debauchery, lusting after young men). Between my fluctuating hours at the restaurant, studying my coaching program, streamlining and updating my coaching website (www.yourlifeyourway.org), actually coaching my clients (yes, I do have some) and trying to have a life that includes going to the gym, seeing other humans now and then and perhaps a little relaxation time....well, you get the picture. I admit that it feels odd not to have anything to rant about. I miss it. It's like not being able to pick that scab that took so looong to heal.

I needn't worry though. As I'm working with the general public, it won't be long before one of the poor, stupid things sets me off.

I'm going to rollerblade to work today. Since I am still carrying my winter-ass around with me, it may take longer than it should, so I should start preparing now.

The Day that NOTHING happened

OK, I don't know how many people log onto the Sympatico/MSN webpage in a day, but I think we need to talk about what qualifies as NEWS !!!! Now, I don't think news should be a part of anyone's daily life to begin with, certainly not the news as we know it today. However, when two of the top 5 stories on MSN are Nick Lachey (who?) being grumpy because he didn't make the cover of Rolling Stone, and somebody suing J Lo over some television thing, clearly the entire world must have come to a stand still. OBVIOUSLY, NOTHING that actually matters happened in the world today, because surely, if there had been anything of even moderate importance, it would have taken precedence over Nick & Jenny. No? Am I wrong? Does anyone else see this as a problem?

THE pope NEEDS A LIFE

I just read an article explaining that the pope has decreed that a 'lack of love' is responsible for the decline in births around the world. He says that this 'eclipse of love' is caused by the turbulent era we are living in and that this keeps couples from choosing marriage...Because EVERYONE knows that ONLY married couples who are in LOVE have children, right? And regardless of how poor you or your country may be, a child is an expression of that love, right?
Maybe Mr. Pope-ala needs to get a job at a 7-11 and try putting two kids through elementary school !! (We don't want to terrify him with university right off the bat). Or maybe his Holyselflessness should live in a corrugated tin shack...in a country that is trying to cope with civil war....with a family that has 8 kids to feed.
Or how about this........
Maybe his starched, laundered, bleached, pressed, refreshed and ironed, pampered ass should get out of his little fucking kingdom, or take a walk away from his little glass motorcar, out into the real world. The world where people live and die, fight and fuck, sing and swear, struggle and succeed or fail. The REAL world where everyone is busy trying to decide what works and what doesn't. The REAL world where there are many, many people who are spending a ridiculous amount of time trying to develop a personal relationship with 'god' and don't need some stuffy old poop interfering.
I mean, you'd think that with all the money the Catholic church has, they could afford to send his largeness to a resort once a year where he could at least have a rum & coke and see the beach from the same vantage point as the rest of us. What are they worried about, paparazzi? Are you telling me that YOU could recognize him without his big hat and dress?

Cold = Cheap ?

Ah yes, my days of working in hotels and restaurants are flooding back to me. To be honest, I know that people, generally speaking, are stupid. Tourists, generally speaking, are stupidest of all and usually inconsiderate to boot. Working in a restaurant is simply a daily reminder of these facts. Perhaps it was so noticeable simply because it was so incredibly slow today. When the place is at it's usual frantic buzz, there's no time to really notice the idiocy around you.

When I arrived at noon today, the two staff that had opened at 11 were already bored. With the cold weather, no one was on the streets, so that means no one was coming in for lunch. We stood, staring at the door, taking each prospective customer in turns, out of fairness. Problem with cold days? Too many people looking for 'just a cup of tea'. Great. Tea. The most labour intensive beverage in the business. When a table asks for two teas, you end up carrying out more crap than you do for a table of four having a full meal. And what do you get for it? The satisfaction of a job well done and, if you're lucky, a shiny quarter.

Among my motley collection of tables today I had:
A group of four American teen girls. I knew I was in trouble when they asked to share fish and chips but wondered if they could get fries instead of chips!!!

A group of four elderly Brits. They all had a main course and coffees to follow. Total bill, $60.00. Total tip, .20 cents. Now if I had been a total prick to these people, I could understand the tip, but since the place was dead slow, they got top-notch service. So why even bother leaving the .20 cents. Do you think I'm desperate for change for my parking meter? Or were you hoping I'd throw it at your cheap ass so that you could sue the restaurant? It's interesting that no one wanted to appear cheap enough to pocket the .20 cents, but everyone was perfectly fine to appear cheap enough to leave it as the tip.

Then there was the Japanese couple that only wanted 2 coffees. They spoke no English at all, but had a little tourist book to help them work through the basics. I saw them working out the money, which they managed just fine, but apparently a 3% tip is the norm in Japan. Again, why bother leaving anything at all.

Dominican Republic - final chapter

I'll let these photos be my entry for the last two days of our trip since we didn't really do much other than swim, snooze, drink, eat and lie in the sun. *sigh*

The view from our beach chairs.

 

Rep. Dom. - Day 5

It has rained heavily through the night. We wake early because the bus for our excursion it to pick us up at 7:50 a.m. Today we are going to a place called Altos de Chavon, a replica Tuscan village, built into a hillside by a rich industrialist as a birthday present for his daughter. Then we'll be touring some caves to see 5,000 year old pictoglyphs left by the Taino, the original people of this island.
We make it to the lobby by 7:45, still bleary eyed. We wait. And we wait. We begin to wonder if we missed the bus. Then we remember 'island time'. Even for island time though, the bus is late. We finally as one of the other tour operators if he knows anything. He tells us that the excursion is cancelled because if the rain which makes the caves unsafe. While we are mildly disappointed by this, we immediately decide to sit and drink coffee for a few hours and read while we decide what time we should go to the beach. Though the early part of the day is cloudy, it ends up being a glorious day for the beach, which is where we spend most of the day.

Republica Dominicana - Day 4

Last night, during our dinner in the "Japanese" restaurant (they did try, and the decor was nice) it rained like one expects is should in the tropics. Walls of water crashing down from the sky in opaque sheets. Legions of maids and groundsmen manning battle stations to mop floors, and clear standing water into drains. Because there are no real walls anywhere, all the tile floors become skating rinks.
We wake to a dark grey sky that seems to be trying to punch a hole in it's own cloud cover and let the sun through, but cannot. Though it is cloudy, it is still quite warm and very humid.
We spend the morning sitting in El Capitan bar, sipping cappucino and reading.
At 1:30 we are picked up for our excursion to the Marinarium where we will be snorkeling with nurse sharks and sting rays.
When we arrive at the launch point, our crew leader gives his opening speech and rules in English, Spanish, French & German. He has a devilish sparkle in his eye and a wickedly dry sense of humor.
We snorkel the reef for 30 minutes or so, our guide swimming ahead of us slightly, releasing bread down near the bottom to attract fish. We are caressed by needle fish as they swim past our masks, curious about our presence. We are surrounded by schools of jackfish, tetras in huge clouds, sergeant majors and all manner of wildly coloured fish. We see huge brain corrals, fan coral and finger coral of all size and colour. There are sea urchins, tiny to gigantic, red, black and lavender. There are also anemonies of all colours hidden in every reef pocket.
We are led to the fenced off area where the sharks and rays live. True, it is a cage, but it is a large natural habitat in the actual ocean, not a cement pool in Kentucky. I am in awe as a ray with a wing span of 12 or 15 feet swims past me. As I am paddling along, a large, very large shadow begins to swim below me. It is a nurse shark, docile, but powerful and still un-nerving.
After snorkeling we are taken to a beautiful little cove to hang out and party in the water. There is a floating bar....... a guy with a tray of drinks on a life preserver making the rounds.Though it is still grey and rainy, and we are wet and cold, we are happy and still stunned at the natural beauty of the place.
After dinner, we are asleep by 10.

Republica Dominican - tercer dia

It has rained heavily through the night.
It is still raining when I thow open our balcony, a wall of windows in our 3rd floor room which, when fully open, makes the entire wall virtually disappear.
The clouds look as though they may stay around, but we could care less.
We drink bad coffee and amazing smoothies.
We wander over to the little bar we have discoverd where they make the good coffee and indulge in cafe au lait.
At9:30 or 10 we decide to head for the beach.
The wind is high and there is much cloud off and on, but the day is warm.
We spend the day reading, snoozing, drinking, swimming and watching eye candy.
We are thrilled that this is not primarily an American resort. It´s so nice to rarely hear English. Mostly, we hear Spanish, French, German and Italian.
Tomorrow we are going snorkeling with nurse sharks and sting rays.
Just before we leave the beach, I am returning to my beach chair and a French woman asks me how the water is.
I reply, ¨Perfection¨¨
She says, ¨Does perfection exist in this world¨
I say, "It´s a state of mind"....I am unemployed, in love, on my honeymoon (for lack of a better word), in one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen and meeting some of the most charming people the world has to offer.....perfection?

Republica Dominican - segundo dia

We wake early again and drink the world´s worst coffee.
To make up for the coffee, however, there is a smoothie bar at the breakfast buffet, where you can have your choice of 4 different drinks, all made with fresh tropical fruits, some of which are unrecognizable, all of which send your mouth into a happy dance.
After breakfast, we lounge beside one of the many pools, deciding which excursions might interest us.
Once we decide, Michael goes to make the bookings, flirting with our tour rep. the whole time.
We are picked up at 1:30 for the horse back riding that we booked on a whim in the morning.
We drive far out into the country side, away from all the big resorts, past real farms populated with cows, horses, burros and real people living their lives.
We are introduced to our caballeros. By a fluke, it will be just Michael and I and our two guides on this trip.
In the high heat of a Dominican afternoon, we saunter past farm houses (which are really just 2 room shacks since everyone lives outside most of the time), we wind through the country side, down narrow trails that take us through many bananna and papaya plantations.
Eventually, we come to Macao Beach, one of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen. A looong curving expanse of white sand. Framed on one side by spectacular sand cliffs, and on the other by a sand point covered with marching coconut palms that dissapear into the horizon, a perfect artist´s study in perspective.
We leave the horses and thow ourselves in the water which is, somehow, even clearer than before and possibly even warmer.
We are surrounded by Dominican families. We do not hear a word of English. The sun is relentless.
Neither of us can stop sighing.....almost weeping at the sheer, unspeakable beauty of it all.
There is nothing more to say about this day. Anything else that we did after returning to the hotel pales in comparison to Macao beach.

Republica Dominican - First full day

We wake at 7 a.m. because of the back-up beeper on the grader working not far from our room. I am hung over but don´t care.
One of the several buffet options where we can eat (all inclusive) is right in front of the block of rooms we are in. We stumble in, looking for coffee. It is some of the worst coffee I have ever tasted in my life. And they even grow it here.
The food is exactly what you expect from a buffet, some ok, some actually good, mostly it all just tastes bland....kind of like eating every meal at Stage West.
We park by the pool, waiting to talk to our tour rep. and ask questions because we had NO intention of attending the 9 a.m. orientation meeting.
We meet our rep., Martin, a very cute little French Canadian boy. We get the info we need. By this time it is near lunch. We have had several drinks. We decide to eat and head to the beach.
The water in D.R. is the colour of emeralds. It is so crystal clear that it looks fake. It seems unreasonable that when you are in 6 or 7 feet of water that you can still see the bottom perfectly.
The rest of the day passes in a blur.