Little Victories: Overcoming Frost, Frauds and Felons

Not every battle in life is going to take place between two opposing forces: good vs. evil.  More often than not, our daily battles may be small, irritating hurdles to overcome.  The quest for vengeance, or honor may spring up throughout the course of ones' life for sure, but by and large, our everyday battles are the ones we suit up for and face with valor.

Yesterday, the wind blew hard and relentless. A cold front was upon us.  All day long, the trees swayed viciously; taunting in the way a small child would.  It was like a little bully, sticking out his tongue from behind the shelter of their mothers' arms.  Neeener neener neenerrrrrrrrrrr You can't catch me......

It was damn cold.

Surely the outdoor bar would not open in this weather right? Ehhh WRONG.  Oh well... time to suck it up and get to work.  I pulled up my bootstraps, threw on a sweatshirt and got to work. Who would want to sit outside in this frigid weather and have a frosty, cold one?  Well, first guest of the day, my eldest brother.  This was going to be a long night.

I was happy to have the company, I will tell you that much.  I figured if we were going to do this, then let's do this!  Slowly but surely, people straggled to the bar.  And I have to say in all sincerity, that yesterday I served some of the most genuinely nice and happy people.  We were in it together, and that warmed my heart.

By closing time, my nose was bright red and my fingertips a pale shade of blue. I was ready to sit down, enjoy a dirty martini, and thaw out.  My cell phone buzzed in my pocket.  Hmmm who could this be?  I decided to wait to return the call, as I was at that moment, thoroughly enjoying my dinner and cocktail.

Voicemail: Ms. Kiley, this is the fraud department alerting you to some unusual activity...

Seriously?? The thunder cracked ever so subtly and for a moment, I swear, it sounded like laughter. Time to deal with that little battle.  Frauds. Fakes. Felonies.  It is beyond my comprehension.  How do they get away with this? Why do they do it?

Here I had just spent the past seven hours outside in the biting cold, working for tips, while some jerk was out there pretending to be me, and going on a little shopping spree.

To be honest, I felt a little defeated on the drive home.  Everything I had worked for that night, some fraud had collected and cashed in.  Just when I was about to throw in the towel on the whole damn day, I pulled my car over to the side of the road and took a breath. I thought of the little victories instead.

Yesterday, despite the bone-chilling wind and cold, I had helped make a thirtieth anniversary a little sweeter, a date night away from the kids a little spicier, and a night out with the guys a little funnier.  And in my own small way, I secretly patted myself on the back every time I strained a martini into the glass and saw that I had counted out a perfect pour.  That was a little victory.  Just the perfect free hand pour of gin and olive juice, of vanilla vodka and pineapple, and so on.   

And at the end of the night, when the cash drawer was counted, it was perfectly maintained, to the penny. Small victories I know, but a victor all the same.  And when I spoke to the woman on the phone in the fraud department, she was so reassuring and positive to me.  It was a victory too. There are good days, bad days and blah days. But, I made a choice last night, to count my wins over my losses.

I am okay. I am happy. I am not a fraud. I am not cold. I am a victor.

At that moment, I looked up through my windshield and saw that the sky was clear. The moon's happy face shown down bright on the road that led to home. The stars above gave me a little wink.  The storm had passed.

And today, it's 70 and sunny.  Enjoy the little victories.  They just might make all the difference in your life.

Today:

Pineapple Upside Down Cake Martini

1 1/2 oz Vodka
1/2 oz Vanilla Vodka
Splash of Pineapple Juice
Grenadine to the bottom of the glass.  
Sugar Rim

Walk of Fame/Walk of Shame

Ah the good ole days... Think back for a moment to the great Golden Era of cinema.  The Hollywood heavyweights who ruled the silver screen were considered to be nothing short of American royalty.  Grace Kelly, Audrey Hepburn, Jimmy Stewart, Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn were amongst the legendary greats of the old Hollywoodland.

Though I can't be sure, I imagine that back then, when youngsters set their sights on the star-studded path that led to Sunset Boulevard, the general perception was that the Entertainment Industry was in fact an industry.  It's difficult to sum up how the general population must have perceived Showbiz at that time. I often wonder if parents were generally supportive of their little budding stars, or if they were actually mortified by the very thought of their first-born sons hitching a ride down the yellow brick road.

When a young Alfred Hitchcock set his sights on this road less traveled,  was he also faced with a certain measure of skepticism?  You want to go make movies? Wait... Horror films?? Sigh... 

I guess it's safe to say that times have changed and along with it, the industry.  The rise of the internet, as well as sophisticated, tech savvy high-school kids, have paved a new road to Hollyweird.  And the number of ways to "make it" appear more multi-faceted than ever before.

Various incentives for filmmakers have sprung up nationwide. The competition to lure Hollywood away from its cozy kingdom of L.A. la  land is a constant and ever changing pursuit. Bring your business to other states and even, other countries, where the production costs are less than in the darling Golden State.

And yet Hollywood, however weird, reigns supreme.

All of these thoughts were running through my mind as I sat outside the front door of this truly wonderful "mom and pop" style book store.  This town is home to many true Independents.  The locals, who are active in the community, support these privately owned businesses as well as their operators: they buy, sell, and produce local.

So is it any wonder that this enchanted little gem of a town is now home to the Traverse City Film Festival? Independents and veterans alike swarm to this community every summer for this prestigious event.  Great films and fantastic entertainment have arrived. Top notch support from patrons, volunteers and city government officials.

I pulled my nose out of my book for a moment to catch a glimpse of the flickering lights of the Old State Theater just two doors down.  And then, without a hitch,  as if I was in a Hitch film myself, two elderly women sat down side by side behind me.  They were almost perfectly matched.  Both, nearly identical.  Short silver haired bobs and matching nautical striped blouses, made up what could have easily been mistaken for jail bird attire from way back when. And I couldn't help but overhear...

"Well, my grandson is in college and wants to get into filmmaking," she sighed.

And as if she were looking at her own reflection, her companion chimed in without missing a beat, "Oh dear... What is he actually going to do for a living? He's in his third year of school. He better get a more realistic plan."

I have to be honest that the entire experience was a little depressing. Here we are, in now what is one of the most prominent communities for promoting and supporting the entertainment industry and yet the perception of that career path is still chalked up as more of a walk of shame than a walk of fame.

The path leading to Monet's pond, where he painted the famed Water Lilies, may have been a lonely one.  And I'm sure that a great treasury of artists have sojourned onward to the lands just under the rainbow. What a bleak picture the great Museums around the world would look like if these soldiers of expression had not marched on.

How sad indeed the world would appear if the glistening lights of the silver screen went out.  I can't even imagine such a place.

I can appreciate the point of view that we need to be practical.  I understand that to pursue film, or any other creative venture for that matter, seems quite unrealistic. The roll of the eyes is merely a scratch at the surface of the opposition and doubt an artist will encounter throughout the course of their journey.

I would encourage our respective elders to try and promote the young artists in our communities.  And I would also encourage these young artists (myself included) to be prepared, resourceful and armed with a number of practical skill sets that span beyond the creative path.

We may not be in Kansas anymore, but can you imagine if we never saw Oz?  If we are to be great, and paint our own masterpieces, we must face criticism, skepticism and practicality with heads held high.  The glow of a thousand great Stars illuminate the path, if you just keep believing.

Today:

A Black Dahlia

1 1/2 oz Vodka
1 oz Creme de Cassis
Splash of Lemonade
Shake and strain 
Serve up in a martini glass
Sugar Rim

Mid-Summer Nightmare

I was racing, rushing and frantic.  The tickets were pouring out: three Key Lime Martinis, four Blueberry Mojitos, six Rum Runners and so on. I was tearing the tickets and throwing down drinks as fast as possible, but it just wasn't nearly fast enough.  To make matters worse, a woman with a dominant figure and obtrusive posture stood over my shoulder; watching and waiting.

She was studying my every move: my pours, the way I mixed and muddled.  Her ominous presence was similar to that of the Grim Reaper.  Like some dark, shadowy threat, she waited for me to slip up.  But then I looked up for a moment from behind the bar and realized where I was: I was on a film set.

Cast and crew scurried about from one side to another, dragging along lights, ropes, tripods and props.  Then a hand slammed down on the bar, wide-open and urgent.  Back to work  I told myself.  This was some twisted nightmare.  On the one hand, it felt like a sweet dream: feeling a pull to join the cast and crew on set.  I knew I could be a huge asset to the production and it felt so right to be there.  On the other hand: what a sick nightmare!  It was like a cruel joke, to still be behind a bar, serving drinks to all the people who were doing what I wanted to be doing for a living!!

I woke up this morning with a stomach cramp.  Ugh, that was a strange dream. It was like my subconscious was shouting out a glaring reminder of what my future could look like if I didn't keep trying to pursue my dreams: my everyday dreams.

I have heard of many other people having a serving nightmare. Through the years working in restaurants, it is a common occurrence. Did the order come out wrong again!? I'm so in the weeds! It's the horrible feeling of never being able to catch up.  And it's not a fun thing to dream about after already exhausted from a long night at work.

But are these server nightmares actually serving a purpose?

I'm beginning to think that they do.  Most people I have encountered throughout the past few years of working in the service industry were all pursuing something else.  They had various dreams: musicians, police officers, teachers, writers, artists, massage therapists, actors and so on. And waiting tables was what they were doing while they waited for their various ships to come in.

Maybe these nightmares are in fact serving our dreams in some way.  Keep going. Keep moving. Work smarter and harder. And don't let the haunting and anxious visions of your dreams become your lifelong reality.

I imagine that when I am doing what I am passionate about, I will have nightmares about that too.  I suppose when you work really hard at anything, you get a little obsessed.  But nightmares can push you closer to your dreams, if you are able to sleep through the night.

I'm curious. Do you have nightmares about your job too? Do they serve you?  Or are they just a cruel reminder of the threat of failure? Perhaps both? What do you think?

Today:

Dark and Stormy

Gosling's Black Seal Rum
Ginger Beer
Served on the rocks in a highball glass

SPECTRUMS

When I was a little kid, even before I had all my grown up teeth, I believed in love. In the most innocent way, wide-eyed and naïve… I believed. 

But then in the third grade, I learned a hard lesson.  There was a boy in school who was often picked on by other kids.  He was a little awkward sure, but that is no reason to tease the poor guy.  So I decided, much like a super hero would, that I could fix it.  I was popular in school and got along with everyone. I imagined that somehow, people would treat him better if they associated us to be friends. So, I began to say hi to him everyday in class. I would make jokes with him and trade snacks from our sack lunches.  Before I knew it, everyone was noticing.  And it felt good.

Then one day, this boy came to school with a bunch of yellow daffodils that were wrapped in a damp paper towel and crinkled foil.  He asked me to be his girlfriend.  It was a truly awful moment. I thought, Oh God what have I done?  All this time, I was just trying to give the guy a break and now he wanted more than I had ever intended. 

Well, I thought that the kindest thing to do was to accept his offer.  I went home that afternoon with the sinking feeling in my stomach that this wasn’t going to work out very well.  When my dad got home from the office that night I decided to discuss the situation with him.  My dad was the smartest guy I knew and at the very least, I thought he would be really proud of me for being such a nice girl. 

I explained the situation to him. Then my dad took a long pause and finally said, “Honey, it’s nice that you wanted to include him and make him feel special, but you shouldn’t be someone’s girlfriend just because you feel sorry for him.”

Oh crap.  I knew what I had to do.  The very next day, I broke up with him.  I was nice about it, and probably said something like, it’s not you it’s me.

From that day on, people were a little nicer to him, but not completely.  And I realized that this whole business of love was actually pretty complicated.  I just wanted people to be nicer to him and somehow, in the end, I fear that I may have hurt his feelings far more than anyone else had. Furthermore, I realized that I put myself into a very awkward situation simply out of the desire to manage how other people treated this boy.

Some time has passed since the third grade; I am a big girl now with all of my grown up teeth. I am not quite as wide-eyed and naive as I was back then.  But I still believe in love.

See, it was from a place of love that I sought to help this boy gain acceptance from our peers.  I thought I could make his world a better place by treating him equally. 

Maybe the entire situation didn’t unfold exactly as I had hoped it would.  But I did learn a little something about creating a healthy relationship with myself as well as with others and how important it is to protect and create personal boundaries.

But just as important as it is to protect your heart, it is probably equally, if not more important, to figure out how to keep it open.

I love people: the whole spectrum.  And it is unfortunate that so many people are picked on throughout the course of their entire lives. Most of the time, they are picked on for being different. But are we not all very different??

I cannot pretend to know or understand what it is like to walk in your shoes. And you cannot possibly pretend to know all the quirks and kinks in my laces either.  But if you try to keep an open mind, and an open heart, you may be lucky enough to have a full spectrum of love in your life.  Love in Technicolor and an entire treasury of friends.  

Today:

Raspberry Lemonade

Stoli Razz 

Lemonade 

Build on the rocks.

 DANCE TO THIS SONG!! IT'S SO GOOD...
Safe and Sound by Capital Cities

Knee Jerks

When a little child gets upset, you'd better be ready for it. The temper tantrums of toddlers can be epic. They will scream, sob and throw themselves to the ground in what appears to be nothing short of agony.  I have witnessed this firsthand while perusing through the aisles of the grocery store.  But what is even worse than a two year old throwing a temper tantrum? It is when a seemingly mature adult reacts without thinking.  This phenomenon is called a "Knee-jerk reaction."

You've all had a physical right? It's that dreaded routine check-up where the doctor gives you a thorough once-over.  My least favorite moment, aside from every other moment in between, is when he thumps your knee at just the right angle with that miniature sized hammer, prompting an involuntary muscle movement (i.e. a knee-jerk reaction).

Much like how our physical bodies react without thinking, so too can our emotions. This can be a very dangerous thing. All sorts of horrific occurrences in life can often be traced back to the moment a person, or even whole groups of people react. But we all know this much is true as well, that what goes up must come down, and that for every action, there is a reaction.  It is a ripple effect... and sometimes, a tidal wave.

Yesterday proved to be an interesting day for my brother.  The day began like any other, relaxed and contemplative over a cup of coffee. He was scrolling through the various daily news articles online when he received an email from a former business colleague.  In short, the email alerted my brother to several slandering social media posts that a certain person was writing all over various communities of cyber-space.  It was extremely unnerving.

The individual was accusing him of not paying for a service rendered, that he had in fact paid for. It was an aggressive attack on his reputation in this very small town.  The person not only wrote on their own social media walls about what a bleep bleeping bleep they thought he was, but they also went to his former place of business and left really accusatory comments there as well.

He was furious.  He went to the individual's place of employment and spoke with the owner of the business. When they were discussing what had happened, it was actually the person who was slandering my brother  who entered the payment information incorrectly to begin with!  I highly doubt the person will admit to that error on all the many public forums where so many negative posts were made. It is unfortunate.

And yet, what is fortunate is to behave with a certain measure of respectability.  Thankfully, my brother is not the type of guy who sets out on vengeful quests or gives in to knee-Jerks.  That would be even worse.  One misunderstanding can lead to five and then to fifteen.  Before you know it, that little ripple in the pond now has the force of a thousand waves behind it, destroying everything that was built on seemingly safe shores.

We are all guilty of being a bit of a knee-jerk from time to time.  I have certainly had my fair share of flip-outs, freak-outs and knee-jerks. No one is perfect. But how we handle the aftermath, the clean-up of these destructive waves, can be what makes the difference in our communities. Can we admit when we were wrong? Can we admit we acted poorly when we felt wronged? Are we able to slow down and think before we act? Or are we content to be a bunch of volatile time-bombs, reacting on a hair-pin trigger?

My hope is that we all try to get along.  Or in the very least, throw a life line to those who got swept away by the surging effects of the storm.  In the millisecond before you react, try to remember your true nature, our imperfect nature, and act like a good human being.

Today:

Lifesaver Cocktail

1oz Midori Melon Liquor 
1oz Bacardi Lt. Rum
Splash of Pineapple juice
Stir and strain 
Can be served up or on the rocks.

TGIF??

Fridays.  For most, this is a happy day.  It is the end of a long week and the sign that in a few short hours, it will be time to kick back and relax.  But for most of my friends and myself included, Fridays are really considered the middle of our work week.  We mentally prepare ourselves the way athletes do before a 1/2 marathon.  We psych ourselves out. We prepare for success.

The past two days were my version of a nice relaxing weekend.  While most 9 to 5'ers went about their daily grind, I was basking in the sun of a midweek beach day.  I packed up an ice chest full of Lime-a-Ritas, some magazines and my cell phone (though I wasn't planning on being "available" if you know what I mean).  

I had a less than stellar week at work, with my last shift at the bar proving far less than lucrative.  It was hot outside.  The mid-July heat is so intense this week that even your eyelids sweat, without really even moving too much.  I was seriously melting.  It was 97 degrees and was too hot for anyone to want to sit outside at the bar.  I was exhausted.  So when I knew that for the next couple days I didn't have to go to work, I was more than ready to enjoy that time off. 

And I did.  Yesterday I never left the house.  I stumbled down to the river's edge and set up camp.  This is a scenario where the 95+ degree weather is not only welcomed, it's thoroughly enjoyed.  When it became too intensely hot, I finally willed myself to jump into the refreshingly cool waters of the river. I let the swift current take me for a ride before swimming back upstream to our house.  I felt like a kid again.  

Well, as all good things have a way of going by too fast, my time away from the bar was no exception. And today is equivalent to the feeling of going back to work on Monday.  

Fridays are hectic at bars. People are generally friendly though because they are all so happy it's finally the weekend.  And in that respect, it's nice to show up somewhere for work where all your clients are stoked out of their minds.  And if they aren't, I am the person who can turn that around real quick. 

It's not that I want to promote alcohol as being some magical cure.  In reality, you might be surprised to learn that I personally have a low tolerance to both alcohol and those who abuse it.  But when the mood strikes for a nice cocktail after a long hard week, I can appreciate it as much as the next person.  

Fridays for most of my friends in the service industry is just another day at work.  It's nothing too special.  But however drab the weekends are to me nowadays, I would not go back to the Monday through Friday "grown up" jobs unless it was actually what I wanted to be doing.  

I have worn many hats over the years before I hung up my unflattering office wear.  Let's see, I have worked in dermatology, dentistry, education, photography, and copy editing before finding my way behind a bar.  All of those random jobs taught me one very important thing: I am not a winning rat in the rat-race. That little wheel was for me, a vortex where all creative energy is vanquished and sucked into the abyss.  I would come home and all I could think about were dental x-rays, laser skin treatments or having a camera manual actually thrown at my head by one very temper-mental photographer.  

Those were some tough jobs comparatively speaking. Sure, I still have to get up and go to work like everyone else. And sure, I come home exhausted and sometimes literally fried; but the measure of flexibility I am afforded is worth it... for now. 

In an attempt to psych myself out for what I imagine will be a busy Friday night at work, I will take a moment to dream a little.  

In a few months, I will be on my way to New York City.  I will have created a business plan for my production company and perhaps will even be reading over scripts and aligning projects with appropriate funding.  I will get up early in the morning and stretch my legs to run my very own little rat-race. Like Mighty Mouse, I will kick some ass and fly by those obstacles that stand in my way.  I will get the cheese. 

In the meantime, I need to have one more cup of coffee, get showered, and get ready to go do some hard time behind bars. And when Monday rolls around, back to the beach I'll go... saying, "Thank God it's Monday."

Happy Friday ya'll.  

Today: 

Homemade Sangria

One bottle of Red Wine

1 shot of Michigan Cherry liquor

1 shot of Triple Sec

1/2 20 oz bottle of Orange Soda

One cup of frozen mixed berries

Muddle berries with the Triple Sec and Cherry liquor

Combine with Red wine and stir ingredients together. 

Pour over ice in a large wine glass. 

2010 Grind

2012 Grind

...no windows in the equipment room.

... an office with a view... 2013. 

    

Skylines

For the past seven weeks, I wake up every morning to the most enchanting view out of my window.  For the summer, I am living in a two bedroom loft style apartment in the woods with my older brother.  The place is so quiet and serene, it would be so easy to lose all sense of time.

My room sits on the back side of the building and is quietly tucked away into the tree tops. The vast forest canopy provides enough of a screen from the morning sun that I don't need any drapes at all.  The mornings are lovely.  

The light creeps in ever so gently and I wake up to the sway of the tree branches; their arms extended to the sky in what appears to be a collective form of praise.  And I wonder, as I stretch out my arms too,  how much longer will I wake up to this sight?  I imagine where I will go from here, and the vastly different sights, sounds and smells that will pull me from sleep. 

When I lived in Hollywood over five years ago, I would often wake up to the neighbor's dog barking, the street sweepers loud trucks going up and down, and the various honks and beeps of nearly by traffic on Melrose avenue.  Neighbors would speak in Spanish and in broken English and I would try to understand the words. Metal bars over the windows created ominous shadows across the bedroom walls. But I loved it.

And then when I moved to Tennessee; the morning air was so thick with humidity it was like waking up sweaty and disoriented in a sleeping bag on a five year camping trip. It took almost a year to get used to the intense change in climate. The views from my window each morning would change ever so slightly as the seasons would too. Red Cardinals, Blue Jays and Mockingbirds were all friendly neighbors.  And every Saturday, the shrill of a tornado siren would sound far and wide for about one minute to test the emergency system regularly.    But I loved it there too. 

Now I live in a modernized tree house. 

In a few months I will embrace what is for me, the ultimate skyline: Manhattan.  I suppose I am a little nervous to embark upon such a drastically different change of scenery.  But it is no accident that I chose to come and hide out in the woods first.  New York is calling.  And with each day that passes, I hear her haunting voice echoing through the trees.  

Patience and persistence will get me there. 

It's not that I have some grand, well thought out master plan.  It's simply the next place for me to go.  Life is an adventure.  I want to answer the call while I am free and able to do so.  

It's difficult to articulate why this is an important component to my dream.  I sometimes don't fully understand it either.  But when you feel the pull of your dreams, you have to follow it.  And that is what I am doing.  I don't have any misguided beliefs about life in New York.  It's not like I think it will be easy or will suddenly change my actual current set of circumstances.  

I know that I am working and will continue to work very hard to get there, and even harder to stay there (if only for a short period of time).  

People work hard for all kinds of reasons.  I serve my dreams each and every day. To be able to live and experience and write about all sorts of skylines is one very delicious piece to my dream pie. One day, I hope that what I am doing for a living will be a dream slice too.  But until then, I will keep looking out these window frames, applauding with the clap of the leaves, rejoicing where I am today. 

So tell me... do you want a slice? Because I am pretty sure that everything delicious in life is better when shared. 

Today:

Key Lime Pie

2 oz Vanilla Vodka

1/2 oz Triple Sec

Splash of pineapple juice

Squeeze of lime

Shake and strain into a martini glass

Rim with crushed graham crackers