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An Ode to Modi (the blog entry + poem)

Normally I would wait until after the play is over to write something up, but I feel as if I need to do it right now–at this exact moment–as my feelings are very present.

I don’t know if it’s because of the way we have three stages set up, or that it’s at the Gulfport Player’s home base, or that it’s a different kind of play (about art with nudity and language and just different), or that we almost break a 4th wall in there somewhere, but my gawd, I am so glad that I ended up working this backstage!!!

There is just something magical about Modigliani being performed at GP’s Backstage theatre. I just can’t express it enough.

I’ll be truthful here–I’m very much into art but I’ve never really been into artists, per se. I know what I like when I see it, but I couldn’t really name some artists if my life depended on it. But I can appreciate the hell out of a play about an artist that I didn’t really know much about, if anything. It’s almost like watching one of those old PBS TV shows a looooooong long super long time ago about composers when I was very much into music. And, I LOVED THOSE! So much! Which isn’t a surprise when I say I love a good play about an artist!

We artists (painters, writers, creative folk, etc) we go through lots of crazy things and crazy feelings and chaos and just everything in the world to become good, to become something, to get noticed, to live life the way we want to before life just takes over and all the craziness ensues. This is exactly this play, regardless if it really happened or not–this is how it usually ends up. And the person ends up going half batshit crazy right before something magical happens that they get noticed, or they’re noticed after they’re dead. Unfortunately. It is the life of the artist.

I took in watching from the audience’s point of view a few nights–before I had to be backstage–and the liveliness of the play (and the characters being put to life by our wonderful actors) is just pure magic. I just can’t say it enough. I love the three stages set up, and being so close to the audience. When I sat in the audience, I sat in the front row and I felt like I was a friend to the characters, or I was someone at the park just watching all of this happen.

Pure crazy, I say! I don’t want to say what happens in the play because I want to encourage EVERYONE to come out to the Backdoor Theatre in Gulfport and see this…

THURS, FRI, SAT @ 8PM AND SUNDAY AT 2PM. Tickets $18 online, $20 at the door.

SEE YOU THERE!

Oh, and a poem:

An Ode to Modi
by Karen Maeby © 2.1.17

chaos ensues
at the rupture of color—
thin lines, thick lines, painting, sculpting. 

a sick individual’s soul
dies within his own art,
as he never lets a bottle leave his hand.

an apron:
finding the need to be draped around
his neck, her neck, someones.

his friend:
withholding a chicken
to squeeze a little art out of his cheeks.

he’s no longer suited
to be the one who represents
and he sets himself up for—

truth be told
in the midnight hour of two a.m.
a song bursts out in flames.

emotions emerge from the dinner
where a proper gentleman sits,
interrupted by the king.

art is art is art!
but his—it takes an eternity—
to only be bought to be replaced.

she packs her bag
and leaves,
blowing his last candle out.

chaos ensues
leaving him to nothing
but himself, a masterpiece within.

Today is Holocaust Remembrance Day.

THIS DAY. Holocaust Remembrance Day….. A very, very, very important day that we must remember. ALWAYS. EVERY SINGLE DAY.

WE MUST REMEMBER THIS PART OF HISTORY EVERY SINGLE DAY FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES. 

When I was growing up learning about the Holocaust was a part of history class but I believe I found and read Anne Frank on my own (I know I did a book report at one time on her diary). My mom had a copy, then I asked for my own copy for Christmas.

Unbeknownst to my soul I have always had the deepest connection with Jewish people, the Holocaust, and a feeling for what happened. I have always had an interest in learning more and wanting to help out in some way–to spread the word–to make sure this would never happen again. HOW was the question, how in the world could someone do something so fucking horrible like this? I always wondered. Why. Hate? Why? Just why?! The feelings and emotions I have had as I think about this are still as strong as when I learned about them.

I’ve watched Anne Frank (the movie) thousands of times, and each time, I still cry so hard. I’ve read her diary so many times. I even wrote a book called “Dear Anne Frank” about when I went to DC and wrote to her my experiences, especially what I was feeling when I was at the Holocaust Museum when someone was disrespecting the person who was speaking. I still remember wanting to turn around and smack them and tell them they should listen because it’s really important.

The more someone tries to deny something like this, the more apt it is to happen. The more someone tries to forget this happened, the more it can happen. This is how history is repeated. This is WHY it is sooooooo important to get the word out. To share. To stop what should be stopped before it can happen again. Whether it’s today, tomorrow or one hundred years from now. The signs of hate and bigotry and separation needs to stop! REGARDLESS of what you believe in—-those things are so wrong for a trying-to-be-functioning society. That’s WHY we have the issues we do because people like that STILL exist!

I saw something posted online various places in reference to if her family and her could’ve gotten out and survived…..You think about these things. This had to of happened, her diary left behind, to possibly teach everyone in the future? The people who left anything behind. Then you think, what kind of a difference could they have made if they were alive now? It angers me that there were millions of people’s lives destroyed because of something like this.

I can’t say it enough—-we must remember what happened, and teach those younger than us, so that something like this shall never happen again. TODAY, THIS WEEK, THIS MONTH, THIS YEAR… we must EDUCATE ourselves on how to surf through those hiding their true soul. We must NEVER lose our identity, we must FIGHT for what is right and for our SOULS. We MUST LEARN to think on our own and be able to sniff out when this will happen again… and we must STOP IT this time!!!!

There is an older based-on-a-true-story movie called Freedom Writers that really spoke to me on many levels. If you’ve never seen it–basically a brand new teacher goes to an “at risk” school that is having so many racial issues. She tries really hard to teach them, all the while they are so used to being disruptive, not learning, drugs, drive-by’s and other things like that from their community. She decides to teach them about the Holocaust, and gives them journals to write their own issues. She helps them change their lives, and teaches them in the meantime to change what they can change to be better. A lot of her students were the first in their families to graduate.

THAT is why I say…

EVERYONE HAS A STORY. 

EVERYONE 
HAS 

STORY 

Get out there and share! SHARE what your heart and soul is telling you! This is the future, this is the only way, the only way people are going to be helped and will learn about anything that is important is by true life stories. Everyone has a story, and 2017 is the time to share it. 

Souls Enlightenment
© Karen Maeby 1.27.17

Our souls sought survival yesterday,
as we’re caught in the middle of learning
the life lessons our ages bring to us
when passed down from generation to generation.

We must learn about our past–
to meet, greet and shake hands with history.
Tell history, share OUR history:
to make sure we don’t live the history, again.

My soul becomes unraveled and my heart
nearly stops—with every siren I hear.
Every moment, are we getting closer and closer
to having our names and our personalities erased
to be replaced with numbers that’ll never define us?

Only guard yourself and guard your soul carefully, lest you forget the things your eyes saw, and lest these things depart your heart all the days of your life, and you shall make them known to your children, and to your children’s children. – This is a quote–that I’ll never forget–from a postcard I got at the Holocaust Museum in DC.

Tonight I read my poetry out loud for the first time.

I bet you gasped at the title, aye? I’ve been writing poetry for years and years and have never attended something like this where I read my poetry. Mostly because I’m better writing the words than speaking them. (I’m sure that’ll change eventually, as I do need to become a model speaker.) 

TONIGHT the mayor of Gulfport accepted the role of Poet Laureate for the year. I missed last year’s initiation reading due to me being sick, so it was a treat tonight to go and still be able to hear the first PL. I was probably one of the youngest people there by at least 10 something years.

I was nervous and only read one poem, but still, I did it. And people thanked me for reading. Which–that–in itself was strange, but nice… and the comments–like–keep writing.

What did I read? I read the poem I wrote about the Summer One Acts in homage to the one thing that changed my life for the better. Forget everything else, I owe a lot of everything to my family at the Gulfport Community Theatre for giving me the opportunity to work with them and find what I’ve found so far.

I saw the inside of this year’s book, and unfortunately, only a handful of people submitted their poetry.

This is the 2nd year in a row that I’m in the book, and in “A” book other than my own self published ones. A couple of goals checked off over this one, for sure!

There are two things that’s important to me in my life and that’s a) helping find a solution for the large gap in the boating industry and b) supporting the arts, and most important of all, literature/writing poetry. And, if I’m lucky, as BoatShowGirl I will some how magically be able to combine both of them to be some sort of life changing thing.

I know a lot of people I’m around don’t really understand poetry, but they’ve told me the stuff I write grows on them, and maybe one day… they’ll understand. I hope. We need more people to write. Writing is therapeutic, writing sometimes saves people’s lives… especially mine… in all of these years that bad things have happened.

WE – THIS WORLD – have to be more PUSHING towards written literature! It’s a way of life for many! And I intend on being one of those people! {In time.}

Here’s a poem I came up with tonight as I was listening to the others. In direct result to what’s going on right now….

Premature Goodbye
by Karen Maeby © 1.26.17

she’s considering packing her belongings
in her 1920s suitcases
and leaving everything else behind.

she knows she belongs somewhere,
but doubts it’s here anymore.
a brand new start yet again
is probably what her heart needs
after being left alone and wondering
why he broke her so fucking hard–

and the world, her world
came crashing down like a beautiful
chandelier falling from the ceiling
during a tornado that randomly passed through
without warning.

he left her speechless, but full of words
as he gave her everything
and then took it all away!
she’s looking to the moon tonight
to give her a reason to stay
maybe he’ll come back to her one day.

‘god, i missed you so much’
they’ll say to one another
as they realized it was meant to be.
but she’s really leaving
is it really worth it to stay?
he doesn’t care one bit–he walks away.

she decided it’s best to pack her bags,
it’ll be soon she’ll say goodbye
and off on her merry little way. 

I bid farewell to Parfumerie.

At last, there will be no more Christmas music, no more mention of Christmas, and no more looking at Christmas anything (except for the fact that my tree is still up here at home). I will explain later why I am severely glad that part is over.

The cast/crew of Parfumerie are all beautiful people–made up of new faces, same faces from Summer One Acts, and ones I’ve just never met but everyone else knew. Everyone’s very talented and I am so happy to have been a part of it. OH and since this was my 3rd time to help backstage, I finally got my GP Tech shirt that I lovelovelovelovelove soooooooo much! 

The stage design–if I had a house–that is exactly how I would want at least my parlor to look like: pink, with a poof seat, shadow box, lots of glitter, perfume bottles, a chandelier, and the like. Perfection! Needless to say, I LOVED IT.

The story itself is a sweet story. Most people in the millennial age would know You’ve Got Mail to be the 2nd rendition of this story with Shop Around the Corner being right before that one. I’m glad I was introduced to Parfumerie in this way as a play. It has two overlying stories about the shop owner and then about two shop clerks but at the end it’s a love story. That’s as much as I want to say without giving it away.

If you had no idea about Parfumerie but you’ve seen You’ve Got Mail you would definitely pick it out at the end just like I did. I’m like, “I SEE IT. I TOTALLY SEE YOU’VE GOT MAIL!”

And now… is the part where I explain that this play just isn’t a play to me, it’s a little piece of life. 

It’s funny–that. This same weekend nine years ago I was still working at my first job in retail and we were completely closing the store down. I often referred to You’ve Got Mail — big bad Fox books large retailer taking over the mom&pop ‘shop around the corner’ — and I would look to this movie over and over for answers about my future… of where I was going to go, what I was going to do, and so on once our store closed.. and oddly enough, this same week THIS year, I have been asked that again in a different circumstance, and once again, I am so up in the air. None of this is by coincidence. It’s the universe sending signals of some sort, and I need to figure out out. I need to actually have answers this time. It’s all too funny that the same message comes back around nine years later but in a totally different way. 

The director of Parfumerie had a talk with everyone prior to opening show and he said that “everyone has a story”. I keep seeing that everywhere. It’s a sign. I need to run with this. It’s relative to what I’m trying to do in my life, and for my projects, especially my BoatShowGirl stuff. Now, he was actually talking about the characters but it’s for real life too. When I think about our characters (customers) in this show, I remember my favorite customers when I worked at that job before I left, and what ever happened with them. There was this cute little Jewish couple that would come in late and try on shoes, there was a lady with long gray hair, there was another one that always wore skirts, there was one crazy lady that gave me her phone number, and the one guy that came in every.single.day to buy a shirt. There were several others but those memories have since faded. Some of our decorations in this play reminded me of our themed Christmas one year of “Shake Your Goodys” of which I still have some of the souvenirs at my parent’s house.

And, if anyone wondered what happened to me after our store officially closed, I got another retail job inside the mall and then left that for another job a few months later in the outdoor mall just down the street. I never had any regular customers after that, I never saw any of them again, and there was never another “staff like family” like there had been at my first job. At least I knew in my heart of all hearts that those were the good days and I took it all in before it was gone, but I also knew it was time to say goodbye.  

I finally introduced my Eisenhower to theatre last night, and must I say, he really truly enjoyed meeting everyone and listening to the show from backstage. For those who didn’t see him, his shell was raised up the entire show, and that’s how you know he’s paying attention. I know that he appreciates the kindness that came everyone because he didn’t hide and wasn’t scared. And I appreciate all of you for acting kind towards him, and asking questions. I’m extremely proud to be raising a hermit crab with experiences in the human world. 🙂

I’ve said very little to anyone about this but it was incredibly hard to work a show that continued with Christmas 4 weeks past when it should’ve been boxed up and a love story unraveling right in front of my face. This Christmas someone that I trusted, knew on a soulful level, and loved very deeply shoved the largest knife right into my heart straight down to the core where I am bleeding for all eternity, cut my heart into little tiny pieces and spit me away just like I never meant anything to them. I am still hurting, and will be hurting for a really long time. Some people were meant to be loved, and some, well, are like me.

Thank you to everyone in Parfumerie for making my third show amazing. Thank you also for the weird mental picture moments today because it’s well worth it to remember. Until the next show, I bid thee farewell my sweets. 

Always, Maeby

Filling up the bottles with emotions.

Today we moved Parfumerie into the Catherine Hickman Theater and after lunch we had fun pouring our mixtures of blue/pink-red/gold into each perfume bottle. Opening up the perfumes that still had something in it from a long time ago… whew, whew, whew. I just kept smelling it and asking the others if they remember that smell. There were a lot of the same scents that reminded me of the perfume I’d find in my grandma’s house either in her room or my mom’s room. But still, ew, how in the world did we ever find those scents to be yummy? 

I don’t know. Beats me. Now I have a headache many hours later from it. I think I’ll just stick with my pumpkin-whatever-the-flavor from Bath&Body Works because that’s the only stuff I can really stand these days.

So……working with perfume reminds me of a poem that I wrote with inspiration from a boat show book that had images of yacht baths and sinks in it. Here goes:

Perfume and Cologne
© Karen Maeby 5/25/14 

A book is laid on the seat of a chair
and a bookcase nearly empty.
White and gold objects
lay above the seat
and a photo frame without a photo.

Women’s perfume and men’s cologne,
smells mixed together.

A bar of soap
sitting there, unopened.
And a rose sits singularly on the white counter.
Sugar just as thick on your lips.
I crave. You know, I tease.

Gold slated walls, a shower
with glass separation and
a flat sprout sink faucet.
Silk lace…
finger tips that burn with passion.

A walkthrough
of a slideshow of lite romantic jazz.

Times up – you take my hand
and the floor becomes soaked.
We grab all of the towels
and make a mess all over the floor.
Now, we enter complication.

In all seriousness though, Parfumerie’s last performance will be super sad for me. It’s my last play for a while so that I can truly focus on BoatShowGirl and get it to the point where it doesn’t need to be babysat, or worked on in the beginning stages like it has been lately as I try to develop my brand. I’ve made some good professional connections and they seem to be leading me on the right path of where I want to go. BUT, I have a lot more work to do to get to where I (think) I want to go. HOPEFULLY, I will announcing a release of my BSG book in the next few months. I’m looking at going to Miami Boat Show because truthfully, I really need to be there, even though I think if I had to choose I’d rather go to Palm Beach in March.

Speaking of writing, I haven’t published anything in such a long time. It’s been something that’s weighing heavily on my mind–which is why one of my main ‘goals’ or ‘desires for every day’ is to ‘BE A WRITER FIRST.’ It’s helping. I probably shouldn’t have, but I went through a lot of my older poetry and deleted half of it. I felt better afterwards. Eventually this year, there will be a book with all of my older unpublished stuff so that I can move on from many years ago. I keep thinking I’ll make up some story or something with the older stuff but all it’s doing is reeking havoc on my present-day thoughts. Just like I could never go back to the moment of my first book ‘Maeby it’s only the beginning’ or ‘In Love With a Sailor / The Captain in Me.’ I want to focus on jazz, not depression poetry or anything else. Just jazz. Soulful stuff. Unique. I want to focus on the today moments mixed with the happier times of my short-term past.

Something I hadn’t thought about doing in a long time is to make out a yearly plan for what I want to do with BSG / new brand ILBS / writing. It came from the inspiration of doing BSG stuff for my new contract / guest blogging work… and it seems to really put the focus on the goals. Not only breakdown of goals, but actually know ahead of time what I need to be doing. All of this is really good. I’m feeling better already. Now, if I can just stick with it.

I had something random to happen at work on Friday. I took a call about a father looking for a boat for his son. The boat type was unrelated to my company’s boat lines, but I helped him anyway. He said he couldn’t find the number online so I found it for him. He responded with sincere gratitude and a promise of a note to me of some sorts. I’m not sure what it was about, but maybe… there is a purpose to this random call? I guess I’ll find out next week. It was strange indeed.

Betty–a family member who I used to visit all the time when I lived in Kentucky–passed away. Feels like I’m always losing someone in one way or another. First Bella the day after Christmas, then her.

Anddddd in times like this, it really hurts feeling like I cannot reach out to the one person I really care about, and share what’s been happening lately. Maybe it’s too soon, maybe not. I don’t know. I just wish things could be different…and maybe it will be in time. I hope. Boy do I hope so. 🙁

Eisenhower is driving me batshit crazy. He keeps trying to make his way up to the tallest point in his aquarium and then he hits the glass and falls back down. So. Many. Times. He’s been the reason for my waking up in the middle of the night because he’s being so loud in the other room. I should really learn from him though, no matter how many times he has fallen, he gets right back up and tries it again. Looks like “giving up” is not in his vocabulary and success is where he wants to be. Could it be that his brain is too big for his tiny little shell? Possibly.

-Until next time, Karen Maeby

Searching for where I belong.

It’s a brand new year, and in order to come to terms with anything, I really need to release this to the universe instead of keeping it inside. Plus, I guess it should be my unspoken resolution (out of five thousand) to be dangerously vulnerable, opening myself up to whatever may come my way, but this time around know and understand what’s going to happen because that’s what always happens to me.

All of my life I’ve pretty much lived like my hermit crab baby–barely opening my shell to anyone–and when I do, they have to be very special with something built out of connection on some soul level and trust. I’ve been hurt by so many circumstances in my life that it’s a struggle to continue to open to anyone, and that is extremely difficult when I am needing to be a profile personality for the work that I want to do (BoatShowGirl) and to go into my first love in the arts/theatre. So every single day is a really big battle for me. 

It was when I was 27 years old that I stopped caring what people thought when I did something, because I always have a purpose or reason. Life is too short to care. I understand enough to know that if someone doesn’t support you as you are or as you change, they’re not really a friend, and you need to cut them out of your life. Just because it doesn’t suit someone else’s life doesn’t mean it won’t suit mine or make mine better. I live how I want to live and that’s that. If I don’t like something, you’ll know, and instantly it’ll be changed. I choose my relationships due to a person’s personality and what we have in common. The more you care about together, the more you share, and the happier the life. Same with friends but on a different level, of course.

Most of the time I truly am busy but when things are overwhelming or I feel like a major depression is coming on, I don’t mean to go into hiding or cut people off, but it’s what I do…unfortunately. I don’t want to be seen as the black sheep that brings everyone down due to negativity. It’s difficult for me to reach out to anyone mostly, because if I do, I’m afraid–like in my past–one won’t have time for me, not really care to hear from me, or the group doesn’t really want to see me outside of wherever I’ve met them. I want to be included, but rejection. I shut down, and I have no issue shutting a chapter and just picking up and moving on…to make my next go around until it happens again, and then, I continue until I feel like I’m getting closer to where I’m supposed to be. It’s just what I’m used to.

I don’t do traditional. I knew at a younger age that I didn’t want that, and I don’t want to do the same thing for the rest of my life or live in the same general area. To be free and open gives the chance to chase a dream or opportunity. I want to live life odd, strange, out of context, and have days like out of RENT that really teaches lessons. I want my experiences to be very unique and my TRUE stories to be unforgettable. I feel like some of my purpose here on Earth is to share my stories with people and make a difference in their life. Be some sort of guidance, a helping hand, or for future generations.

I’m an only child born to older parents. Not only was I alone most of the time, I was raised differently, like it was another era. I’m grateful, but it’s also been extremely difficult fitting in…. I’m an old soul–I know this and I’ve been told multiple times. I get along with much older people. I get along with younger people. I don’t really fit in my age group. Never really have, no offense to anyone my age, I still love you.

It’s difficult being 30 years old, looking like I’m 15, and feeling like I’m 40 or something due to goals and what I really want in life. It ruined something great for me, I wish it turned out differently, and I really don’t know how to handle that right now.

I feel like I’ve walked this Earth many times before. The ballroom gown days where proper English was spoken, classical music/opera were the nightly shows, and letters were sent by the Pony Express. The 1920s where my soul belongs, I found the love of my life and I had to let him go after a dance to jazz at our dinner party, that suddenly went up in the overcast of cigarette smoke and booze. The 1970s where every photo comes out looking like vintage, I play my vinyl records, and dance in my head like I’m a hippie. The era of Pirates where I was one of the only female Pirate on board the beautiful ship…. I died on the Titanic, and my heart/bones can be found with the treasure at the bottom of the Sea.

But yet, I live and breathe in the 21st century and I have none of my past, except for the memories. Or dreams. And present day, where a few years ago, I had a very lively dream that I was in a concentration camp in this lifetime, and my heart/soul pours out to Anne Frank’s ghost because I have had such a mysterious connection with her for as long as I can remember.

This is what I feel, and I haven’t really talked about it to too many people over my years. I hope you know that I am very serious and I’m not living in a dream world. I only wish I could relive some of those eras that my soul has been so that maybe.. just maybe I can find what I’m searching for in my future. But maybe, just maybe… truth be told, if I find my future, I won’t be here any longer. Then, it’s like Catch-22 or something. I just keep barely existing until I am found.

I really do love life no matter how hard it’s been, especially the opportunities I’ve been blessed with because of my talents and my dreams that have come true because I never, ever gave up. I love being an adult, and never ever have I ever wished to be a kid again because it was easy. I don’t like easy. I am challenged when things get hard and difficult, I may shut down and go to sleep, but it’s my puzzle to figure out how to solve until something good happens again.

I really hope that in 2017 I can really live out that path of where I’m going with my work personality of BoatShowGirl and really show the world my creative side of Karen Maeby. I am one of the most confusing, deep, and complex people on this Earth, and trying to dissect me….well, as you can see, is difficult.

Here’s to 2017.

-Karen Maeby

Prose & Poetry ~ very dark/depressing {you’ve been warned}

PROSE 11.24.16  

This room is dark and cold like a jail cell—but not trapped between the hollow of darkness—where the only thing you see are locks and chains. Every time I blink I see stuffed white cat statues standing tall and rats running around for blood like they’re the only vampire into the night. Glancing down at myself—it’s the same wardrobe that has been wrapped around my body many times. The same wardrobe that hides me and my soul from the world that can’t even see me in the flesh when I’m not wearing it.  

My eyes are closed and I’m taking a walk through a cemetery. I am hand in hand with a ghost. Shortly afterwards, a pack of ghosts then start to follow me, chanting something that I cannot seem to comprehend. Every time I stop walking, so do they, and as I look around nothing but fog covers the darkened skies. I continue walking until I catch my breath after my heart palps a few times.  

And, I am awakened to bath water full of blood. I am sitting in my claw-foot tub at my very own Victorian-style house. The blood is mine, and I’m not yet dead. Dammit. I think to myself. I caught sight of the white light and it pulled me in—but it lied, it fucking lied—so here I am again…..awake, and the pain still exists. Over and over—it sings—like a song I used to like before it became the definition of a broken record. 

I used to imagine that if I were anyone else, if I were some other person, would people care about me more than the person I actually am? It’s a twisted point of view for someone fighting to be happy within one’s self, but also looking in a broken mirror at midnight with tears in her eyes and mascara running down her face. And no one, absolutely no one, there by my side to catch me as I fall to the hard cold tile. Almost a thousand tissues surround me. I am so heartbroken. Why doesn’t anyone want to love me? Simply because some people just were not meant to be loved.

I watch Fight Club religiously. I study Tyler Durden as he plots to fight his inner demons. In a sense, I already am him. In another sense, I want to be him. But every single time I get up with the urge to do something fabulous or life-changing, my very own monsters that hold me down are telling me: I am nothing, I am unloved, and I get punched in the face with those realities. I am not even good enough to be a speck of dirt for someone to step on.

You see, I’m a writer—deep down inside—I know this is my true calling, but I just can’t seem to make it work. I tried to bring something to fruition a few years back, and since absolutely no one cared to read what I had to write, I made a fictional name and posted under that. I wasn’t even worthy of any attention under a faux name. Since then, I’ve hidden myself, and my feelings… but if I don’t get this out I’m going to burst inside. I know it’s going to be a really long life without love, that’s why I’m placing bets on my cards on hoping I die young.

After damning the entire world, including my body, for letting me live—I took a shower to wash all of the blood off of me. I felt like I was living a horror movie, and I was the main character that just got slashed by the serial killer that somehow figured out my pin code to the alarm system on my house was 3713. I got out of the shower and wiped the steam off the mirror and looked myself in the eyes. It was the first time I really saw myself. So sad, blue, to the point of black. Barely breathing. Then, my mirror shattered all over the floor and a piece of glass cut my leg. I just embraced the pain; it felt better than the alternative.

That’s when I realized I need to release these feelings to the atmosphere because maybe, just maybe, someone else has had them too. And if I can save a few souls before I die, that would be my gift to the world, and I can then rest in peace when my remains are scattered in the ocean.

POETRY 12.30.16

rubies fall like bullets from the sky
and diamonds crack in the ground,
from sunset to moonlight
forming rose petals full of lies.

suitcases full of letters
that belong to words in a sentence
galloping across the galaxy
wishing for a better novel to attend.

a telephone that never rings again
and the silence is deafening.
words being shouted across ten universes
and it never reaches the right one.

days when one never sees sunlight again,
because it is boxed up and packed away
just like yesterday’s memories
that seem to mean nothing more than that.

and poetry,
poetry pours from the dying soul
into a river of seas
right where her remains were meant to be.

Where in the world did 2016 go?

I’ll be quite honest, I don’t really remember the first half of 2016 before I got involved in the theatre over the Summer One Acts. It makes me feel like I wasn’t awake! ha! Or maybe cause it didn’t really matter.

Sometime in January or February I was brought on by the guys at World of Boating for my BOAT SHOW GIRL gig. What a fun year that has been being on the show and looking at where I was and where I’m at now.

The first quarter of the year: all I remember is that I was in my tailspin of finishing off one entire year of working 2 jobs (60-80hrs) where I didn’t see or talk to anyone outside of work. That was extremely hard. I didn’t mean to cut people off but I had no choice, so I am so sorry, everyone. I also had no choice of not being able to move forward in my projects, either, which put me back a few decades.

In March ~ we got a new director at my work and he changed everything for the better. It was such a blessing to have him join our team, especially since he took interest in where I was going for life in this industry and he’s still cheering me on. We had a really rough time getting employees in the door, which put a new perspective on what we needed for the industry and that helped me train my thoughts a bit.

When I finally left that second job in April…

I went straight to rehearsals for the Summer One Acts around May and started helping out back stage. After 12 years, it was totally meant to be that I came back at that very moment. I met the most amazing people there, and one amazing individual that means so much to me, and has had the best impact on my life. More than anyone ever has.

I celebrated 2 years at Thunder and they spoiled me rotten. They also spoiled me rotten when I turned 30.

Year 30 turned over a new chapter–being with someone I truly cared about, listening to jazz music, and just being in love with life because I knew I could never go back.

In that time – there were so many things that I did, including going to an acting class (that I eventually want to go back to) and getting into the film society. What a year for spectacular things to get involved with, and those were just two of the things!

Give or take a few months, there was a break between Summer One Acts and Over the River & Through the Woods. It was a smaller play, not much to do, and now I’m working with Parfumerie…. which, unfortunately, will probably be my last production to help with until Summer One Acts (or maybe the production before) because I have some of my own projects to take care of.

There’s this new journal phase thing out right now the bullet journal or something like that. Well, instead of buying one, I made my own and out of 5 ‘main’ goals I wrote ‘BE A WRITER FIRST ABOVE EVERYTHING’ and shortly after that is when I got my first writing gig, then my second…..

I’m ending the year with my brand “BOAT SHOW GIRL” getting two new adventures — one I’m writing on a marine marketing website and I was just recently invited to guest blog+freelance on another. I am ecstatic. I tried saying the other day that ‘man, this stuff is happening too quickly’ and my boss reminded me, ‘no, it’s not, you’ve been working for this for a really long time.” Oops. I kind of forgot.

The ending of this year hasn’t been too great though, it feels like everything is set on the same thing every day and not moving forward. I’m getting burnt out on the things I once loved doing, and I can’t stand that feeling, and it doesn’t end up good in the end. But I’m working on making positive changes.

Eisenhower survived his first year with me and his second year molting. I nearly freaked out when he was molting on me because I couldn’t play with him and I didn’t know if he was alive. I can’t express how I felt when I saw his newly born pink crabby body down in the shell though. My heart exploded with happy, and I wanted to write a book from a crab’s point of view of how nature does its thing and they grow up just like humans… but differently, of course.

I’m cleaning up my apartment once again and getting rid of things that don’t matter any more or old papers. It always helps to do that. I started watercolor painting, oil painting, and drawing once again this year. I haven’t written many poems, but quality over quantity, I say. Financially I’m getting back at it — I’m getting rid of my debt. Sloooooooooowly but surely, and my credit score is finally getting to a point where I’m happy with it again.

And, unfortunately, I end this year with not so happy news and news about my baby mutt sister, Bella, passing away. It’s so odd how 4 years ago a memory popped up on Facebook of her face. Ugh. Sometimes I hate Facebook for that reason, in another way, maybe it was a sign of some sorts. A sign from Bella to me.

This years goals I am hoping to have a few plays ready to submit to Summer One Acts, I am hoping that BOAT SHOW GIRL takes me places that I wouldn’t have ever thought that it would, I hope to join in more boating events, I hope to act (finally!), get to go to a few creative classes, finally get organized (even though I say this every year), volunteer at the Holocaust Museum, write and publish a few books, consider doing some art submissions / poetry readings, take voice lessons, and hopefully–within time–one certain thing works out.

I thank 2016 for giving me the best person I know as well as all of the other experiences that went with it. Here’s to 2017 and hoping all other things will work out.

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(Painting I did on Christmas.)

-Love Always, Maeby

Gilmore Girls, A Year in the Life: Winter {pre-thoughts & write up w/spoilers}

The extreme deep-souled dedication from the fans following this show all of these years have paid off. The anticipation and long wait has finally come to an end. TODAY our thirst is finally being quenched because the special release day on Netflix for Gilmore Girls has arrived. Hallelujah! 

Gilmore Girls came out when I was a freshman in high school. Sixteen years ago. And, oh holy crap, that makes me feel really old now. I still remember coming home and turning the TV on at 4pm to watch on the CW. I instantly fell in love with the series. Stars Hollow became a part of my life–just like all of the other fans. I often dreamt about meeting characters like those in the show (and honestly, I still dream of that). I, like many, just couldn’t stand how it ended. I was devastated. It wasn’t enough. I have watched the series over and over and over and over again throughout the years….hoping that something, by some miracle, there would be a conclusion or a new beginning for the series. 

In 2015, I watched the Gilmore Girls panel at ATX on YouTube, and could barely contain myself. When I watched them talk about the show, I said to myself, “I hope that I can write a successful series like this or be in one just simply for the tight-knit cast and dedicated fans.” It’s just so inspirational. The stories of how each person got the role of their characters were all meant to be stories… it’s so awesome. When Hep Alien played the theme song, I will admit, there were tears in my eyes…that’s how deep this show goes. 

I adored the writing of Gilmore Girls so much because of the constant pop culture references and there’s so much symbolism in their every day life. And, the characters are so, so real….although they’re hard to find in real life. But, they’re real. 

Amy Sherman-Palladino is certainly my homegirl. I love that she decided to write A Year in the Life to give us fans something to look forward to… Gilmore Girls is one of the most brilliant shows ever written, and I’m looking forward to the other 3 episodes of this 4 season episodes. 

NETFLIX’S GILMORE GIRLS: A YEAR IN THE LIFE S1E1 WINTER 

  • The opening of Winter begins with voice clips from the previous seasons. You can hear the grandfather’s voice as well (which is heart-breaking since he’s passed on in real life).
  • A few lines in “it feels like it’s been years” — yep. Yep, it sure has.
  • Kirk is still on his business kick. He now started ooober (like, Uber, but spelled differently).
  • Rory wrote an article for the New Yorker and it’s in the menu at Luke’s. She’s also working on a book deal.
  • “I smell snow.” Lorelei’s famous words. (Of COURSE, it has to start like this! I mean, what?!)
  • You see that years later Lorelei still has her same jeep and they’re living in her house.
  • Hallelujah for the scene where Luke is in her kitchen. She is still with him! Yes!
  • Luke and Lorelei are thinking about kids again.
  • I really, truly, 1000% do not understand the whole Rory’s boyfriend Paul. There has to be a reason for this.
  • As soon as they mention Rory and London, I knew she was somehow still with Logan. Which… I’m a Logan and Rory kind of gal, but I don’t like this whole ‘Vegas’ thing they’ve got going on. Is Rory really that kind of girl?
  • I absolutely love Luke’s new sign about cell phones. No taking photos of food. Bwahahahahah. That’s a hit on Instagram!
  • Luke is giving out random passwords to the wifi he is clearly not going to share.
  • There’s a mention of Twitter.
  • They go back a few months to the grandfather’s funeral, and you see the reactions of all of them. Then, the really large wall-sized photo of him. Which, in a way, is kind of frightening.
  • Paris is kicking ass as a fertility specialist. She was somewhere between law and medical, and still bossy.
  • For once it seems after Taylor yelled at someone in Luke’s about her not being able to get the wifi, Luke decides to side with Taylor on his next discussion of the sewer system in Stars Hollow. (Doesn’t Lorelei mention something about this in that one episode where her parents came to town and she’s trying to down it so they won’t move there???) 
  • There’s mention of Doyle from Paris that they are having issues, and they have kids.
  • Lane seems to still be Lane and Zach has been promoted to somewhere wearing a tie.
  • It’s odd that all of the band is still living in the same house together. Still. Years later. (Or so it seems.)
  • Towards the end you’ll see where a new troubadour was singing on the original town’s troubadour’s corner and he runs her off. Reminders of an earlier episode where they all have a town meeting over this.
  • It feels like no matter it’s been “YEARS” since the last episode, it seems nothing has changed.
  • Last, but not least, in a way I am happy on how Amy wrote that Rory–who is incredibly smart and well-read–is a typical millennial: no designated place to live (I have to mention that it’s strange she sent boxes to several people’s houses that she’s crashing at), no real dedicated job, the act of feeling lost in life. It’s all real. And you know what? I think it’s brilliant because so many teens and 20-30-somethings will relate, if not now, later. And… depending on what Amy does with the Rory character, it could be great inspiration and give future millennials hope that things’ll turn out okay.

I am going to be watching SPRING very soon… so stay tuned for my write-up!

A trip to Fort Myers for the boat show and a little exploring.

It’s been months since I’ve went out of town and traveled somewhere south, so I am happy I got to go to this show, especially since I missed it last year. The Fort Myers Boat Show has now moved to being one of my favorite shows on a medium capacity. It might actually be my favorite over Tampa or Sarasota. Anyway… since I do have a blog dedicated to boat shows, I’ll keep it short on this one.

BOAT SHOW 

The show is very cluttered, as in boats and product were literally on top of one another with not much space in between, but it works for them. And that’s what is so awesome about the show. It has a different laid back feeling than most of them do. I don’t really know what it is. If I knew what it was, I’d share it.

I love how they decorated for Christmas. They had big red bows on a lot of the boats on the inside, and a Christmas tree from one of the product vendors.

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Inside The Harbourside Event Center

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It looks like someone’s kid kept watching Frozen over and over again, so much that their parents had to name the boat Let It Go… in hopes their kid would let it go! Ha!

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Outside:

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If you’re interested in reading more from me about the show, give it a day or so and check my boatshowgirl.com website.

EXPLORING 

Sooooo… this beaut was hanging in the Harbourside. Instant love. The architecture in this building was amazing, so were the old doors and walls and overall design.

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Outside in the park, lots of metal art:

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As I was walking to the entrance of the boat show, I passed this place. I almost fell over. LOOK HOW OLD IT LOOKS. AMAAAAAAAZING. So amazing that I had to go in it before I left. It’s called “ARCADE – Florida Repertory Theatre.”

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And, it was amazing. The smell when I opened the doors… I can’t tell you. It smelt like the past. It smelled like somewhere I’ve been before, but it couldn’t have been there, it was my first time even knowing about it. So this place had several shops on the right side all the way back and then the theatre was on the left.

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There’s an art store called ART for ACT Gallery and that’s where I took this photo. I am so in love with this store. There was art of every single kind set up in a vintage-gallery-boutique-store. You MUST go and see it! Such an amazing place. And, I really really really really really want this kind of a vanity set up when I have the room.

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On the way back out, I snuck this photo of the theatre where you buy tickets:

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Turns out, I was right about the old. According to this article, it was originally built in 1917 to show moving pictures and silent films then later vaudeville & local acts, magic tricks, and the like. CAN I EXPRESS HOW AWESOME THIS IS?! Yeah. It’s pretty awesome. I felt it. I felt the history….right down to my bones.

And that’s a wrap, kids. Until next time.