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The World According to Grokalicious (more magic, more happiness, more fun)

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  • The World According to Grokalicious (more magic, more happiness, more fun)

    Here I am again. I thought it time to not only start a new and improved chapter in my life but to start a new and, hopefully, improved journal here. I'm going to be easier on myself in some ways this time around. Maybe, just maybe, I can truly embrace my humanness and my clay feet along with my high personal expectations. Yes, yes. Game on.

    I've been working out like a mad woman, eating healthfully and primally for the most part. I enjoyed, no...savoured a rice pudding last night. I don't feel even slightly bad about it. It was just too creamy and textural and yummy to do anything other than roll my eyes gently and sigh a wee bit in pleasure.

    Ahhhh, pleasure. Well, there is that. And, the Frenchman too. Oh, I'm not jumping in quite so quickly with both feet (one foot, yes, ha) but I did spend last weekend with him. Lots of giggling and laughing and jokes and dinners and lunches out and...well, everything good. On the heels of many texts, lots of phone calls and tears and laughter and connection, there was ultimately togetherness and, yes, joy. <insert contented sigh here>

    I'm in the process of revamping my VoiceOver demo. Actually, not me as much as my Sound Engineer. My job is listening to all of my auditions and finding the really great ones and sending to him. He will winnow them down and we will cut the not-so-awesome bits out of the original and add in more fabulousness. I wish I could attach a sound file here so you could hear! After that, I will send out to agents because it's time for a new agent. Then, veneers, new head shots and a commercial/theatrical agent and, voila! More work.

    I can now do one solid chin up. Not much but enough to encourage me to do more. Squats and lunges going well, everything in that arena, really. Except abs. I just don't seem to hit them right. I'm going to look up some anatomy photos of muscles so I can actually acquire a practical idea of how they work. I'd still like to drop 5-6 vanity pounds, but this is probably just a teensy bit of obsessiveness on my part.

    My happiness feels good to me, like a light blanket I toss over myself before I nap. Comforting and secure. Again, life is good. I've missed expressing myself here. It's the only place in which I can do so sans censorship. My place to show the world my most authentic self. Hopes, fears, all of it.

    And, that is that.
    Last edited by Grokalicious; 09-27-2014, 03:54 PM.
    Never argue for your limitations.

  • #2
    That wistful smile

    I feel wistful most Sundays. Even more so this last Sunday of Summer 2014. The end of summer. Isn't that what we get wistful over the most? The end of something, missing something etc. I'm smiling though!

    I remember one summer a zillion years ago right after I graduated high school. I was barely 17 for a month when I graduated and on that last day of school the summer seemed to stretch out ahead of me endlessly. Full of the promise of laughter and fun and the beach and surfing, bonfires and parties and nothing, absolutely nothing, to worry about. The next morning I ambled down the hallway toward the breakfast nook when I overheard my parents arguing quietly about me. My mom insisted that I get a job and work for the summer. My dad was adamantly against it. There was just no talking him into it. Back and forth they volleyed, but he simply wasn't budging. He held on to the belief that I needed one last carefree summer before I embraced adulthood. College and their move from Los Angeles were just around the corner in October. Plenty of time to face reality. And, so it was. Carefree, idyllic, first love, sun kissed days, and lots of silly laughter with friends. I think that final day of summer, right before college started and escrow opened on the house in which I grew up, was wistfulness personified. I always think of that day when I feel that nostalgic melancholy.

    Anyway, a great weekend was had. I worked out hard in the gym, ate well but on point mostly, watched a silly movie with a dear friend and am now planning my attack for the week ahead. I looked up some article on how to train to do chinups (for women) and am bound and determined to get to 5 reps by year's end. I'm doing negatives and isometric stuff and have decreased reps on upper back, chest and shoulders into the 6 rep range to build strength. Fingers crossed. Primal chili is slowly cooking on the stove (smells delish!) and I need to figure out what's next.

    Spoke multiple times to Frenchy over the weekend but am still taking it slowly. His life and job and dreams seem to be leading him back to Los Angeles so we shall see what we shall see. I'm thrilled that we've worked through so much, which feels good and I'm just going to focus on what I want in my life and go for it. In all arenas. I've always been one to jump head first into any and all challenges without fear so will do this once again. I just need to write myself a little road map, or throw down bread crumbs or something.

    Onward and upward and all that.
    Last edited by Grokalicious; 06-27-2015, 07:27 AM.
    Never argue for your limitations.

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    • #3
      The ease of transcending

      I believe that with a strong positive attitude you can transcend anything. Of course, I could be wrong, but this is such a core belief of mine that it's unlikely I'll ever let go of it.

      I had a lot to transcend when I grew up but only realized it while looking back on all of my childhood. Only then could I truly see it. Oh, I didn't grow up poor or hungry. I grew up in an upper middle class home deep in the hills in the suburbs of Los Angeles. My parents were both television writers. My Dad wrote television mostly before my day when television was in New York. Shows like Dick Powell Presents, Checkmate, The US Steel Hour (one of his scripts is in the Library of Congress) and then he wrote for episodic television during the sixties when they moved to the house I grew up in. My Mom was the Head Writer on one of the most popular shows of that era. A show considered a little risqué for its time although now would be thought of as rather tame.

      Anyway...everything was pretty normal for this only child until I hit 12. Then there was nothing but a maelstrom of weirdness. I hated it. I never knew what I was going to find when I got home. Now remember, the start of this for me was 1970 and there was still a lot of messed up stuff happening on the heels of those wildly turbulent sixties. Lots of "recreational" things being consumed, strange people filling my house, having to babysit adults on field trips. One time, they all went to some place in the country, a half hour outside of the city, making me tag along at 4 am. They got out there and kept picking up all of these stupid rocks, remarking on each one's specific beauty and putting them in the trunk of the car. Oohs and aahs and more weirdness. Finally, we drove back to the house, they went to sleep and I went to school. When I got home from school they all wanted to know why there were a bunch of ugly rocks in the trunk of the car. Why had I put them there? Ha. My parents were very close friends with Bear, who some of you have written about on this forum. You can do the math about him and those times, I'm sure. We'd go to a lot of the Dead's concerts. And end up back stage (I was always soooo mortified) and I'd invariably be admonished to not eat or drink anything, for obvious reasons. Baby fox kits in our living room, bass players from other really popular groups, people recreating, other strangers attempting to convince my parents to join Scientology (didn't happen) and me attempting to navigate puberty. My intelligence is what saved me. I skipped a year of school and left home the second that I could. Stayed friends with most of the cast of characters, including Bear, who briefly became a sort of surrogate Dad for me after mine died and we kept up quite a correspondence. I'm actually a coffee addict partly because of him. And, tried his way of eating until I could no longer. My only regret is not having gone to Oz to visit him. His untimely death hit me almost as hard as my Dad's did. Anyway...I managed to have a happy childhood and young adulthood, regardless. I transcended circumstances.

      Today I transcended several things, none as intense as the tale I just told. I woke up and tried to talk myself out of the gym. Luckily, it didn't work and I ended up having a great workout. I tried to talk myself out of everything today and was off, off, off. Still quite hot here and people were saying not-so-nice things to me like "wow, you look tired." I did, so there was that. Everyone has an off day and you just can't let those days define you! If I could live through 5 solid years of absolute weirdness as a tween to teen and still thrive, I can do anything. So can you.

      Tomorrow's goals are to have a better attitude and to stay happy no matter what. Surely there's a pearl of something wonderful hidden in tomorrow somewhere. I'm going to find it.
      Last edited by Grokalicious; 06-27-2015, 07:30 AM.
      Never argue for your limitations.

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      • #4
        Reading tea leaves, augers, and signs

        I've always fancied myself the girl who can figure out anything that's coming by reading tea leaves. Metaphorically, of course. I'll search fervently between the lines, feel out the situation as well as the road ahead. If it's someone who I don't know that I'm reading, I'm golden. If I know them, forget it. I'll just make up scenarios that never ever come to pass or, if they do, are utterly different than anticipated. I thought I'd given up doing that, but if the last few days are any indication, not so much.

        To be honest, I have had weird moments of knowing things before they happen but they are usually big things and huge events over which I have no control. Deaths in the family, for one. I knew my great grandfather had died before being told. I saw the Northridge earthquake crumble buildings twenty four hours before the ground shook. And I could have won a bet that a military helicopter whose power failed would end up whirly-gigging to its demise in the ocean near San Francisco. It did. Each time, I had a dream the evening before in full blown technicolor, I could hear the sounds, feel things tactilely and go through the whole gambit of emotions as though these events were really happening. It's been that way my whole life although I've turned it down a lot because it's irritating to only know when bad things are going to occur. Why can't I dream of the winning Powerball numbers?. Every so often I know something easy and simple, which isn't so bad...Years ago, when I lived in Napa, a friend dragged me to a psychic that he went on and on about. How great she was, that her predictions were always right, ad nauseaum. I went in after his reading with Madame Oracle and she looked me once over and I knew she was an utter fraud. She finally took a deep breath and told me she couldn't read me. She just knew that I had figured out she was full of it. She was!

        I've spent the last few days looking for augers about what to do next. Twirling the tea leaves around in my cup and trying really hard to not throw in the towel. To not give up. I don't know where to turn for advice and relying on myself to sort through the options isn't going to do me a bit of good. I don't even know what to do for workouts and I waffle between having a desire to eat comfort food (gnocchi? I hate that stuff but it sounds good right now) and not being able to choke down anything other than protein shakes or eggs. My HIIT stamina is miserable and I am currently building it back up. I just feel flat. This should be my cue to be gentler to myself, to acknowledge my humanness and realize it's okay to feel like giving up on my dreams. I won't actually give up, but it's okay to have that feeling now and then.

        Sometimes, the burden of remaining optimistic suffocates the living hell out of me. But, you know what? This too shall pass. Of that much, I am certain.
        Last edited by Grokalicious; 10-17-2014, 07:51 AM.
        Never argue for your limitations.

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        • #5
          The leap of blind faith

          For all of my positivity, it's still somewhat daunting to take the leap of faith needed to move closer to all of my dreams. It feels like I'm standing with trembling legs at the edge of a cliff, blindfolded, and then with a determined gasp, I take a deep breath and plunge into the unknown. And, in so doing, prove that I am absolutely sure that something soft and cushy will gently break my fall at the bottom. At the same time, there is the tiniest frisson coursing up my spine...an excitement that underscores everything.

          This is how I feel all of the time right now, searching for the answers that get me there. You could call it faith or trust or whatever. But, without it, no one can win or achieve their dreams except by default which is seldom enough to propel one anywhere. I'm going to keep being a brave girl and just BELIEVE that everything will work out for me. Perfectly. How about that?

          The pressure is endless at times, the temptation great to push everything I want and love away from me. To give up before I even try. Ah, if it were limited to one aspect of my life, it would be easier. But, it's everywhere. My creative goals, my long distance love affair with the Frenchman, my career. Everywhere. Blind faith. I am ready to take that plunge...blindfolded or not. It's what's needed to get where I want to go and have what I want to have.

          And, so I shall.
          Last edited by Grokalicious; 09-30-2014, 07:36 AM.
          Never argue for your limitations.

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          • #6
            Best wishes for success, excitement, and a gentle bounce... and I'm so glad you came back as I enjoy the little snippets of life you share.
            M2M

            "Nonspecific strength gains have to be converted into real improvements in athletic performance or they are not useful."
            - Training for the New Alpinism by Steve House and Scott Johnston

            Primal Journal: Hmm, I'll take this path...

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            • #7
              Originally posted by Meant2Move View Post
              Best wishes for success, excitement, and a gentle bounce... and I'm so glad you came back as I enjoy the little snippets of life you share.
              Thanks! That made me smile. I like sharing here for some reason, and it's nice to see I'm not boring people to death.
              Never argue for your limitations.

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              • #8
                The point of no return.

                It's time. I can feel it so intensely that to deny its existence would be like denying life itself, which won't happen. An inaudible yet palpable click that once I sense, I know I'm past the point of no return. I'm there now. I've been there before, although historically it's been around ending romances. It was even mentioned in my last journal about the epiphany I had when I left a man who bored me to tears. Same click. Same feeling of never going back.

                This time it's about work. After yesterday's intermittent verbal abuse from my boss, capped off by a litany of expletives on the phone, I felt the click. And, after that, she sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher before I got off of the phone. Waaaaah wahhh. Gone baby gone. Me, I mean. After I hung up, I panicked a moment. But then this quiet calm descended and I not only knew I was going to be ok moving forward, I felt I was going to thrive. I wish I had the bank account to warrant making some wildly dramatic move, like quitting on the spot, but sadly I do not. Instead, I made some calls this morning and met with my friend, H, who I spoke of in my old journal. We were going to start our own wine brokerage but put it on hold for various reasons. We met today and hashed it out at length. It's on. Perhaps once we start selling and making money, I can make some sweeping exit from my current job, simply because I like that sort of thing under the right circumstances. I've not told the Frenchman yet, but I know he will applaud my choice.

                Needless to say, my Mom thought it was a horrible idea. Look at the wine classified ads on winejobs.com, she said. Go speak to a Recruiter, she cajoled. Nope. I told her that I'm perfectly capable of putting my neck on the line. If I succeed (which is obviously the plan), great. If I fall flat on my pretty little face, so be it. But, it's my life and my choice. To quote Blues Traveler, coasting to the bottom is the only disgrace. Something I'm unlikely to do.

                I never made it to the gym today. After last night's debacle with my boss, I slept poorly. I'll make it tomorrow. Hopefully, I can manage to eat something soon. My appetite is non existent...but at least my moxie is in full swing. Watch out, world. Grokalicious has a plan.
                Last edited by Grokalicious; 10-05-2014, 04:16 PM.
                Never argue for your limitations.

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                • #9
                  I had a similar experience at work nearly 4 years ago. I was called into my supervisor's office and accused of things I didn't do or say, and I figured that if I didn't leave voluntarily I'd be fired soon. I left her office, went to my desk, and started rewriting my resume. I had a job offer the next day, which I took as a sign. Turns out the new job didn't give me as many hours as they'd promised, and money was tight for a while, but I don't regret leaving. I hope you can escape from that toxic situation and do something fulfilling.

                  Sent from my SAMSUNG-SGH-I747 using Marks Daily Apple Forum mobile app

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                  • #10
                    Originally posted by shuttlebug View Post
                    I had a similar experience at work nearly 4 years ago. I was called into my supervisor's office and accused of things I didn't do or say, and I figured that if I didn't leave voluntarily I'd be fired soon. I left her office, went to my desk, and started rewriting my resume. I had a job offer the next day, which I took as a sign. Turns out the new job didn't give me as many hours as they'd promised, and money was tight for a while, but I don't regret leaving. I hope you can escape from that toxic situation and do something fulfilling.

                    Sent from my SAMSUNG-SGH-I747 using Marks Daily Apple Forum mobile app
                    Toxicity can be very galvanizing and motivating. I'm out of there for sure. Sometimes, like your experience, the money isn't great right away, but that's okay too. Thanks for stopping by.
                    Never argue for your limitations.

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                    • #11
                      Good to see you are back with your wonderful thoughts and writing style.
                      Female back to the basics: 5-2017
                      CW: 2017: 150
                      GW: 130 a dream, I know
                      Muscle soreness surrounding Neck, Thyroid and Rosacea issues.

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                      • #12
                        Originally posted by perennialpam View Post
                        Good to see you are back with your wonderful thoughts and writing style.
                        Thanks. Good to be back, for sure.
                        Never argue for your limitations.

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                        • #13
                          The strength of getting through crises

                          I'm an independent sort of woman and relish that aspect quite a bit. Getting through hard times or solving a crisis makes me more confident (the "I can do anything" syndrome) and prepared for whatever life throws my way. At least that's how it's always been for me.

                          Years ago, in 1997, before the real launch of the internet and absolutely before cell phones were a thing, I went to a resort town in Mexico with my then boyfriend, Esteban (hello pseudonym). It was a last ditch effort to glue together the scrappy remains of our long term love affair which had been slowly torn apart by too much work and his proclivity for alcohol. I was looking forward to relaxing on the beach and eating spicy food and soaking up the sights and riding horses. I knew when we checked in to our room that this would be our swan song because he had rented a suite room with two huge king beds several feet away from each other. He threw his luggage on one bed and mine on the other and the writing was on the wall for sure. Sod it, I thought, I'm going to have fun regardless. That was easy enough because Esteban and I were great friends and always had a blast even though we weren't terrifically involved any more romantically...if at all!

                          First day on the beach and we made friends with a couple who were also from Northern California. The four of us were inseparable. Lunches, dinners, horses, sight seeing. The girl and Esteban were huge drinkers and the man and I were not. Two days before we were all going to head back home, we took a pleasure cruise to the Isla de las Piedras. Esteban and the girl drank something like 15 Kamikazes en route and back. Me? Nothing. We did our thing on the wee island and then back to the little town where we all had dinner. By this time the two of them were annihilated and the hubby and I were just eating and rolling our eyes. We all bid goodnight and promised to hang out on the beach together our last day in this so-called Paradise.

                          The next morning, Esteban complained of a stomach ache and said he wanted to stay in bed. I figured he just had a massive hangover so I headed down to the beach where I met up with our new friends. About every 2 hours I'd go check on him in the room and he'd either be snoozing or propped up with blankets around him in bed. Finally, after dinner, I came back to the room to pack to go home. He said he felt worse and threw off the blanket to go use the bathroom. My jaw dropped. He looked 7 months pregnant, his face grimaced in pain. I ran to the front desk and in Spanish asked for a Doctor. When the Doctor listened to Esteban's tummy, his face went white. Que? In Spanish he told me he couldn't hear any rumblings or any noise at all in his stomach, put the stethoscope up to my ear and silence. The ambulance was on its way. I packed our suitcases, thinking we could leave for the airport directly from the little seven room clinica in the morning. When they examined him at the hospital they said he needed surgery, that his bowel was obstructed and that he had severe pancreatitis. I called my cousin (a Doctor) on the pay phone. Can I fly him home, I asked softly. I want him to have surgery at home. No, he said...somewhat dejectedly, he'll die without surgery. They let me stay in a room there and no sleep was had. None. I was scared, an icy fear that ran through my body. Frigidly unrelenting because I was powerless to help. Plus, I had a cold and knew not to be near him. So, surgery it was.

                          I called everyone in the small coastal town where we lived. Employers, family. Never once letting my voice falter, keeping it well modulated and without emotion. We were not coming back on the plane. The Surgeon said we had to let him convalesce. I'd ask the nurse about him after surgery. Not a soul spoke English in that crummy hospital, and I was the only one of us two who spoke decent Spanish. And, now it was the day after surgery. About 11 in the morning. I was surviving on sheer adrenaline. No sleep, no food. The nurse came to me and said he wanted to see me. No, I told her in Spanish, I still have a cold, I shouldn't go near him. She insisted, grabbing me somewhat harshly by the wrist. I was a mess. Exhausted, trying to hold it together. I washed my face and walked into the room he was in. It was everything I could do not to gasp aloud, but somehow I didn't. His heart monitor was chattering its staccato rate. Uppppppppp and then down and back up again, his arrhythmia apparent to even my untrained eye. His skin was a gray mottled color and his eyes two little sunken holes. I looked at his chart and was utterly baffled. They were only giving him aspirin for pain. Nothing else. He had been cut from his pubic bone to his chest, the bowel obstruction removed, his heart was showing signs of distress, he was in the throes of a severe pancreatitis attack and no pain meds. Hey you, I managed to whisper with a wan smile. He gestured for me to come closer, the pain so obvious in his eyes and expression. I leaned in, caressed his hair half-tenderly, and put my ear close to his mouth. Take me home so I can die, he rasped.

                          And, so it began. There were no cell phones, no one there who spoke English, a dying man I was trying to save, not to mention a doctor who refused to help me get someone from the states to come get Esteban. He also wouldn't give Esteban any pain meds or antibiotics and his condition was worsening as time sped on. With what felt like all of the odds firmly stacked against me, I somehow was able to arrange for a medical Lear jet to come from Van Nuys, California to pick us up from the touristy beach town way down in Mexico. Many many calls back and forth on a rickety old pay phone, in English, Spanish. I kept pushing away the fatigued feeling of screwed up adrenaline flitting through my body. Crying was simply a luxury that I couldn't afford; I had to do this right and had to do it all on my own, and quickly. The medical team and Lear jet were on their way but wouldn't arrive at the clinica until right before night when the doctor was off so we could sneak Esteban out. Thank god he had great medical insurance as well as the traveler's insurance, which we had the good sense to purchase, otherwise he'd have paid a $65,000 bill (if he lived!). Dusk came, the medics were suddenly there, and those days of utter hell were about to be put behind us. Hurriedly, they put him on a gurney, we gathered our things and off we went. We took off into the soft purple light of the horizon and the moment we were aloft they plunged him full of morphine. He heaved a big sigh and I'm sure I did as well. When we landed in the tiny municipal airport near the town where we lived, we were greeted by an ambulance and our parents. In a flurry of movement, he was whisked off to the intensive care unit at the local hospital where he stayed for two weeks. I was going to head home at long last, my exhaustion fully evident, etched in my face and slumping posture.

                          My Dad hugged me and it was at that moment I could finally let down my guard. I wept. Softly at first, then huge wracking sobs. The pressure was off. I had done it. I had saved his life. My parents drove me home, gave me some Valium and I slept for the first time in days. From that moment onward, I never once doubted my ability to do anything and knew that no matter the odds, or what the odds appeared to be, I absolutely could and would succeed. Funny how life toughens you.

                          I thought of this today because I had a momentary lapse of sanity in which I questioned my ability to surmount the odds currently stacked against me. A brief moment of panic that fully enveloped me when I left the gym tonight with my heart all aflutter with worry. It's been a while since I felt that overwhelmed. Silly girl, I soothed myself...you can do anything.
                          Last edited by Grokalicious; 06-27-2015, 07:33 AM.
                          Never argue for your limitations.

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                          • #14
                            Wow, that's an incredible story! It's amazing what we can do when we have to.

                            Sent from my SAMSUNG-SGH-I747 using Marks Daily Apple Forum mobile app

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                            • #15
                              Originally posted by shuttlebug View Post
                              Wow, that's an incredible story! It's amazing what we can do when we have to.

                              Sent from my SAMSUNG-SGH-I747 using Marks Daily Apple Forum mobile app
                              Incredible, indeed. I could never call my life boring, that's for sure. You're so right...we are capable of intensely amazing things when the pressure is on.
                              Never argue for your limitations.

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