"I dream for a living."
-Steven Spielberg
Friday, January 28, 2005
Saturday, January 22, 2005
Welcome to Show Biz
This is a tale from more that a quarter century ago:
When I first ran away to join the carnival, I was working a High Striker. I got wind that the police were on the lot looking for me.
A cute little blond haired girl in a wheel chair named Annie, said
"QUICK, follow me!"
Her mother was Barbara Bennett, The worlds smallest woman.
She took me into The Hall and Christ World of Wonders. It was an old time ten in one circus side show. She hid me under the blow off stage of Bill, the human pin cushion.
Bill and Annie talked to me between acts, and brought me a hot dog and a coke.
That evening, the friendly elf like face of an old man bent down and peeked in on me.
It was Ward Hall. Mr. Showmanship himself. He always wore a white suit, and seemed a strange cross between Danny DeVito and Recardo Montabaun.
He looked me over and said "Hello young lady. Would you like a job?"
That night I laid low while we tore down. When we got to the next town, Ward put me under the wing of a beautiful and exotic performer named Connie.
Connie took me into town and picked out some costumes for me at the thrift store.
She did my makeup, and then pushed me on to the bally stage with Chris Christ.
Chris tied me up as he talked to the crowd, and he seemed to take great pleasure from the fact that I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing.
He mumbeled through his speil, and I could not understand anyting he said, except for the one word of each sentance that he would utter with great inflection to startle the crowd.
Bla bla bla ALIVE... bla bla bla INSIDE...Bla Bla Bla RIGHT NOW!!!...
He wrapped a giant snake around my neck and announced that I would treat the crowd to a daring escape.
I kept trying to hint to him that I had no clue how to get out of my bondage, but he just ignored me.
Suddenly, "One, Two, Three!"
He turned, covered the microphone with his hand, told me what to do, and then exaulted my great talent to the amazed crowd.
Connie was waiting at the bottom of the steps to cover the gaff, and untie the ropes.
Welcome to show biz!
When I first ran away to join the carnival, I was working a High Striker. I got wind that the police were on the lot looking for me.
A cute little blond haired girl in a wheel chair named Annie, said
"QUICK, follow me!"
Her mother was Barbara Bennett, The worlds smallest woman.
She took me into The Hall and Christ World of Wonders. It was an old time ten in one circus side show. She hid me under the blow off stage of Bill, the human pin cushion.
Bill and Annie talked to me between acts, and brought me a hot dog and a coke.
That evening, the friendly elf like face of an old man bent down and peeked in on me.
It was Ward Hall. Mr. Showmanship himself. He always wore a white suit, and seemed a strange cross between Danny DeVito and Recardo Montabaun.
He looked me over and said "Hello young lady. Would you like a job?"
That night I laid low while we tore down. When we got to the next town, Ward put me under the wing of a beautiful and exotic performer named Connie.
Connie took me into town and picked out some costumes for me at the thrift store.
She did my makeup, and then pushed me on to the bally stage with Chris Christ.
Chris tied me up as he talked to the crowd, and he seemed to take great pleasure from the fact that I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing.
He mumbeled through his speil, and I could not understand anyting he said, except for the one word of each sentance that he would utter with great inflection to startle the crowd.
Bla bla bla ALIVE... bla bla bla INSIDE...Bla Bla Bla RIGHT NOW!!!...
He wrapped a giant snake around my neck and announced that I would treat the crowd to a daring escape.
I kept trying to hint to him that I had no clue how to get out of my bondage, but he just ignored me.
Suddenly, "One, Two, Three!"
He turned, covered the microphone with his hand, told me what to do, and then exaulted my great talent to the amazed crowd.
Connie was waiting at the bottom of the steps to cover the gaff, and untie the ropes.
Welcome to show biz!
Our Hero: A snake story
Pretty, Blonde and innocent.
A girl of only seventeen.
I ran off to join the circus side show. It was an adventure, and I fell for a motor drome thrill show rider who looked like a georgous Jesus.
The old timers all called me a forty miler. (a local who gets forty miles down the road, and then runs home crying.)
Not this kid.
I passed through the gauntlets of fetchin lightbulb grease and left handed wrenches.
I searched for the key to the midway.
IzI Lizearned Tizo Spizeak Cizarny.
(I learned to speak carney)
I worked the Bally stage of The Hall and Christ Ten in one Sideshow as Houdinis great granddaughter, "the snake charming escape artist."
Once, a big fight broke out in the area behind the bally stage. All the performers jumped into the frey. There were twenty or thirty locals duking it out with the men from the show.
What a scene! The knife thrower and sword swallower, and all the other guys in their sequined show outfits fighting like true swashbuckelers!
Someone shouted "Hey Rube!!!" (The signal for all to come to their aid)
The fight got bigger and bigger.
I was watching from above, tied to a cross on the bally stage with a ten foot python named Oscar, wrapped around my neck.
Then, the owner of the show, a little old man in a white suit and hat, came up on the stage, took the snake, yelled at the top of his lungs, and threw poor Oscar into the crowd!
It was like oil and water! The crowd parted as if Moses himself had commanded it.
End of fight.
Mr. Hall then instructed me in the art of caring for our hero...Oscar the python. He suffered a black eye and a cut lip.
I pampered and nurtured him back to health over the course of several weeks.
I became the snake girl, the gorilla girl, the girl who gets cut into pieces, and I even stood for the drunken knife thrower...ONCE!
I became friends with the side show people, and learned alot about life from my able bodied pals.
I was tricked into driving the fat man to Texas, and my poor car never quite recovered from the strain.
I learned the customs and the cons, and the loyality of the clan.
We lived like kings when the sun would shine, and we pooled our change for bologna and bread in the rain and cold.
I wintered in Gib-Town (Gibsonton Florida...carney town USA)
I apprenticed under a showpainter named Butch of Wanderin Art. I learned from Johnny Meah, and Bill Browning and The Wizard.
I started hop scotchin the shows as Sunshine Art...Showpainter.
I have a thousand stories of those years, and I cherish them all.
Im a writer now. Living the life of a townie, up north.
So, to all of you who I met along the way....
I remember you fondly, and I still feel beckoned by the sawdust in my shoes.
A girl of only seventeen.
I ran off to join the circus side show. It was an adventure, and I fell for a motor drome thrill show rider who looked like a georgous Jesus.
The old timers all called me a forty miler. (a local who gets forty miles down the road, and then runs home crying.)
Not this kid.
I passed through the gauntlets of fetchin lightbulb grease and left handed wrenches.
I searched for the key to the midway.
IzI Lizearned Tizo Spizeak Cizarny.
(I learned to speak carney)
I worked the Bally stage of The Hall and Christ Ten in one Sideshow as Houdinis great granddaughter, "the snake charming escape artist."
Once, a big fight broke out in the area behind the bally stage. All the performers jumped into the frey. There were twenty or thirty locals duking it out with the men from the show.
What a scene! The knife thrower and sword swallower, and all the other guys in their sequined show outfits fighting like true swashbuckelers!
Someone shouted "Hey Rube!!!" (The signal for all to come to their aid)
The fight got bigger and bigger.
I was watching from above, tied to a cross on the bally stage with a ten foot python named Oscar, wrapped around my neck.
Then, the owner of the show, a little old man in a white suit and hat, came up on the stage, took the snake, yelled at the top of his lungs, and threw poor Oscar into the crowd!
It was like oil and water! The crowd parted as if Moses himself had commanded it.
End of fight.
Mr. Hall then instructed me in the art of caring for our hero...Oscar the python. He suffered a black eye and a cut lip.
I pampered and nurtured him back to health over the course of several weeks.
I became the snake girl, the gorilla girl, the girl who gets cut into pieces, and I even stood for the drunken knife thrower...ONCE!
I became friends with the side show people, and learned alot about life from my able bodied pals.
I was tricked into driving the fat man to Texas, and my poor car never quite recovered from the strain.
I learned the customs and the cons, and the loyality of the clan.
We lived like kings when the sun would shine, and we pooled our change for bologna and bread in the rain and cold.
I wintered in Gib-Town (Gibsonton Florida...carney town USA)
I apprenticed under a showpainter named Butch of Wanderin Art. I learned from Johnny Meah, and Bill Browning and The Wizard.
I started hop scotchin the shows as Sunshine Art...Showpainter.
I have a thousand stories of those years, and I cherish them all.
Im a writer now. Living the life of a townie, up north.
So, to all of you who I met along the way....
I remember you fondly, and I still feel beckoned by the sawdust in my shoes.
Friday, January 21, 2005
Ding Ding Ding
The way I see it, there are two kinds of people in the world:
Those who get in their cars and buckle their seat belts,
And those who hop in the car, drive down the street, and fumble with the seatbelt after they hear that annoying Ding, Ding, Ding…
I mean really, you KNOW it’s going to go Ding, Ding, Ding…
You’ve done this ten thousand times.
Did you forget?
Or is it that you just like to live dangerously. Get a little adrenaline rush as you are going down the block, testing yourself with a little dare, to see if you can manage to get it buckled before you crash into that stop sign on the corner.
For those of you who are single, I suggest that this is a great test to find out what kind of person you are dating.
The bucklers are the conservative ones. They think ahead. They are always prepared.
The fumblers are the risk takers. They are the exciting ones, but they are also the ones who will need to be reminded to take out the trash every day of their lives.
These are the folks who don’t even think about doing laundry until the moment they realize they have no clean underwear, and only have twenty minutes to get ready for work.
There’s a risk taker for you! A regular Indiana Jones!
The excitement and thrill of it all. The adventure of beating the clock as he races to find the treasure….that “almost clean” pair buried in the dirty clothes pile.
“Eureka! The treasure of all treasures! The golden BVD’S!”
Quickly, without a moment to loose, he throws them on, jumps in the car…
And spills coffee all over himself as he crashes into the stop sign while cursing that blasted Ding, Ding, Ding…
At that moment, the words of his mother seem strangely sage:
“Don’t forget to put on clean underwear; you never know when you might get in an accident.”
Saturday, January 01, 2005
A word about Marriage:
Friends have often told me, that they envy my marriage. This is to me, the greatest complement one could ever receive.
My husband and I do have a wonderful marriage, and for that, I feel deeply blessed.
We have been together for almost two decades, and are still in that “Honeymoon” stage.
They keys to our success are as follows:
• We began as good friends.
• We made a life long commitment to each other that is rock solid.
• We trust each other completely. This is key. It is not a blind trust, but one that we have both worked hard to earn over the years.
• We created a vision for the future before we tied the knot. It was a detailed plan that we wrote out on paper. This provided a unified set of goals for which we would both aim.
• We manage our money with great care. We save for retirement, and put money away for the kids every month. We rarely used credit cards, and we pay off the balance every month. We research all potential purchases, and are careful to spend money wisely.
• We do not fight. Really. In all the years of our marriage, I can recall only two or three times that we ever raised our voices to one another. Instead, we prefer to use a boardroom approach to our disagreements. We think things out, and discuss options in a respectful, productive manner.
As a result, our home is a place of calm, of peace, and of unconditional love. It is a place filled with laughter and love. When we are in our home, we are sheltered from the storm.
• The last and most important part of the formula is that we openly express our love, honor and respect for each other every single day. I always remember to thank my husband for taking out the trash or balancing the checkbook. I make sure that he knows that his efforts to earn a living, and play with the children are continually appreciated, and he does the same for me.
• We NEVER try to cut each other down. We ALWAYS strive to build each other up.
In a nutshell, our formula for a successful marriage is built on the principles of: Friendship, Trust, Commitment, Respect, Planning, Responsible Choices, and big doses of Daily Affirmations.
My husband and I do have a wonderful marriage, and for that, I feel deeply blessed.
We have been together for almost two decades, and are still in that “Honeymoon” stage.
They keys to our success are as follows:
• We began as good friends.
• We made a life long commitment to each other that is rock solid.
• We trust each other completely. This is key. It is not a blind trust, but one that we have both worked hard to earn over the years.
• We created a vision for the future before we tied the knot. It was a detailed plan that we wrote out on paper. This provided a unified set of goals for which we would both aim.
• We manage our money with great care. We save for retirement, and put money away for the kids every month. We rarely used credit cards, and we pay off the balance every month. We research all potential purchases, and are careful to spend money wisely.
• We do not fight. Really. In all the years of our marriage, I can recall only two or three times that we ever raised our voices to one another. Instead, we prefer to use a boardroom approach to our disagreements. We think things out, and discuss options in a respectful, productive manner.
As a result, our home is a place of calm, of peace, and of unconditional love. It is a place filled with laughter and love. When we are in our home, we are sheltered from the storm.
• The last and most important part of the formula is that we openly express our love, honor and respect for each other every single day. I always remember to thank my husband for taking out the trash or balancing the checkbook. I make sure that he knows that his efforts to earn a living, and play with the children are continually appreciated, and he does the same for me.
• We NEVER try to cut each other down. We ALWAYS strive to build each other up.
In a nutshell, our formula for a successful marriage is built on the principles of: Friendship, Trust, Commitment, Respect, Planning, Responsible Choices, and big doses of Daily Affirmations.
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Life
Once we climb to the top of the mountain, we can clearly see the path that was so hard to find along the way.
"Life is lived forwards, but understood backwards."
"Life is lived forwards, but understood backwards."
Namaste
Pronounced: Na- ma- Stay
Namaste is a mudra and a mantra. A greeting that is designed to open the heart chakra, and blend the energies of two people as they meet, or leave.
By placing the hands in prayer position and slightly bowing the head, one offers a humble greeting of honor and respect.
The meaning is "the divine within me, honors the divine within you."
Because Eastern philosophy decribes us all as ONE, this greeting implies acknowlegment that there is no seperation between us, that we are all part of a single divine consiousness.
namaste
Body, Mind and Spirit
The triangle of Body, Mind, and Spirit form the foundation of bliss.
As we travel through life, these three elements must remain in balance.
If the body is neglected, the mind and spirit will falter. If the spirit is void, the body and mind will suffer, and when the mind is not focused, the body and spirit are lost.
Each element is dependant on the other.
So as you go on your journey, seek balance. Discipline your mind. Use it to nourish and guide the body and the spirit.
If you look closely, you will find that every experience in life can be viewed with greater meaning and purpose when viewed through this lense.
The Body Mind Spirit Triangle
Invest Energy
Invest Energy:
The power of prayer is a mighty thing, but it does not just happen all by itself. There is a difference between wishing for something, and investing in something.
In order to make miracles happen, you must invest your energy into them. No deposit, no return. It’s that simple. God helps those who help themselves.
‘If you are going to ask spirit for something, you must be willing to make an investment of your energy into the dream. What you receive in return will be a direct reflection of the energy that you invested.
Boredom Buster
When I was a teenager, my friends and I would often exclaim “I’m so Bored! There’s NOTHING to do!”
Over the years, I discovered that the best way to eliminate that word from my vocabulary involved shifting my perspective, and learning to view the world through The Body, Mind and Spirit Triangle. When all three of these centers are engaged, the word Boredom simply does not exist.
Even simple passive activities, like looking at a painting, evolve into a mental Olympics when deeper meanings are sought.
The French nineteenth century artist, Georges Seurat developed a method of painting called pointalism. His most famous work is a piece titled "Sunday Afternoon on the
Quantum Physics is a study of what the universe is made of, and how it all works. Cells are made up from molecules, which are made up of atoms, which are made up of quarks. Quarks are pure energy.
If this theory is true, then the universe is like a George Seurat painting. A giant soup of little energy dots that form a picture of reality.
It’s interesting to apply this concept to the spiritual realm. When I think it over, it seems that we might finally have a science that is not at odds with religion: A science that actually fortifies the beliefs that have been circulating the globe for centuries. Maybe there is something greater that connects us all, an unfathomable source of energy that lives within us, all throughout the universe, and beyond. Maybe that painting is about more than just a walk in the park.
With ideas like this to chew on, who could ever be bored?
Saturday, December 25, 2004
Authors Anonymous
Authors Anonymous
An unknown woman steps out of the shadows to approach the ominous podium.
“Hi, my name is Kelley, and I am a writing addict.”
“Hi, Kelley.” The members respond.
Her meek voice cracks as she grips the pedestal, and stares at her feet.
“I have come to the realization that writing has overtaken my life.”
“Even when I know that I am supposed to be doing something else, ideas will pop into my head. I am powerless to ignore them. Again and again I find myself back in front of the keyboard, drowning my thoughts.”
A knowing murmur arises from the crowd.
“My kids know what’s going on. Whenever they need me, they come to the office, and find me, sitting there, slumped over the keyboard, immersed and obsessed.”
Kelley clears her voice, and chokes back a tear.
“I see the sad disappointment on their faces. They know that mom is off on yet another binge.”
“I used to have a great relationship with my mother, and my friends. They would often call me on the phone, or drop by to chat. Now, they avoid me. They don’t like to spend time with me, when typing is all I ever have on my mind.”
Several audience members nod thoughtfully.
“My relationship with my husband has suffered too. We used to have so much going for us; but now, we just fight over the computer. He says that I am invading his space, and that my addiction is causing him problems at work.”
“One day, I emptied the bank account to buy a laptop. My husband was furious. We got into a fight, and I just lost it. I ran out of the house, and drove off into the night with my laptop. It was all that mattered. I…I…I started typing while I was driving. I know that I shouldn’t have, but I just couldn’t help it.
We hear it all the time… ‘Don’t write and Drive.’
It was crazy for me to do it, and I am lucky that no one was killed. I thought that I could handle it. You know, it wasn’t like I was going overboard, typing with both hands. I was just pecking at the keyboard with one finger… O.K, five fingers: But I kept the other one on the wheel!”
Kelley scans the crowd for sympathy, and then drops her head in shame.
“Things got blurry as I kept shifting my focus from the road to the monitor. The glow put me in a daze. I don’t remember much after that. I woke up in the hospital the next day.”
“You would think that this would be a wake up call, but no. I just wanted to get home and write all about it!”
“I knew that I had hit bottom when I started getting up in the middle of the night, to sneak into the office and write ‘just one more page.’ It’s hard to admit the truth, but, one page would often turn into an all night binge.”
“My family would see the dark circles under my eyes the next morning, and my breakfast discussions on philosophical topics were a dead give away. I couldn’t wait for the kids to go off to school, so that I could write even more.”
“I used to have a very steady hand, but now, if I am not drumming them on the keyboard, they tremor with “The Shakes.” I feel worthless, and I can’t concentrate on even simple tasks, unless I have ‘a belt o’ da- board’ to start my day.
Her shrill voice rises as she attempts a plea of understanding from the group.
“It clears my head. It relaxes me, and helps me get through the tough times. It helps me focus. It is how I express myself! It is who I am!”
A long silence follows. She sees the sadness in their eyes. They know the road that she is on.
“I see now, that I am a writing addict. I am powerless against it, and I need help.”
With that, she steps down from the stage, goes to her car, and types:
Authors Anonymous
By Kelley Bell
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