Happy Mother’s Day…

It’s Mother’s Day in Sweden today. It’s always been a weird day for me since age six, as that’s when mom died. We had our own traditions though – going to see our grandmas. I often think about this. Life may have been cruel in the sense that it removed my mom, but I got two moms instead. I did get a step-mom too whom I would have been happier without, but what my grandmas taught me was such a great gift. The down to Earth groundedness that I was brought up with…cooking, gardening – the taking care of your own back yard mentality so filled with honesty and respect…I don’t know where I’d be without it. I remember my best friend’s mom saying to us when we were living in Hollywood, that well one thing she wasn’t scared of was us losing our minds to fame and fortune because by the end of the day we were two lunatics getting over excited about the orange tree in our garden, repainting the living room, or finding a new recipe. We didn’t exactly put on airs in the Hollywood Hills….even though we both love the Hollywood Hills like crazy.

We were sunbathing in the garden today, my best friend and I. In fact I’m still sunbathing writing this and it once again hit me how lucky I’ve been. A lot of things in my life were chaos when I was a kid and to say that I was messed up is an understatement. My ego got pretty squashed by classmates and my step-mom and I can see the tendencies I have to this day to hide in my ego, to be cold and shut people out, to be petrified of love, to want to be perfect plastic fantastic…but through all this what always grounds me is where I came from. I remember being looked after by my grandparents, or spending an evening with my dad looking at the stars when were sailing. I remember sitting in the sunshine on the deck scrubbing potatoes for dinner, or waiting patiently for hours to catch some fish. I remember picking berries and doing acrobatics in the garden. I remember that I just am and all the love around me that was and still is. I remember me.

So today I would like to thank my two grandmas, one who’s still alive, for the endless hours they spent watching me grow up – whether teaching me to apply nailpolish, or pick elder flowers to make a cordial. Whether to deck me out for a masquerade, or spend time with me in hospitals when I had asthma. Whether to go through every damn store in town to find my favorite, out of print books, or bake ginger breads for Christmas. More than anything I want to thank them for their love. Through their love I survived. Whenever my ego, or my heart (because of my ego getting in the way) gets broken I pick up a whisk and start whipping up a cake, or I run barefoot through the fields. And I remember who I am. Beyond the exterior. I’m someone with dirt under my fingernails running through the garden sprinkler system with the biggest imaginable grin on my face.

Mom and I on a sailing vacation in the Swedish archipelago a long, long time ago…

I got caught in my granny panties…in public…

Ever done that? Personally I’m against knickers. I mean there are times when they are useful, but in general I find them annoying and refuse going near them…unless they are like granny panties, those are generally quite comfortable, but those are really not to be worn to avoid humiliation, should you ever be caught in them. If you want maximum exposure of asset it’s best to stick to thongs (not when it comes to bikinis, beware) or nothing at all (unless you are on a public beach) in my opinion.

The thing is you can have a really nice ass, but if presented in granny panties…it does not do itself justice. That’s kind of how I felt about the production I put on the other night. I had worked with some of my best friends and had had so much fun. I had rediscovered my great passion for directing…and seeing some of the pieces I was working on coming together was just pure bliss (you know when you start with a script and there is nothing…you can’t see the humor, the drama, the anything…and then you work on it and work on it…until it is all there…for me, that’s bliss). I thought I had a really good show. Like all the acts were really good…then came performance night and what had been a brilliant ass to watch the night before when rehearsing (well the parts that were rehearsing) was now next to invisible underneath the granny panties. It was fawlty towers in action. Apparently some of the audience still enjoyed it, but Jesus Christ, it was 10% of what it could have been.

The show needed to have been cut down in time, start earlier in the evening, have no technical problems (ever tried doing a show where only half the stage is lit and the sound only works sometimes?), have actors who had rehearsed in the space it was to be presented in so that they didn’t lose the plot and all the comedy with it, be presented on a proper stage in an intimate space with an engaged audience, be tied together in a coherent, enjoyable way and simply be much, much smoother overall (basically it needed a couple of runs and a tech to cut out the bullshit and be adapted to the space)…then, then it would have been a good show. And if I were to do it again it would have more of a theme and a better set for the stage….and made sure there were nicely timed surprises for the audience and bunch of other things.

As a professional director and producer I don’t feel too hot when these things happen because as such I have a responsibility towards the cast, crew, audience and organizers, but I do know what needs to be done to make a show run smooth when I look at it (I had never had a chance to run this show from start to end and let’s face it: it was put on in two weeks…13 acts in 14 days…and I had a day job…everyone involved just did a fucking amazing job getting it together) and I learn even more from every show I do. So I walked out feeling disappointed, but also confident I can produce and direct, because I immediately knew what I could start playing around with to make it work…then, believe it or not, I suddenly panicked thinking I have no clue of how to do that with my love life. Like I know directing, but love life??? And that’s when you have to laugh….a woman is still a woman. Never mind the production she just put on, figuring out how to marry her soul mate is clearly much more important. At least for about five minutes.

My best friend was in hysterics about the whole thing and our piece specifically on the night – she was like: why did no one laugh? Last night people were rolling on the floor, so what’s the problem? Then we realized the sound was entirely off in the beginning of our piece (they may still have picked up on us singing Mamma Mia in falsetto, but not why) and then her mic fell off, so no one heard what we were saying so basically we were two Swedish bimbos, dressed as cleaners, stroking our mops to Big Spender, making a fool out of ourselves without anyone understanding the point behind it…and our acting was appalling to topple it off. Oh it’s just brilliant – some people want to be loved in spite of their good looks, I always wanted to be loved for me, not my talents and now all my friends must certainly do so. Be careful for what you ask for and all that. LOL!

So yes, I’ve had an interesting couple of days…where I’ve tried to come to terms with my granny panties moments, finding my passion in directing again and not knowing how to direct my love life…I still have no friggin clue…I just choose to love…especially myself, in granny panties.

Lingerie from What Katie Did…sometimes even granny panties can be tasteful…at least from that brand (not that they are on display here, but if you check out their catalogue!)!

Between an umbrella and a mini-skirt…

I would love to say something really clever and witty today…yes…so: it’s been pretty hot outside. When in doubt, always talk about the weather. If it’s hot in Britain everyone’s smiling apart from when they are in the bus/office/home that lacks air condition. The Brits can’t handle any kind of weather condition. Not even rain. But they do love the hot sunshine, even if some people faint due to lack of proper ventilation/AC. In the winter they freeze because of lack of proper insulation/heating.

I’m not sure my talk of the weather went very well – I always start moaning about Britain. We have a hate love relationship. I prefer the hills and the beach, but I love being here for creative reasons. I just can’t stand the thought of winter approaching. I mean summer just started but that means winter is close and I’m not sure I’m willing to go through another one, when really I could be spending it in flip-flops by the beach, wearing mini-skirts in the evening and enjoying it rather than freezing my butt off.

I wasn’t really meant to talk about the weather. I wanted to say something about honesty. About truth. About how we are all so different and beautiful in our own right and how it’s sometimes tricky seeing that because…well we are different. We go about things in different ways. Our truths look different, because what we love vary. How I see the ideal business, relationship, sense of humor…it’s different from how anyone else sees it. That’s why conflicts arise. And that’s why we need to learn how to deal with it. How to be able to find the beauty in ourselves and others and learn to just approach it all with love. Even the British weather. Because sometimes, sometimes it truly is worth the effort to make a relationship, or collaboration work, no matter the differences. You do need to live in harmony with yourself though, whatever that means to you.

So lots of love peeps…

My kind of umbrella: the sunshine kind…

The charming reality…stilettos and sweatpants…

Here’s another lovely photo of me cleaning, Inga Binga style that is (i.e. as a character in a sketch). In reality I’m sitting on my big fat ass, wearing sweatpants, a hoody and a pair of fluffy shoes, you know sort of Ugg style, but the 2 pound version. The mop is resting on the floor next to my feet. It’s a quarter to eleven and I’m completely dizzy from doing too many pirouettes, trying to come up with various moves for the Ulla Bulla & Inga Binga routine (which will be performed in stilettos). My best friend and her guy just left after I spent two hours tearing my hair out over their piece…all I can say is that I’m gonna get a 70-year-old to dance to Moves Like Jagger. It’s an interesting experiment. If I haven’t lost my mind by Monday, you can write me off as mentally healthy for life.

The fact is though…tired as I am and utterly frustrated that I only have so many hours in a day, I’m happy. I’m happier than I’ve been since I don’t know when. Em told me yesterday she’s never seen me like this. She’s known me for five years. We were talking about the hosts script for the show and apparently I had the glow. I had a headache from hell and felt like I was running a marathon, so if not even that stops the glow, something’s right.

I always feel like I’m kind of in love when I’m involved with a project. I can’t stop thinking about it. The idea of the first night is driving me insane. I’m utterly paranoid of how I will look in the naked lights. I have a silly grin on my face. I wake up in the morning filled with an urge to jump up and do something crazy. I dream of rewards in the form of chocolate and flowers (OK, if it was a man it would be more like driving fast sports cars into dusty countryside roads, but anyway). You see what I mean? I’m in love.

It brings back memories of being 14 years old. Myself and my best friend choreographing our first routine to a Grease song. I remember the taste of life. Like that’s what I’d always been waiting for. I lived for that. The dream of being able to always live like that. But I made mistakes. I didn’t always live like that, because I got angry it didn’t pay my bills. Hell, I’m crying now (moist eyes, by now you know that’s as much crying as I do…think Diaz in The Holiday). I’m just so happy to feel alive again. So, so happy.

This time around I know there isn’t enough time. I know the conditions aren’t perfect. I’m petrified because of this, but that too is part of life: play with what you have and make the most of that. Indulge in the moment. Allow yourself to enjoy, even if it isn’t perfect. Even if DiCaprio wouldn’t swoon. What the hell so long as you are laughing, so long as you are having a good time…it’s your life. Enjoy it.

I will stop posting silly pictures of me cleaning in stilettos…it’s just…it’s part of a routine…and the best thing I know is sitting in my sweatpants having spent hours doing routines, feeling alive, pumped up and looking forward to performing them. It’s a silly profession, you know coming up with silly acts…nothing serious…and I love it.

Exploring me…exploring you…

I’ve come to the conclusion that I have a terrible sense of humor. It’s all about sex, really. I follow JewishComedians on twitter and I found a tweet from them today saying: “Slow down & enjoy life. It’s not only the scenery you miss – you also miss the sense of where you are going and why.” ~Eddie Cantor Not sure what’s funny about that, but as soon as I got half-way through the quote, I made up the second half “Slow down & enjoy life. It’s not only the scenery you miss – if you drive too fast you may miss a turn and that would be a waste of curves when it comes to women”…or well you know, something along those lines. Point being: don’t always rush, you wanna remember take time for the lovemaking. There is the flip side of the coin as well though and that’s that you have to start driving to see any scenery at all… Just remember when you do start driving to watch the speed bumps… See what I mean? Terrible sense of humor.

So anyway, before this tweet that made me think of speed bumps, or boobies and booties, what have you (or more correctly: men exploring those, erm), I was thinking about exploration. The exploration of people and life.

I was tweeting about this today actually. Well, OK, rewind further. This morning I was tweeting about the fact that love is what makes you come alive in life and I think it is. When you do what you love, in a place you love, with the people you love, who love you, you feel pretty much as alive as can be. Usually we only master one or two of those at the same time and even then…we are flying quite high.

Point being, as I was pondering this, I started pondering that honesty is the beginning of everything in a sense, because to fully live your love, you have to be honest. You have to reach your own core and live that, because who you are is what you love. As within, so without. You can’t really fake your love, if you know what I mean, because it won’t be love….it’s like faking an orgasm – you won’t feel it. So you simply have to keep going until you reach your core, reach what makes you feel alive.

So what I was thinking is that to truly live your love you have to dare explore yourself, be honest with yourself and discover what you love. In the same way you have to allow yourself to be honest when it comes to exploring other people and your relationship with them.

I think exploring relationships can be scary as people don’t always live from their core, from their heart, treating you with love. If you have ever been in a relationship where love wasn’t the focus of the relationship, I’m sure you know what I mean – whereas your partner’s only job was meant to be loving you (ace job description I may add!), they decided that you were meant to work for them by doing a, b, c AND decided to take out their frustration on you all the time (and if you weren’t loving yourself, you may have believed that you had to be something you’re not to be good enough, or that you had to please them, or…whatever it was, you simply accepted their opinions as the truth). Also, it may be scary to explore a relationship as you may not want to find out that it was never real – that the attraction was based on learned behavior, beliefs and other not so cool things.

When it comes to exploring relationships it can also be a fear of self – if you know you truly love someone, but don’t know if you will always act from a space of love and honesty, you may be scared of yourself – it’s way too easy to let your hurt ego control you, take something out on your partner, let desires overrule the heart, or do whatever it is you do when you aren’t in a space of love.

And sometimes I think love just looks different from what we expect it to. What you thought you would do, what you were raised to do is not what you love. Whom you thought you’d fall in love with, is not whom you love.

To truly see yourself and other people for what they are is something that takes a lot of letting go of ideas (even the bad ones) and embracing seeing things from the heart. Not to mention allowing others to explore you for who you TRULY are. Explore your heart. It takes a lot of bravery to start driving the car, or slow down enough to see the scenery.

If you aren’t living truthfully and in love, are you truly living? I guess that was truly what I pondered. Isn’t the beginning of everything, of reality, truth and love?

Do you dare having someone do a close up of you???……

I put my ass in it…

Well, this time I really did. I put my big fat ass right in it. I’ve got my high heels and my mops in it too. So what have I done this time?

Well…erm I promised to produce, direct and act in a Variety Show…which is quite normal. Only I promised to do it in two weeks. No that’s not a joke. Two whole weeks to put on an entire show! Did I mention I have a day job? Did I mention I was working 12 days straight as we were exhibiting at Grand Designs? Did I mention I went to work today to strike the show? Did I mention I had PMS last week and following that almost passed out from period pains? And did I mention The Show Must Go On???!!!!!!

Two friends of mine won a competition on BBC – their company is one of 500 companies competing for funding on the show Be Your Own Boss. They were given 100 pounds to turn into as much money as possible in 20 days and donate that money to charity. So they happily asked me for ideas as they say I’m the Ideas Lady. And that’s when I got my big fat ass right in it. I said if I were them I’d arrange an event, a night of marvels and put on a Variety Show for that event. In fact I promised them a Variety Show if they did put on an event. And they did.

So ladies and gents, we are doing it. I have been moved to tears more than once from people’s willingness to help out, from their support and loving energy…but maybe more than anything because I’m living my passion. After years of going nowhere I’m once again not just the Lady of Ideas, but the Lady of Action. In the last week I’ve had more clarity about what I want to do with my life, how and with whom than in the last five years. I’ve been tearing my hair out and stomped around like a mad hatter as well, as my big ass IS right in the action, my name is in the lights and I have two weeks (tmrw. one) to make it look like I’m the professional actor, director and producer that I am. I have had moments of horror realizing there will be no lights, all the acts can’t come to the same rehearsals, the tech will take place an hour before the event starts, I’m scared health and security will ban the fire eaters and angel grinders…do I need to go on??? I’m not sure you need to know about all my mental breakdowns in the last week…did I mention the PMS???…

So yes, my darlings, we ARE doing it…I’m not sure how it will end up – I know I have a hell of a good line up of acts, all professional burlesque, comedy, singing and sketches. …and I know I will be there in stilettos, mopping the floor in Swedish fashion in mine and my BFF’s sketch…watch it, the drama queen is back baby… You can buy your tickets here: http://ht.ly/aSDgT

Doorways…

You have to open the door for anything to enter. If you don’t open your doors, you can’t feel it. You have no idea what’s on the outside. You don’t know the good from the bad, because you can’t sense it. The wind does not fly through closed gates.

If your heart is closed all there is, is a wall. Generally only other walls walk into walls, because they’re the only ones who can’t feel them. Sometimes really nice, loving people take the time to knock and knock until they win someone’s trust and they open their doors, but it’s hard to win someone’s trust if the person can’t trust themselves. And how can you trust yourself if your doors are generally closed and you can’t sense good from bad?

If you close your doors, you close whatever is within you inside. Pain, grief…whatever it is, it stays. You may also live with good memories, petrified of moving on, but that stops new loving memories from being made.

Closed doors don’t protect from thieves. Thieves break into closed doors. All the lights on and all the doors open convinces thieves that there’s someone at home and keep them at bay. No one wants to break into a home where they will immediately be identified as a thief and turned away.

If your doors are generally open, you know what’s going on, on the outside. You know when it’s time to close the door. If the doors are always closed, you have no clue.

In every area of our life, in every day of our life, we have a choice. We have a choice when we stand in the doorway, looking at whatever we are looking at that day, to either open, or close our doors to it. If we want to feel it, we have to open. Exploring with closed doors is like touching something with thick leather gloves, or staring at a painting in darkness. It’s like looking at a person through layers of beliefs, instead of feeling their heart. It’s like touching a photograph instead of a hand.

One has to trust to open, but the only way to know whom to trust is to be open. To hold someone in your heart. To feel their presence within you. To know which road to take, you have to feel the path in your heart. To know anything it has to be felt within you. It has to be touched by your heart with love. Felt by your heart with love. Then you will know.

The tasteful nude…

So normally we walk around with our clothes on right? And our hearts closed…or what was that again???

In our day-to-day dealings with people we may prefer to wear clothes. It could get distracting and damn cold otherwise. However, when it comes to our near and dear ones I would like to at least be naked metaphorically speaking. In other words: I want to be honest, because what is there without honesty? Is there a real relationship with another person if you aren’t honest with them? What are they connected to if it isn’t you? The real you?

I think honest connections is one of the most beautiful things on the planet. People who dare to be themselves with you. People who trust that you can handle the truth. People who value you enough to speak their truth in a loving way. And people who love you for who you truly are. Love your heart and soul. That’s the best compliment one can get me thinks.

So yeah, I guess I think nudes are tasteful. Start stripping for the camera people!!!! (…I mean, show your heart to the lens…)

Strip…I mean sing, to your heart’s content…

One life, one love…

So it’s still I challenge you to love month. My emotional challenges vary daily. Today I decided to write a few love poems. I just wrote whatever came to mind, or came to heart if you so like. I really dislike posting it, because it makes me cringe, so that’s why I’m doing it: it’s a challenge. It makes me cringe because it’s not a consciously nicely written post. It’s a post written without thinking, allowing parts of me I don’t even agree with to come out.

Whatever part of me that wrote it, whether grand, or small and insignificant, whether amazingly wonderful, or totally messed up….whatever the part, it is part of me and I would like to uncover myself all the way until I reach my heart, my core and live from that core every single day. I think the way to do that is to acknowledge every part of me. To love and heal every part of me. To gently, gently love myself open. And for me that means allowing the girl with the broken heart to speak. The girl who has had a broken heart for more years than she can remember. It’s allowing the girl who loves so much she’s ashamed of her love to speak. The girl who felt her love was never welcomed and tried to hide it somewhere deep inside. It’s allowing all that, coming to peace with all that and going beyond all that and becoming the woman who simply loves. Loves all.

It is one life, one love. That’s all there is: your life and how much love you pour into it. To hold back in any way is folly. I want to live my heart. To do so, I have to shed all the layers of memories, beliefs, guidelines about myself and life… Acknowledge them, accept them, love them and let go of them. Writing without thinking (which for me often is writing sort of poetry) is quite a good way of doing that, because you let yourself speak the truth. Then you can accept it, love it and move on.

It’s been years since I wrote poetry. I used to write poetry (or whatever you want to call the maze of words that came out onto the paper) all the time. This is a tiny piece, one of the shortest I’ve written. I will now move onto my next challenge: write love poems about people who have touched my heart and write a love poem about myself. I’m already cringing so I feel this will be good. Maria coming to terms with being Maria.

Like a gentle morning
His eyes awakening
Sun streams of summer
Glory of dawn
The power of the ocean
The call of the sailor
Awake, awake and away
Forget, forget the sailor that sailed by

Sailor is a metaphor…and a metaphor I like given I’m a sailor girl…

Dream cake…

Ah you know there is no better place than the kitchen (apart from potentially my bed, especially at around 7am just when the alarm clock goes off…especially then). The kitchen is simply ace, even without a half naked man around (however I would be happy enough to be distracted by such…I wouldn’t even mind burnt toast for breakfast. Not that I eat toast for breakfast, but anyway. You get my point). I always feel happy in the kitchen – it grounds me, revives me and brings out my creativity…I don’t care if all my experiments end up great, I just care to…experiment! Today I tried sleep baking though, which is a new form of sleep walking that I’ve invented. It’s not highly recommended. I’m still praying for dream cake outcome, of course, but the whole sleeping and baking thing got confusing. Even for me and I have made this cake for years.

There is just something about cooking that brings peace…I’ve been known to whip cream at seven am to clear my thoughts. I swear it works. Fuck I miss the time when I woke up to sunshine at seven am as in LA sunshine. Hot sunshine. Today I had to keep the oven open to stay warm enough to be in the kitchen. I’m not kidding. Something happened to the weatherman. Just after I bought my bikini and he gave me one day of summer as an appraisal of this item, he decided he didn’t like my bikini after all and brough on a new ice age. Seriously. Men.

The reason I’m technically sleep walking right now is called Grand Designs Live. Or more precisely: our gallery exhibiting there. We were getting all the works in today and started the hanging (not of ourselves, of the works. Although, there were times when we were almost dangling off the walls). I really enjoy fairs. I believe my dreams tonight will be covered in Damien Hirst spots on top of naked Lucie Bennett ladies. Shall be an exciting night indeed. I wish we had prints of naked men too, but alas the ladies will have to suffice…I guess I’ll use my creative imagination to generate male counterparts.

Apart from when I’m baking one of my favorite moments of the day is to sit down and write this blog. It’s my form of meditation – I gather my thoughts and talk about naked men just enough to keep myself awake in this meditative state of mind. I always say if you can get people to laugh, or think about sex you’re half way there (to making a sale of course, what did you think?), so applying this when I write, I make myself think about sex and laugh at my own sense of humor, so I’m basically selling myself my own blog. At least I’m amused.

Seriously though, living what you love is so important as I said yesterday. I’m hoping soon that will be my everyday life. I’m starting to figure out a few things where I’ve gone wrong in the past and now taking baby steps to make it all work out. I’m not good at having a day job and keeping energy levels up though, so after this spectacle called Grand Designs Live I intend to make up for overtime by taking five days and focusing on moi. I may use ample amounts of whipping cream to get my head straight. Man dipped in cream surely would help too. I’m not a fan of sexual frustration. It’s frustrating. I’m not sure this self-imposed reinstated virginhood is doing me any good. Maybe I should just decide that the next man I come across is Mister Right and then if he isn’t I can repent.

What was I gonna say? Oh yeah, I was just gonna quote Steinbeck as he puts what it is like to be truly alive in such a nice way…I just think it sums up being in love with your life and allowing yourself to truly feel…it’s one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite books! (You all know my favorite book series is the Amelia Peabody one by Elizabeth Peters, right?! Egyptologist fighting bandits with her umbrella whilst excavating tombs in Egypt…so bloody brilliant humor, history, wit and just the right amount of everything…so let me quote her first: “You know how your eyes can deceive you at times–how a group of shapes and shadows can take on a certain form and then shift into another? It wasn’t really like that; there was no physical change in him, he was exactly the same as he’d always been. I knew every line of his long body and every curl on his disheveled black head. I’d just never seen him before. You know what I’m trying to say, don’t you? The change is in the heart.” That’s another way of coming alive…) So Steinbeck: “Sometimes a kind of glory lights up the mind of a man. It happens to nearly everyone. You can feel it growing or preparing like a fuse burning toward dynamite. It is a feeling in the stomach, a delight of the nerves, of the forearms. The skin tastes the air, and every deep-drawn breath is sweet. Its beginning has the pleasure of a great stretching yawn; it flashes in the brain and the whole world glows outside your eyes. A man may have lived all of his life in the gray, and the land and trees of him dark and somber. The events, even the important ones, may have trooped by faceless and pale. And then -the glory- so that a cricket song sweetens his ears, the smell of the earth rises chanting to his nose, and dappling light under a tree blesses his eyes. Then a man pours outward, a torrent of him, and yet he is not diminished. And I guess a man’s importance in the world can be measured by the quality and number of his glories. It is a lonely thing but it relates us to the world. It is the mother of all creativeness, and it sets each man separate from all other men.”

Maybe not my kind of cupcake…but cupcake nonetheless…