WINTER BOOTS + WAXING

Some of you reading this may know that tomorrow is the Choreographer’s Ball, which I am hosting. My dress is ready to go, but my legs definitely are not. Due to the fact that it’s winter and I have no man, they are in serious need of a wax job. So this morning I took a little walk up to the plaza and got it taken care of. When I walked into the nail/wax place, I warned the lady that I was a hairy mess and that she should brace herself. After revealing my legs she said (with heavy Korean accent), “from the knees down you look like a man!” Yes, thanks I needed that. “At least it keeps me warm!” I retort. She doesn’t laugh.

The door was left wide open, as she began to de-hair me. Though this was a little disconcerting, I was in a strangely non-confrontational mood, so said nothing. Eventually a co-worker walked by, peeked in, and closed the door. Whew. When the fronts of my legs were complete, there was a knock at the door. A happy sounding exchange in Korean followed and then another woman, who had just arrived judging by the fact that she was still in her coat, entered my room. I smiled at her, thinking she would just be there for a moment. What I didn’t expect at all was that she would be followed by a little Korean boy of about 5 years old.

Um, yeah. As I sat there, half exposed, I was informed that this new woman would be completing the job. Uh huh. Ok, so why is this little boy standing by her side, staring at my- now hairless, thank God- legs? It got worse. The new lady decided she was going to wax my toes too, which was completely unnecessary. I was so distracted by the male-child addition to the room, that I didn’t notice her dabbing hot wax onto my toes. Then she tries (over and over again) to rip the non-existent hairs from my poor little digits, only to have the wax somehow meld with my skin, refusing to come off. My toes are now turning red, and the boy is transfixed. This whole time the two women are chatting away, but of course, I can’t understand a damn thing they’re saying.

You may be wondering why the hell I didn’t say anything. I plead waxing coma. I was experiencing this moment from the outside, as my mind kept trying to figure out what to say. I mean some part of me accepted that this is how some cultures are- that things of this nature are just not a big deal. And really, I wanted to be down. But deep inside, I knew I wasn’t. I looked over at the boy. He looked back at me shyly, and in that moment, I knew that he totally understood how awkward this situation was. I kept thinking that he was never going to forget this moment. That he would be traumatized by what his mother was putting him through. And I, inadvertently, was to become a part of his childhood mythology. A story he may tell to his future friends, girlfriends, or wife. Oh jebus.

After several appeals to the woman, she finally stopped messing with my toes. It was now time for me to turn over. I took a moment to see whether they were going to take the boy outside, but no one budged. They just looked at me, waiting for me to flip over, butt side up. This was clearly enough. From the front and sitting up, my sweater covered me, but from the back lying down? No, hell no. There was no way I was going to expose my butt, with its neon-green, pink-bowed undies, to the poor child. So FINALLY, I told them to take the boy out of the room. I observed with wonder at how shocked and thrown off they were by my request. Even after I told them why- not wanting to show the boy my woman butt- they still seemed confused. In any case, they did remove him, and I duly flipped over. Well, at least my legs will be looking fab tomorrow night.

I know this blog post is getting long, but I can’t leave today without mentioning my wonderful new winter boots. After weeks of freezing in my NY-worthy, but definitely not TO-worthy boots, I knew it was time to spend the dough and get a proper pair of winter joints. The thing is I really can’t marry myself to spending $150+ on a pair of Sorrel’s or Timberlands. I mean, if I’m going to drop that kind of cash on footwear, best believe Ima get me some fab, 4-inch, sparkly heels to strut around in. Or a pair of sharp kicks. I was complaining about my predicament to Nicholas Pickolas, and he told me that Canadian Tire has rubber, insulated hunting boots that are rated to –40 degrees, for $40!!! Get.out.of.town.

The excitement I felt making my way to the institution that is Canadian Tire was something I haven’t felt in a long while. I was actually shocked at my own excitement. But being warm is muy importante to me, so really I just couldn’t wait. I got there, followed the smell of rubber and found my prize. They were exactly what Nick had described. And ugly as sin, which didn’t bother me one bit- a clear indication that I’m getting old. After the purchase, I put them on immediately and walked unafraid through any pile of snow or slush. My feet were so warm that my whole body became warmer too. I even started to sweat.

Now, THAT is what I’m talking about.

BAD BACON + MUSICAL THEATRE

Where do I start? Ok. So earlier this week I made myself an egg scramble that consisted of bacon, onions, peppers and tomatoes. When I went to get the bacon, I noticed two options. One was a brand new, unopened package and the other was a suspicious looking sandwich bag filled with bacon that had become the color of pavement. Yeah. Definitely going for the new one. Ended up with pure deliciousness (and a hint of bacon-eater guilt). Fast forward to the next morning. I come up from the cave and encounter Denny chomping away on his very own egg scramble, with the requisite bacon, of course. I tell him that I opened the new package cuz I thought the other one looked a little…fugaze. He tells me that he used it and it tastes fine. I find this hard to believe and looked at him perplexed, so he continues to inform me that it didn’t smell bad either. Still hard to believe, but I shrugged and went with it- was off to my first shift at the fab job and had to be out.

Approximately 6 hours later I exit the theatre, and check my voicemail. I have a message from Maria. Apparently a certain person was not feeling so well and thought he might be having a heart attack. What??! No, no. He’s fine. Ends up it was…food poisoning. That’s right. The bacon was indeed bad, and Denny ate it all up. In my mind, this was a clear continuation of the stinky bun incident (see blog post 09/11/09). I came home and asked what happened. He was nauseous and sweaty and dizzy with severe stomach cramping. Luckily he didn’t puke or have diarrhea. But then, as he’s giving me the play by play, he says “…I mean, when I took the bacon out it didn’t smell or anything…it was just really slimy…” Uh huh. Slimy. That’s pretty much a sure sign that meat is no good, wouldn’t you say? Ah Denny, I admire your old-school extreme version of ‘no food should go to waste’. It is strangely endearing.

So after working 4 shifts at the theatre, my subconscious is sufficiently loaded with songs from The Fiddler on the Roof. I’ve woken up the past few mornings singing various numbers in my head. Today was no different. After partying hardy with Lympy last night, ‘Matchmaker’ stirred me from sleep this morning. Anyone know it? It goes “matchmaker, matchmaker make me a match/ find me a find/ catch me a catch…” Ironic and annoying since I’m quite resolutely single right now. Anyhow, I try my best to engage Lympy in my horrible rendition but she’s just not familiar. Damnit. I’m in serious need of a singing buddy. Which is odd, cuz I’ve never been ‘into’ musical theatre before. Obviously this job is going to change things.

I get to Maria’s tonight for Denny’s birthday dinner and I tell her about my morning song bursts. And, Lo and Behold my amazing sister starts singing ‘Sunrise, Sunset’ (from Fiddler). Are you f’n kidding me? I start with ‘Matchmaker’ and she duly chimes in. I’m ecstatic. And in shock. What the…? Who the…? How you can be someone’s sister for 20 years and NOT know they love musicals, is beyond me. I’m also slightly ashamed. I mean, how did I miss that? We get into a lengthy convo about a variety of shows as I become more amazed by the moment at her wealth of knowledge. Later, as we’re decorating the tree, we sing along to ‘All that Jazz’ as it plays in the background.

Complete with jazz hands and low leg kicks.

Awesome.

NEW JOB + PATENT LEATHER

Ok, I have an announcement. Drum roll please…ladies and gents it’s official- I am now a gainfully employed individual. Yep. I bit the bullet and got a ‘regular’ job. And lucky for me, it’s actually not so regular. You see, since I’m a performer and all, it’s very difficult to find a steady source of income that works with my not so steady- and often times spontaneous- schedule. But the perfect job presented itself to me last week. I am now an usher at the beautiful Canon Theatre. And when I say beautiful, I mean f’n stunning. If you’ve never been there, I highly suggest attending a show. It’s really breathtaking.

Anyhow, here’s the deal- each shift is only 5 hours long and I don’t have to work more than 4 a week (I can also do 2 in one day). So my very precious time is still very much my own. There will be no disturbance of my morning routine. I will still roll out of bed sometime between 7-9am, make my oatmeal shake while still half asleep and meander back to the cave to sip away and check my oh so important emails (and damned FB). I can do my vocal work and write my usual inanities, easing into my day. Still go to morning yoga classes and now that I won’t have cash flow issues, I can add a ballet class to the mix. Ahhh. Can you feel my relief? Thank God. It’s all working out folks.

I had my training on Friday, which also consisted of getting ‘fitted’ for my tuxedo. After going through all the necessary information, myself and the other 2 new hires, were taken down to ‘admin’ to pick out our sizes. Oh jebus, I say. All the tuxedos are huge. They are huge and definitely not made for women. My boss very randomly pulls out a shirt, jacket and pants for each of us. I say ‘randomly’ because the size on the tag does not necessarily reflect the actual size of any one item. Of course.

My cohorts fared a little better than I did on account of the fact that they are both bigger than me. They filled out the boxy, untailored tuxedos, making them appear almost sharp. I, on the other hand, looked like I’d been playing dress-up in my father’s closet. The shoulders on the jacket are at least 4 inches bigger than my actual shoulders, and because they are stiff, they stick straight out, making my puny head look even more miniscule. I can pull the waist on the pants so far out that I feel like a weight loss ad. When I went to show my boss I thought he would find me hilarious, but he actually thought the jacket looked fine. Huh? He DID agree about the pants however, so they will be fixed for me. Whew. Can’t wait to get my bow tie!

So the next step in operation new job was getting some black flats that I could wear with my fantastic tux. Since I’m still on a tight budget until I start getting paid, I knew I couldn’t go to my usual shoe haunts. I decided to hit up the Aldo Outlet on Yonge, and boy was that a good idea. Not only do they have lovely Aldo shoes for sale prices, but on that particular day they were adding an extra 50% off!! Whaaaat?? See what I mean? It’s all working out folks.

Pretty soon after entering the store I found exactly what I needed. Black patent leather flats, super shiny and after discounts, only $17! Throw some insoles in there to make ‘em a lil more comfy, and I’m good. But you know I couldn’t just stop there right? I start to peruse the bag section. Found an awesome gray patent leather sac for under $30 and I thought ‘it’s so cheap, I must have it!’ And then my conscious started to kick in. The other me was like ‘just because it’s cheap doesn’t mean you need it.’ Oh, ok I say. She’s right. I don’t NEED a gray patent leather bag. Harrumph.

Not so fast conscious lady. As I made my way to the register with work shoes in hand, conscious lady was thwarted. There staring lovingly at me were a pair of eggshell blue, patent heels with an excellent toe shape and gorgeous wooden heel (I know, more patent leather, I can’t help it). I asked Shavaun, the fabulous sales girl, to see if they had a new pair of 8’s. She disappears and I wait. And wait. Well, I think, if they don’t have them it’s just not meant to be. Golden rule of shopping. I wait some more and just as all hope was nearly lost, she comes up behind me with a grin and a brand new pair of bliss. $17 bee-el-eye-ess-ess.

Didn’t I tell you?
It’s all working out.

YOGA BEEF + BASIC RULES

So I’m sitting here totally procrastinating. Should be working on lyrics for 2 new songs. But um, yeah. Not really doing that as you can see. I have the chorus for both but verses? They’re in a state of flux at the moment. Came home after yoga this morning, and felt so sleepy. Don’t know what the heck. Is it the weather? It was definitely colder today than it’s been lately. I mean, I was sitting in my ‘singing’ chair warming up, and I actually couldn’t keep my eyes open. WTF people? Is anyone with me? You know I’ll feel so much better about myself if you too were sleepy today, so fess up. Seriously.

Ok, I have some yoga beef. And I’m not talking about something you eat, like veggie ‘beef’ or some shit. I’m talking about issues. First off I will say I absolutely adore my yoga teacher, so this has zero to do with her. No sir. My beef is with a certain man who was in attendance today. Never seen dude before. I came in late (really didn’t start the day off right) and set up my matt beside him. Immediately I noticed his vibes. Scattered, huffy-puffy and distracted with a hint of slime-ball. So I says to myself, I says “Ayesh, chill, no judgment” and continue about my business. Most of the time I was successful at tuning out his very loud presence, but on occasion I wasn’t so successfully Zen. I kept bringing myself back though…breathe, shoulders down the back, shins resist forward…ahhhhhh. I try not to notice him looking my way. After all, he doesn’t know much, so I’m helping him right? Yeah, he’s looking to me for guidance. No judgment. Right.

After class I was in convo with some friends, when he beelines over and interrupts the cipher by pointing at my abdomen (almost touching me), saying “you have a really nice tattoo on your belly.” It was abrupt and totally out of nowhere. And carried with it that familiar ‘violated’ feeling, as he glared at it. It’s my belly people. Not my arm or some extremity. I don’t know about you but, to me, the belly is an intimate area. And it was completely covered up. It wasn’t like I was flashing that shit for all to see. The only way my tattoo would’ve been revealed is if I was in some really deep sideways stretch. Facing him. Which was rare. And even then, it would only be a sliver of a glimpse. So dude was grilling me like that?? In f’n yoga class?? Ew. I feel totally gross now. I mean if I wanted that kind of attention I’d go to the damned gym.

He also noticed my necklace (my name in Arabic) and got all up into my personal space to point at it as well- again, almost touching. Even dropped the “I couldn’t read it” and leans in closer to ‘read’ my necklace because he knows Arabic (of course). His eyes were all over my body, not once did he look me in the eye. Ew I say, ew. I sharply turn away. I mean, didn’t his mama tell him it was rude to point? I know that’s old school, but the guy was def a considerable amount older than me, so he’s gotta know that rule. And what’s up with breaking the cipher?? Just bustin’ in like an f’n rhino. He just had this intrusive, ‘grabby’ thing going on, that made me want to smack him.

For those of you who know me well (which I believe are the ONLY people who read this blog), you know how bloody hard it is for me to remain calm in these types of situations. I kept reminding myself of where I was. Yoga studio. Incense in the air. I wasn’t ‘nice’ to him, that’s for sure. Not yogic at.all. But, luckily for him I’ve been home from BK for a year now, and my edges have softened considerably. He got off easy. Slimy Bastard.

Now, if there are any males out there reading this, I will not apologize for my bitching. I will just hope that you can somehow empathize. Trust me, I’ve actually been kind and not gotten into his unattractive physical attributes. Because I DO believe that it doesn’t matter. It is the attitude that matters. My frustration makes me want to say really mean things, but I’m trying to be evolved over here. I don’t know. Do guys go through the same shit? Different pile?

Hmm.

Well, I’ll leave you with my rules to live by when approaching someone you don’t know, but may want to know. I believe these apply to men and women.

1- Don’t invade someone’s personal space. And don’t point into it either.
2- Don’t break the cipher! Whether it be convo, dancing, rhyming or whatever. Just don’t do it.
3- Look people in the eye.
4- If you shake hands, for God’s sake make it firm! Floppy handshakes are gross…

Ok. I’m tired and I can’t think anymore.
Thank you for reading my rant, I feel much better now.

2 POOPS + 1 BUNNY

OMG. Yesterday was the best.day.ever. Woke up nice and early to get in a good vocal warm-up and work on my songs, before trekking downtown for my meeting with Rosi and Nick to discuss the possibility of making sweet music together (minds out of the gutter please, and thank you). I knew the day was heading in the right direction on account of the fact that I was wearing a fab outfit- which ALWAYS makes me feel like a million bucks- even though it probably only cost me $10. Another thing that makes me feel like a million bucks? Straightening my hair. Its soft and oh so flowy and makes me look like a different person. Unfortunately, my mother hates it.

Anyhow, made it downtown with straight hair still intact and plopped myself onto their couch. Let me just say that Rosi and Nick are one of my favorite couples of all time. They have managed to stay together for a freakishly long time (for people of my age) while maintaining their independence and humor. Don’t get me wrong, when I get all gushy, they let me know that it’s not always easy and it takes work, but damn! It’s inspiring to say the least. And gives me much needed hope. Just have to give them props over here.

Ok, ok, back to the music. Ahem. Me me me me me!!

After I sing my four complete songs for the dynamic duo, we start to discuss the next plan of action. First step? Get in the studio, make the music and record the tracks. Nick tells me he can ‘see everything, the video, the music…’ which makes me super happy. We discuss what kind of sound and vibes I want. We all agree. And I’m like- hold up a second, son. Is this really happening?? Are my wildest dreams ACTUALLY coming true? How did I get here? Not only are these people my friends- my fam- who I love and trust completely, but they want to help me. They believe in me. And they have the knowledge. Its amazing folks. Seriously, I woke up pinching myself.

But wait, the day only gets better! How, you may ask? Well for one, I pooped not once but twice yesterday!!!! Ew, you say? Man listen, you can ‘ew’ all you want, deep down inside you know how great that is. Don’t even try to lie. After the awesome ‘production meeting’ I headed to the AMC at Yonge/Dundas to catch a flick with V and J. F’n Ninja Assassin people. Alls I’m sayin’ is that shit was kick ass!! Literally. Had me wanting to do flying leaps with a sword in hand ready to chop unsuspecting strangers heads off. In the most loving way, of course.

And last but not least, I was walking home from the bus stop when, lo and behold, a little grey bunny jumped out from under a pine. Its ears were sticking straight up and it was sooooo cute (no, I didn’t want to chop its furry head off). I have NEVER seen a bunny out in the ‘wild’ and man was it surreal. And to top it all off, my hair remained pin straight ALL day.

God. If only every day could be this perfect.

80'S ROCK + FEAR CONQUERING

So I got an email from my fabulous agent last Friday asking how I feel about my singing voice. I am immediately giddy. What oh what is in store for me today? I scroll excitedly down the page and find a link for an audition breakdown. This is what I found:

“In 1987 on the Sunset strip, a small town girl met a big city rocker and in L.A.'s most famous rock club, they fell in love to the greatest songs of the 80's. It's Rock of Ages, an arena rock love story told through the mind-blowing, face-melting hits of JOURNEY, NIGHT RANGER, STYX, REO SPEEDWAGON, PAT BENATAR, TWISTED SISTER, POISON, ASIA, WHITESNAKE and many more.”

If The Baji is reading this she’s probably chuckling at the Twisted Sister reference since I was totally in love with them when I was like, eight years old. Which, needless to say, made her very concerned about my future. But I mean, ‘face-melting?’ Journey??? I knew right then and there I HAD to do it. Who cares if I don’t know how to read sheet music and I’m nowhere near the ‘belting’ range of singing? Fuck it. I’m game. Time to pick my tune. After eliminating Ms. Benatar and REO Speedwagon from my list (no way in hell my voice is getting that high right now), I decide on Asia – Heat of the Moment. It’s in my range, so I figure I’m good.

Today, I entered into a world unknown- the world of Musical Theatre. As soon as I step into the massive auditorium, I realize that these are not my people. There they are belting their heads off, doing that musical theatre face thing, complete with a full range of complimentary arm movements. It’s cool, seriously. I came here to make a stand. I came to conquer my fears and challenge myself. To be brave and courageous. Yes, it’s true. All of the above. What I didn’t bargain for was the self-inflicted ego bruising. When my group is called to the secondary waiting area, outside the audition room, I learn that we must sing acappella. I also learn that from outside, you can hear the people auditioning clear.as.day. Um yeah, hi. What exactly have I gotten myself into over here?

One by one these fabulously trained and talented singers do their thing. They all sound amazing. Perfect, clear, strong. I am overwhelmed by the urge to excuse myself. These people have worked hard and auditioned hard for these kinds of shows. And me? I’m just here for the challenge, end of story. I had no illusions about this day- I knew I didn’t have a chance in hell of ‘getting’ a part. I thought it would be fun. I’m facing my fears and moving forward! But I start to feel like I’m being disrespectful in a way. Like I’m cheapening this process somehow. Ugh. Here goes my inner dialogue. Why must I always fight with myself? In the end I decide to announce to the girl beside me that I’ve never done this before. Y’know, just thought it would be a good experience. She tells me my song choice is different and therefore ‘refreshing’, and that I should just go in there and ‘sell it!’ Her enthusiastic response made me feel less like a loser and helped my proverbial ‘balls’ to re-inflate.

I guess I was into announcing, ‘cuz I walked into the audition room and announced “and now for something completely different”. Yes, I did. Thankfully, the woman chuckled and said she loves different. I think to myself, ‘Lady, you have no idea.’ I proceed to do my best 80’s rock performance, after which she smiles and takes a moment to peruse my resume. As expected, she inquires about my extensive dance background. ‘So you’re mainly a ballet dancer?’ I laugh inside and then give her the rundown. She asks me to sing again. I oblige. While I’m singing I notice that she’s staring at my throat. Like, the INSIDE of my throat. What is she looking for? My freakin’ breakfast?? I felt violated. Ok, maybe that’s a tad dramatic, but it was strange and slightly disturbing. I guess she was trying to determine my vocal ability through some kind of tracheal examination?

Anyhow, I finish and guess what she says?! “You can sing”. That’s right, folks. Ayesha.Can.Sing. Of course, she followed that with a ‘BUT’ which was followed by ‘we need belter’s for this show’ followed by yet another ‘BUT’ and then, ‘I’m going to give you a purple ticket to sing for the casting director anyway because you’re a dancer who CAN SING.’ Now, this may not seem like a big deal to you, but to me, it was more than I could ever ask for. Yeah, I can’t belt out a show tune, no surprises there. But I never thought I would hear the words ‘you can sing’. Doesn’t matter that I chose to leave instead of waiting another hour to proceed to the next step, or that I have zero interest in auditioning as a dancer (c’mon, at this point, I’d probably break something). Nope. I got what I needed. Validation.

It’s ok.
You can cry now.

PONDERINGS + RAMBLINGS

Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts. Looking for a pair of high-waisted, faux denim leggings. American Apparel has them (of course) but way over priced as usual. Feeling a mixture of things today. It’s a pretty wide range, from pissed off all the way to elation. Yeah, that’s me. Wondering if I tire people out? Wondering about love, what is it really? What makes it work? I believe in the ‘thing’ that makes someone pop for you. But, is that dumb? Should we settle for what might make ‘sense’ (whatever that means) over the magic? I still say hell no. What’s life without a little magic? Even if I have to wait and wait and wait for it, I think I will. I just hope the magic will be mutual. I wonder about that too. Can the magic be one-sided? I feel like that’s impossible for any sane person. I mean, how can one person feel vibes and the other person no? Seriously, unless you’re the stalker, crazy obsessive type, how can that happen? I know that in my personal history, I’ve never felt something about someone who didn’t feel the same way about me. It’s like electricity. It IS electricity. We’re all just a bunch of protons and electrons running amok on the planet. Magnetizing each other, being drawn together and pulled apart. It can’t be one way. Unless your wires are crossed.

Planned to do a mondo workout today, which hasn’t happened…yet. Did accomplish some sun salutations, but got distracted by script idea. Which is not a BAD thing, at least something got moving. Definitely need some squats, sit-ups and all kinds of leg/butt exercises. But here I sit, on my ass, that is slowly but surely deteriorating into flatland. Started taking silica daily in gel form. Sounds gross, I know, but it’s supposed to help with skin firmness and anything to do with hair, bones and nails. Results should show in about 6 months, I will keep you posted on my progress. In the meantime, I’m going to work on getting my exercise habit back. Because it really is a matter of habit. That’s why missing your workout is so bad, it starts to change the habit and before you know it, your ass has disappeared.

I have this vid from my show that I haven’t posted yet. I’m scared. Which I know means I should definitely post it. But, it’s me singing for the first time and damnit, that’s scary! I don’t think I sound ‘bad’ I just sound…new. Of course, I AM new at the singing thing but oh boy, is it vulnerable for me. Pondering, pondering. Asking the Magic 8 Ball.

Me: Should I post the video of me singing at my show?
8 Ball: My sources say No.

Well ok then. Thanks Magic 8 Ball!