Category: laughter

community · compassion · family · generosity · laughter · life · love · relationships · San Francisco · willingness

Modern Family

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Yesterday could not have been more marvelous. Oh, San
Francisco friends ~ How I miss you!!! And how I don’t realize it until I see
you.
Having lived in SF for almost 5 years before moving here to
Oakland, I had the (I can’t even think of the proper word – I don’t think I
know it) intensely fulfilling and soul-affirming opportunity to meet and grow with a pack of women. Many of my
desperately favorites were at my friend’s Memorial Day bbq event yesterday.
The feeling of guts relaxing, smiles expanding, hearts sighing, that’s how it was. I can’t stand it.
But I could, and I did. I was there, and present, and
helped, and talked, and listened, and laughed, and sun-baked (beneath a
generous layer of SPF), and hammocked, and cherry picked, and peach picked, and
dribbled little lines of peach juice down my chin, and made children laugh, and
they made me laugh, and caught up, and shared, and understood, and was
understood. Oh, this family gathering. This is my family, part of it anyway.
And how good it was to be back with them.
So many things have changed. The children are bigger. One is
moving to Japan. One got braces. One got certified. How many things change when
we aren’t looking – or in communication.
The phone works, sure. The bridge works, sure. But how me
and this particular group of women met, and shared, and grew, it was in person.
It was by witnessing monumental and incremental growth over weeks and weeks
which became years and years.
Yes, I’m feeling a little sappy. But I can’t help it. I love
them. And, they love me. This is a section of people who know me in a way few
do, who have witnessed my own growth and change, and who like me, accept me,
are fond of me. As I do them. What a miraculous gift. What a fucking gift.
I don’t know quite the solution. Does there need to be one?
The ache that I realize was there? I felt the same way when I went to a
workshop run by the same woman who hosted this barbeque – the workshop was in
January, and I arrived and saw two women I hadn’t seen in likely a year or
more, and again, my guts sank down from somewhere behind my ribs, where they’d been benignly pinching my
lungs and inhibiting my breathing, they sunk, phoom, back down to where they belong in the
grounding, rooted, centered calm.
It was at that workshop that I realized how much I missed them
all. This won’t be another diatribe on how I don’t feel connected to the East Bay as in the
“Exile” blog. I do feel connected, more
connected, than I had, with more women than I had. I feel friendships, and
activity partners, and women to share with. But. … I’ve only been here a year
and a half, almost two. That’s not 5. That’s not in the same way.
Things change. They must, and they have to. Can I change
with them? How do I balance? How do I maintain – or if change is necessary, not
“maintain,” then, but evolve? How do I evolve with the reality of distance?
Because I won’t always be here in the Bay. That much is
likely true. And what happens then? I have a dear friend who moved to Brooklyn
last year, and we speak on the phone maybe once every two months, with some smatterings
of texts, but we’re not nearly as close – this woman who was once as close as
my heart.
How do we do this?
I’m not sure. I know that I obviously missed these women
more than I knew. I missed the way I feel
when I’m around them – known and loved, exactly as I am, for who I am. Women
who know me well enough to jibe at me, laugh with me at myself, and poke into parts of me that need to
be poked for movement to happen. These are women… for christ’s sake, I can’t
stop gushing.
What now? If I’m aiming to be responsible and adult in my
life, to take action where I’ve taken none, to believe that no one is coming to
change or live or make my life for me – then, how do I incorporate this
knowledge? The knowledge that I want more of that – that I want those
connections kindled, or renewed?
I love my new friends – they are buoying me in ways they
don’t even know. But I miss my old friends. I miss so much of what’s happening.
Life is so damn short and quick, and things move so suddenly. Someone moves to
a new town. Someone to a new country. Someone is engaged, or married, or
pregnant. Someone is in a break-up or new relationship. Someone is changing
careers, or expanding a business, or taking a new class, or forming a girl’s
band (yes, that’s me and my friend with plans to jam with her drums and my bass,
here in the east bay).
I want. Terrible words. But, I do. I want – I want what I
had, but in the present. I want what I had yesterday – the gut-release, the
warm bath, the mild pleasant smirking at the familiarity of us all.
I want. In the present. And how. 

change · laughter · life · self-care

Red Light, Green Light, One Two Three

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Remember that game? It was a schoolyard game when I was a
kid, and I recalled the above phrase as I was folding my new hand and dish
towels onto their rack in my kitchen yesterday afternoon.
I took down my red towels, and put up my new green ones. Spring,
country, moss-colored luxury. Red light = Stop. Green light = Go. It felt
rather metaphorical.
I’d bought the red ones several years ago for my last
apartment, to go with the black, white, and red theme I wanted to have. And I carried
them with me to this apartment. But, yesterday as I stood in the abundant
radiance of Bed Bath & Beyond… I was attracted to the green. Apparently,
with my few other purchases yesterday, I am moving from that former color scheme
to a new one in my kitchen: mossy green, blond wood, and white. I like it.
It feels like spring. It also feels like change.
To me, the red now feels stark, instead of sexy or modern as
it used to. The green feels soft, and cozy, and just a bit cheeky, like it’s
about to tell you the punch line to a roll-your-eyes joke.
Last year around this time, I was invited to read some
poetry of mine at a friend’s art show opening. At the time, I was in the thick
of the awfulness of break-up land, and would rather slice my eyeballs with a
razor than produce art. For me, art is a product of health and at least some
healthy passion – be that anger, joy, or even contentment. As it was, I was
quite depressed and lethargic, and “producing” anything felt like a Herculean
effort. But I agreed.
During that time, as I was aware that I was not in any mood
to create, that I was still in the contracted, inverted phase of winter, I
noticed the copse of tall trees that I see out my kitchen window. Every day I
see them as I write my morning pages, tall over the building next door, at
least a hundred feet tall, and observe them going through the seasons of the
year.
One of those March mornings, I noticed the trees were
beginning to bud. I gasped. I’m not ready!
I’m not ready for production, expansion, greenery. I want stark, barren,
lifeless.
But, bud the trees did, and read poetry I did.
This week, I got an email from a woman at school inviting me to again participate in their annual open mic at the end of the month. And this year as I watch the trees begin to bud again, bolstered by their augur of Spring, I identify with their quiet expansion, and I
answer, yes.
I can’t wait to see what I’ll write. 🙂

home · laughter · letting go · love

February 29th

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My parents married on February 29th of 1976. This
day of the year comes only once every 4 years, and true to their oddball senses
of humor, they thought it would be funny to marry on the leap year day.
It’s been on my mind, as I know that Feb 29th
is coming around again this year in a few days, and … sort of cosmically, my
childhood home, their home while they were married, goes on the market this weekend.
You know, I’m sure my Dad didn’t plan it this way – he’s not
much of a cosmic guy – but, I see it as pretty “full circle” in some ways. A
sad one, but I’m happy for the people who will get to enjoy that home next. It,
for all that it harbored, is a great home.
Most suburban sprawl children grow up feeling like there’s got to be something better than this po-dunk town. Or,
at least, the teenagers think that – we did, I did. But as a kid, actually, it
was pretty great. A number of parks in walking or biking distance. Everyone
rode a bike, and it was around the time they began to institute the “must wear
a helmet” law, and so everyone had some graphic neon print on theirs – or at
least I did. Hey, it was the 80s.
There were supersoakers in the summer, and a fire in our
fireplace in the winter. For all its hardship, this was a wonderful place to
grow up.
Sure, we got antsy, and angsty the older we got. And we
spent many many an afternoon as
mallrats, being dropped off and picked up by our parents via a call from the
nearest payphone. We would posture and stand outside the mall. We would walk it’s
many corridors – we knew it back and forward, and could tell you the fastest
way to get to the food court. We rarely bought anything. If anything, we would
shoplift a bit. Or at least I did. I still owe some financial amends to a Junior’s department!
And then we’d be at someone’s home, their sunken living room with the
enormous box t.v. At a friend’s who had cable and this marvelous thing called
Nickelodeon and MTV.
Back at my home, there was the “secret passage way” to my best
friend’s house next door that my brother never figured out was just a path
through the pachysandra, and would beg to know the secret.
We’d, my best friend and I, block out the sunlight in my
parents room and play “blind man’s bluff” with my brother, which was an awful
game in which we covered him with a blanket, spun him around, and then he had
to find us in the semi-dark. The bed was out-of-bounds, and you couldn’t go on
it to escape him, but we did. And more than once, we spun him around so far
that his first step forward was into the nearest wall. …!
I spent hours in my
room, later as a stoned or drunk person, doing little projects around my room.
Creating a collage around the doorframe. Whittling down this enormous candle
with designs and indentations. There was the time when the sort of cream, sort
of yellow carpet began to swirl into different faces and shapes on one
particular evening.
When my friend and I would spill glue or paint onto the
carpet as little girls, we would use scissors to cut it out, so no one would
know.
The attic was always a scary place filled with junk and
treasures. Cascades of ribbons and wrapping paper – the only reason I ever went
up there — and would see in the periphery furniture, a bird cage, and that pink
insulation stuffing that I once got all over me and the little glass pieces
made me itch, and I had to sit in a bath of calamine lotion.
There were the number of times I puked in that house as a
sick young girl. The times I listened to my brother playing our grandfather’s
piano, and when I was doing homework and asked him to stop, he always had to play those last few notes.
There was my dad trying so hard to help me with my math
homework, but him always being a frustrated teacher, and me becoming a
frustrated student, and fireworks and yelling would ensue.
There was my mom and I using my spelling list in second
grade to create magical stories that used all the words, and I’d get little red ink
stars on all my spelling homework.
There was my first kiss. 🙂 When I was 11, and my mom’s best
friend came over from Switzerland with her family (though she too was from
Brooklyn), and she had a daughter who was 16 (tres glamourous to me at 11),
and a son who was 14. Erik. Tall, Blue Eyes, Blond Hair. Accent. And he told me
I was beautiful. When with my bottle glasses and frizzy hair, I’d
decided already I wasn’t. In the dim evening in my mom’s office, on the worn blue carpet,
after chatting giddily and eagerly, he kissed me.
177 Woodland Ave., River Edge, New Jersey, was my address from 3 – 24 years of age, with it being
my fallback location until this past fall. It was a dream house when they
bought it, and it will be a dreamhouse for its next
inhabitants, and their mall-lurking, supersoaker toting children.

fortitude · joy · laughter · persistence · recovery

Ocean Liner

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

I retract my endorsement of Airborne.
Just kidding. I just am not feeling as better as I’d like,
especially as it comes up to New Year’s Eve tomorrow.
Although I remember the last several New Year’s, which was a
new development, none of them have been particularly outstanding. Last year, I
was on the roof of a friend’s condo in SF, watching the fireworks over the Bay
– which was wonderful – with my soon to be ex – which was less wonderful, but a
great attempt at shoe-horning romance into a moment.
This year’s remains to be seen, with a party with some local
friends’ bands, and some dances out in SF that could be a raucous good time.
But I’m not feeling particularly raucous at the moment. But things change. And
this is the season for it.
I was reminded this morning as I was writing my Morning
Pages about a conversation I’d had with my friend Luke on our Misfit Christmas. We
were talking about the economy, and he was saying that people’s expectations
are that things can change on a dime, in an instant, immediately show results.
Whereas the more accurate truth is that change is like the course of an ocean
liner. It.does.not.stop. when you want it to. (See: Titanic) ;P
He drew his finger in a long, wide arc along the coffee shop table and said that
as an ocean liner begins to change course, it continues to look like it’s still
going along its original path, it continues out into the treacherous water, slowly evening a turn-about. It is not instantaneous, and
it is not immediately obvious or apparent.
Which means, that for anything that does change in this manner, like most things in this world, it requires patience.
This morning, I was reflecting that the change of the year, a
sudden WHAM BANG HELLO NEW YEAR!, might not equate with the reality of the
subtlety of change. But, personally, I feel it. The planet changing
its course in the cosmos, slowly slingshotting back around. The impending
change of the year has begun – it’s not one moment at midnight when Dick Clark
leads us all in some bedazzled primal chant. It’s more covert, and ultimately more kind
than that.
Changes that happen all at once are called emergencies.
Lucky for us, life is not always in the habit of confronting us with change in
these violent manners.
I’m not sure of my entire point here, but I suppose I’m
attempting to provide a bit of cosmic comfort, reinforcement of the
positive course I am on and perhaps you are on, and g-d willing the economy is on! Or maybe I’m just being wistful at the close of a
year, which, of course, it also is.
I was 14 and at a new year’s dance and a girl friend of mine
was in near hysterics. She said that the change of new year’s always gave her
anxiety. I got a text just now in which a friend asked me if I didn’t also have
the new year’s depression.
Lucky for me, no. I’ve bought my ticket on this ocean liner.
Cast in my lot. Threw down the gauntlet. Thrown in my hat. I am down with you,
Ocean Liner. I am concerned that I don’t know where you’re going once you make
your change in course, but I’m also mildly thrilled to see where you will go. To call on the spirit of “Must be present to Win”
and “Just Row,” I will make my best attempt to stand like Rose at the bow of
the ship and throw my arms open unto the unknown. 
dating · family · fun · holidays · joy · laughter · responsibility · self-care

Best Date Ever.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

So, if, as has been said to me, a first date is simply an
interview for a second one, then I totally nailed this interview.
The date began with ice skating. Now, I almost talked myself
out of it, seeing that there were mainly families on the Union Square Ice Rink,
but after checking in with my date, I knew this is what we were there to do.
And I had a blast!!! It was so much freaking fun. I didn’t
fall, but I certainly flailed. I laughed and grinned and was a terrible skater
having a wonderful time. It was incredible. The Christmas music on the
speakers, I barely heard over my squeals of delight and intense concentration to not knock into anyone. People
standing outside the rink watching laughed and smiled at me as I laughed and
smiled. They were as delighted to see I was having such a good time at being
awful as I was. 🙂
After making it for only about 40minutes though, having
worked up a bit of heat, and my ankles not nearly as strong as they needed to
be, we called it quits, but we were both cool with it.
I’d promised my date that we’d go see Hugo in 3D, that
Martin Scorcese kids’ film that was supposed to actually be pretty good. But
what we needed first was … hot chocolate.
After trying to corral my date into being okay with stopping
in Ross (the discount clothing store) for a minute for some socks, I agreed
this was not what I wanted to be doing either, and we left, to get hot
chocolate with whipped cream. Now, I would never normally do this, the sugar
factor for one, and the cool factor for the other. I was in line very tempted
to get a chai latte with an add shot – seasonal and fun, but adult, you know?
But, when I went up to order, hot chocolate it was. It was delicious. I really
felt like the old days.
My “crazy cat lady aunt” as I’ve been fond to call her, but
realize perhaps it’s time to stop calling her that. It’s pretty mean. But, you
get immediately the type of person I’m talking about. Well, she lives in
Manhattan, as she has all of my life, and each year growing up would take me to
Rockefeller Center. There, was Teuscher’s Chocolates. And in Teuscher’s
chocolates were something called Champagne Truffles. Now, I haven’t had them in
a few years, I had one about 4 years ago, but wasn’t sure if that was “okay” on
the whole sobriety front, so I don’t have them anymore, but that one was as
divine as I remembered them to be.
My aunt, for all of her foibles and human fallibilities,
really loved/loves me and my brother. She took us to see the famous tree, to see the Radio City Rockettes, to
stand on the lines to go see the holiday windows at Sak’s Fifth Avenue – which
were monumental in our day – themed and mechanized and just opulent. 
She, in fact, wrote me an email about 2 weeks ago entitled
“The Return of Kevin,” and said she was flipping through the channels and came
across Home Alone, and remembered
vividly, though I don’t, when she had taken me for tea at the Plaza hotel (she
loved to do these totally chi-chi things, like we went to the symphony, and she
took me on my first airplane ride). Apparently, standing out front, I said “I’m
standing where Kevin stood”, with such a look on my face of joy and radiance
that she remembers it to this day. Now, sadly, I know this must mean that I was
referencing Home Alone Two,
because that one takes place in NY, and loathe though I may be to admit it, I’m
sure this story is completely accurate.
So, I love all the shlock of Christmas, holidays, even the
pushy crowds. When I left the ice rink yesterday, the smile and sheen of joy
coming off me was palpable. I was so happy I went.
My date ended after Hugo in 3D with buying a package of
sugar-free hot chocolate on my way home (the invasion of sugar from earlier was
not kind to me), rented a comedy and came home to curl up
with some tea, and, hey, here’s honesty, to “spend a little time with myself,” to quote Tom Waits.
You may have guessed much earlier than this, that my date
was with myself. And it was awesome. Part of the whole Calling in the One thing and my path in general is to become a woman I’d want to date. And, judging from the careening,
fanciful, contented joy of yesterday, another date is sure to follow. 
fun · holidays · laughter · self-care

The Joy of Flailing.

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So, here I sit at my last desk shift at the gym for a while. I gave my “two week’s notice” to them last week, when I realized that a) I wasn’t taking advantage of my free classes, and b) … I want my Friday mornings back. I am on deck as a “sub” person, and I also said that once school starts again and I have a more regular schedule that I’ll be back fora regular shift. 
The instructor I’ve been working in tandem with for the last 6 months or so just brought me a pastry and a sad face 🙂 she’s so sweet. As we have an early morning shift, no one is usually here too soon before class, so she and I get to talk dating, men, life, etc. She said she just ordered the Calling In the One book. Ha! You never know what happens with these ripples. 
But, I am looking forward to not having to scramble to cover my shift, trade my shift, cover other peoples – cuz obviously I’m feeling a little “put upon” by this – which again tells me that I’ve spread myself too thin – because actually this thing is pretty rad – the classes are great and I’ve realized I like the community aspect of working out. It helps that almost all of the women are older than me, some over 60, and are holding these poses and positions better than I am! It helps to keep me motivated. 
So, I’ll come back as soon as I can, but I need the time off. 
After my shift here, I’m getting picked up to babysit for a family up in the Oakland Hills. Although I’m a little nervous to have the two girls for the entire day (I’ve only sat for them at night – which looks like play, dinner, play, bedtime – so there’s not too much need to be entertaining) – but I’m sure it’ll be fine. i’m actually looking forward to it a little bit. I love the energy of kids. I’m such a kid myself – I love to be silly and nonsensical. Kids love that stuff – morelike,when you say something like, “You guys are monkeys,”  they love to be like “Noooooo, We’re not monkeys!!!” Seems like a silly thing to get indignant about, but when I was teaching a class of kindergartners in South Korea, the thing they most loved to respond with was, “Teacher, we not monkeys!!! You a monkey!!” ~ Their English was a little better at the end of the year 😉 But I love that. I love that kids play along, are silly, and when you make up Surrealist shit, they’re totally on board. 
I’ll babysit for them also next Monday, then the rest of the week with the interior design firm … and then, release. The week between Christmas and New Year’s is entirely mine. 
On Sunday, I’m intending to go ice skating in Union Square. Strange though it may seem “ice skating” is one of the items of my list of “Forbidden Joys” that I wrote 3 years ago through the Artist’s Way. Not that *that* should be such a big deal! But it is. It’s not like I’m good by any stretch – and I’m not being modest. I’m one of those arm-waving flailing people you don’t want to skate anywhere near, because there is a strong likelihood that I will accidentally careen into you and grab onto your scarf for balance and take you down with me …. This actually did happen last time I went skating about 3 or 4 years ago – IT WAS GREAT!!! hahaha!!! I loved it. I didn’t actually take the guy down – but it was close. And we all laughed, and by the end of an hour or so, I wasn’t flailing as much. 
I ski much the same way, and I love that too. The joy of being a beginner, of not caring that I’m not graceful or skilled. Of just the joy of moving continuously around in a circle to the mash up beats of Katy Perry songs. 😉 I love touching base with that kid. So, as part of my “restorative rest” goal of this break, I will be going ice skating. There’s a party at the same time on Sunday that I just found out about, so I’m weighing my options, but I really want to skate. By myself, if other people want to show up, great, I’ll put it out to some friends, but it really doesn’t matter. I end up on my own with my novice-ness anyway. 
I also want to go see some live music. I’ll look up what’s happening at Yoshi’s – the jazz & blues club in the city – there’s one in Oakland, and find out from my musician friends what sort of shows our friends may be playing. I might take my friend up on the “stay-cation” and stay at her apartment in SF during that week off. I might choose to stay in Oakland and follow-up on my intention of hanging out with people more here. 
Those are the two things I know I will do. Music and ice-skating. Ways that get me in my body, out of my head, and into the joy of life. 
abundance · adventure · creativity · faith · gratitude · holidays · joy · laughter · self-care

Heart Art and Romance.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Today was a good day. I worked my desk shift at the gym, got
to talk a little trash/indignation about the leering guy who came into class
yesterday … and got kicked out. A “back spasm” doesn’t allow you to sit & stare at
women whose legs are up over their head with their cooches hanging out. Then I
came home, began to boil some cinnamon for ghetto air freshener, and cleaned my
apartment, including the dishes.
I normally would not have done that, having been awake at
6:45 this morning, but I had a girl friend coming over to meet for an hour, and
if it weren’t for those weekly meetings, my house would likely devolve into a
sanctuary for monocellular creatures. So, it always makes me feel good to clean
it up – I do believe that my home environment is a direct reflection of my
headspace – hence the post-nuclear disaster.
After she left, I took a good old fashioned nap. After
that…I went on Theater Bay Area, and took my own kick-in-the-butt from this
morning’s blog and emailed 2 casting directors…and…signed myself up for an
audition slot in January…for a musical. That’s right. A musical theater
company. Cuz, whatever dude. I’m gonna suck at anything I do in the beginning.
and this IS the beginning. So, whatever. I’m going to try my best – maybe NOT
do what I did for Sunday’s audition and actually learn my monologues and songs
far enough in advance to really feel confident. … well, confident-ish.
There are two more casting calls to apply to, but they only
list phone numbers, which is a whole new level of fear ;P so, that’ll wait
until Monday – normal business hours, right?
Then, I got ready for a party. A holiday glitter dance party
to be exact, and man was it fun. I saw people from SF I hadn’t seen in a while,
and met new people who live here in Oakland, plus my SF transplant/defector friend, who I’m really glad to have on this side of the Bay.
I danced, I was silly, and energetic, and shy and awkward,
and *tall* in my lovely heels and skirt I wore again :). And I drank a lot of
ginger lemonade punch, and laughed at others’ silly dance antics – and some
really good dance battles! It was fun. I hadn’t felt that in a long time. I was
really glad to be there, social awkward self-centered fear aside. I had fun.
Some of the women were part of an Artist’s Way group who had
their annual “check-in” today, and were going to do an intention setting. It’s
like new year’s resolutions, or any resolutions, only instead of all the
self-will-power of a resolution (damnit, it’s gonna happen – THIS year),
it has the openness and groundedness of being rooted in love, truth,
self-respect, and ultimately, Faith.
So, I got to write down my intention on a piece of paper,
and we all walked out of the house party to the backyard like a wonderfully
powerful, giddy coven under a full though cloud covered moon, and around the circle we voiced our intentions, burned them, and said a
little prayer/blessing of honoring our intentions into the universe. It was
pretty affirming – and so unexpected! I’ll tell you mine, because, hey, an intention
isn’t a birthday wish, it’s a statement of what I intend to do, and to bring into
my life through my action and adherence to my core. It was short, as I didn’t know it was happening till last minute – but that also helped me to
edit.
“To follow thru with my heart, art, and romance.”
Simple, yeah; silly, to some; but, to me, that’s what
I’m doing, and I intend to continue doing it. 

acting · action · courage · creativity · fear · laughter · letting go · performance · self-care

Must Be Present to Win

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There’s a parable that goes something like this: A man in
Italy goes every day to a statue of Jesus, and prays every day, “Jesus, please
let me win the lottery, please let me win the lottery.” This man, every day
goes to the statue with the same prayer. “Please let me win the lottery.” One
day, the statue comes to life and says back, “Then buy a ticket.”
So, today I bought a ticket. Metaphorically. I threw my hat
in the ring. … Also metaphorically, I really like my hat.
If my audition back in April or so was a belly flop with my
eyes open (OUCH), then this was a belly flop with my eyes closed. So, it means,
I’ve learned 😉
On my way out, I texted several friends to say I sort of
blew it – my 2nd monologue went better than my 1st, the
first being too much of a Shakespearean tongue twister I just couldn’t get
memorized. But, that I did it.
A friend then called me and told me her story of her first
audition and not even knowing what they meant when they asked what she’d
“prepared.” And so, we learn. I learn. Sure there’s a twinge of disappointment,
but more than that twinge I feel like I now know several things: first off, I know how long it takes me to memorize something – and it’s more than 12 hours!!
Yep, I really only started to memorize today, although I chose the
monologues…yesterday? Friday? So, yeah, good to know. and then also good
information to not beat myself up. I gave it a really good go. But it was also,
as I’ve said, a week of insanity with school and work, and so, good enough is
good enough here.
I give myself an “A” for effort. And next time, perhaps I
can prepare longer in advance.
The other things I’ve learned are, a) I can show up (Hurrah!
good for me!) 🙂 b) where to get headshots done; c) I have allies.
More than any of my other times of leaping off a cliff, this
time I asked for more help, followed through on those suggestions, and
reached back out to people – this is a
newish thing for me – as I sometimes feel that if I’ve asked you for help once,
that’s it, my lifetime supply of asking that one person that one favor or for
one bout of help is used up. No more, well dry, try someone else.
That’s.Not.True. Sure, some people aren’t the giving type,
but for the most part, the people in my life are invariably giving, kind,
supportive, and generous. So, I asked for help a second time, and my acting
friend showed up for me. And you know what? She’ll probably even take my call
next time too 😉
So, that’s the end of this one round (at least I believe so – callbacks are
tomorrow, so I’ll know soon enough whether I am or not). But it’s one round,
not the match, or game, or series.
I’m also more willing this time to “fail,” which I’ve heard
is the key to any success. Being willing to stumble is the only way to learn to
walk, right? Persistence. Patience.
And maybe my next belly flop will be a cannonball instead.
(Whether that’s a “better” thing or not, I have no idea) 😉 (thank you friends, for your support)!!

adventure · courage · laughter · modeling · performance

Somebody feed the models.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

welp, if i still took drugs, tonight would have been a nice
night to do it. as it was, i was perfectly present for the shrieks of the event
coordinator, the reverberations of increasingly drunken model cackling in a
room the size of a postage stamp, and the soreness of my toes.
That said 😉 It was pretty cool. It was just a long night –
from 5 – 11, and I left just as things were really getting “swinging” – there
was a band who was just getting their gear set up on the runway we all walked –
I more like ran, than walked. I was first, and I felt like I didn’t have
anyone’s cues to follow, and just sort of went, spun a few times and left! I’m
sure I did just fine 😛
I did meet a lovely man as I was passing out chocolate
balls. (yes, but, no, they were not schweaty.) But as I was leaving I didn’t see
him, so what will be will be. It was nice to flirt in a very light-hearted not
too serious way. Just talk-ish as we watched the other models in the non-profit
clothing.
I also wrote out my monologues for tomorrow, as I’m one of
those kinesthetic learners, and need to write something down in order to really
remember it – tell anyone who has seen me with a sonnet of scribbles on the
back of my right hand (I’m lefty – and I won’t lose my hand – perfect
note-taking).
It was intense with a lot of chaos happening, but it was a
gorgeous old Victorian house in San Francisco right on Alamo square park – near
the Painted Ladies aka the Full House houses.
There’s not much else to report today. I’ll get to see if
any of the photos will be useful for my portfolio, but really, I’m more
intrigued by acting these days than modeling. I did see one girl I’d done
modeling with earlier in the year for the same non-profit – this sort of very
Kate Moss accented blonde model…who is studying to be a teacher at this really
prestigious union of schools. So, she said she’ll let me know next time she
does stuff, and sometimes she even gets paid 😉
It was my first “runway” show – I’d done a little bit of
photo modeling before, but mainly for friends, and nothing “serious”, really. I
do have a profile on a professional website for photographers and models, but,
hell if they’re not really creepy.
I once met up with a photographer over coffee to talk about
his vision, as he’d emailed me, and I was new to the site and thought, well,
I’m not going to say yes without meeting him, but sure I’ll meet him – IN
PUBLIC. He did a lot of nudity, and I wanted to talk about that, as I wasn’t
sure I was comfortable with that (with google these days!! I may be a teacher
myself one day, or a mom!). So we met in a café, and he was telling me about
his “vision”… and in walks a woman who really seemed surprised to see him there
– and he introduces me to his wife. The woman glares at me, then at him with a politely plastered smile
on her face. Then when she leaves with her coffee, he tells me that she’s a
therapist over at the hospital that’s nearby.
Hm, a guy with a thing for having women place realistic
skulls over their vag while otherwise totally naked, and a woman who dives into
often sick people’s brains. Yep, a perfectly fucked up match.
In the end, I declined the offer to shoot with him, despite
his protestations that his images were “relatively tame.”
So, I sometimes troll my profile on that website, but for
the most part, keeping my clothes on when recording for posterity seems like a
good idea. Well, that is until the artist’s live model audition in January!
(but, it’s paid, accredited, and highly professional – really!) 😉
abundance · courage · gratitude · joy · laughter · letting go · life · love · self-care

The girl just wants ta dance.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

I just came back from a Keb’ Mo’ concert. if you don’t know
him or his music, I highly encourage you to youtube him. It’s delta bluesy funny + sad + honest. I don’t know how I found out about him, but I’ve been listening
to him for at least 6 years now, and he’s in my top at least 5 musicians.
The show was incredible.
He was funny and humble, and so freaking talented (a steel
guitar could melt my soul). and his voice. what emotion that man has. I actually welled up a few times in
the beginning when it was just him and his guitar – just out of pure joy and
appreciation that a man, and music, like this exist in the world.
It was wonderful. I smiled til my cheeks hurt, I stood up
with the two ladies next to me when no one was dancing yet, and just clapped
and hooted and shimmied till… well, not till anything. I just did. I just was.
I was happy.
The only downside to
any of it is that I yelled and howled so much that I think I strained my throat
and I have a vocal performance for my singing class tomorrow! But – It was so
worth it – it was worth being out on a “school night”. Worth taking BART home from the city. It was worth it
to be able to sit at the bus stop with an older African American lady who’d
been in my row at the show and gush about how just tickled pink we were.
I won’t go on about his music, but well, everyone left
feeling joyful – that was the palpable emotion. The induced and provoked and
invoked emotion. And not all music shows are like that. I do also love the harder more
rock-y stuff to dance myself out to, but that produces a way different emotion – more RWAHH!! LIFE IS LOUD AND RIGHT NOW!!! Lol, but then again, you can’t really dance to punk rock either – it’s more like snap your head in time with the fastest beat,
throw in some shoulder, and occasionally shimmy some hips. I dance at the
shows. I’m that girl now.
I used to not be – or only when I was drunk and became …
well, let’s just say lecherous and often involving Elaine-like flailing (and
falling). So when I wasn’t drinking when I went out anymore, at first I felt I
had to be “super cool” by not acting like I was into the music – which likely I
wasn’t cuz I was probably too busy thinking about what everyone was thinking
about me. Yeah, I have that kind of self-centeredness. But, it’s gotten WAY
better. And I love to dance. Perhaps I’m not a particularly good dancer (I hold
with the view that the best dancer is the person having the most fun) but I do
have rhythm of sorts and I just love to let my body just get into the stream of
the music, to just let it do what it wants to do in response to what I’m
hearing, what I’m feeling from the bass and the crowd.
So, yeah, me and two middle aged white ladies stood up and
danced. Eventually more people did too – the domino effect, because likely I’m
not the only one who thinks about what other people will think of me. But this
is certainly a period of “but do it anyway” for me.
On the way out, a guy asked me out – and I said Not right
now but thanks. On the way to BART a guy told me he liked my outfit and that he
had “nothing to follow that.” It was sweet.
It appears to be true – the happier I am, the more
approachable I am. Not that that’s the end goal – it’s just interesting to
notice.
The last thing is, Keb Mo’s last song of the encore went,
“She’s not lookin’ for a lover/She’s not lookin for Romance/The girl just wants
ta dance.” Amen.