My husband went for a guy’s weekend with his friends, they take a trip together every year. It gets increasingly more complicated for them to get together as they build careers and make families. I mostly give him my blessing, it’s important for men to keep their male friends after they get married. I read a paper about this once, how men drop their friends after marriage but women don’t, anyway, I think it’s important to have a support group outside of your marriage, friendships that don’t depend on so many details…

A few of these trips have been bachelor parties, which of course, is unnerving, but manageable.  I have to trust that as long as my husband plays by the house rules and doesn’t do something he will regret for the rest of his life, these things aren’t anything to worry about.  I did NOT feel this way about bachelor parties when I was pregnant and nursing, back then, they were most definitely off limits. You can blame it on the hormones of pregnancy if you like, but it doesn’t invalidate the way I felt.  That’s the funny thing about marriage, as it matures, as the hormones and feelings work it out, the house rules change, if just a little.

Our calendar says that my husband’s flight home was last night, I remember him telling me he’d be home in time to help take the children to school in the morning, but… he wasn’t. I called his phone but there was no answer. I had to decide between denial, worry, or anger to get me through this morning. I chose the first as my exterior expression while the other two ran through my mind in the background, setting fire to every senario. I rented a car to try delivering both children on-time to their schools (which are across the city from each other, and start within 15 minutes of one another.) This is so much easier when my husband is home, weekday mornings don’t work well without him.

On the way to the car I found a four leaf clover, a common mutation I am told, not that lucky at all, but I held onto it for a while, just in case. I opened the door to the rental car and the alarm went off. The car wouldn’t start. While the rental company tries to fix it, it becomes apparent we’re going to be late for at least one child’s school. We leave the car broken and beeping, I left the four leaf clover in the front seat, it was an accident, I considered retrieving it, but left it, telling myself it meant something to find luck and leave it in a stalled car. One child made it to school on time, one child stayed home with me. The fires of worry and anger in my mind are too mentally exhausting to withstand the bus trip and necessary school office interactions to sign the kid in as tardy. I’ve already pictured every ditch my husband’s body might be found in, there is no way I could walk into that school office alone without the weight of thinking I might always be alone bearing down on me.

After 8 hours of wondering what happened and twice as many connections to his voice mail, Mr. Pierce picks up the phone, relief washes over me. “Where are you?” I ask. “Venice Beach.” he says. “I thought you had a flight home yesterday.” I say. “It’s tonight.” he mumbles. “That’s not what you told me and that’s not what’s on the calendar.” I say. “Well, it’s tonight.” he says. “Thanks for being alive, mother fucker.” I growl in anger before hanging up the phone.

Somewhere in Venice Beach is a man half awake, probably hung over after a long weekend with his best guy friends, the ones he hardly ever gets to see. In his fog he’s probably wondering what he did to deserve such a pleasant 6am wake up call, he’s probably wondering if the house rules changed while he was snoring. But if he’s smart he’ll realize love is an unfeeling bitch at the other end of the telephone line, a really… lucky… bitch.

Today, someone I never met took his own life in front of his neighborhood church. Today I looked at all he presented himself to be online, a helpful, wonderful, productive citizen – and I would have never guessed he would ever have wanted to take anyone’s life, much less his own. Every piece of his online persona was so warm and wonderful. Today people that knew him are grieving, and baffled, and angry, and my heart hurts for them.

Today I think of the community I have grown to know online, and all of the wonderful people I have come to recognize as friends, their lives pixelated across my computer screen, their carefully crafted thoughts and words working their way through the word wide web onto my mobile phone, I read about how they want to be seen and how they see others, all from the park bench where I sit and watch my children play tag, where I watch them learn to play fair.

We are not playing fair.

We are so mindful of telling others how great they are, we are just so good at it, but we forget to recognize we are also human, fallible, broken… and we need to say and hear these kinds of things too. These things are what make us approachable, they are the traits that foster connection, and make it easy for us to relate to one another.  Without this kind of honest dialogue, we box ourselves and others into personas that are hard to maintain and hard to break out of… we play an unfair game of make believe where nobody wins, and somebody ends up killing themselves on a beautiful Sunday morning, somebody I don’t know, somebody I’ll never ever ever ever have the chance to get to know.

Missed Connection.

I hope you are ok with showing the realness of you, the combination of your rawness and your rawr, and while I don’t mind celebrating all the good things you present yourself to be, I want to celebrate you more, I’m ok with the dirt under your fingernails, and the fact that your bed’s not made. I love you, I love your mind, even the dark places, the awful places, the places that scare me shitless, I love those too, because they are you, they are part of the reason I reach out into the world every morning and try to make a connection. I don’t want to miss it, I don’t want to miss the connection between the you that you present yourself to be and the you you really are.

Every Last Fucked Up One of You

So, motherfuckers, sweet sweet angels of imperfection, on this Sunday, a day I am grieving for a man I never met, I am also singing you a love song, an out of key melody with rusty rhythm, mud in the middle, and dirty words at the end. In case I don’t tell you enough, I love you, in my way, every last fucked up one of you, I’m into your gritty truth, I’m into your greatness. So I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me for not high fiving you and telling you how awesome you are all the time. You are not awesome, and I like you that way.

From the archives: 5/7/2008

Mr. Godin,

I would like to interview you for a documentary I am compiling exploring the evolution of purpose (personal, social, technological).  Actually, I would be ecstatic honored and quite possibly wet my pants if you said yes to an interview for my film.  It’s working title at the moment is “Life in Perpetual Beta“.  We have an interesting line-up of creatives, techies, life coaches, authors etc. that we are interviewing [ Sidney Levy, Nova Spivak, Dan Pink to name a few].  I think that your personal style would really kick ass and fit with our message. (ala Dan Pink “there is no plan” or Yoda “there is no try only do”  – how social networking and collaborative economy is changing the shape of society and shifting the way we think about work).  It may turn out to be the irreverent whorish bastard child of “the secret” with a heart of gold, thus making it world famous or it may just be another blurb that gets put up on Youtube, but all the same, I’d love to get a few moments of your time to interview you.  Please do let me know if you would grant me the honor of an interview.

In gathering information for Life in Perpetual Beta the book (common’ you knew it was coming) I looked through my old interview pitch emails. I didn’t know Seth Godin from Adam at the time to tell you honestly, but my tribe told me I had to have him, so I made an impassioned plea… was even ready to pee my pants… then had the audacity to mention honor… still hard to believe, I did eventually get the interview, You can see it here.

(Amazon link)

I was recently given the movie The Shadow Effect to review. Actually, I was given the movie back in June to review now. Actually, I was supposed to review it two weeks after I received it. The deal being I get the movie for “free” and in exchange I review it and post an honest opinion about it on my blog, anything I wanted to write, as long as I post this link as well as this link (an affiliate link in case a reader wants to buy the afore mentioned movie – not mine).
And as the FTC now regulates  I should tell you that not only did I exchange a free movie about how dealing with my demons can liberate me from suffering and help me achieve all my goals and dreams, I should also tell you that the exchange is the direct result of my relationship with the folks at Debbie Ford (least the FTC fine me $11,000 for a $23.96 DVD set)

Stop mouth breathing

I must apologize to the lovely folks at Debbie Ford who honestly deserved a more timely and more reviewish post in exchange for thier $23.96 than this one. I can admit that of course, because I finally watched the freaking movie and went through the interactive DVD with journal in hand.  As it turns out, I’ve got procrastination and authority bashing demons out the wazoo. Thank you, back lit, black and white Debbie Ford, for the meticulously manicured inspirational movie complete with time-lapse dance scenes and Deepac Chopra for showing me the shadow and light. And Debbie, you can thank the mouth breathing FTC for instigating the writing of this long overdue review.

When I interviewed Seth Godin for Life In Perpetual Beta, Seth gave me an action figure of himself that he had made for a charity event. I intended to keep it as a collectible, but my children had other plans for it. As far as heroes go, I guess it’s not a bad choice. Also, note that Seth demonstrates “The Dip” in this short, but keeps on pushing through it. Good job Seth.

I filmed this indoors at night with my Nokia N97 phone, edited with iMovie.

A few months back, I had shown Maxine, the owner and namesake of Maxine Salon how to use twitter (follow her), and although I wouldn’t take her money, I did tell her I’d take a rain-check on some free haircare once the rough cut was done. I promised myself that once I got the rough cut for Life In Perpetual Beta done, I’d also cut my hair. A few months later I am back at Salon Maxine, one of the top 100 Salon’s in the country. It’s a momentous occasion for me, a haircut that marks a point in time where I can say I did something big,  A haircut that I’m grateful to have before I film the narrative!

I was feeling a little under dressed in my bike helmet and Converse in that classy place, but my stylist, Severn, helped put me right at ease by showing me his shoes. Solidarity forever yall…   Feeling a little classier now that I’ve got a new haircut, but I’m still me.

I donated my hair to Locks of Love, a charity that makes wigs for children with cancer. If you are going to donate your hair, keep in mind that the hair has to be at least 10 inches long. I made the mistake of cutting mine shorter than that, but the people I emailed at locks of love said they could sell the hair I sent them so not to feel too bad. (Severn, you were right!)

The last few weeks of summer before school starts, a montage happily compiled for grandparents and far away friends. I shot all of this footage with my Nokia N97 and edited with a template in iMovie.

My friend invited me for casual drinks and “catching-up”… over beers she told me she was getting a divorce.

(This is my first attempt at voiceover with music, what do you think?)

Found this gem while I was logging tapes of my interview with Biz Stone for Life In Perpetual Beta, proving a point that I have been desperately refuting for years, I do indeed talk to myself – sometimes even on camera. Shit. Cole (once again) has my number, he’s been telling me that I talk to myself for a while now. Watching the video proved a few other things to me that were not abundantly transparent as well. How could I not be aware about how much I get off on preparing? I can see it in my eyes! And the way I compliment myself? You know I am truly in the moment of getting the shot perfect, psyching myself up for my interview.  I do at least look like I know what I’m doing setting up that shot don’t I? Maybe that’s why people keep asking me about how to do video – because before I watched this I just thought they were nuts! Chances are though,  most of those folks asking me for advice are nuts, it’s apparent that I am (clearly it’s me in that blue room talking to myself) and if I’m nuts and people are asking me for advice – clearly they are out of their freakin’ gourds. Another point, I need a haircut. Another point, I’ve come a long way from the shaky interview I did with Dan Pink in a crowded cafe back in May of 2008, and that’s pretty rad. I don’t know if it proves anything to you, but it made me laugh to find this footage of me talking to myself on an interview reel, maybe it’d make someone else laugh too. Good times.

Melissa with a variety of celebrity hairstyles

Isn’t it nice that one can try on a myriad styles, looks, & personas, without committing to any of them? For example, I’ve spent a good part of a day engrossed in “trying on” virtual hairstyles, lipstick colors, and eye shadows without having to even make an appointment. (thanks  e.l.f cosmetics’ virtual makeover).   Who knew that I’d look so good with Janet Jackson’s tall curly hair, or so bad with Jann Carl’s 80s rock boy hair? I’m  glad that I can find people and ideas in this world that I can imitate when I have no idea what I want, that I don’t have to be the same ole person I’ve always been,  glad that trying things doesn’t mean I have to stick with them if they just aren’t “me”.  Thankfully, authenticity isn’t a permanent thing, it is more of a fluid changeable truth, which is good news for me, because I’d hate to have made the mistake of getting Jann Carl’s hair and look like Jon Bon Jovi for the rest of my life.