"Grease"

Back in 1978, my Dad took my friends and I to see the movie Grease. Little did I know that I would never be the same. I'm not kidding, my friends and I fell in love with this movie. I wanted to be like Olivia Newton-John. While I looked nothing like her (I wasn't blonde, beautiful, couldn't sing, plus I was only seven years old!), my friends and I pretended to be the Pink Ladies, and argued over who got to be Sandy. When we played Grease, we would break into song like the characters in the movie. We played the soundtrack over and over again until it was scratched. We debated over whether we liked the "old" Sandy or the "new" Sandy better. My bedroom was wallpapered with Grease posters. When the sequel Grease 2 was released a few years later, it was a colossal flop at the box office, but we loved it! Yes, Grease was the word.

Fast forward to April 2010. Thirty-two years after I first saw the movie, I went to see the stage production of Grease at the Canon Theatre in Toronto. The 2010 version of Grease is the second revival for the Jim Jacobs and Warren Casey musical, which was first performed back in 1971. I never saw the original stage production, but I understand it was different from the film. So, I expected this production to be different. I wasn't quite prepared, however, for exactly how different the musical would be.

The play attempted to combine aspects from both the original play and the film, but failed to effectively connect the pieces. Four songs from the film were woven into the 2010 musical: "Hopelessly Devoted to You," "Sandy," "You're the One That I Want," and the title song. The stage production took big liberties. Many details of the plot were changed - they kept Sandy at home during the big dance-off (a pivotal plot point for the movie), changed characters' names, and sang "Look At Me I'm Sandra Dee" at the bleachers with the T-Birds, rather than at the slumber party. It just felt strange and didn't work.

Most of all, the play failed to properly create a relationship between Danny and Sandy. As an audience member, I didn't empathize with the characters, and didn't see why they belonged together. There was little, if any, back story. It was almost as if it was expected that the audience would already be familiar with the story. Josh Franklin, who played Danny, was good at showing Danny's vulnerable side, but the tough guy T-Bird that John Travolta played was missing from this production. Sandy was played by Lauren Ashley Zakrin. Her performance was OK, but she just didn't quite pull it off.

The play did have some entertaining moments, and after a slow and disappointing first Act, the second half picked up. American Idol winner Taylor Hicks was cast as the Teen Angel. He was the star of the show, and did a good job with his song "Beauty School Drop Out," though his performance was a little campy for my taste. Frankie Avalon he wasn't, though he was fun. Hicks' harmonica added a great touch to the song. He also performed a song from his new CD after the show, and I really enjoyed the impromptu concert.

While Grease lacked in plot and character development, its strength was in the music. The songs sound just as great now as they did back in 1978. The dance-off scene was memorable, mainly because of Vince Fontaine, played by Dominic Fortuna. Fortuna also warmed up the crowd before the show, and gave the play a much-needed boost of energy. Franklin's rendition of "Sandy" was great also, and one of the best numbers of the play.

I left the Canon Theatre that night feeling a little lukewarm about the whole experience. Grease wasn't horrible, but it certainly disappointed. Oh well, I have my DVD to watch if I ever want to go back to 1978. ;)

Dear Diary ...

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining, and as I sat on my new balcony for the first time, I wanted to jump for joy that spring is here. From the balcony, which overlooks a beautiful park, and has a gorgeous south-facing view of the Toronto skyline, the world looked happy. Dogs danced, jumped, and played in the park as their owners leisurely strolled nearby - a big contrast from the dog owners who shivered as their dogs quickly did their business and headed home only a short time ago. The cutest little West Highland white terrier wagged his tail vigorously, excited that his owner was going to throw a ball for him to catch, as another dog tried to join in the fun. Birds chirped, and a little bit of green peeked out from the trees. Life was good.

I grabbed my coffee and notebook, sat down at the patio table, and began to write in my journal. Ah, my journal. My friend and confidante for more years than I'd like to admit. Since I was about 12 years old, my journal has been the dumping ground for all the emotions, life stories, and daily events that I have needed to purge over the years. My journal was there in moments of crisis, through sleepless nights when my mind was too full to sleep, when I needed someone to talk to, but couldn't call anyone because it was too late.

My journal is my essential life tool. It helps me to focus, clear out the clutter in my mind, and set goals. It helps to unlock the creative mind, and gets me writing. In her book The Artist's Way, which I'll be blogging more about in future posts, author Julia Cameron talks about writing three pages of stream of consciousness each morning called "The Morning Pages." The purpose of the morning pages is to get rid of all the junk, negativity, and trivialities in your mind, so that the mind and creativity are opened. My morning pages are more like weekend rather than daily pages, but over the last several years, my journaling has taken on this three-page form. It has evolved from me spilling my problems as a teenager and young adult to almost a spiritual practice of setting goals and putting them out into the universe by writing about them. My journal is also my place to focus on my blessings, and write about my gratitude.

It's funny that something that used to house my negativity is now primarily a vehicle for positive energy and change. Don't get me wrong - I still whine and purge in my journal when I need to - but I am proud that it has become so much more than that.

In honour of journaling, I did a google search to research its benefits. Here are 100 Benefits of Journaling. As the website states, benefits of journal writing include stress reduction, an increase in self-awareness, emotional healing, and healthier relationships. Quite a bargain for the price of a pen and notebook!

I was comfy and content as I sipped my coffee and wrote on my balcony, taking in the beautiful weather, but the busy day ahead was calling. Before I went back inside, I took one last look at the park. I smiled at the springtime activity below me, grabbed my journal, and hugged it tight to my chest before returning it to its special place in my home, grateful for the beautiful way that I was able to start my day. Life is good.

"I've Seen a Million Faces and I've Rocked Them All!" - Bon Jovi

Live music is one of my favourite things in the world. Nothing makes me feel more alive, free, and joyful than a concert. Feeling that connection with the artists on stage, screaming, dancing, and cheering is something I don't get to experience often enough, but when I do, I always look forward to it.

Last weekend, my sweetie and I went to Montreal for three days to see Bon Jovi perform at the Bell Centre. Bon Jovi is one of my favourite bands, and I have been a fan since the 80s. Twenty-seven years later, Bon Jovi is still together, and have hit the road to promote their new CD, The Circle. From the moment the lights dimmed, the crowd was putty in Bon Jovi's hands.

They opened the concert with Happpy Now followed by We Weren't Born to Follow from The Circle. Then Jon Bon Jovi ordered everyone to get on their feet and make some noise as the band played mega-hit You Give Love a Bad Name. Bon Jovi rocked the house for three solid hours, and did two encores! "I'm too old for this!" Jon joked as Bon Jovi came out for the second encore.

The show was incredible from start to finish. They played several songs from The Circle, and the previous CD Lost Highway, in addition to all of their big hits. Montreal was given a special gift when Bon Jovi ended the second encore by playing Always for the first time on The Circle tour, followed by Treat Her Right.

Hearing the songs from The Circle live reinforced what a wonderful collection of music it is. Love's the Only Rule and When We Were Beautiful are two of my new favourite songs. However, at times, the show dragged slightly, and perhaps the old and new songs could have been ordered a bit differently. But this fan is not complaining. I enjoyed every moment. "I've seen a million faces, and I've rocked them all!" go the lyrics from Wanted Dead or Alive. Bon Jovi rocked everyone at the Bell Centre, and gave Montreal an experience it wouldn't soon forget. Merci Bon Jovi for a fantastic time!

Go get 'em!

Last night, the opening ceremonies for the 2010 Paralympic Games took place. Throughout my career, I have had the privilege of writing often about disabled sports, and have interviewed several Paralympic athletes. This has by far been the highlight of my career. I am so lucky to write about a topic that I am passionate about, and am continually amazed and inspired by the skill and determination of the athletes I speak with.

This past December, I had the honour of interviewing the Canadian Paralympic wheelchair curling team for the winter sport edition of the children's book Glowing Hearts: From Play 2 Podium, for which I am a contributing author (www.glowinghearts.ca). Each member of the team told stories of hope, determination, and courage.

One team member recalled a tumor he had on his spinal cord that had shifted, and had ultimately caused him to become paralyzed. "I was OK," he said of his reaction to the news that he would now be in a wheelchair. "I looked around and I saw that there were a lot of people who were worse off than me." Wow! What courage, strength, and grace this man showed. I felt small in comparision. I thought back to the obstacles I've faced in my own life, and how many minor challenges have felt like the end of the world. How many times had I neglected to look around and see how fortunate I am, that no matter what difficulties were upon me, I could push through the hard times and become a stronger, better person?

I had just been through a very difficult year, and speaking with this gentleman reminded me that no matter what life throws our way, we can overcome. When faced with life's curveballs, I believe that we have two choices - we can succumb to the hardship, or we can rise up, learn from the experience, and become better than before.

I am constantly inspired and awed by the wonderful athletes I have had the pleasure of speaking with over the years. I wish all the athletes a wonderful 2010 Paralympics, and wish I could be in Vancouver to cheer them on! To the Canadian wheelchair curling team, it was an honour to interview you, and I hope to make my way to Vancouver one day and meet you in person. Go get 'em!

"Rain"

Things have been a little crazy these days. Work has been all-consuming, with a big project, and putting in long hours. Throw in a stomach flu on top of that, and the result is yuck. Tired, busy, exhausted. Three words that equal me right now.

Last weekend, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I looked at the calendar. When I'm tired like this, it's hard to get me out of the house. My tendency is to hibernate. Last weekend was no exception. I wanted nothing more than to spend the weekend in bed, but I had a busy weekend ahead of me. I spent time with some work friends, and had a fun evening of "girl-talk." The next evening, it was off to a jazz club for another wonderful night with my sweetie to celebrate a special anniversary. On Sunday, Canada won the Olympic gold in hockey (Go Canada!), and then it was off to see Rain, the Beatles tribute for a family birthday.

I must say that before arriving at the Princess of Wales Theatre in Toronto, my expectations of Rain were about medium. From the moment the lights went down, however, I was hooked. A montage of Beatles clips from the 1960s flashed across two big screens, culminating in the Beatles' famous appearance on the Ed Sullivan show. Sullivan introduces the Beatles, and the curtains open. The "Fab Four," on the stage, breaks into song. Punctuated by periodic video clips from the different stages in the Beatles' history, the Rain band puts on a riveting live show of Beatles hits from every era. From the early days, to Abbey Road and beyond, Rain delivered. The crowd danced, screamed, clapped, it was a true concert experience. The song choices were amazing, and the Rain band did a great job of engaging the crowd, even congratulating Canada on its gold medal win. I left feeling renewed, energized, invigorated. I wanted to go home, and pull out my Lennon-McCartney sheet music and play Beatles songs on my flute. Rain returns to Toronto in July, and I definitely want to go again.

On my way home from Rain, I realized that during these busy times, it's so important to schedule in fun time, and time to feed the soul. I am so happy that I reconnected with the world last weekend, and it gave me the fuel to face another busy week.

Dream killer or dream maker?

In my first year of journalism school, we had weekly assignments for our reporting class. I needed some advice on one particular assignment, so I took my 19-year-old self over to the teacher’s office. She greeted me with a smile, and answered my questions. Then, suddenly her eyes changed. Instead of smiling at me, they crinkled with concern.

She took a breath and began to speak. “Tina,” she began, “Do you like this course?”

“Oh yes!” I said enthusiastically.

“Because you seem very shy.”

On the surface, it may seem like an innocent observation. I was a shy, awkward teenager—she was right about that. However, I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. You see, in journalism, “shy” was the kiss of death. Since I was 10 years old, I had wanted to be a journalist, and here was my reporting teacher basically telling me that she thought I wouldn't make it in the tough-as-nails world of journalism. Devastated by her words, I politely thanked her for her help, and slinked away in shame. I wondered whether I had any business being in the journalism program, and silently labelled her a dream killer.

Little did my teacher know the impact those words had on my life. You seem very shy. You seem very shy. I couldn’t silence her voice. Her words dizzily swirled around in my head over and over again. I was suddenly in the throes of a major existential crisis. For a long time, her comment stayed with me. I questioned myself, and wondered if I had chosen the right career. I asked friends and family, “Do you think I have what it takes?” I spent a lot of time alone, reflecting on my future. It would be a long three years until I earned my degree. Frankly, I didn't know if I was up to the task.

Amidst many tears, I realized that I had two choices: I could either believe my teacher, or prove that I had what it took. I chose the latter. I decided to turn the “dream killer” into a “dream maker.” I put all my energies into my schoolwork, determined to keep my dream. I realized that while I would never love news reporting, I was a good features and human interest writer. I loved publishing. I could find my niche. I learned that people’s opinions are subjective, that while someone may not like your work, someone else will love it. The key was to believe in myself, keep working at my craft, and I would succeed. School is like those childhood activities that our parents put us into. We are exposed to different concepts, and through trying different activities, we discover what we like, and what our strengths are.

As creative people, we must insulate ourselves against negativity, and not allow other people’s opinions to define us. There will always be dream killers, and it is up to us to turn the tables on the less than supportive comments, and become dream makers. I think about the wonderful career that I have built, and I can't help but smile. I wonder where I would be if I had listened to my teacher's comments. Thankfully, I was able to dig deep and redefine myself.

Ride it out

It's been a rough month for my dear friend the flute and me. You see, every Monday I travel to Burlington to play in a flute ensemble and concert band. It is usually one of my weekly highlights. I get to feed my creative soul, have fun, and give the creative side of my brain a workout. Music engages me like no other activity. When I play music, I am completely focused, able to shut out the world, and all its stresses. Music brings joy, inspiration, and balance to my life. It burns stress and makes me happy.

So why the troubled relationship between me and my flute? Maybe I was feeling the lingering effects from a chaotic December. Maybe I was burnt out from returning from vacation to a lot of work, and still settling in from "the move." Maybe I would rather be lying on the beach with my sweetie, and reading Stephanie Plum novels than dragging my tired self to band.

Whatever the reason, I'd lost my inspiration. Each week this past month, I'd have to force myself out the door, and was blah and uninspired while there. The music was hard, and I wasn't playing very well, either.

What do you do when you lose your inspiration? Like any long-term relationship, creativity isn't always going to feel like the goosebumps on your arms, butterflies in your stomach, courtship phase at the beginning of a relationship. It's like a marriage that takes work, time, and effort.

Whether it is in my writing, music, or workout routine, when I lose inspiration, sometimes I just ride it out. I go through the motions, and show up in body, even if I'm not there in spirit. I know that if I just keep showing up at the page, practice, or gym, eventually, the inspiration will return. My flute and I have treaded through troubled waters in the past, and like any loss of inspiration, it is always temporary.

So, I rode it out for a month, and this past Monday, prayed that my inspiration would return. I showed up for practice, and ... had a blast! My playing was good, and I had fun with my bandmates. I felt inspired again, my flute and I reconciled after a month of tension and negative feelings. My mojo, my groove was back! And it felt great.

So, if you temporarily lose inspiration, just ride it out. Keep showing up, and eventually, it will return. And you will have the goosebumps, and the butterflies in your stomach all over again.

Tina