<![CDATA[Splash City Studios - Blog 2]]>Mon, 07 Sep 2020 10:13:44 -0700Weebly<![CDATA[What does the Sparrow say? by Lisa Hearditall]]>Wed, 20 Aug 2014 19:43:13 GMThttp://www.splashcitystudios.com/blog-2/what-does-the-sparrow-say"No one knows. They can never get that close. Guesses at most. Guesses based on what each set of time and change is touching" *
"What is it about the color orange? I don't really like it."  I blurted out to my trusted friend and colleague, Ms. Bee Haven. Instantly she retorted "Your hair is orange, and so are your oversized sunglasses."

I could easily recognize that her quick witted comeback was my friend turning the therapeutic tides on me.  When I called her on it, she bellowed "The look in your eyes screeches! The sound makes me want to take a bath in blue."  She then took a deep breath and ever so gently encouraged me to remove my psychotherapist specs, take that scorching look in my eyes and sear it onto a blank, white page.  Read more...

<![CDATA[Making Wonder Last By Ms. Bee Haven]]>Fri, 26 Jul 2013 12:29:19 GMThttp://www.splashcitystudios.com/blog-2/making-wonder-last-by-ms-bee-haven
Yesterday, I hung a new painting on the Wall.  Pink and magenta blots among cerulean swirls. The 6 foot giant canvas jutted out of the long, gray monster, next to two high titanium ladders and a wobbly wooden one. Right smack in the middle of the muted world. 

The hems of my yellow silk skirt collected concrete dust as I bravely stepped past the line of ladders and up to the Wall.  As the people on the Wall gathered about to sneer and snicker, I hung it by myself, standing my ground in my sturdy souled shoes, with nothing but a hammer, a step stool, and long silver nails designed to last. 

I call this painting Wonder, and created it just for this spot. A few weeks back, I saw a Short Waves report about the latest fingernail scratching on the leaden, slate Wall. I couldn't get the sound out of my mind.  It was a common scenario. One fist clamped to their ladder, the other clawing at their neighbor as they tried pushing them off in order to get to the top. The sound of fingernails and the ladder scraping on the slate was excruciating. 
I would love to say that my painting brought smiles, rejoicing, and dancing in the streets. Instead, as soon as the sweet music of my painting's color began pouring out into the street, the good people on the Wall scurried like rats or shivered in place on their respective corner of their ladder.

It's not the first time I've received this reaction. When I've invited Splashians to visit my studio, most squinted and cringed as if they just stared into the sun.  The walls of my studio are painted a delicious black, making my iridescent songs splash right off the wall.  I love it, but for most, the brightness is just too much. 

They've become adjusted to the muted life. On the Wall, people who might be drawn to anything vibrant are thought to have no social grace, trying to bring attention to themselves, or just naïve. Gray is chic, and so is beige.  Only young girls (or celebrities) adorn themselves in preposterous pink, but they better put an end to that by the time they reach puberty.  It's common to see teenage girls sneak in a gregarious green bracelet or a pulsating purple scarf before they finally give in to mauve or taupe, else they be seen as culturally clueless.

Besides, there is a time and place for color. Bursts of colorful flowers line the windows on the Wall, as long as they are planted in their proper place.  Occasional orange blossoms, spring green leafy trees, and salmon and gold sunsets are acceptable.  For one concrete reason.   They don't last.

The sparkling tears or sighs triggered by that blossom or sunset don't last either.  From their brief encounter, they've experienced just enough glow to keep going up another rung, their heart sinking just hard and fast enough to stay numb so that they don't allow themselves to go through it again. As the dance with wonder dissipates, a reminder seems to boom down from the Wall that there are more pressing things, like gaining leverage on the ladder. On the Wall, that's what's they need to make last.   

Unlike blossoms and sunsets, paintings last. Unless, of course, they are taken down.  

With so many stunned or outraged eyes upon me, after I hung my painting, I folded up my step stool, wondering just how long it would be before Wonder would be taken down. It used to be disheartening to hang a painting one day only to find it groped, punctured, or scrapped the next. I used to take it personally, wondering if people hated my paintings, or me, until I realized it was the squinting factor. Long ago, my eyes adjusted to the brightness, making wonder last. Working on the Wall, theirs never had the chance.

And so I no longer fret. With every painting I hang, from the quick glances over the shoulder to the deep, enthralled stares, I know Wonder has won its way into some unsuspecting soul. With every painting I hang, eyes are adjusting more and more to Wonder. Even if for only a fleeting moment, Wonder always illuminates.

Now, with hammer, nails and step stool in hand, I'm headed over to the Abusement Park to hang up another painting. That's the thing. When you're the one making Wonder, you can also make it last. Whenever someone or something takes Wonder down, I just hang up another one. That's not only what sturdy souled shoes are for, but flyers, posters and prints!
<![CDATA[Up Against the Wall by Lisa Hearditall]]>Thu, 06 Jun 2013 13:31:49 GMThttp://www.splashcitystudios.com/blog-2/june-06th-2013
Lisa Hearditall
Up Against the Wall   by Lisa Hearditall 

If you think getting on the wall is a difficult task, and getting to the top of the wall a phenomenal accomplishment, have you ever dared to think about getting off the wall

Approximately ten years ago, a highly controversial study was conducted at the University of POP on a forbidden subject; getting off the wall.  Oddly, it's not clear who funded the research, and until the recent climate of transparency at the University, the startling findings have been held confidential to the Splash City public. The findings were an eye opener to many at the University of POP, as they are considered a threat to those in power.  Once the study became public, Splash City Supreme Court Justice Judge MyView hesitated retracting his initial GAG order that instituted severe consequences for anyone who dared reveal their findings. The closed door courtroom drama played out for several years, keeping the choke collars held tight around the necks of the individuals who participated in this study. Until now. 
So what did this controversial study about the wall reveal?

While most think of the wall as the place to be, the truth this study revealed is that the wall has become a powerful faceless machine, creating a culture of fear throughout the city, so much so that many walled-in folks gave up on their dreams, spirit and indivuality long ago. This culture of fear has created stonefaced people working on the wall throughout the city, powerless people without a face upon whom to direct their frustrations. The Abusement Park plays an enormous role in manifesting such a culture, due to its constant conditioning and cumulative numbing effect on individual minds. Judge MyView, the They Commission, and the baggage checkers also have a huge influence. 

The detailed study indicated things can get pretty ruthless in the heartless walled world. In a whirlwind to the top of their ladders, many lose their spirit and vitality. Enthusiasm becomes a far distant memory. All too many wall workers are so trapped and burdened with an unmanagable mountain of debt for their educations, ladders and expensive shoes, not to mention a dangling carrot called retirement. Many corporate businesses in the Abusement Park use this to their advantage, and leverage the misery of their workers to even further heights. Work harder for less, with little respect and no heart.  The study clearly indicated that unless you're the owner, you're up against the wall.

Why do so many people accept a hopeless, desperate and muted lifestyle?   While many in the study secretly expressed they would love nothing better than to get off the wall, most believe it is easier to conform and fit in than it is to stand up for what's in their hearts. Most of those studied didn't know where to even begin to become untangled from the web of ladders, shoes and the wall. Sadly, many won't even be seen in public cracking a smile, or being caught in the forbidden act of laughter. In fact there are no mirriors in public facilities in Splash City anymore, since so many walled people are deathly afraid to face themselves. Few take responsibility for anything anymore, and why would they? To survive, most are in complete denial. After such a long period of time being on the wall, the study revealed most have become so numb they accept the wall as the only possible reality. 

But the study didn't stop with that conclusion.  After years of study on the wall, the anonymous researchers deemed it important to coin a term to describe this peculiar plague that keeps people clinging to their ladders and steadfastly committed to the wall at great personal sacrifice. The researchers named this Dimentia, a condition where a three-dimensional individual is stuck in a two-dimensional (2-D) world.

It may be a huge breakthrough, yet it's simple, elegant, and easy to understand. It was right in front of our faces, something we should have seen so easily, but never did.  More importantly,  this breakthrough has enormous power to heal so many. When I first read about this breakthrough, in a flash I finally understood the reason I couldn't reach many people over the years - they were simply stuck in another dimension!  Yet instead of feeling heartbroken for all those I had not reached, I suddenly felt full of hope!  Now, with this understanding and breakthrough in mind, I created my new business, Para-psych to help people become their true three-dimensional (3D) selves. With this breakthrough, there's no time to waste. It's time for all of us to learn to GET OFF THE WALL!
<![CDATA[It's the Dance! by Mzzz Pink]]>Tue, 04 Jun 2013 20:13:36 GMThttp://www.splashcitystudios.com/blog-2/june-04th-2013
Mzzz Pink
Have you found joy today? If so, was it on the face of the barista who waited on you at the Coffee Chop this morning? No? Why would you ever expect to find it there, you ask cynically?

After my neon pink helicopter lands on the top of the Starbright Towers, I'll often head into the Coffee Chop for a quick cup of peppermint tea before I ascend to my globe penthouse in my pink spiral heels.  When I do, I often leave a tip with a small pink card that READS "It's the Dance."  I find that most of the baristas pick up the card, read it, and squint in confusion. They seem to be more concerned with the amount I left in the tip jar than the real tip I left them in my card.
My pink card is not a mystery, nor is it a means to market my brand, as some media outlets claim. It's my simple way of spreading joy in what has become, sad to say, a joyless world.

I am a dancer. I grew up with my feet gliding across glossy wooden floors for as long as I can remember.  Moving my feet to the music of the day sets the tone for the way I handle everything in my life, especially within my business, Splash City Studios. Whether it's dealing with an unhappy customer or a disheartened employee, if an action is right it dances in step with everyone and everything around it. If it's not, it falls flat on the dance floor, and trips up everyone coming anywhere near it.  I learned this lesson pretty early in life. I am lucky that way.  But I've found that so many people have not. So few understand that life is a dance.

How do you begin your day? With a groan or a smirk? If so, where do you suppose that energy goes? It emanates from you, even though you may not see it, it can feel to others who come near you as if they were just slammed against a wall. They often leave, quickly, for if they stay around you, they may be infected.  The same is true if you start your day with a grin and a bounce in your step. It uplifts and connects with everyone around you.  Birds sing. You encounter green lights everywhere you go. You're in step with the dance of life.

This is hardly news to most people, and yet knowing this does little to change the way so many people approach their day.  I believe that's because those people have so much to groan and smirk about, like the baristas at the Coffee Chop, who work where policies are implemented that are out of step with the dance of life. Trying to stay in step with those policies on a daily basis creates stress and heartache, and shows on their faces when they fill your order for a cup of tea.

Honestly, it tears at my heartstrings to see it, day after day, and not just at the Coffee Chop but all over Splash City. Most of these policies are not designed to help the workers but to support greed. Adjusting to these dissonant steps on a daily basis takes its toll, until the dance of life becomes a march instead of a ballet or a waltz. 

Yet marching is not a dance. It's a protocol; a form of control that zaps the life out of anyone who engages in it for too long, until the very beating of one's heart is out of tune.

Dancers are in harmony with their dance partners, and with the music.  They feel, express, connect. But when you're marching, you're disconnected. Alone. You may be in step, but not in sync. You march in order; to someone's order. The only feeling expressed is fear. 

Some may even be able to temporarily override fear and march with a contagious smile, but it's a smile, not joy. Joy can never be found in a march.  Joy only emanates and spreads from an electrifying dance with life.  To spread joy, you begin with the dance. It's the dance, always. As a dancer, as soon as I come within an arm's length of them, even if someone is smiling full brim, I can sense if they are marching instead of dancing.  When I start to dance, they are so busy marching I end up dancing alone. That's when I leave my pink card.

I've found my joy, yet so few others have not. Since joy has become so endangered, I've made it my mission to keep an eye out for it wherever I go. Believe me, there's nothing I would like more than to stop printing up so many cards. I look forward to the day my neon pink helicopter lands on Starbright Towers and I receive an unspoken invitation to dance along with my cup of peppermint tea. I imagine the scene daily, yet it still has not come to pass. When it does - and it will - I'll be ready. I designed my spiral pink heels to turn into ballet slippers with a flip of a Velcro flap.  Even if it's right in the middle of the Coffee Chop and its marching orders, wherever I find joy, I dance.
<![CDATA[The Bee in the Window by Ms. Bee Haven]]>Tue, 04 Jun 2013 19:49:13 GMThttp://www.splashcitystudios.com/blog-2/fumble-bees-are-everywhere-by-ms-bee-haven
Ms. Bee Haven
"Today in this very busy bee self-consuming modern day superficial world of instant gratification and wanna-bees, there's a buzz of belonging to another world. The few who already belong to this world make it seem so simple and effortless, as if they are just naturally there. These are the bees who live their dreams and are often noticed by the masses, with some even changing the course of history.  

And so it's no wonder that many bees desperately seek this other world. Yet they seem to be constantly bumping against it like a window, seeing exactly where they want to go in plain sight - right there on the other side of this invisible barrier - but unable to get there. 
And it is also no wonder they can't make it there. In just struggling to survive, there is no time to think, no space to be at one with the world, at one with our surroundings, and especially at one with ourselves. Many have become so out of touch with themselves that they would love to bee in this world, but they don't believe they can make it, so they don't even try to reach it. They have simply become strangers to it all, and are just filling a void in someone else’s grand scheme of the world. 

And even the bees that do try to get there have become so out of touch, they have become like fumble bees. 

I call it the fumble bee phenomenon. 

Fumble bees go to all lengths, sometimes even desperate and dark, and do almost anything to enter this world, clutching stubbornly onto their goals, terms and ill fated strategies that they sincerely believe will get them there. These fumble bees will often squander and struggle for long stretches of time, and in many cases, even a whole lifetime. They hang onto false beliefs in the hopes they can reach the other world even for just a brief moment. 

Fly at high speed? SMACK! Try a slow speed? NOT! Maybe a different angle of approach will work... WHEW! Need more strength, more knowledge, more resourses, more control over things, more time, or maybe better focus and more concentration to break through this barrier... or is it all in the timing? DON'T KNOW! Then what is it?! 

Considering our highly sophisticated and strategically organized world of instant information, knowledge and connectivity, how can this fumble bee phenomenon have come to be? What does science and religion have to say about this phenomenon? Unfortunately, they offer little understanding. 

The sad truth is that although they've had this ability their entire lives, the great majority of fumble bees will never reach the peaceful, happy, fulfilled place they so desire. By the time some fumble bees get close to figuring it out, they are too old to function anymore. This is sometimes called the state of retirement, and where they tell the rest of the hive to just go buzz off. Even the bees who think they made it are, in most cases, simply kidding themselves. The truth is that the answer is way too simple for these complex bee-ings to discover. The truth is really in plain sight. 

I know. You don't believe me.  Or you are too scared, or have too much invested in your ladder on the Wall or your ride to give it a shot. But if you are willing to take the risk, you know what you might find there? 

The other world is not really on the other side of the window. It's in another dimension, and there's a simple way to get there. You ready? Because here comes the kicker. It's not a window. Never was. It's a mirror. The way - the only way - to the other side, the other dimension, is through the mirror. And honey, is it a trip!
<![CDATA[High Heels on Ladders?]]>Mon, 07 May 2012 17:19:42 GMThttp://www.splashcitystudios.com/blog-2/high-heels-on-ladders-by-debi-dewit

High Heels on Ladders?

Mzzz. Pink answers the question we've all been waiting for. 

Or does she?

My visit with Splash CIty's favorite yet enigmatic business tycoon.

by Debi Dewit
Mzzz Pink & Uno
It was not an easy climb.  To reach Mzzz. Pink's exclusive globe apartment at the top of Starbright towers, I had to take off my six inch pumps and put on my best pair of climbing shoes.  There are no elevators draped in glitter and pink fur to get there. No free rides on her neon pink helicopter. First came the wooden ladders, then the steel, and eventually titanium, which are rougher on the soul than I could have ever imagined. 
In our first phone conversation, I tried using a fake Box News style persuasiveness, half-heartedly joking with Mzzz. Pink that if I were to agree to this interview, my videographer must accompany me. As every Splashian knows, Fuchsia Pink's glassed in globe is her sanctuary, and only a trusted few are allowed. There are no photos of it anywhere. My usually fool proof charm was a bust. Mzzz Pink insisted, no cameras and no one else but me, or no interview at all.  

Why me? How did I make her cut and land this gig? I'm a Box News columnist, hardly a seasoned reporter. With every sweaty and breathy climb, I tried not to think about it. But when I reached the last rung on what appeared to be a solid gold ladder, I couldn't stop myself from obsessing about her choice.  Was it my frank interview with her Psychologist friend Lisa Hearditall and her controversial new business Parapsych - underwritten by Mzzz. Pink - where they audaciously hope to increase the vibrancy in our muted city? While on the wall, I had no answers. Yet with what I was about to experience, I now look back and laugh at my own audacity.

I had my list of Box standard interview questions down. Things I thought people would want to know.  I started by asking about her latest business ventures, particularly her reality TV show, "Kick Out the Ladder." Sure enough, I got her talking and earned her trust, and that's when I asked about the many blogs and tabloid rumors about her.  Was it true she had an affair with Rob LaSuit? Was her dog Uno really an alien? Was she in fact really over 200 years old? Sure enough, now I had her vulnerable, and so I threw out my zinger. Just how did she manage to pull off a feat no one before her in Splash City ever had? C'mon, now. It was time to come clean and tell the citizens of Splash City the truth. Did she really expect us to believe she actually got off the wall?

The approach worked, or so I thought, until her enlightening answer to my classical zinger stunned me, knocking this reporter temporarily off her wall. It was only for a second. But whoa, what a ride! I will freely admit I have enjoyed every clutch on the extensive variety of rungs that my work as a Box journalist has gained me, yet nothing could have prepared me for the experience that awaited me in the next life-changing moments.

What did Mzzz Pink say? It wasn't what she said, but what she didn't say. 

While I was waiting on baited breath for her answer to my zinger, her doorbell chimed and in walked two of her friends, the stylish Ms. Bee Haven, and a young woman by the name of Miss Guided Light.  Mzzz Pink asked me to stay and be a part of their conversation. They were in the beginning phases of forming a new Splash City business, Splash City Studios, designed to help people transform their lives.

"I've had it with all the cynicism at the Coffee Chop.  It's as if you're not cool unless you're a cynic."  Miss Guided Light began.  "My bubbly nature almost completely fizzled out because of it."

"I call it the 3D's of our toxic culture." Ms. Bee Haven responded. "Destruction, distraction and denial. It's all over the media. I home school my daughter Velocity to try and keep her away from it."

"I like to think of 3D in another way." Mzzz Pink offered.  "Three-dimensional. It's our nature to be vibrant, empathetic and giving. And it's time we show the people of Splash City another way. This is who they really are. When they really know that, our world will turn from a place of ruin to a place of wonder."

For the next hour I listened in silence as these three powerful women brainstormed.  Committees were formed, events planned, and friends called (including the famous singer Ms. Starbright who lives at Club Uphoria at the International Space Station). A website would offer inspirational stories written by some of the Splash City friends. Ms. Bee Haven suggested a series of books to help others become 3D.  Mzzz Pink's dog Uno could share his powerful story of using his imagination to make his way out of a cage, Miss Guided Light offered up her story of re-discovering her bubbly, and Ms. Bee Haven would speak to her daughter Velocity about writing her story about "following the why."  In time, they would ask all their friends to share their inspirational stories.  What about a movie or a television series? Ms. Bee Haven asked.

After hearing them interact with such depth, respect and regard, it finally hit me. Mzzz Pink never asked me to her Penthouse for an interview.  She asked me here to listen to this conversation.  It was unlike any conversation I ever witnessed. It wasn't chatter. It was dialogue. Purposeful communication. By the time an hour lapsed, the women worked in harmony, and sounded like a symphony of action and ideas. In contrast, I thought about the conversations around the water cooler at Box News.  Most of the women only talked about the shoes they just bought, or how far up the ladder they climbed, talking over or at each other, trying to outdo one another.  Looking down at my feet with clunky shoes, I felt a little embarrassed by my own participation in those conversations, yet every time I started to feel that way, it seemed Mzzz Pink could tell. She looked over at me and smiled with her eyes as if to say "It's okay. You just never knew anything different."

That's when my world changed. Suddenly, I started feeling something I had never felt before - comfortable in my own shoes. It was okay to be myself.  I didn't have to try to be like anyone else, or climb any kind of ladder, gold, titanium or anything else. What difference was it between climbing a gold ladder or a wooden one anyway? Listening to these creative, resourceful women talk, I didn't feel like climbing anymore.  Day after day I watched women fumbling and clutching on the rungs of the ladders, catching their high heels in the corners of the rungs all to reach the top of the wall, and suddenly it all seemed so ridiculous.  High heels on ladders?! C'mon!

Before I left, Mzzz Pink offered me a job. As soon as she asked I realized there was nothing else I would rather do. I didn't care about getting to the top of the wall anymore. Whatever was there no longer held my interest. It didn't matter. In the days to come I gave my notice to Box News and started working for her new venture, Splash City Studios, free lance.

So just what was Mzzz Pink's answer to my zinger interview question about getting off the wall?   Actually, Mzzz Pink didn't say it, she showed it. She walked over to a door at one side of the glass dome and opened it, gesturing for me to come look. I got up from my seat, walked over, and looked out the door. It opened to the sky. Looking down, I could see the ladder on the wall that I climbed and climbed to get to her penthouse.  The ladder was retracted. We were floating in mid-air!  When I gasped, wondering how any of this was possible, Mzzz Pink simply smiled. While I spent so much blood, sweat, and tears climbing ladder after expensive ladder to get to her penthouse, she showed me that all along, there was another way.  
Before I left, Box News wanted my interview with Mzzz Pink. I emailed her to ask what she wanted me to do, and she sent me a nice handwritten pink note encouraging me to do whatever I felt best. I contemplated writing it, yet when I sat down to actually draft it up, I couldn't shake the gnawing truth that the very format of an interview diminished her, and I just couldn't do that to her, or to myself. While I was hanging high-heeled on the ladder, this would have been the interview that would have made my career, but now I just couldn't write it. Ever since those spectacular and life-changing moments with her, I've been contemplating the best possible means to portray Mzzz Pink. And it finally came to me. How do I convey to you that she's the real deal? Well, figure it out for yourself, for here I am, kicking out my ladder. 
<![CDATA[The Day I Bumped into Someday by Miss Guided Light]]>Mon, 07 May 2012 16:59:58 GMThttp://www.splashcitystudios.com/blog-2/the-day-i-bumped-into-someday-by-miss-guided-light
Miss Guided Light

The first time I saw the Sign of the Times I was late for work. Back then, I was working as a nurse at Humpty Hospital, and on that particular day I stopped at the Coffee Chop on my way to work. My friend Vicki Pedia and I were kookling for a knock off pair of Mzzz Pink’s spiral shoes. You see, the day before, we saw her get off her neon pink chopper wearing these really cool shoes and just about gasped! When I worked at Humpty, I had to wear these really ugly and expensive shoes. It was unbearable to wear them day after day!  Vicki and I lost track of the time, and when I realized I was late, I rushed out of the Coffee Chop, onto the boardwalk and bumped into the sign, spilling my coffee! As I picked up my things, I read the sign. It read Happiness... over there, and Someday... this way. 
Someday... this way? What does that mean? The first time I saw the sign I laughed, thinking it was some kind of joke, especially after I heard through the grapevine it was Mzzz. Pink’s friend Vortex who put it up. I watched so many people just walk by it, not stopping to think about what it really means, and wondered how long it would last there before someone tore it down. I figured it would probably be gone by the next day. 

But to my surprise, the next day it was still there! And the next, and the next! So then I began to wonder, what’s going on here? Why is the sign still here? Happiness…. Over there? Where? Happiness wasn’t at Humpty Hospital, that’s for sure, I thought. The day I bumped into the sign was a tough one, more than the typical cuts and bruises at the hospital. That day I saw so many wounded folk. Having thought about the sign, I began studying the crowd of sick people in the waiting room, and I saw something I never really saw before.  It was like all of them were on a highway to someday. And working at Humpty Hospital, I saw lots of people die on their way to someday. At that moment, I noticed more than their physical and emotional wounds. I saw that all these people were so muted and 2D it was like they were barely breathing, as if they had no spirit or life in them at all. That's when I had a really scary thought. 

What about me? How was I any different? Had I become muted too? Would I ever make it to someday? 

That moment was the beginning of the end of my life at Humpty hospital, the day I realized that I had been being so busy on the ladder, I hadn’t seen the sign was about me! That night, back at the Coffee Chop, I shared my story with Vicki. "I'm tired of the cynicism all around Splash City.  I'm tired of hearing Noah Tall and Ben T. Donethat scoff at possibility. They think being cynical makes them smart. All it does is make them bullies. Mzzz Pink wears her heart on her sleeve and she sure isn't bullied. She's vibrant, and so are most of her friends. I want to be more like her."   I wasn't sure Vicki really understood so I just ordered a root beer float while she kookled ‘someday'. Then I took a sip of my float.  Yuck! It was horrible! The root beer was flat! And that’s when it occurred to me. Being muted and 2D is just like flat soda; it’s missing its bubbly!  All that cynicism had been making me lose my bubbly too! Mzzz. Pink’s happiness bubbles out and all around her so much it’s contagious!  For her, happiness is not over there. It’s with her all the time. She’s living her someday! 

And so now, I start every day with that thought, and not only do I feel bubbly, I'm proud of it! In my laughter yoga business Mimosa Yoga, I want to help people become bubbly. I want to help them breathe, laugh, and find their happiness now, instead of over there.  At Mimosa Yoga, we will drink champagne and laugh. It's so fun! But laughter is serious business you know. Seriously, laughter is the first step to becoming vibrant and 3D! 
<![CDATA[Has Time Been Sent to Spam? by Miss Guided Light]]>Mon, 07 May 2012 16:55:52 GMThttp://www.splashcitystudios.com/blog-2/it-makes-me-wonder-by-miss-guided-light
Last week, I emailed two women with oodles of web presence.  Recognizing their time is really valuable, I made sure my emails were short and to the point and as gracious as possible. I put a lot of time into it, inviting each of them to take a look at my latest blog. Their web postings sure made it seem like we had a lot in common.  I didn’t ask them for anything. I didn’t even ask to meet or take up lots of their time. What did I ask from them? Dialogue. What did I get? Ignored.

It wasn’t the first time I’ve been dismissed with what I imagine was a rush to clean out an inbox from yet another gimmick, cause, or 24 hour sale. To gain a sense of control, we savvy websters quickly press delete.  It’s a matter of survival. Disregard is in vogue. The more emails we receive, the less we read and the more indignant, justified and hip we feel, cursing those dastardly emails that try to steal away our most precious commodity: time. 

It makes me wonder. Why doesn’t anyone have time anymore? Where did time go?  Did it retire a few years back and no one noticed? Did one day it suddenly quit, yelling I’m mad as hell and I can’t take it anymore? Or has time simply been sent to spam?

One of my favorite ladies in the whole wide world was a woman I met when I worked at the hospital.  One day, I sat down and wrote her a letter. Not an email, a letter. Handwritten.  I asked her how she was. I told her I was writing for no reason. I just wanted to tell her I was thinking of her.  I had nothing new to tell her about my life. I simply wanted to sit with a pen and paper and dawdle with her for a while over a cup of tea, like we used to.  This lovely lady didn’t write me back.  Not because she didn’t make time for me, but because she couldn’t. She died a while back.  

Still, I make time for her.  Still, even if it’s only in the fragrant memories of her floating above my teacup, she makes time for me. And I know what she’d say. This calm old woman would tell me time didn’t go anywhere. We just don’t make it anymore, kinda like everything else that has gone out of style, like tying our shoes or sending a note card through the mail just to tell someone you’re thinking of them.

We don’t send cards anymore. Not even birthday ones.  We look into a flashing screen, tap discordantly on a keyboard, and post Happy Birthday into a little white computer corner when a prompt appears.  I’ve heard some folks count how many little white computer corner birthday wishes they received, and it makes me wonder. Did they get any real cards? Did they come home at the end of the day and find a card in the mail with handpicked wishes inside, the kind of card they might ever so carefully place on the top of their desk to last for days, months even; the kind of card that would move them to make time to chat with an old friend?

It’s easy to disregard an email like my once prospective friends did.  With one finger click, we can delete and diminish its intent and send it to the spam folder in our brain, never realizing the potential we may be discarding. But if we want to get rid of a card or letter, we must throw it in the trash; a much more difficult act.   We have to take off the lid, face the garbage pail head on and actually witness our friend’s thoughtfulness on top of old coffee grinds or day old circulars.  Such thoughtlessness makes me shudder, and wonder. Is that what we did with time?