In case you’ve been wondering about me …

Who can honestly say you’re not even a little bit curious about what makes some of your favourite actors tick?  Come on, not even a little bit?  Well I Spotlight2am.  That’s one of the reasons why I’ve always enjoyed the one-hour talk show, Inside The Actors’ Studio.

Hosted by James Lipton (writer, composer, actor and dean emeritus of the Actors’ Studio Drama School at Pace University in New York), it’s actually a seminar for students that’s also filmed for broadcast.  The format is very simple.  Lipton and his guest having a leisurely conversation in front of a live audience.  What I love most about it is, Lipton doesn’t ask the usual questions.  And the actors or directors he’s talking with, really open up.

So when I read today’s WordPress Daily Prompt, I simply had to play along and turn the spotlight on myself:  “On the interview show Inside the Actors’ Studio, host James Lipton asks each of his guests the same last question.  What are your responses?”

Here goes: Continue reading

Day 124. Enjoy It!

Even as a child, I wasn’t crazy about my birthday. Unlike most kids, I was never wild with anticipation as THE day got closer and closer. Not even the prospect of gifts particularly Six Lit Birthday Candlesexcited me. Or parties. Or cake and ice cream. I have no clue why. Ridiculous, I know.

Maybe even at three years old I wasn’t crazy about the idea of time marching on. Who knows. Bet a therapist would have a field day with this one. All I know is, nothing’s changed.

Unlike my mother, who celebrated each and every birthday she had. Yes, she celebrated each and every year she was blessed with ‘living’. Not that she liked getting old. Staring her mortality square in the eye. She just didn’t dwell on it. What I’m about to say may sound like a fragrance commercial or a Hallmark card, but I’m saying it anyway. Because, in my mother’s case, it’s absolutely true (as anyone who knew her can confirm). It defined her and all she stood for:

She defied it. When she looked in the mirror she saw a woman much younger than she really was. She saw a woman with the spirit of a forty year old. And the energy. And the enthusiasm. A woman filled with the joyful anticipation of what each new day could bring. Would bring. Because she willed it so. She’d tell you how old she was, before you asked. To her it was an accomplishment to be proud of.

Vain as she was (and I don’t mean this in a bad way), she NEVER shied away from saying “I’m 75”. Or 80, or 84. I think she

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