Last of the Independents

In the 1980s disc jockeys played the music of bands signed to indie record labels instead of major record labels.

I liken this to self-publishing a book circa 2015 today. Major publishers aren’t willing to take a chance on a great work of literature so they routinely turn down books they think won’t make millions of dollars for the house. James Patterson and other writers of so-called formula fiction do get book contracts with Random House and other publishers.

I say: take a chance on the last of the independents. Be not afraid to read a self-published book that is well-written not cobbled together with poor grammar and dangling sentences or run-on streams of paragraphs.

My other two books are self-help books I hope to publish within five years. I have a fourth non-fiction book I’d like to bring out too.

Today: mainstream publishers aren’t willing to take a chance on first-time authors. I urge readers of books to take this chance on first-time authors.

I’m most taken by Kim Gordon’s traditionally published memoir, Girl in a Band, because she limned the downtown New York City music scene that paralleled my own stint as a disc jockey on the FM radio.

It comes down to making beautiful music on your own. Self-publishing a book is like producing an album with an indie record label.

Most people would rather read a book Nicole Richie or Kim Kardashian wrote.

I say: give your hard-earned money to ordinary writers not celebrities who make millions just by rolling out of bed.

The whole indie do-it-yourself ethic is alive and well and thriving.

Why not join in?

Fifty is the New Funny

I want to do a comedy routine about recovery at mid life.

A reporter for Yahoo Health interviewed me for an article on dating with a mental condition.

A lot of so-called normal guys are a few bricks shy of a house if you get my drift.

I’d rather date a person with a mental illness who’s normal than an allegedly normal person who’s effed up.

This might be why as I continue into my fiftieth year I’m suddenly interested in the inner beauty of a person.

At the same time I see the beauty of getting dolled up to go outside. I learned some tricks this weekend about making up your mind as well as your face. The inner core of our belief and our outer beauty should be in synch.

My joke is that a bathroom mirror should come with the instructions like a fire scene: Stand Back 500 Feet.

Try this and see if as I did it does the trick. Deborah Harry of Blondie fame was quoted in a book that women view ourselves microscopically. Yet at 50 we can’t afford neither emotionally nor financially to obsess about every line, wrinkle, and pore.

The simple solution is to stand back from the bathroom mirror at least two feet. This does the trick nicely when you’re looking at yourself. Like any work of art (and every human being is one) we need to view ourselves from a distance. This is for most of our day how other people view us. I doubt a lot of people enter or invade what’s called our personal bubble closer than two feet to our bodies every day.

Yes: the simple solution is to stand back from the bathroom mirror at least two feet. This works wonders in changing how we view ourselves. Like I reported in here before a makeover is also a special effect when a woman turns 50.

Other simple strategies come easy too:

Cleanse your face at night and apply moisturizer at night. Now is the time at 50 when a woman benefits from using moisturizer and broad-spectrum sunscreen in the morning and moisturizer at night.

The makeup artists who wrote The Makeup Wakeup also championed applying moisturizer. It can instantly wake up our faces.

What I find funny and with pun intended is that often the solution(s) are right in front of our face.

I so will not do expensive lasers, injections, and other treatments. I think it’s egregious of magazine editors to fuel the flames of their readers’ worries about getting older by showcasing anti-aging products in features.

Step Away. From the Mirror. I guarantee you’ll like the results.

Torrid

Getting on and off the bus is something else. The bus arrives late–a crowd storms the exit door to leave.

I waited on a friend in a Barnes & Noble. Everyone coming through the door was beautiful. I wore a blue Sperry hat, blue cropped chinos, and my svelte Nike training shoes.

I go into Sephora before the shrink’s visit, not after. A makeup artist chose a blush for me called Torrid.

At 50 my attraction to Manhattan has worn off. It’s not the playground of my youth. I go there to shop for clothes. Like the sleeveless blouse I bought that reads: You Are My Favorite Daydream. It was my version of a mid life reinvention: a Coachella persona.

We all want another person’s eyes to light up when we enter a room. I serenaded my friend in a Brazilian restaurant.

The night ended. The Greenmarket vendors had folded up and gone away.

The moon rose like a communion wafer, host of a dream swallowed whole.

Knit Together

I’m a loyal fan of knitting ladies.

“How much?” I lifted up a green cap. “Five dollars,” the woman said so I gave her a handful of bills.

“It’s a chemo cap,” she said. “You can have it though.”

“What?” Did I hear right?

“It’s cotton, so I knit it for women who are losing their hair.”

The cap was leaf green and trendy, for a hip young woman.

I read a book about how women (and men who think like them) are taking over the world. The Athena Doctrine documented Grannies, Inc. in Britain–a collection of grandmothers who knit and sell custom-made hats, scarves, and sweaters.

The odd thing is that when I wore the green cap I could almost feel how it would feel to lose your hair.

Faith Popcorn was first with her 1990s book, She-volution, about women starting a revolution in the marketplace with female buying power.

If memory serves, Etsy has gone public.

It’s true women rule the world. Like the perfume TV commercial in the 1970s “We bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan.”

No kidding.

Makeup Lesson Photo

sideways photo

I like the offhand grace of this photo with the guy walking down the street outside the salon.

Yes: I do recommend celebrating 50 with a makeup lesson.

The makeup artist was bright and cheerful. I bought the lipstick, eyeliner, and blush she used. The products did not cost a lot of money though.

A woman at the last book talk commented to the audience that she loved my memoir because it talked about clothes and makeup–“And Sephora-our favorite store!” she laughed.

Forgiveness is a buzzword for 50. The tee shirt I wore in this photo has black letters that spell out the words: grace wit poise love. These are the four horsemen of a woman’s strategy for getting older.

I kid you not at the book talk my mother told the audience: “Chris was chubby in her twenties.”

My story is living proof that you can lose weight, keep it off, and be fitter and healthier and stronger at 50 than you were as a young woman.

I urge readers to always maintain a sense of humor. Go to a comedy club. Watch a Warner Brothers Looney Tunes cartoon marathon.

Acting with good humor is the way to go at 50.

Living a Life in Balance

I talked to a woman about why I titled my memoir Left of the Dial: how I covet living a life in balance with my thoughts and feelings on the left of the dial so that what I feel and think is in balance not noisy and distorted with feedback and tension.

As I near 50, I want to talk to other women who turned 50 to ask them how they felt as they achieved this milestone birthday. In my estimation: now is the time to let go of the clutter: the cluttered, negative thoughts as well as the physical clutter in our apartments.

As I near 50, this might seem unusual yet I regret nothing that happened in my life. Regret serves no purpose except to keep you stuck and unable to move forward.

The beat of our lives goes on at 50. I want this to be an upbeat time where I seek to do new things and achieve new goals. Each of us needs to focus on what’s possible instead of making excuses for why we can’t do something.

Fifty is the start of our new lives not the end of our lives.

Clearing out the clutter is in order. Opening our hearts and minds to our potential and to others’ potential is the way to go now.

Some things I’ve learned now that my forties are over:

You don’t need 20 tubes of lipstick. Six tubes of lipstick will do.

You don’t need to buy what the media is selling about erasing wrinkles. As numerous older women have proclaimed, “It’s either my face or my ass.” You might gain weight and have no lines on your face or you might gain only a couple of pounds and have wrinkles.

By the time a woman turns 50, it’s time to stop chasing perfection. It’s time to live the dream of what you’ve always wanted to do or to live the dream of a new passion you’ve discovered later in life.

At 50, I desire to live a life in balance. I’m able to accept that the past had an expiration date and that the future is an open book.

I’m not so foolish at 50 to think I can have everything or do everything in my life.

Instead, it’s time to embrace our imperfections, to honor and use our gifts and talents, to see the positive not focus on the negative.

If you turn 50 and you still don’t like yourself that’s not good when most likely you’ll have 20 more years on earth.

All woman have to love ourselves from wherever we are right now. If we don’t like an aspect of ourselves or our lives, we have the power to change things for the better.

I’ll end here by telling you to repeat after me:

You don’t need 20 lipsticks. You don’t need to hang on to guilt or regret. You don’t need to conform to how society tells us a woman should act and be and what a woman should do in her older years. Dare to wear purple.

Let’s celebrate ourselves at every day. Let’s break out the champagne.

Fifty is here. The world is our oyster now more than ever.

Marching to a Different Drummer at 50

It’s not easy to wave a freak flag when you’re told to conform from an early age. I know I wasn’t the daughter my mother expected me to be: gingham and giggly. Instead, I stayed in my bedroom listening to college radio and sketching fashions, reading books and writing in a diary.

As women get older, the pressure to conform is still there. Magazines like Allure and Vogue feature teenage models with tape-measure limbs and flawless faces. Celebrities hawk miracle creams and hope in a jar of happiness.

What happens when the happiness we seek from physical perfection eludes us? What happens when we realize our mental muscle is starting to turn to flab as well as our bodies? Do we keep seeking happiness outside ourselves via products and praise from other people?

The goal is to be self-confident: not to be swayed by our critics or our fan club either way.

I have a touch of shock like the rest of us now that fifty is here and I’m being sold a bill of goods of impossible perfection I’m supposed to obtain. Let’s face it most women don’t have a peaches-and-cream complexion or creamy skin without pink blotches or fine lines.

“On with it!” is my motto.

I decided to have a makeup lesson for my 50th birthday. It cost only $80 and I will bring my eye shadows and lipsticks for the makeup artist to review. Bobbi Brown in one of her beauty books calls this a “makeup facelift.”

Instead of buying endless products hit-or-miss I recommend booking a makeup lesson at a local salon. You’ll feel pretty and today with the outcome. Research a local salon that offers makeup lessons.

Hiding behind baggy clothes, slathering on hideous makeup like you did in your twenties, and not taking care of yourself are the easiest ways to make yourself ill physically and mentally. Read the Lauren Slater article in the Oprah magazine about how she spruced herself up to overcome depression.

Beauty is the birthright of all women.

Every person living on earth is beautiful.

50 is not the end it is the beginning of our new life.

Dare. Do three things on your bucket list by the time you’re 50.

Keep dreaming. Keep doing.

The best is yet to be.

Saying Yes to Life at 50

Fifty is the chronological caboose, okay?

Yet rather than focus on the past, which had an expiration date, I choose to embrace each new day.

It’s true so much of our youth is gone: friends, badges of identity like music and fashion, desires, priorities, and values.

Yet a New York Times article on March 23rd heralded our older years as an auspicious time to reinvent ourselves, reflecting on women and men who published books of poetry, invented a new business, and dared meet themselves in their fifties, sixties, and seventies

I will always remember my mother’s aunt who lived to be 82. I bought her an amethyst necklace from a gift shop for her 80th birthday party. She told me: “Oh, purple is my favorite color.” (I hadn’t known that.)

The party was at an organic farm upstate, on wooden tables outdoors with a Mediterranean feast. “I love every birthday!” Aunt Angie proclaimed, lifting her wine glass in a toast.

The point is: giving up on ourselves is not the answer. We need to wrap with love the packages of ourselves we give to others. We can embrace the good and be realistic about the not-so-good that remains.

Even when there is pain, we can find pocket(book)s of joy-a Freudian slip-pockets of joy became pocketbooks, as if we can cherish our accoutrements of style.

Yet I can’t tell you I’ll be the “same Chris” at 60, or 75-or 80. In recovery as in life, there are no guarantees. The clock might keep ticking, so we can’t shut off our minds and bodies, nor remain stuck, blind to our potential and the possibilities in our “second youth.”

Truly, at 50 and beyond, acting resilient and having the bravery to carry on are the smart accessories in our mental makeup bag.

Now is the time to say “Yes!” to life.

“Yes!”

Just for Today at 50

I wrote this ditty about seven months ago when I started to reflect on the end of my forties this coming April.

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Just for Today, At 50:

I will join a bowling league for fun, even if I barely score a 60.

I will refuse to get cuckoo over the right way to fold a bath towel.

I will use Brillo pads to scour the brown off the stove burners.

I will treat myself with the kindness and compassion I treat others.

I will accept that I gained 5 or 10 pounds because I’m still alive and have more good years left.

I will use the rear-view mirror as a cheer-view mirror to be proud of what I’ve done instead of regretting what didn’t happen.

I will go to the nail salon for a manicure and pedicure.

I will perform a random act of kindness.

I will remember that God wanted me to be born, that I live here now because life is good even though challenges remain.

I will refuse to take other people’s bullcrap.

I will take myself out to dinner for my birthday.

I will accept that a bad habit remains.

I will strive for excellence because it is attainable, instead of striving for perfection which is impossible.

I will buy a daring outfit: polka dots or stripes.

I will understand that This Is It: so I will live with the knowledge that most things don’t matter in the scheme of life.

I will get over my fears of not being good enough, thin enough, or popular enough.

I will tell myself that Maya Angelou was right: a woman should own a set of wine glasses with stems.

Then I’ll break out the bubbly and celebrate 50, because it’s a great time to be alive.

Loud and Proud

I wanted to revisit doing your own thing. It’s a way to be alive in the world. To express yourself and to be proud of who you are.

As true as the sun rises in the east each of us will be miserable if we’re a fish out of water floundering in the sand of an ill-fitting environment. We will be miserable allowing ourselves to be attacked when so-called friends or others insinuate we’re freaks because we don’t conform to what’s accepted in society.

First of all: I don’t think what’s accepted as normal in society IS normal. I don’t think the hate in the world is normal. I don’t think women bashing other women is normal. I don’t think people who stigmatize individuals diagnosed with mental illnesses are great prizes to covet winning in the friends and lovers game.

Can a person change? Yes: some people can change. A person can grow older and become more compassionate. A woman can decide she’s not going to attack her friends anymore.

And too each of us can decide that we don’t have to conform to what others tell us we should do and how they think we should act.

I hold this to be true above all else: treating yourself and others with dignity is the way to go.

Sadly, dignity is often times NOT accorded individuals living with mental illnesses.

It’s time to take back our dignity and get “loud and proud” about ourselves like Jennifer Lopez sang.

I want that no person living with a mental illness ever feels guilty and ashamed because he or she has a medical condition.

I want that no women is made to feel like a freak because she doesn’t want to be married with children.

Whatever your “thing” is. Whoever you are. However you express your personality:

It’s all good. God doesn’t make junk.