Failures

After singing my rendition of Janis Joplin's "Piece O' My Heart" at our wrap party for The Whole Truth, several people asked, "Is there anything you CAN'T do?!"

Inferring "do *well*" because my performance was pretty much the crowd pleaser.

I joked, "Yes. Rugs and windows."

But the sad truth is, as my personal assistant Aaron (a very successful person - he played professional soccer until a head injury sent him on to other professions) and I commiserated, there have been many failures in my past.

Not that I believe in the overall concepts of success or failure. Putting too much importance on either can be debilitating. Enjoying life as it comes and is created by me, no matter the challenges handed me, is pretty much my philosophy.

But in these cases?

I think "failure" is appropriate.

Like there was the time I knit muffler scarves for friends and family as Christmas gifts. OK, I did not do enough research on the materials one should use to knit specific items. I chose a bright synthetic yarn that stretched and stretched over time.

My parents came to use their "muffler scarves" as nap blankets. Seriously. They grew so large they covered themselves with them when they stretched out on the sofa to take a nap.

My brother's .. he's more than six feet tall .. well, it grew to the point it touched the floor on either side hung around his neck. I'm not sure whatever became of it though I think wrapping water pipes during a cold streak would be useful.

The last time I saw it, he folded the "scarf" four times which made it so thick he could not wear it driving a car (even walking presented its own problems). I also had the sneaking suspicion he kept it hidden in a closet unless I visited. I figured this out when I saw the .. cobwebs.

Then there was the infamous year I made candles for everyone. Maybe that should be "candles." No, that's a bit harsh because they did burn. Mercifully.

What went awry was the coloring. I started out with the pure white wax, and I forget exactly what I used to infect- I mean affect them with bright hues, but none looked like the standard brightly hued candle you can buy at any store. Somehow I infused them quite accidentally with a sort of icky brownish-bluish-greenish-purpley pigmentation. I tried "fixing" them, adding this and that, but whatever I did only made it worse.

With "it's the thought that counts" sentiment, I wrapped them (people wince at my wrapping - not a reflection on the dreaded gift inside, but wondering how on earth someone who appears to be normally coordinated can make wrapping paper look like a refugee from a fire sale) and gave them to the people I love.

I figured, as long as they keep them away from food they couldn't do much damage - or perhaps if someone is on a diet it just might help them lose their appetite. And they could also brighten a little corner here and there. The basement, garage, outhouse ..

I have had to face my failure(s) in the fields of craftiness. Not crafty, me.

But that's in keeping with being a director. Directors are basically useless when it comes to *doing* anything. Why do you think all those crafty artists are there to help us put the film together?

We're very good at *saying* things, however. "Um, yes, let's make it blue." "No, that won't work." "It needs to be larger but not as large as, say, Simon Cowell's ego."

As long as I don't have to knit or melt wax? So far, so good.

Happy New Year.

May 2009 be your best year ever - enjoy and love every minute of it, doing things at which you excel and those things at which you aren't swell.

See you next year!