Featured Artist: Corinne Theile #thrivingartist

"I'm not OshKosh. I'm Corinne!"

That’s what Corinne declared, at four years old, while demanding that her mother cut the OshKosh labels off her clothing. 

In hindsight, that was a pivotal moment. Her mother explained that Oshkosh was a brand (not a name), and that was when Corinne became fascinated with the world of branding + marketing. 

 

As the daughter of small business owners, Corinne discovered her aptitude for sales when she was tall enough to see over the counter at her parent's lamp shop. Her love of photography also started early. The daughter of a film major, she spent time behind and in front of the camera. 

During her teenage years, when most girls hung posters of teen heartthrobs on their walls, Corinne instead decorated her walls with torn-out advertisements from magazines and product packaging she found especially clever and fascinating.

Corinne is known for doing things her way. She loves exploration and discovery, whether through travel or when sampling the latest offering from a local restaurant. Her colleagues have called her "a visionary whose creativity is not limited by the usual constraints known to others."

So, how does Corinne herself view being an artist? "We are constantly surrounded by and interacting with art and design. There has been no other time in history when creating and sharing art has been easier. From how we decorate our homes to the clothes we wear, the words we put onto paper - and the photos we take and share on social media. We can be and are all artists!”

Journaling Through The Years, Episode 25: Ghost Stories, Summer Love, & ...

In this week's episode, I begin a new journal (back in high school), I begin with my 1994 NY Resolutions, which includes hoping for my first kiss before I turn 16 (spoiler alert: that resolution did happen before 16 but not completely as written), I share some short stories about a weird bunch of friends I met in childhood in my neighborhood...kinda. I close with a dedication to my VC Fam & nothing bad better happen or I'm never ever dedicating another vlog to anyone ever.

An Open Letter To The New Family Residing At 23537 Vineyard Road

“Once upon a time we all walked on the golden road. It was a fair highway, through the Land of Lost Delight; shadow and sunshine were blessedly mingled, and every turn and dip revealed a fresh charm and a new loveliness to eager hearts and unspoiled eyes.

On that road we heard the song of morning stars; we drank in fragrances aerial and sweet as a May mist; we were rich in gossamer fancies and iris hopes; our hearts sought and found the boon of dreams; the years waited beyond and they were very fair; life was a rose-lipped comrade with purple flowers dripping from her fingers.

We may long have left the golden road behind, but its memories are the dearest of our eternal possessions; and those who cherish them as such may haply find a pleasure in the pages of this book, whose people are pilgrims on the golden road of youth.”

― L.M. Montgomery, The Golden Road

Wink & A Smile

I remember the days, of just keeping time

Of hanging around in sleepy towns, forever

Back roads empty for miles

Well you can't have a dream and cut it to fit

But when I saw you I knew, we'd go together

Like a wink and a smile

The home where I spent the formative years of my existence, my childhood home, has been released from the hold of my family.  A new family will take up residence.  The reality of that has been swirling through my mind.  For many years now, I have recognized the existence of home as not a material, but that of within.  However, with the advent of Covid-19 and the need to quarantine, to lock ourselves within the buildings of our houses, as it were, it has given pause to reflect on the natural of the physical building of which I reside, both today and in the past.  

Whatever the place, whether I walk within or just recall in my mind's eye, it as if the voices of the memory ring off the very walls, a myriad of emotions fill those echoes of times past.  This is a reality in so much of my past, however the duration I have resided or spent within the confines of those walls.  The memory of the place clings within me as my memory clings within it.  Is it a real possibility that the physical manifestation of home is more than just a material object but a true living embodiment of our soul's and heart's cry?

I am beginning to realize the answer is a positive.  

So, to the family who takes over my childhood home, I now speak.  My heart is filled with hope and gratitude for your journey within those walls, thankful for the time I spent, the reality that all that partake within is a truth that has shaped my existence and will never cease to be, will always be a part of my being.

I wish the same for each of you.  I do hope that the memories of that residence which cling to the walls, echoing off with ringing tones throughout the landscape, happily fill your days.  I hope with every fibre of my being that your residing there is filled with the plethora of emotion I leave within and move forward beyond in my life.  

In those walls are infused, the memory of little children's feet, both mine, my siblings, and their children, running down the hallways, noisily happy and sometimes not so, chattering through the rooms.  The feet of the children were followed lovingly and loyally by an assortment of beloved furry friends, pets whose spirits remain on the property.  These spirits, although left behind by me, welcome you with open hearts with wishes to show you the delights they still hold dear in their departed life.  Allow them to guide as the purity of their animal hearts is beyond that of the humans that inhabited it.  As most animals of all variety, they wish no ill will upon you.  

Top L to R, me with kitten Calvin & Hobbes, my cat, Jamocha Almond Fudge, 

Ollie (who looks dangerous but isn't), Calvin & Hobbes again.  Bottom: me with my side-kick and world's best doggie ever, Ollie!

There were Christmas holidays spent in the living room, bursting over with the excitement of Santa's visits and then in the elder years, the cherished memories of mimosas, muffins, and family gatherings.  Birthday parties, slumber parties, late night giggle sessions and all night computer sessions in online chat rooms (a good part of my youth was spent in the nineties), sneaking out for midnight meet-ups with friends, long hikes in the woods and hills, dips in the coolness of the lake, whether clothed or not.  

Playing at the beach, slumber birthday parties, & school fun!

We were hired as babysitters, took care of neighbors' horses and cats, tended gardens for a little extra money.  We were freely allowed to roam the neighborhood at all times of the year without any fears of our parents.  In my teenage years, I longed for the intrigue and busyness of the city life but today I am grateful in a wide plethora of ways for the freedom I was allowed in my youth time in that neighborhood.  To this day, I still hold strong connection to the friends' I grew up alongside, memories of moonlit walks, sail boat rides, the 4th of July games, the Halloween parties and trick or treating.  

Corinne & I, after our original choreographed piece of Cats

My best friend, Corinne, more of a sister than any other, who I cherish in so many ways was one of the strongest allies during the emotional upheaval of middle school life and through the fate of life we were brought back together in our twenties as we faced these demons at therapist office's next door to each other.  The growth of our emotional health has been a universal journey we share side by side, and would be non-existent without our formative years growing up in the same neighborhood.

Me with my first boyfriend, Monte Weatherby (deceased), on our way to my first prom!

Sophomore Year Prom!!  L to R, Me, my boyfriend, Matt, my best friend, John, and his girl

friend, Janiene (also my best friend)

me with my soul sister, Silvia!  (exchange student from Switzerland)

My siblings and I named several of the landmarks on our property we leave behind.  The little creek by my playhouse (lovingly crafted by my father and grand-father, when I was in first grade ( I still have those memories of it being built), was named Lost Canoe Creek, so named for the plastic toy canoe my brother lost in it around age ten (found later in his early twenties, however, "Found Canoe Creek" never had the same ring to it).  The mystical grove of pine trees surrounding the stone rock seemingly a perch for the fairies to hold their mysterious rituals called "Simgale" by my eldest brother.  In the old days, hammocks were hung and summers were spent by me reading leisurely for hours or I played in the coolness of the shade.

In My Room!

My kitty, Jamocha (not so happy at the moment) and I.

I am particularly proud of the Beverly Hills, 90210 actresses behind me.  
I was quite the fan-girl indeed!

There is so much more I could say, too much to list here.  It is enough to recall that each moment, although not able to be listed, is a valuable asset upon my soul.  Beloved tv shows whose cast members are still loved today (Night Court, Beverly Hills 90210, Seinfeld, to name a few), my bedroom walls plastered with their images, movie nights with pizza for dinner....so many many moments...you might find a sticker still fixed upon one of the bedroom windows, if my parents' missed it in the cleaning (hopefully so), it's my gift left for you, a physical manifestation of my child soul still residing there with yours. 

So, too, new residents I wish for you to build upon and form these new memories, with gratitude for the foundation that shaped me and the lessons that inspired my eternal emotional growth, I release this home to your loving and capable hands.  

I ask as I entrust her to you that you cherish and nurture her well as I know she will do the very same for you.

I can see your face

In our secret place

You're not just a memory

Say goodbye to yesterday (the dream)

Those are words I'll never say (I'll never say)

This used to be my playground (used to be)

This used to be our pride and joy

This used to be the place we ran to

That no one in the world could dare destroy

This used to be our playground (used to be)

This used to be our childhood dream

This used to be the place we ran to

I wish you were standing here with me

This Used To Be My Playground

So, what did you think? Got something to say? Feel free to comment below and I will respond.

The Thriving Artist is a subset of Cafe-Girl Productions, Inc, a film and media company with the sole purpose of benefiting the world for the better.  Support us at: www.patreon.com/cafegirlproductions

The View From 42

"Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything"

As the years come and go, and age creeps itself up, I ponder each year, the meaning of not just life, the universe, and everything, but in fact this whole age thing and what my role is in this life here bestowed to me on earth.  

One thing for sure is pause to think about what is age actually.  A few years back as I was winding my way through the not so flirty thirties, it dawned on me that I wasn't the "it" age any longer.  You know, the age that the media markets itself to in order to earn its buck.  This was surprising because in my youthful roaring twenties I never gave much thought but all of sudden when I wasn't the "target majority", I was like, "Hey, hold it right there, I'm still relevant, buster!"

All kidding aside.  Relevancy within the constructs of society is not an achievement, although my approval hungry low self esteem would warrant it, I am increasingly learning to be at home with myself.  And, that is the place I find myself in today, the day after my 42nd birthday.  Here I am, in the middle of my life, perhaps, with friends who have years I have yet to reach and friends behind whose time on this planet I have surpassed.   Perhaps I am not really in middle age, but with the aforementioned reasoning, it feels a little bit like that.  My friends with more life experience call me young, the ones with less shudder to use the O-word.  I smile graciously at both.  Age is increasingly becoming a mere number, life is more and more about the wisdom I am receiving and the overall health of mind I am daily coming upon.  

Basically, I feel the healthiest and best I have ever felt in my life, in fact, I feel the youngest.  It's this feeling of more and more comfortable and at home with myself, that causes this inner peace to vibrate outwards.  The journey still continues, I still have yet a lot of healing and growth to come as my journal entries reflect, but this thought does not dismay me, because I have a sense of profound calm in the journey, that despite the highs and lows of self-discovery, I shall prevail and arise stronger.

My goals for a better life will be attained, if I take each day as it comes.  Yet, I am learning to enjoy the moment I have now, falling in love with who I am today, instead of waiting for some far off perfection that may never arrive itself.   Because our hopes and dreams have a way of shifting as we follow the path, becoming better than we ever imagined.  I always dreamed of becoming a famous movie star, instead I am doing more than just working as an actor but pursuing the calling of the role of film producer and learning all that it means to run a successful business (from the ground up, baby.)

Increasingly more in my life, I desire balance and calm stability in my life.  Even in moments of exhilaration, like the fun of rehearsals, being on a late night set filming a movie, opening night of a play, I want the steady focus that comes from self care.  As a woman with bipolar, falling into the madness of mania may have its appeal in the moment but afterwards leaves me with an element of shame.  I want, in the end, to maintain the steadiness of both feet planted firmly on the earth, steps focused, heel to toe, touching the ground as I move along my path.  For it is in that place that I find my most creative expression guaranteed and satisfied, not in the place of exhilarating mania where I awaken with the embarrassment of uncertainty, causing my self esteem to spiral back downwards.   

So, I follow my routines daily, sometimes they alter in some ways based on the goals I need to accomplish in that day, but others are fixed, like my daily reading and journaling, my exercise and yoga practices, practicing my healthy ketogenic diet, and ensuring that I acquire the sufficient 8 hours of sleep needed to maintain that desired stability.  

And, in this path, I am viewing the idea of success from a different lens, not merely that of popularity and wealth (although having the upward climb of financial security gives a certain calm), but of an overall spiritual and/or emotional state of being.  The art of creating for me, whether it be acting, writing, working on and editing a web-series project, putting together a vision board collage, or even painting rocks (the list could go on, I know) is not merely for the increase of financial gain and the upward rising of my business but an uplift to my soul and, I hope, for those that partake.  More and more, I no longer worry about the quantity, the numbers that are viewing, but focus more on the quality, does this creative outlet inspire me, make me smile, laugh, and feel more at one with myself? If so, then true success has been reached and outwards it goes to those others that will find it inspiring, making them smile, laugh, and feel more at one with themselves.  A worthy goal for all, I believe and one that is a life-long achievement.

As my dear friend, Corinne, once told me in my youthfully naive twenties, "recovery is life-long".  And, its true.  We rise from ashes to ashes, as it were, phoenixes ever being improved and transformed.  With one release of a struggle, we are healed and able to climb another mountain, to heal another wound, to forgive, and become more of who we were meant to be.  

At times, I look back with shame at the choices of my life, even as soon as 2019, and want to hang my head.  However, if I hadn't made those errors, I wouldn't be where I am today.  I am discovering that there are no failures in life, but lessons to help us to grow and deepen our connection with self and source (Divine, God, Goddess, Universe, choose your title).  

Life has an interesting way of taking us seemingly backwards and thus at times this seems to be a way to teach us the most essential lesson needed in that particular instance.  I found myself once more with the above actress, Shannen Doherty, in the foreground of my mind and viewing.  I believe pop culture has its place within the realm of our spiritual and emotional healing.  That said, way, way back in the far off nineties, Shannen was the star of "Beverly Hills, 90210", and she was my role model, of sorts, I deeply admired and loved her.  On the other hand, there were those that held hatred in their hearts in as much degree as I loved.  I find that interesting that there are individuals whatever the career or degree that cause that intense of emotions, whether positive or negative, and I feel its a facet to not just admire, but ponder.  For whatever reason, Shannen is one of those individuals that has been equally loved and hated at an intense level.  A goddess I call her, but whatever she be or not, she has proven herself to be strong, able to persevere, and stay true to herself.  This is the true reason I admired her then, although as an awkward teen struggling to figure out how to fit in and define myself, I would not have described it that way.  "She's so pretty," I would say, but inwardly I admired the confidence.  

Yes, she was and is brave.  She maintained working as an actress after being fired from two popular tv shows for alleged bad behavior, being slandered with the 'bitch' title during the shaky women's rights of the nineties, and then more recently fought the battle of breast cancer (and basically won.)  So, it was with excitement and gratitude that I saw her return to her roots on last summer's reboot, BH90210, and as I was pleased with the version of herself she played (and basically only watched for her), I was more impressed with her red carpet and publicity shots.  From the girl who used to dash about in such outfits as the above photo displays, along came Shannen in cute slacks, a fitted t-shirt, a leather jacket, and flat soled shoes, or some variety of sorts similar to that.  While the other actresses, Tori Spelling and Jennie Garth, smiled in front of the camera in their cute dresses and heels, Shannen strutted herself proudly, without any awkward worry about how she looked, laughing with her friends.  And, even though she wore these clothes, she looked beautiful, classy, and, dare I say, even sexy.  But, she wasn't trying...that's big here....she wasn't trying.  That's what impressed me the most.  The most sexiest and appealing thing about her today is that she is and isn't afraid to show it.  

So, thus in recent months, I have been following her lead.  It's funny to me that at 42 and her 49 I am still taking dress advice (or now rather life advice) but as I said before, she's special.  From what I see of her through her social media posts and interviews, she is teaching me more than who to date and what to wear as she once did, but more about how to be at peace with yourself, which battles to fight and which ones to let go, and how to live (and die, yes, I'll say it, she has terminal cancer) with grace.  

Which is basically the view I see it now from 42, the meaning of life for me is more about me and in that I feel an authentic love for those that come along my path.  I desire to help them find, love, and appreciate themselves as I seek mine.

When I say that I'm okay, well they look at me kinda strange

"Surely, you're not happy now, you no longer play the game"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p6YnizK2LZs

Got something to say? Comment below.  I would love to hear your thoughts.

The Thriving Artist is a subset of Cafe-Girl Productions, Inc, a film and media production company with the intent to raise awareness through quality entertainment meant to enlighten, uplift, heal, and inspire.  Support us at: www.patreon.com/cafegirlproductions

Dreams They Transform

You hear a lot of talk these days about, listening to your dreams, manifesting your dreams, following your dreams, or finding out the significance of our dreams, so much in fact that a lot of people see it as a bunch of hoo-haw new age religion crap.

But, I'm here to tell you that it has weight and really does make a difference.  Because, I've had dreams of significant import that have either pointed me in the direction I need to go, answered the questions needed for the next step in my life-focus, and brought an enormous amount of healing to my long-standing anxieties.

The first dream was that I was visiting my two old room-mates, Vanessa and Chloe at our old apartment.  For some reason, I was carrying my kitty, Leo, with me.  (See: the kitty that is afraid of anyone else but myself and my boyfriend and who never leaves the house so that right there is an oddity.)  The town-house apartment we lived in had only two bedrooms, but in the dream there were three, one large and two small surrounding the bathroom.  It was in this phantom third bedroom where the stage was set.

Chloe, according to Vanessa, had had a creep of a gentleman caller over awhile back and they had managed to scare him off.  But then he came back!  Vanessa opened the door but before she did she handed us both two "rogue credit union" pens.  (For those of you who don't know, they are differently neon colored pens given out as souvenirs from a local bank.)

Here is an example:

Holding my cat, I watched as these two friends of mine tied this guy, evil though he was, to a chair and preceded to use the pens as weapons to stab him repeatedly in the neck, the jugular more like.  They urged me to help and I did once but when I saw the blood trickle down, I stopped because I didn't want to be convicted of murder.  All the while, this fella kept screaming obscenities at all of us.  Was he deserving of this treatment? I escaped from the house, sheltering Leo, ran back to my house and anxiously reported to my boyfriend that two of my bestest friends had gone completely berserk.

What does this mean? You ask.  Stay tuned!

The next night I had a nightmare, of sorts.  In the dream, a female friend of both mine and my boyfriend's was trying to seduce him away from me while I sat perched on his lap.  It was disturbing me so greatly that I told him so.  This prompted a fight between us which brought about our breakup that was somehow all my fault.  I woke up sobbing into my pillow which prompted my lovely boyfriend barely awake himself to take me in his arms until I quieted down.

 In the bathroom later, I breathed deep and reflected upon this, this dream-like state reflecting my long-existing anxieties and insecurities and it dawned on me: I am not alone in these fears.  Unfortunately, it is a common reality among women and girls to be anxious over loss of love and to be competitive with their sisters, as it were.  This is where the catty girl-fights spring from, I believe.  I released these fears upon realizing this and crawled into bed and drifted into another dream.

I was on a film set, starring in a movie directed by my good friend, Dan McCloy, who had just discovered he had a good friend at the BBC who knew Matt Smith and had called in a favor to get him to star in one of his movies.  (I take it Mr. Smith did not have a choice in this matter.)  Well, this is how I chose to settle this little matter in the dream when it suddenly dawned on me that Mr. McCloy, a no-budget yet brilliant film-maker, writer, and director, had no real means to cast Matt Smith in one of his films, maybe, this is a prophecy for him, of sorts.  Who can tell?

Two of my oldest friends in life, MLE and Corinne (or Bikini Girl as some know her, or Rinnie as I do) were present as extras or some such.  For some reason, a bunch of us were standing in a circle passing around a bowl full of liquid chocolate.  My dear friend, Corinne, arranged it so that same bowl would somehow be randomly dumped all over my head, not as a prank but as she and MLE explained in shrill whispers, "so that the boys would have to lick it off of you and when it got to Matt, you could make your move!"

Thanks, girls!  And, yes, eventually Matt and I did get erotic, a fantasy that has basically over-taken all of my waking moments since (I basically can't think straight).

Love Me Like You Do

So, what is the meaning of all this?  Well, I'm glad you asked.

It's healing from my past which caused a break-up and a latent mistrust of girl-friends everywhere.  I no longer have to fear that every female person I meet is an instant "frenemy."  In both these dreams, both sets of girls were doing something to help me overcome these fears in either protecting me from an abusive man, albeit violently, or as in the latter dream, helping me to achieve my dreams, symbolized by my bedding Matt Smith.  (Yes Please!)

Now, I can finally say I have forgiven the past friends of the female variety who have caused this rift and insecurity and embrace the new powerful force of the feminine relationships I do have.

To celebrate this, I leave you with this song:

Wannabe

Self-Realization

Vagina Diaries Day 8

Okay, today's entry may not seem to be in any way related to that female body-part we are now getting to know, well at least I am, but in fact it does.  Yesterday, some amazing discoveries happened to me while taking part in some external risks.

When I was a little girl, I was a tap dancer and loved it, along with my good friend, Rinnie.  I never forgot the powerful sensation of gliding over the dance floor with the sound of the tap tap tap ringing out, along with my fellow dancers.  I always longed to get back into it.  (In college, I took one class in it but that was quite awhile ago.)

Later on that night, I played two rousing games of "Magic, The Gathering" with my boyfriend and proceeded to kick his ass royally.  This, too, I used to play somewhat halfheartedly in college with an ex-boyfriend.

What I discovered about picking up both these old hobbies, if you will, is that former pathways in my brain that had been strengthened with these skills were suddenly revisited.  In both activities, I felt a sudden surge of memory recall as I participated in each of them.

But, more importantly, what occurred to me, and most especially while tapping to my delight, was that I was doing something for myself, in short, loving myself.  And, that is the most powerful realization that I am taking away from this Vagina study and the reason for doing this play, the ability to love myself first.

Love myself....first?  This flies in the face of all that I have learned in society and is by far contrary to my church background.  Indeed, my Christian friends who may read this will see this viewpoint as some form of controversy, in the least.  Or in the most extreme, blasphemy.  And, indeed, the years of mind control and oppression make it a necessary medicine I find hard to swallow.  But it isn't either of these, its the most important thing I can ever learn and develop.

For only in learning to love yourself can you truly love others, as the meme says.  But, now I see that focusing on the goal of 'loving others' loses its purpose in the first.  By doing so, I fall back on placing more importance on others than myself, then falling back into the path of self-hatred and others' abuse.  I can look past what I see as flaws of my external self, can let go of my insecurities finally, and at last find healing and freedom.

But, when it comes down to it, in the last several years I have taken active steps in loving myself, without really knowing it (its just what had to be done at the time) and been the most happiest I've been in all my life because of it.  From kicking out my abusive ex-husband to taking dance lessons, I've found value and strength inside myself, not just following after my true calling but in learning to value myself, trust my intuition, and enjoy the path on which I am being lead.  I've learned to let go of being overly concerned with others' wellbeing, that it is not my responsibility to 'save them', and trust the Universe to guide them and support them as needed.  In doing this, I've found more connection with others' in the value their presence in my life teaches me as well as mine in theirs.  By letting go, I learn to love myself more.

This may sound weird to you or wrong but in time I hope you learn to find this truth as well.  I may sound selfish but I really don't care, for I know, at last, I am not.

I love me.  Forever.