Proust Questionnaire. Guest Blogger Hollye Jacobs

 

Hollye. Hollye. Hollye. One of my life’s regrets is not meeting Hollye Jacobs sooner… Preferably the day I was born so then we could have been lifelong best friends. Hollye is my kind of girl. She is so adorable it’s disgusting, she is so smart it’s embarrassing, she has Mid-Western values, loves chinoiserie, worries about her darling daughter as much as I worry about Grace, has a supportive loving husband, has a potager garden, drinks green juice religiously, has a fierce work ethic, uses proper grammar, and is always, always a lady even when she drops the occasional (necessary) F-bomb. Despite her fairytale life, this chick is as real as it gets.

The most interesting characteristics about my dear Hollye, surprisingly, are her flaws, which, in my book, are her greatest attributes. You see, Hollye may look perfect on the outside but circumstances have deepened Hollye to be one of the most soulful, fearless, giving, intriguing women I have ever been lucky enough to call a friend.

Why, you ask? Not that a disease defines a woman… but with Hollye her disease became her life's mission… To help other women. Hollye moved to Santa Barbara from Chicago to enjoy “The Good Life”. Then… BOOM! A lump. BOOM! A diagnosis. BOOM! Chemotherapy. BOOM! Double mastectomy.

Like so many of us, Hollye could have crawled into a ball and climbed into her 600 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and dealt with her breast cancer privately but, no… Hollye took her experience and her knowledge and wrote a best-selling book, The Silver Lining, and has a brilliant website, The Silver Pen, guiding other women through every scary step of a breast cancer diagnosis. Hollye did this with honesty, optimism, inspiration, dignity, and selflessness. And that, my friends, is why I admire this woman as much as humanly possible. I think you all will agree…

Proust Question for Hollye: What is your greatest regret?

Hollye’s Answer: What Do I Regret?  In a word: Fear.

From the time I was a little girl, fear has been the one constant in my life. It was the monster under my bed. It was the bully on the playground.

My childhood was consumed with feelings of worthlessness, loneliness and emptiness.

Ouch, I know. Trust me, it hurt just as much to write it as it did to read it. To add insult to injury, when I tried to express my innermost thoughts & feelings, I was told by the adults in my life that I was “ridiculous” and to “get over it.” You know what I did?  I believed them. Quickly I learned: don’t tell, don’t talk, don’t feel.

In an attempt to prove my worthiness, I spent an exorbitant amount of energy trying to get love from adults who couldn’t (I’m choosing to say couldn’t rather than wouldn’t) love me. The concept of self-love was considered shameful and even downright laughable.

My world taught me that if I looked pretty enough, if I achieved enough, if I scored high enough, if I behaved well enough, well then, I might – just maybe, possibly – make it through another day. I internalized this message with gusto and practiced these beliefs on a daily – make that hourly – basis.

So, I became an incredibly well dressed overachiever. In high school, I was the first girl on the boys’ soccer team. I was the President of the student body. I was the “Most Improved” on the swim team. I was a state rated Orator on the Speech and Debate Team. I was awarded the Best Dressed Student.

I was this. I was that. But somehow, nothing was ever enough.

Fear – of not having enough, doing enough, being enough – became my constant companion, my confidant.

For as long as I can remember, I have had a voice in my head that beckoned – demanded, really - that I do more, pursue more, seek more.  The voice is insatiable and carries the Tony Duquette-esqe the mantra: More. Is. More.

This philosophy has persisted – with vigor – into my adulthood. I have two undergraduate degrees and three graduate degrees, but feared that I wasn’t educated enough. In my 20s, I worked two full-time jobs: one selling couture clothing at Ralph Lauren and the other working in the Intensive Care Unit at a hospital, but I didn’t feel like I was working hard enough. I ran three marathons, but feared that I wasn’t fit enough.

Five years ago, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.  In an attempt to help others through the process, I wrote what became a New York Times bestselling book, but feared that wasn’t enough. A f’ing bestselling book!

For the record, I acknowledge my absurdity. I know that I have been my own accuser, judge and executioner. I fully own the fact that my self-judgmental energy has created a prison of my own making.

Last fall, when I saw myself reflected in the cherubical face, words and actions of my 10 year-old daughter, I was scared s**tless.  My first thought was that this cycle has to STOP. NOW. WITH ME.

I cannot and will not – knowingly – allow her to live with fear. What I believe in my heart of hearts is that the very best way to ensure that the seeds of this fearful way of life are not planted in her is to model a health-FULL way of living myself, one that is free of fear. 

So, last fall, I made the conscious decision to stop living in the problem – fear – and start living in the answer – freedom. This is not an easy process. Ha! In fact it is incredibly difficult. I regret living a fearful life for the majority of my life (to date), but the silver lining is that I believe that it IS possible. 

These days, I am about progress, not perfection.

Hollye, you are remarkable. Thank you!

Ellie’s Question: What is your favorite charity?

Hollye’s Answer: Dream Foundation. http://www.dreamfoundation.org/

Proust Questionnaire. Guest Blogger Christy

Christy and Grace in the Bahamas

2011

 

Well, it looks like all of you love Stephen as much as I do! On what occasion do I lie? Never. I am incapable of lying. This trait can be both rewarding and debilitating.

Okay, on to today’s guest blogger… Christy. Christy is super private but I can tell you that she is the best person I know. Her moral compass is pointed due North in the direction of all that is good and pure. She spends her day, time and energy helping others in need… And on top of that she is pretty, a Stanford graduate, a Texan, makes a mean guacamole and is the best mother a kid could ask for.

Proust Question for Christy: What do you consider to be your greatest achievement?

Christy’s Answer: Ellie, if your friends and fans cannot hear directly FROM you as you temporarily rest your voice, I think they would like to hear ABOUT you!

The meaning behind the popularity of, and devotion to this space is being connected to you. 

Since you will not brag, I would like to do that for you.  

Your greatest achievement and gift in my view is your daughter Grace!  You have shared many of the relatable rewarding and distressing interactions between moms, kids, and teens.  Grace is AMAZING!!!!

Grace is honest, very smart, funny, kind, discerning, resourceful, and has her own sense of style.  As her mother, you have kept her very close, even exposing her (as we all have done with our own kids) to some situations that are beyond her years in content.  Through your diverse friendships and experiences in art, music, travel, work, design, cuisine, and writing, you show Gracie-literally- the world.  You always bring Grace with you.  I have not ever known of a trip or dinner party in which you have not included her. In listening to you, your friends and family, some sane and some colorful (I consider myself both), she has learned to THINK and emulate qualities she admires, and avoid those that she does not.  By the Grace of God.  You encourage her to be close to her father and you married someone who has been very kind to her.  You dress with “decorum", and in spite of a lovely figure which you could show off more obviously, you instead show Grace your grace in appearance and apparel.  

You encourage her sense of humor by demonstrating yours, in fun times, in extremely stressful times, and during embarrassing times.  One of my favorite stories when Grace was younger is when you took her on the Ferris wheel in Paris, and your skirt flew up revealing your Spanx.  Grace was so embarrassed and you laughed and laughed, with yourself and later with your friends.  What a gift, and what a wonderful mom that would get ON a Ferris wheel in a dress for her daughter!  Your bravery in recent years has been remarkable to say the least.  When you and Grace and I drove to the hospital as you faced intense surgery and risk, we laughed, you saw a rainbow over the Pacific, and we all ate cheeseburgers.  The next day in ICU as you woke up after your surgery, Grace and David and Jenny within your arm’s reach, you looked at me and said, “I’m alive, you can change your shirt now.”    (Apparently my burger had dripped.) You show your daughter- and MANY of us- that you can be brave, go for life, and sometimes what we think is a huge deal, is not, or even when it is, we can get through it.

What greater gift in our lives than children!? Biological, adopted, our friends’ children, pets that are our children--I have 6 four-legged children and have rescued others as well—MOST WOMEN have MOTHERED with or without their own natural children.  The other women you have asked to guest write for your blog also have great children, and are kind to other children as you are, probably that is the deepest part of your bond.

Ellie, toast yourself on Mother’s Day!!!  You will see Grace continue to have outstanding opportunities and demonstrate excellence and decorum!!!  

My sincere wish is for more people to be kind to children, ALL children, and animals.  Yours, mine, and others.  Children are born innocent and can grow into lovely people, either because of us, or in spite of our challenges and mistakes, by the Grace of God.  

Thank you, Christy. I would normally never toot my own horn but since you did it for me out of pure love… I accept and I thank you.

P.S. Do you want to hear something funny?

Today is Mother’s day and my lovely little Gracie showed up to my apartment late and empty handed. So, of course, I read her the Riot Act and then forced her back on to the streets of Paris on a Sunday to search for flowers and a card for her dear mother knowing full well that every shop is closed on Sunday and I depleted her bank account so she has no cash to pay even if she finds crappy flowers at an overpriced Arabic bodega. That is called “Parenting 101”, my friends.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Proust Questionnaire. Guest Blogger Stephen Andrew Jones

 

So glad you like my guest blog series! I am so appreciative that my friends are up for this challenge. Also, thank you for all of your answers as well! My answer to the question is simple. My favorite literary hero in fiction is Miss Piggle-Wiggle. I learned more about “doing the right thing” from Miss Piggle Wiggle than I did from my parents, my school teachers, my Sunday school teachers, my sports coaches, and any self-help book combined! I devoured the books when I was a kid.

Okay, on to the next question and today’s guest blogger! Our favorite… Stephen Andrew Jones! If you read my blog, you should be well aware of this gentleman. If not, go to his blog, HERE, start from the beginning and when you finish every blog that he has ever written you will fall in love as the rest of us have and understand our obsession.
Okay, here we go…

Proust Question for Stephen: On what occasion do you lie?

Stephen’s Answer: Well, I lie constantly.  How much butter is in this? Oh! hardly any! Is that your second g&t? Oh, gosh, no.  It's my first. Tell me the truth, do you like my new couch? Of course! It really pulls the room together.

There's a lot of fucking butter and you know it, it’s my third gin and tonic and mind your own business I'm not driving, and that sofa is so ugly I have PTSD. I will readily lie to put a contentious situation at ease, protect someone's feelings, or protect individuality/creativity. Other than that, I'm much more of an omitter than a liar. As a middle child and a relatively calm Taurus, I am a skilled peacekeeper. Part of keeping the peace is spackling together a narrative with input from both assholes while driving it somewhere else. If she says I'm sorry he's such a braindead jackass and he says I'm sorry but I did nothing wrong, then you tell him she said she was sorry and tell her he said he recognizes his fault in this and is sorry. I think you can spend a lot of time debating the truth and get nowhere or you can cleverly fluff details and move on.

Also I tend to lie to men a lot more than women. I think in a broad scope, men are more comfortable being lied to. Truth be told, men don't really care what happens around them as long as there's food and blowjobs. Women, on the other hand, will sniff out the truth and find it eventually. So I've always found it's best to give them the whole story. Also, women have better memories of conversations. Perhaps because they listen. You can go back later and tell a man you said something different and provide a few plucked from oblivion details and nod strongly and he'll be like uh, yeah, that's right. 

I will also lie to wade through bureaucracy. When I was in high school, there was a miserable woman in charge of attendance. Imagine Ted Cruz with less zest for life. This woman was determined to hold my feet to the fire for skipping school as I saw fit. Listen, I'm not saying education isn't important but I am saying going tanning and collecting jadeite are more important. One of my routines was to leave for school on time, hit the tanning salon when it opened at 8, then drive to a small town called Lebanon and sift the antique stores. At the school in the morning, there was a parent volunteer to help attendance bitch with answering calls from parents to report their kid's absence. I would call the school from the tanning salon phone or the carryout next-door until I got attendance bitch, then speed dial the school on my cell phone so I'd get sweet volunteer mom. My junior year, she caught me and screwed me over when I called impersonating my dad. I got volunteer mom as planned and she said just a moment, please and I heard attendance bitch's shrill voice. Andrew, I know it's you. I should have given up there but I insisted No. This is Dr. Jones. (my dad would literally sooner die than address himself to anyone as Dr. Jones. His patients hardly even call him that). She said well do you mind if I call your house to verify? Uuugh fuck. In about two seconds, I got an irate call from my dad. My poor parents. She may have won the battle. Over the summer, I did not do my summer reading but I did acquaint myself with privacy laws and regulations regarding schools and doctor’s offices. I'm not going to come out and admit to anything buuut I found a loophole and jumped through it regularly with abandon and attendance bitch couldn't do a damn thing. 

Nowadays, I would say the most frequent lies I tell involve my idea of being gracious and kind. There are some people who are so proud to tell you that they can't even lie if they try. Congratufuckinglations. 

 

When someone asks for your opinion, more often than not they are asking for your approval. When someone shows me their remodeled kitchen and asks do you think I chose the right countertops? Because I have a narrow view of what I love in a kitchen (non-Ellie approved white quartz), usually I do not. What could possibly be gained from me being a douche and saying “No”, that granite looks like geologic schizophrenia? The person is asking for reassurance, not your personal design philosophy. My rule is if it's too late for the truth to be helpful, lie. If someone put their heart and soul into a creative outlet like a painting, remodel, party, poem, or erotic e-book and it's finished, your constructive criticism is actually just rude. And I will always politely lie in a group to bypass someone's embarrassment. 

And lastly, certainly the most difficult lie to tell. The one that haunts my dreams and rattles me to the core. Oh don't worry about it! It's fine! I have a million of these and love shopping for more anyway! I am, of course, talking about when someone drops one of your plates or glasses. Give me strength, Lord. I buy beautiful tabletop goods to use and enjoy. Sometimes that means they are loved to death.  Even if you detest the dropper and wonder if it was an accident at all and are about to stroke out in rage--you must cry on the inside but laugh on the outside, sweep it up, assure the dipshit asshole motherfucker that it's no big deal, pour them a new glass, and keep your party on track. For God's sake, have some decorum.

Thank you, Stephen!

Ellie’s Question: Stephen, what is your favorite charity?

Stephen's Answer: ASPCA. https://www.aspca.org/

Proust Questionnaire. Guest Blogger Rex John

Bonjour from Paris!

Today we start with our first guest blogger, Rex John! Rex is one of my most favorite people on the face of the earth. Not only is Rex one of the kindest, wisest and most evolved human beings that I have ever met but he is also the funniest which, in my book, is golden. Before Rex retired, he had a real job but I don’t know what that was because I never really asked… but I assume it was super important. I do know that Rex is a superb writer and he has written several books available HERE and HERE. I could publish the email correspondence between Rex and I and it would be a New York Times best-selling book due to Rex’s hysterical “spit out your coffee” humor. Rex also wrote the forward to my book, AND SO IT IS, and for that I am forever grateful.

So, as I mentioned in the previous blog HERE, I am going to give my friends a question from the Proust Questionnaire and then we can sit back and enjoy their answers. I also thought it would be fun if all of you left your own personal Proust answers to the daily question in the comments section!

Here we go…

Proust Question: Who is your hero of fiction?

Rex’s Answer: The person who writes it, of course.   Oh — that would be me: wannabe fiction writer.  

Okay, okay, I’ll be serious — and I will resist the temptation to choose Carson Kirkpatrick from my own book, “Makeovers” — even though I created him to be socially engaged in a diabolical, psychopathic sort of way — sort of like certain politicians.

But if I leave myself and my own characters out of the mix, I’m still torn. I really like “Boo” Radley in “To Kill a Mockingbird,” who was first portrayed as a nut job recluse, but who turns out to just want love and friendship, like all of us.   

I also like Stephen Dedalus, in James Joyce’s “Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man,” who famously said, “When the soul of a man is born in this country there are nets flung at it to hold it back from flight. You talk to me of nationality, language, religion. I shall try to fly by those nets.”

But what about Scarlett O’Hara in “Gone with the Wind”?  She acts vain and empty-headed but she came up with a brilliant strategy I often use myself: “I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow.”

No, wait!  Now I remember who my all-time favorite hero of fiction is — A.A. Milne’s “Winnie the Pooh,” of course.  It is Pooh himself who says things like:

“A bear, however hard he tries, grows tubby without exercise,” (this actually speaks to me!)

and, 

“Some people care too much. I think it's called love.”  (This, too.)

Or, my all-time favorite: 

“If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.”

True dat, Pooh.  True dat.

Good answer, Rex!

Now, I thought it would be fun if I asked each guest blogger what their favorite charity is because you can really get a sense of who a person is by what they support.

Ellie’s Question: Rex, what is your favorite charity?

Rex’s Answer: Favorite charity?  I have several I really like, but since you’ve asked a question about literary figures, I think of literacy and I’ve always liked The Barbara Bush Foundation for Family Literacy because there are 36 million Americans who can’t read!  (Which explains a lot, I’m afraid.) http://barbarabush.org

Thank you, Rex! Stay tuned for our next guest blogger... Hint... SAJ!

Time To Delegate

As you know, ALS has been wreaking havoc on my delicate little body lately. My voice is at a whisper, my neck is so weak that I look like a Weeble Wobble, I can only swallow liquids and the worst part, and I do mean the worst, is that I cannot color my hair. So, unfortunately, I am nearly a brunette… No offensive, brunettes.
 
Because of all of this, I do not really have the energy to blog but I have a great idea. Do you remember when I wrote the blog about the Proust Questionnaire? If you haven't read it yet, click HERE. Go ahead, I'll wait… Tick tok tick tok.
 
Ok, now that everyone is caught up regarding the Proust Questionnaire, here is my idea… I thought I would present a few questions from the Questionnaire to some of my rather interesting friends and they could be guest bloggers! We can always learn from others. All of my friends, to me, are absolute treasures and all have something different to offer. So, as I appreciate my friends, I thought you would too. The next blogs will be guest bloggers answering the Proust Questionnaire! Stay tuned.
 
Xoxo