I have boundary issues with people, romantically. Or maybe that's not fair to say. To have issues with boundaries, one must first have boundaries. But I dissapear into the person I love. I am the permeable membrane. If I love you, you can have everything. You can have my time, my devotion, my ass, my money, my family, my dog, my dog's money, my dog's time - everything. If I love you, I will carry for you all your pain, I will assume for you all your debts (in every definition of the word), I will protect you from your own insecurity, I will project upon you all sorts of good qualities that you have never actually cultivated in yourself, and I will buy Christmas presents for your entire family. I will give you the sun and the rain, and if they are not available, I will give you a sun check and a rain check. I will give you all this and more, until I get so exhausted and depleted that the only way I can recover my energy is by becoming infatuated with someone else.
I have fallen in love more times than I care to count with the highest potential of a person, rather than with the person themselves, and then I have hung on to the relationship for a long time (sometimes far too long) waiting for that person to ascend to their own greatness. Many times in romance I have been a victim of my own optimism.
I've broken my own heart so many times I've stopped keeping track.
How do I just let it go? And why the hell do I keep falling for unavailable people?!
And why is it always a friend? How do I make these friends? These wonderful, fantastic people, who have offered me friendship and platonic love. Who have not led me on, in any way. Who have not asked for my affection.
How do I keep doing this to myself?
Ugh. I'm such an idiot.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Procrastination
Singing the procrastination song... lala lalala lalalalala...
So, in theory, I should be writing a script right now...
But I'm just so tired. I just don't have the energy.
I don't have the energy for much, lately...
I got up at 4:30 this morning, showered, went to work, worked, sat in the store meeting, while simultaneously helping the borrowed partners from another store navigate our store and fill things and prep things for them (all without a break, by the way. That's illegal. I'm a smoker, the law says you HAVE to give me a smoke break. And even if I didn't smoke, I was on the clock for five hours. I am legally entitled to a paid ten minute break, and an unpaid half-hour break.)
After work, I smoked, like... half a pack of cigarettes to compensate for my stress and hunger, hung out and got lunch with two co-workers I just adore! Went and spent money I shouldn't have on a pedicure (but, let's face it, I'm worth it.), drove home and tried to nap, but couldn't. Watched a really shitty episode of SNL, attempted to flirt with a guy I've been flirting with for the better part of a year, and now, I'm blogging.
That was my day. In theory, didn't do much. But I am exhausted. I've got a good iron count, I'm active, and (obviously from my last post) I'm not pregnant. I shouldn't be this tired! UGH.
I'm doing my best to give myself "me time", but even "me time" is exhausting. You know what I would really like? Pampering. I never want pampering. Never. It makes me feel bad. Like a total clod. A total, self-absorbed, selfish, useless to society clod.
But what I wouldn't give for a massage! And someone making me feel pretty and important and necessary.
Maybe that's my issue. I don't feel necessary. I work and teach and work and teach and I'm trying to get my acting shit together, but the universe is kinda working against me right now, and I've stopped drinking, meaning people have stopped inviting me to hang out, so my social life has seriously decreased, so I've become completely grating to those I am hanging out with because I'm totally wearing out my welcome, and for the love of god all I want if for someone to hold me and cuddle me and love me and tell me I'm pretty and worth it and fantastic, because my room mate is always busy, and she's not exactly the cuddly type, and I am so tired of coming home to an empty house.
Wahhhhhhhhhhhh
rant rant rant.
...maybe I'm PMSing?
And I sound just a little pathetic.
But seriously though. Cuddles. I need them. I am thisclose to hopping on craigslist or okcupid.
WHICH IS RIDICULOUS! Because I am FINE being single. I'm HAPPY when I'm single. I do NOT NEED someone to complete me! That's NONSENSE! But I would really like to settle down some day and have a family and my clock is TICKING SO LOUD I can hardly hear myself think!
Also, I watched Rock of Ages the other day, and that movie just really fucking SUCKED.
So, in theory, I should be writing a script right now...
But I'm just so tired. I just don't have the energy.
I don't have the energy for much, lately...
I got up at 4:30 this morning, showered, went to work, worked, sat in the store meeting, while simultaneously helping the borrowed partners from another store navigate our store and fill things and prep things for them (all without a break, by the way. That's illegal. I'm a smoker, the law says you HAVE to give me a smoke break. And even if I didn't smoke, I was on the clock for five hours. I am legally entitled to a paid ten minute break, and an unpaid half-hour break.)
After work, I smoked, like... half a pack of cigarettes to compensate for my stress and hunger, hung out and got lunch with two co-workers I just adore! Went and spent money I shouldn't have on a pedicure (but, let's face it, I'm worth it.), drove home and tried to nap, but couldn't. Watched a really shitty episode of SNL, attempted to flirt with a guy I've been flirting with for the better part of a year, and now, I'm blogging.
That was my day. In theory, didn't do much. But I am exhausted. I've got a good iron count, I'm active, and (obviously from my last post) I'm not pregnant. I shouldn't be this tired! UGH.
I'm doing my best to give myself "me time", but even "me time" is exhausting. You know what I would really like? Pampering. I never want pampering. Never. It makes me feel bad. Like a total clod. A total, self-absorbed, selfish, useless to society clod.
But what I wouldn't give for a massage! And someone making me feel pretty and important and necessary.
Maybe that's my issue. I don't feel necessary. I work and teach and work and teach and I'm trying to get my acting shit together, but the universe is kinda working against me right now, and I've stopped drinking, meaning people have stopped inviting me to hang out, so my social life has seriously decreased, so I've become completely grating to those I am hanging out with because I'm totally wearing out my welcome, and for the love of god all I want if for someone to hold me and cuddle me and love me and tell me I'm pretty and worth it and fantastic, because my room mate is always busy, and she's not exactly the cuddly type, and I am so tired of coming home to an empty house.
Wahhhhhhhhhhhh
rant rant rant.
...maybe I'm PMSing?
And I sound just a little pathetic.
But seriously though. Cuddles. I need them. I am thisclose to hopping on craigslist or okcupid.
WHICH IS RIDICULOUS! Because I am FINE being single. I'm HAPPY when I'm single. I do NOT NEED someone to complete me! That's NONSENSE! But I would really like to settle down some day and have a family and my clock is TICKING SO LOUD I can hardly hear myself think!
Also, I watched Rock of Ages the other day, and that movie just really fucking SUCKED.
Friday, November 2, 2012
I am not the ghost you want of me
WARNING!
THIS POST MAY NOT BE APPROPRIATE FOR FAMILY MEMBERS DUE TO LOTS AND LOTS OF OVER SHARING
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK
... I miss sex.
Like, I really really really really really freaking miss sex.
Seriously.
I mean, yay, I working on becoming emotionally healthy, which is awesome. I have lots of issues regarding self worth tied up in my sexuality. I know where it all comes from. I crave sex because I crave intimacy, because my first few experiences with sexuality were negative, too early, or uncomfortable; and I found that through promiscuity I received more attention and happiness, for however short a period. If I was depressed, I went to the bar, flirted with a pretty lady, or cute guy, and wham-bam-thank you ma'am! And then I felt icky and depressed again. Granted, it was later...
Basically, when my pre-frontal cortex failed to make me happy, promiscuity rewarded me with the needed flood of dopamine. Kind of a "skank reflex" if you will. Now, I was never skanky... Okay, maybe I was, a little... But I blame my incredibly fragile emotional state.
Now, it's been... I'm gonna go ahead and say at least 6 months, although I think it's been longer. And I am dying. Not literally, but it does feel that way sometimes. I have a very healthy sex drive. There is only so much that having some "special alone happy fun private time" can do for you.
And cuddling! Goddess above, I miss cuddling. Curling up with someone and falling asleep... Waking up with the knowledge that someone is next to you... Spooning... I would give my left hand for some spooning...
Miss it. So much.
But I'm emotionally healthy. Woo.
Also, I think that... since I gave up drinking...I've become really really boring.
That, or my friends are idiots.
I've been listening to three songs on repeat for pretty much the last month and a half.
They are fantastic. I highly recommend you checking them out.
First: Carry On by FUN
Second: Home by Phillip Phillips (Not a typo. That's actually his name. Way to go parents. ugh)
Third: The District Sleeps Alone Tonight by The Postal Service
Listen to these songs.
You will thank me.
Seriously.
THIS POST MAY NOT BE APPROPRIATE FOR FAMILY MEMBERS DUE TO LOTS AND LOTS OF OVER SHARING
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK
... I miss sex.
Like, I really really really really really freaking miss sex.
Seriously.
I mean, yay, I working on becoming emotionally healthy, which is awesome. I have lots of issues regarding self worth tied up in my sexuality. I know where it all comes from. I crave sex because I crave intimacy, because my first few experiences with sexuality were negative, too early, or uncomfortable; and I found that through promiscuity I received more attention and happiness, for however short a period. If I was depressed, I went to the bar, flirted with a pretty lady, or cute guy, and wham-bam-thank you ma'am! And then I felt icky and depressed again. Granted, it was later...
Basically, when my pre-frontal cortex failed to make me happy, promiscuity rewarded me with the needed flood of dopamine. Kind of a "skank reflex" if you will. Now, I was never skanky... Okay, maybe I was, a little... But I blame my incredibly fragile emotional state.
Now, it's been... I'm gonna go ahead and say at least 6 months, although I think it's been longer. And I am dying. Not literally, but it does feel that way sometimes. I have a very healthy sex drive. There is only so much that having some "special alone happy fun private time" can do for you.
And cuddling! Goddess above, I miss cuddling. Curling up with someone and falling asleep... Waking up with the knowledge that someone is next to you... Spooning... I would give my left hand for some spooning...
Miss it. So much.
But I'm emotionally healthy. Woo.
Also, I think that... since I gave up drinking...I've become really really boring.
That, or my friends are idiots.
I've been listening to three songs on repeat for pretty much the last month and a half.
They are fantastic. I highly recommend you checking them out.
First: Carry On by FUN
Second: Home by Phillip Phillips (Not a typo. That's actually his name. Way to go parents. ugh)
Third: The District Sleeps Alone Tonight by The Postal Service
Listen to these songs.
You will thank me.
Seriously.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Hold your head even higher as into the fire we go
Well, I did it. Another link in the chain. Last night I met my biological uncle and his family. (For privacy, and funzies, let's call them Dharma and Greg, because that T.V. show was awesome).
And it wasn't nearly as terrifying as I thought it would be!
Ok, so the first half hour (ok- hour), I was terrified, nervous, and nauseated. God, just walking up to the door...I think I got to the top step and was ready to turn back. No one even gave me a warning or checked that I was ready! Ok, maybe they did. But with all the blood rushing in my head, it's not like I was actively paying attention! I was just trying not to pass out! And then the door opened, and there they were.
Dharma, of course, was wonderful. Bright, and funny, and sweet, and warm, and gorgeous, and fantastic- just like I knew she'd be. Just as warm as she seemed though email and the blogosphere. Thank the Goddess.
And Greg... I think I stared at him for a good 5 minutes...God knows it took me longer to open my mouth and say anything that wasn't nonsensical. I've grown so used to not seeing my face in any of my relatives. I searched for years when I was younger, to find my face in my grandmother's, my aunt's, my dad's... all to no avail. But now... I see pieces of me. Here and there. Around the eyes, the cheekbones... There's a lot of me in BioGram as well. It's so crazy, so weird, so strange to see my face all around me.
When I first met BioGram, she showed my a picture of my Biological Mother pregnant with me. I think I grabbed it out of her hands, because that woman in the picture, that woman who I will never know, had my face. The whole damn thing. I wasn't looking at pieces... I was looking at me. I think I held that picture the rest of the hour or so we were there in that coffee shop. Every time I looked at it, my eyes filled with tears, and it hurt to see it more that it comforted or healed (although it did those things as well), but I just couldn't let it go; couldn't put it down.
So yes, Greg was awesome. Very frank, and funny, and honest. Very high energy, very talkative. There were several points during the evening he would say something and in my head I would think "oh thank god! oh thank god he's cool." I had absolutely no idea what to expect, no idea what I was walking into. But the company was nice, and the food was amazing! and I had a nice time. A really, really nice time. I'd like to hang out with Greg once or twice on my own...or at least without my parents there. My parents are wonderful people, but I'm not nearly as open around them as I am by myself. Don't get my wrong! I adore my mother. I worship her! But there is a certain level of judgement that occurs whenever I open my mouth...
I think she's worried I'm going to say something scandalizing. Meh. I dunno... It's just an unspoken rule. There are some things I don't discuss with or around my folks. Like Karly. She and I dated for over a year, and my parent's won't talk about her. My mom freezes up and goes really quiet every time I mention her.
...Am I babbling? I'm babbling, aren't I. Sorry.
So, yes, dinner was good. I had a very nice time, after I stopped being terrified, and they were very nice people. And at some point I'm gonna grow a pair, and ask Greg if we can grab coffee or something. Just some shitty diner coffee in a dinky little diner (read- nuteral zone) and just... I dunno... get to know each other a bit. I don't know how much of an open book he is, and there's so much history that I don't know about... He said at one point that I look so much like his sister...and I know next to nothing about her. This woman who gave me life, gave me a chance; I know her name, her struggles...but little else.
Ugh... still with the babbling...
Ok, dinner was good. I didn't indulge in a flask or several shots before the journey up, so I stayed sober. The people were nice, the food was good, and I didn't pass-out, puke, or cry.
I'm calling it a win.
And it wasn't nearly as terrifying as I thought it would be!
Ok, so the first half hour (ok- hour), I was terrified, nervous, and nauseated. God, just walking up to the door...I think I got to the top step and was ready to turn back. No one even gave me a warning or checked that I was ready! Ok, maybe they did. But with all the blood rushing in my head, it's not like I was actively paying attention! I was just trying not to pass out! And then the door opened, and there they were.
Dharma, of course, was wonderful. Bright, and funny, and sweet, and warm, and gorgeous, and fantastic- just like I knew she'd be. Just as warm as she seemed though email and the blogosphere. Thank the Goddess.
And Greg... I think I stared at him for a good 5 minutes...God knows it took me longer to open my mouth and say anything that wasn't nonsensical. I've grown so used to not seeing my face in any of my relatives. I searched for years when I was younger, to find my face in my grandmother's, my aunt's, my dad's... all to no avail. But now... I see pieces of me. Here and there. Around the eyes, the cheekbones... There's a lot of me in BioGram as well. It's so crazy, so weird, so strange to see my face all around me.
When I first met BioGram, she showed my a picture of my Biological Mother pregnant with me. I think I grabbed it out of her hands, because that woman in the picture, that woman who I will never know, had my face. The whole damn thing. I wasn't looking at pieces... I was looking at me. I think I held that picture the rest of the hour or so we were there in that coffee shop. Every time I looked at it, my eyes filled with tears, and it hurt to see it more that it comforted or healed (although it did those things as well), but I just couldn't let it go; couldn't put it down.
So yes, Greg was awesome. Very frank, and funny, and honest. Very high energy, very talkative. There were several points during the evening he would say something and in my head I would think "oh thank god! oh thank god he's cool." I had absolutely no idea what to expect, no idea what I was walking into. But the company was nice, and the food was amazing! and I had a nice time. A really, really nice time. I'd like to hang out with Greg once or twice on my own...or at least without my parents there. My parents are wonderful people, but I'm not nearly as open around them as I am by myself. Don't get my wrong! I adore my mother. I worship her! But there is a certain level of judgement that occurs whenever I open my mouth...
I think she's worried I'm going to say something scandalizing. Meh. I dunno... It's just an unspoken rule. There are some things I don't discuss with or around my folks. Like Karly. She and I dated for over a year, and my parent's won't talk about her. My mom freezes up and goes really quiet every time I mention her.
...Am I babbling? I'm babbling, aren't I. Sorry.
So, yes, dinner was good. I had a very nice time, after I stopped being terrified, and they were very nice people. And at some point I'm gonna grow a pair, and ask Greg if we can grab coffee or something. Just some shitty diner coffee in a dinky little diner (read- nuteral zone) and just... I dunno... get to know each other a bit. I don't know how much of an open book he is, and there's so much history that I don't know about... He said at one point that I look so much like his sister...and I know next to nothing about her. This woman who gave me life, gave me a chance; I know her name, her struggles...but little else.
Ugh... still with the babbling...
Ok, dinner was good. I didn't indulge in a flask or several shots before the journey up, so I stayed sober. The people were nice, the food was good, and I didn't pass-out, puke, or cry.
I'm calling it a win.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
It's utterly exhausting to lose your own game
I don't want to be the girl who laughs the loudest, or the girl who never wants to be alone. I don't want to be that call at 4 o'clock in the morning because I'm the only one you know in the world that won't be home.
But oh, the sun is blinding. I stayed up again. Oh, I am finding that's not the way I want my story to end.
I don't want to be the girl who has to fill the silence. The quiet scares me because it screams the truth. Please don't tell me that we had that conversation. I won't remember, save your breath, so what's the use?
But oh, the night is calling... and it whispers to me softly "come and play!"
Oh, I am falling. And if I let myself go I'm the only one to blame.
When it's good, then it's good, and it's so good until it goes bad, until you're trying to find the you that you once had. I have heard myself cry, "never again!" Broken down in agony just trying to find a friend.
I'm safe up high; nothing can touch me. But why do I feel this party's over?
No pain inside, it's like perfection.
So how do I feel this good sober?
I'm coming down, coming down, coming down, spinning round, spinning round, spinning round...
Looking for myself.
I've been sober for 6 days. This is a big deal for me.
After lengthy discussion with my room mate, and lots of thinking, we've declared the apartment a booze-free zone. I did a nice, small little ritual of pouring out the vodka in the freezer, and a small cleansing spell for the apartment. Room mate has made the beer disappear, and we have no wine, so I think we've been successful. I've been substituting tea when out, and that seems to be working well, although there are not enough words in the English language do describe how desperately I want to wrap my lips around a sweet, cold, bottle of beer. I've talked to a few friends about going sober, and most of them are really supportive. It's been harder with the friends I tend to party with. Many of them don't seem to understand. I've started using the phrase "for a while" instead of "going sober", and many of them seem to be more comfortable with that. But as much as I want it to be just "for a while", I don't think it can be. There's a history of alcoholism in my family, and I am most definitely an alcoholic. I didn't start drinking heavily until I was 22, and I pretty much didn't stop until a few days ago. I didn't drink to excess, in the sense that I wouldn't drink to get drunk, but I drank constantly; i.e. I drank a few drinks almost every night. Or afternoon. Or if I was out with people. I started suspecting that I was overdoing it, and so I set rules. I had two: Never drink alone, and Never when I'm working. Which worked really well for a while. Until I went to Wisconsin. And shot all my progress to hell. And I gained ten pounds back. Ugh! So after drinking more, and more, and more, and catching myself popping a beer at ten in the morning on my day off alone, I figured I might have a problem. I've got a small support system, and I'm looking at AA like options as well. (AA is probably not my best choice, as I REALLY don't like platitudes, and I kinda want to rip my eyes out whenever I read the serenity prayer. And frankly, after reading a few pamphlets, AA sounds startlingly like a cult.)
But yes. Working of being sober. Once choice at a time.
Hello, my name is Kate, and I'm an alcoholic
But oh, the sun is blinding. I stayed up again. Oh, I am finding that's not the way I want my story to end.
I don't want to be the girl who has to fill the silence. The quiet scares me because it screams the truth. Please don't tell me that we had that conversation. I won't remember, save your breath, so what's the use?
But oh, the night is calling... and it whispers to me softly "come and play!"
Oh, I am falling. And if I let myself go I'm the only one to blame.
When it's good, then it's good, and it's so good until it goes bad, until you're trying to find the you that you once had. I have heard myself cry, "never again!" Broken down in agony just trying to find a friend.
I'm safe up high; nothing can touch me. But why do I feel this party's over?
No pain inside, it's like perfection.
So how do I feel this good sober?
I'm coming down, coming down, coming down, spinning round, spinning round, spinning round...
Looking for myself.
I've been sober for 6 days. This is a big deal for me.
After lengthy discussion with my room mate, and lots of thinking, we've declared the apartment a booze-free zone. I did a nice, small little ritual of pouring out the vodka in the freezer, and a small cleansing spell for the apartment. Room mate has made the beer disappear, and we have no wine, so I think we've been successful. I've been substituting tea when out, and that seems to be working well, although there are not enough words in the English language do describe how desperately I want to wrap my lips around a sweet, cold, bottle of beer. I've talked to a few friends about going sober, and most of them are really supportive. It's been harder with the friends I tend to party with. Many of them don't seem to understand. I've started using the phrase "for a while" instead of "going sober", and many of them seem to be more comfortable with that. But as much as I want it to be just "for a while", I don't think it can be. There's a history of alcoholism in my family, and I am most definitely an alcoholic. I didn't start drinking heavily until I was 22, and I pretty much didn't stop until a few days ago. I didn't drink to excess, in the sense that I wouldn't drink to get drunk, but I drank constantly; i.e. I drank a few drinks almost every night. Or afternoon. Or if I was out with people. I started suspecting that I was overdoing it, and so I set rules. I had two: Never drink alone, and Never when I'm working. Which worked really well for a while. Until I went to Wisconsin. And shot all my progress to hell. And I gained ten pounds back. Ugh! So after drinking more, and more, and more, and catching myself popping a beer at ten in the morning on my day off alone, I figured I might have a problem. I've got a small support system, and I'm looking at AA like options as well. (AA is probably not my best choice, as I REALLY don't like platitudes, and I kinda want to rip my eyes out whenever I read the serenity prayer. And frankly, after reading a few pamphlets, AA sounds startlingly like a cult.)
But yes. Working of being sober. Once choice at a time.
Hello, my name is Kate, and I'm an alcoholic
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Turn the other cheek and have positivity
I am a beacon of positivity, I am a beacon of positivity, I am a beacon of positivity.
I'm pretty and bright, I'm a shiny white light.
I am a beacon of positivity.
Nobody dies tonight.
I breathe and count to ten and I love my fellow men.
I am dignified, I can let it slide; I am in a state of frickin zen.
I don't feel like slinging mud, I don't feel like drawing blood.
I will not attack, I will just unpack, and pull this knife right out of my back.
And breathe.
I'm on a summer lake, and I bend, I do not break.
She's an evil snake and her pearls are fake, but her worthless life's not mine to take.
We don't hit her good and hard, we don't leave her badly scarred,
We don't hit that tramp with this lava lamp and bury her in Harvard Yard.
No negativity is allowed, I am a white fluffy cloud,
A cuddly warm teddy bear, a unicorn...
Hell, I don't care.
I will not plan any plot, I don't want anyone shot,
Run over until she's just a flat wet spot in a parking lot...
No I do not.
I am a beacon of positivity.
What was I speaking of? Positivity.
Positively reeking of positivity.
Nobody dies tonight.
I'm pretty and bright, I'm a shiny white light.
I am a beacon of positivity.
Nobody dies tonight.
I breathe and count to ten and I love my fellow men.
I am dignified, I can let it slide; I am in a state of frickin zen.
I don't feel like slinging mud, I don't feel like drawing blood.
I will not attack, I will just unpack, and pull this knife right out of my back.
And breathe.
I'm on a summer lake, and I bend, I do not break.
She's an evil snake and her pearls are fake, but her worthless life's not mine to take.
We don't hit her good and hard, we don't leave her badly scarred,
We don't hit that tramp with this lava lamp and bury her in Harvard Yard.
No negativity is allowed, I am a white fluffy cloud,
A cuddly warm teddy bear, a unicorn...
Hell, I don't care.
I will not plan any plot, I don't want anyone shot,
Run over until she's just a flat wet spot in a parking lot...
No I do not.
I am a beacon of positivity.
What was I speaking of? Positivity.
Positively reeking of positivity.
Nobody dies tonight.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Spring and Summer Every Other Day
It is July.
July is a big month for me. I was born on the 5th, and I was adopted on the 8th.
Kinda makes July a big deal for me.
The birthday was good. I'm 25 now. I had a nice dinner with my family. Mom, Dad, and Grandma took me out to dinner at one of my favorite resturants! I had an amazing salad, and incredible entree, and one of the best glasses of wine of my life. Then I went to mom's house to do presents and cake. Home-made angelfood with fresh strawberries inside, and an amazing creamy frosting that's more like whipped cream than anything else. Sooooo Gooooood! And presents... Oh the presents! I ask for a gas card, and they buy me a nook. Holy Goddess my parents are amazing.
Adoption day was quieter. I had to work on Sunday so I didnt really do much other than call the folks to day hi. In the past it was a bigger deal, dinner and presents and special family time. I grew up knowing I was adopted, and looking back, I'm glad. It alwasy made me feel really special to my parents. Of course, I still have unresolved abandonment issues, unresolved anger issues, and lots of feelings ranging from curiousity to despair, but at the end of the day, I'm glad that it is a day that is celebrated in my family.
I still get presents on the 8th. This year it was a teapot! Which is amazing since my last one broke and I am a really big tea drinker. Have I mentioned how much I love my mom!? Because I do.
So, that's the short version of the July update, more to come, I'm sure.
July is a big month for me. I was born on the 5th, and I was adopted on the 8th.
Kinda makes July a big deal for me.
The birthday was good. I'm 25 now. I had a nice dinner with my family. Mom, Dad, and Grandma took me out to dinner at one of my favorite resturants! I had an amazing salad, and incredible entree, and one of the best glasses of wine of my life. Then I went to mom's house to do presents and cake. Home-made angelfood with fresh strawberries inside, and an amazing creamy frosting that's more like whipped cream than anything else. Sooooo Gooooood! And presents... Oh the presents! I ask for a gas card, and they buy me a nook. Holy Goddess my parents are amazing.
Adoption day was quieter. I had to work on Sunday so I didnt really do much other than call the folks to day hi. In the past it was a bigger deal, dinner and presents and special family time. I grew up knowing I was adopted, and looking back, I'm glad. It alwasy made me feel really special to my parents. Of course, I still have unresolved abandonment issues, unresolved anger issues, and lots of feelings ranging from curiousity to despair, but at the end of the day, I'm glad that it is a day that is celebrated in my family.
I still get presents on the 8th. This year it was a teapot! Which is amazing since my last one broke and I am a really big tea drinker. Have I mentioned how much I love my mom!? Because I do.
So, that's the short version of the July update, more to come, I'm sure.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
The Game of "Just Supposing" is the Sweetest Game I Know
A year ago today, I had a miscarriage.
I was 4 weeks, and I had no idea.
It was during a performance. About halfway through my show I felt the bleeding start, and thought that maybe my period had just come early. Not normal for me, but something that has happened from time to time. The show I was in was a One-Act, meaning there was no intermission, and I was never off-stage. I adjusted my costume as best I could to cover any leaks, and hoped for the best. The show ended, we bowed, I scurried off the stage and into the Green Room, where people were looking at me strangely. I run into the bathroom and look in the mirror. I am covered, literally drenched, in blood. There was no way someone could have not noticed. So, I begin to freak out. I'd never had a period that heavy. And then I got this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Locked in the Green Room bathroom, I must have stayed in there for an hour before I drove home. I was shaking, white as a sheet as I walked in the door. My mother followed me upstairs, and we talked, and once it hit me what had happened, I wept.
I'm not a crier. I was when I was little, but I've sort-of grown into this whole "I'm a strong, independent woman who can take care of herself" thing. I don't really cry much anymore. But that day... I dehydrated myself... I cried so hard my whole body hurt the next day. I called the hospital to see what the next step was, and they told me not to even bother coming in. It happened, there was nothing I could do. I was told to be careful, not to exert myself too much, and keep and eye on bleeding and spotting. If it got worse, call in; if it stopped, I would be fine.
I don't think I ever officially mourned the loss of my child. It's just something I carry with me. No one knows, outside of my mother, my room mate, and a friend or two. I've never told anyone. It's not something you really talk about in everyday conversation.
In my heart, the deepest, most secret part of my soul, I named her. (Folklore says a witch's first child is always female, and I'm a little inclined to agree). Constance Anne. She'd be 4 months old.
Sometimes, at night, when it's just me and the moon, I hear that vampire in my head. It tells me how pathetic I am, how I have to let it go, how frankly- no one cares. This is something I need to just shut-up about and deal with and move the fuck on.
And I don't know if I can.
...I don't know if I can ever forgive myself. Or him. He still walks on water for me, and probably always will. I am aware of his flaws, and am fully aware that we are better friends that we ever were lovers, and we were never quite that, either.
I'm stuck feeling that this is somehow my fault. That I did this. That I caused this with my "loose morals" and "raucous party lifestyle" and my "obsessive compulsion to chain smoke". And maybe the people who said that were right. Maybe I did this. Maybe I deserved this. I just wish it would stop hurting.
I was 4 weeks, and I had no idea.
It was during a performance. About halfway through my show I felt the bleeding start, and thought that maybe my period had just come early. Not normal for me, but something that has happened from time to time. The show I was in was a One-Act, meaning there was no intermission, and I was never off-stage. I adjusted my costume as best I could to cover any leaks, and hoped for the best. The show ended, we bowed, I scurried off the stage and into the Green Room, where people were looking at me strangely. I run into the bathroom and look in the mirror. I am covered, literally drenched, in blood. There was no way someone could have not noticed. So, I begin to freak out. I'd never had a period that heavy. And then I got this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Locked in the Green Room bathroom, I must have stayed in there for an hour before I drove home. I was shaking, white as a sheet as I walked in the door. My mother followed me upstairs, and we talked, and once it hit me what had happened, I wept.
I'm not a crier. I was when I was little, but I've sort-of grown into this whole "I'm a strong, independent woman who can take care of herself" thing. I don't really cry much anymore. But that day... I dehydrated myself... I cried so hard my whole body hurt the next day. I called the hospital to see what the next step was, and they told me not to even bother coming in. It happened, there was nothing I could do. I was told to be careful, not to exert myself too much, and keep and eye on bleeding and spotting. If it got worse, call in; if it stopped, I would be fine.
I don't think I ever officially mourned the loss of my child. It's just something I carry with me. No one knows, outside of my mother, my room mate, and a friend or two. I've never told anyone. It's not something you really talk about in everyday conversation.
In my heart, the deepest, most secret part of my soul, I named her. (Folklore says a witch's first child is always female, and I'm a little inclined to agree). Constance Anne. She'd be 4 months old.
Sometimes, at night, when it's just me and the moon, I hear that vampire in my head. It tells me how pathetic I am, how I have to let it go, how frankly- no one cares. This is something I need to just shut-up about and deal with and move the fuck on.
And I don't know if I can.
...I don't know if I can ever forgive myself. Or him. He still walks on water for me, and probably always will. I am aware of his flaws, and am fully aware that we are better friends that we ever were lovers, and we were never quite that, either.
I'm stuck feeling that this is somehow my fault. That I did this. That I caused this with my "loose morals" and "raucous party lifestyle" and my "obsessive compulsion to chain smoke". And maybe the people who said that were right. Maybe I did this. Maybe I deserved this. I just wish it would stop hurting.
Monday, June 11, 2012
I found a martyr in my bed tonight
Singing the procrastination song... lalalalala.
Last day of class at SCDS. Summer break! For the kids of course. Not me! Kate take a break? You must be high. When do I ever take a break?! I actually took my first vacation in 6 years last summer. Three awesome, awesome days.
Had a wonderful conversation with a friend last night. We've got one of those suuuuuper complicated friendships where we should be in a relationship but the timing was just wrong and now that window is pretty much gone. I really miss the idea of US. He said something lovely to me, that if it ever actually did happen, for some crazy reason, that we'd have a really solid marriage. No idea how the romance would work, but we'd have a really solid marriage, and I'd make a wonderful mother.
I'm not ashamed to say I cried a little bit on the inside. We'd have been really great together. But too much time has passed and we've both changed so much. For the better, yes, but we've stopped growing in the same direction. In most ways, anyway.
I've been single for about four months, and haven't been in a show for two months. So now's about the time that little vampire, that little voice in the back of my head swoops in. Filling me with doubt, insecurity, thoughts of self consciousness, feelings of worthlessness, making me second-guess everything. This little vampire is the vampire of despair. The one that wakes me up at four in the morning to say things like "who do you think you're kidding?" or "You look like a fool" or "no matter how hard you try you'll never be good enough..."
Why is it if some dude walked up to me at the bus stop and said these things I'd think he was a mentally ill asshole, but if the vampire inside my head says is- it's the voice of reason...
Last day of class at SCDS. Summer break! For the kids of course. Not me! Kate take a break? You must be high. When do I ever take a break?! I actually took my first vacation in 6 years last summer. Three awesome, awesome days.
Had a wonderful conversation with a friend last night. We've got one of those suuuuuper complicated friendships where we should be in a relationship but the timing was just wrong and now that window is pretty much gone. I really miss the idea of US. He said something lovely to me, that if it ever actually did happen, for some crazy reason, that we'd have a really solid marriage. No idea how the romance would work, but we'd have a really solid marriage, and I'd make a wonderful mother.
I'm not ashamed to say I cried a little bit on the inside. We'd have been really great together. But too much time has passed and we've both changed so much. For the better, yes, but we've stopped growing in the same direction. In most ways, anyway.
I've been single for about four months, and haven't been in a show for two months. So now's about the time that little vampire, that little voice in the back of my head swoops in. Filling me with doubt, insecurity, thoughts of self consciousness, feelings of worthlessness, making me second-guess everything. This little vampire is the vampire of despair. The one that wakes me up at four in the morning to say things like "who do you think you're kidding?" or "You look like a fool" or "no matter how hard you try you'll never be good enough..."
Why is it if some dude walked up to me at the bus stop and said these things I'd think he was a mentally ill asshole, but if the vampire inside my head says is- it's the voice of reason...
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
I am still living with your ghost
Even been haunted my something?
A song, a melody, a person, a spirit, a thought?
With me, it's usually songs that follow me everywhere I go. Looking back, I can say that it's probably the universe or my subconscious, trying to tell me something that I haven't been listening to.
But lately...I don't know... It seems like I'm being followed by something more. Not a spirit, not a cloud of bad luck, but... something...
On a different topic, I had a really interesting experience Monday night. To make a very long story short, I went out with a couple friends, did things I wasn't entirely comfortable with, ended up somewhere I wasn't familiar with, and ended up a long way from my car, barefoot, in the rain, alone, on capital hill, at 3 in the morning. It sucked. Luckily, I have hero's who talked me down from my panic attack. My buddy Nathanael, who is never awake at such an unGodly hour, was wide awake, almost ready, for my call. He talked me down, got my panic attack under control, kept me moving, kept me talking, offered on numerous occasions to come pick me up (But heaven forbid I let someone do something for me. My life could never be that simple). So with a general direction from my buddy Ray, he talked my through the ohhhhh half hour/forty-five minutes it took me to find my car, unlock the door, and get it. And I don't think I will ever be more grateful to anyone in my entire life.
I was raped, several years ago. And, in theory, I am healed, no longer broken, stronger, and I've put it behind me. But that hour alone on Capitol Hill put me right back there, quaking with fear, with terror, with helplessness...So help me God, I will never feel that way ever again. Ever. Fucking ever.
Completely un-related again. I had a wonderful date on Tuesday. Anna and I went out to dinner, thai food in Fremont is the best, and I had such a wonderful time! She's funny, and witty, and creative, and smart... There was never a lull in conversation, we talked about multiple things, we have several common interests...Dinner was awesome. After it was over, we wandered around a little bit, and she walked me back to my car. She kissed me (I didn't have to make the first move! Ahhh!), and we chatted and we went home. All in all, an outrageously satisfying day. :-) Mmmmmmthaifood.
Well, those have been the most recent adventures in my life. Go team.
Oh, I've been listening to Some Nights by the group FUN a lot. I can't decide if I love it or if it depresses the hell out of me. Melodically charming, lyrically heartbreaking...
A song, a melody, a person, a spirit, a thought?
With me, it's usually songs that follow me everywhere I go. Looking back, I can say that it's probably the universe or my subconscious, trying to tell me something that I haven't been listening to.
But lately...I don't know... It seems like I'm being followed by something more. Not a spirit, not a cloud of bad luck, but... something...
On a different topic, I had a really interesting experience Monday night. To make a very long story short, I went out with a couple friends, did things I wasn't entirely comfortable with, ended up somewhere I wasn't familiar with, and ended up a long way from my car, barefoot, in the rain, alone, on capital hill, at 3 in the morning. It sucked. Luckily, I have hero's who talked me down from my panic attack. My buddy Nathanael, who is never awake at such an unGodly hour, was wide awake, almost ready, for my call. He talked me down, got my panic attack under control, kept me moving, kept me talking, offered on numerous occasions to come pick me up (But heaven forbid I let someone do something for me. My life could never be that simple). So with a general direction from my buddy Ray, he talked my through the ohhhhh half hour/forty-five minutes it took me to find my car, unlock the door, and get it. And I don't think I will ever be more grateful to anyone in my entire life.
I was raped, several years ago. And, in theory, I am healed, no longer broken, stronger, and I've put it behind me. But that hour alone on Capitol Hill put me right back there, quaking with fear, with terror, with helplessness...So help me God, I will never feel that way ever again. Ever. Fucking ever.
Completely un-related again. I had a wonderful date on Tuesday. Anna and I went out to dinner, thai food in Fremont is the best, and I had such a wonderful time! She's funny, and witty, and creative, and smart... There was never a lull in conversation, we talked about multiple things, we have several common interests...Dinner was awesome. After it was over, we wandered around a little bit, and she walked me back to my car. She kissed me (I didn't have to make the first move! Ahhh!), and we chatted and we went home. All in all, an outrageously satisfying day. :-) Mmmmmmthaifood.
Well, those have been the most recent adventures in my life. Go team.
Oh, I've been listening to Some Nights by the group FUN a lot. I can't decide if I love it or if it depresses the hell out of me. Melodically charming, lyrically heartbreaking...
Monday, May 21, 2012
I'd rather...
I'd rather be nine people's favorite thing than a hundred people's ninth favorite thing. -[TOS]
This is what I call a Quotes Post. Things I've found, or friends have found for me, that I like or feel close to. Enjoy
This is what I call a Quotes Post. Things I've found, or friends have found for me, that I like or feel close to. Enjoy
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Big Girls Don't Cry
...But they are fully allowed to whine.
I have to go to a wedding this June. In Spokane. A friend is getting married, and they're having a nice, big, fancy, foofy ceremony at a Winery, with a semi-formal reception to follow.
I think that's great. I am so happy they are able to afford and create what is sure to be a beautiful and very enjoyable event.
But I'm poor. Really freakin poor. Live below the poverty line, eat one meal a day, kind of poor. And I can't really afford the gas to drive the 5-fucking-hours it will take me to get there. Or the hotel/motel room I'm going to have to book so I have somewhere to stay so I don't have to start my 5 hour drive home tipsy at 11pm. AND I'll have to take the whole weekend off work. Not just the day, the weekend. To drive there, stay there, and drive back. And I think the part I'm most bitter and annoyed about, more than the money, the drive, the loss of work, is the fact that I'm doing it all alone.
I have no date. I am dateless. I'm gonna be that awkward single girl at the fancy wedding. Again.
Yes, my girlfriend and I broke up two months ago. Yes, I haven't been on a real date with a guy in, I'm gonna go ahead and say, 18 months. I haven't "hung out" with anyone romantically worthwhile in years. I'm settle-down and raise a family girl. Not that I want to immediately, but that's my plan for the long term. And my two best options are gay men who may also someday want to have a family.
I am so tired of wasting my time on people who don't pan out; who are trashy, unmotivated, irresponsible, and have no desire to further a life or relationship with me. I'm tired of Seattle Men.
Ugh. And I just don't feel right about asking a friend. I can't ask someone to just give up a weekend to sit in a car, rub elbows with people they don't know, and share a shoddy room with me. It's not fair.
So, I'll suck it up, go to the wedding, probably have a nice time, and sleep in a shitty hotel. I'll smile, and be polite, and say all the right things. But right now, this moment, I think I'm allowed to be annoyed.
End Whine.
I have to go to a wedding this June. In Spokane. A friend is getting married, and they're having a nice, big, fancy, foofy ceremony at a Winery, with a semi-formal reception to follow.
I think that's great. I am so happy they are able to afford and create what is sure to be a beautiful and very enjoyable event.
But I'm poor. Really freakin poor. Live below the poverty line, eat one meal a day, kind of poor. And I can't really afford the gas to drive the 5-fucking-hours it will take me to get there. Or the hotel/motel room I'm going to have to book so I have somewhere to stay so I don't have to start my 5 hour drive home tipsy at 11pm. AND I'll have to take the whole weekend off work. Not just the day, the weekend. To drive there, stay there, and drive back. And I think the part I'm most bitter and annoyed about, more than the money, the drive, the loss of work, is the fact that I'm doing it all alone.
I have no date. I am dateless. I'm gonna be that awkward single girl at the fancy wedding. Again.
Yes, my girlfriend and I broke up two months ago. Yes, I haven't been on a real date with a guy in, I'm gonna go ahead and say, 18 months. I haven't "hung out" with anyone romantically worthwhile in years. I'm settle-down and raise a family girl. Not that I want to immediately, but that's my plan for the long term. And my two best options are gay men who may also someday want to have a family.
I am so tired of wasting my time on people who don't pan out; who are trashy, unmotivated, irresponsible, and have no desire to further a life or relationship with me. I'm tired of Seattle Men.
Ugh. And I just don't feel right about asking a friend. I can't ask someone to just give up a weekend to sit in a car, rub elbows with people they don't know, and share a shoddy room with me. It's not fair.
So, I'll suck it up, go to the wedding, probably have a nice time, and sleep in a shitty hotel. I'll smile, and be polite, and say all the right things. But right now, this moment, I think I'm allowed to be annoyed.
End Whine.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Maybe I Like It This Way
Choices.
Every action will have and equal and opposite reaction. Right? I mean, that's what we all learned in school. That in everything there is a cause and effect, every choice you make will have repercussions.
And the worst choices are the ones where you don't know if they were wrong or not.
When you know that you can only open the window a crack, because you're not allowed to walk in the door. The door is off limits. The most you get is peeking through the window. And sometimes it's not enough. But you never knew that, because you never even thought of the door as an option. Until it wasn't allowed to be an option anymore.
I guess what I'm trying to say is... relationships are complicated.
What do you do? When your conscience is confused. I've talked it over. I've gone to someone else. I didn't do anything wrong... But why do I feel guilty?
...Boys are dumb
Every action will have and equal and opposite reaction. Right? I mean, that's what we all learned in school. That in everything there is a cause and effect, every choice you make will have repercussions.
And the worst choices are the ones where you don't know if they were wrong or not.
When you know that you can only open the window a crack, because you're not allowed to walk in the door. The door is off limits. The most you get is peeking through the window. And sometimes it's not enough. But you never knew that, because you never even thought of the door as an option. Until it wasn't allowed to be an option anymore.
I guess what I'm trying to say is... relationships are complicated.
What do you do? When your conscience is confused. I've talked it over. I've gone to someone else. I didn't do anything wrong... But why do I feel guilty?
...Boys are dumb
Sunday, April 29, 2012
"Love Means Never Having To Say You're Sorry" Wait... What?!
"Apologizing doesn't always mean you are in the wrong. Sometimes, you do it because you value your relationships more than your pride." - The Internet
Yes. I am an apologizer. It's what I do. I will almost always take the fall, or the blame, or the backlash, or whatever, simply because I value who I am with more than my ego. Not to say that I don't have an big ego, or a shit-ton of pride, because if you've met me you know that I do. I just find it easier to apologize. It makes the issue go away, and we move on faster.
Not to say that I don't get angry, because, boy do I! But, I get over it. I'll be pissed, or at least incredibly annoyed, for like three hours, go to sleep, and when I wake up, it's fine.
Example: the room mate and I are both artists.
She's got OCD, I have a huge need for organized chaos. She's a stage manager, I'm an actor.
We've found several compromises and we both do our best to see the other person's point of view and to talk about any issues with gentleness, honesty, and affection.
However... Sometimes you just have a day. We both had one yesterday.
The night before, she asked if she could have the apartment for the day. I said yes, provided I could make a super quick pit-stop mid-evening to grab stuff for the show I was doing that night. She said that was fine and asked for an estimated time which I gave.
Now, Seattle traffic is not always kind. Especially when you have a bridge that goes up and fucks up your whole time-table. She texts, annoyed that I'm not keeping to the appointed time. I text, annoyed at traffic. She responds, annoyed and my annoyance, I respond to her annoyance with annoyance, and so it goes. Finally I just say "fuck it" and go straight to the theatre, without my makeup, and a few key costume pieces. God Bless my other actors who were willing to loan me stuff to make my piece work. But, I showed up fuming, and all the other actors could feel it. I bummed a cigarette of one, had a glass of wine, calmed myself down, and went onstage and did my show. I then drove to my mom and dad's place, where they were thrilled to have me spend the night. (There are benefits to being an only child. Empty Nest totally works in your favor!) I went to bed pissed. Woke up annoyed. And at work, I thought.
Of course she was annoyed. I wasn't where I said I would be, when I said I would be there. Now, I may not have had much control over the situation, however, this was an opportunity to let it go. She's under a lot of stress right now, with work and the show she's stage managing and the other artistic projects she is working on. She needed a day, and she felt that I had created a wrinkle in her neatly ironed plans. I get it. My fault? No. Easier to apologize instead of continuing to be angry? Yes.
She had her "10 to 10" today, which is basically an all-day rehearsal in the space doing everything and anything you can to polish the piece and try to start working out all technical bugs. So after I got off work, I went shopping. I went and bought her a few goodies: peanut butter cups, socks, a gift card to chipotle, and a bowl. (Yes, a bowl. It was cute and she liked it.) I also baked her a cake. A German Chocolate cake. From scratch. I did all the dishes, and cleaned the entire kitchen (which I knew would appeal to the OCD in her). I left her pretty wrapped present and cake with a sweet card on our living room coffee table, and went off to the show.
I walked in the door, and she was just so happy to see me! She was so thankful for her day yesterday, and so pleased and surprised with the little present I had left... It was wonderful. Her energy was so much more positive, and uplifting, and healthy... She just needed a mental-health day, and I was able to give it to her, and make it better. And I feel so, so good about that.
In the 70's movie Love Story, there's this really stupid quote that flows throughout the whole movie. "Love means never having to say you're sorry."
Bullshit. Love means saying sorry all the freaking time. Sorry I forgot to take out the garbage, Sorry I didn't return the library books, Sorry I wasn't where I said I would be when I said I would be there.
Love is all about sorry, because real love is valuing your person, and your relationship with that person, more that you value being right.
Perhaps this post comes off as preachy. I don't mean for it to. I guess it's just me working things out in my head. I'm much happier saying sorry than being right.
...well, most of the time, anyway. :-)
Yes. I am an apologizer. It's what I do. I will almost always take the fall, or the blame, or the backlash, or whatever, simply because I value who I am with more than my ego. Not to say that I don't have an big ego, or a shit-ton of pride, because if you've met me you know that I do. I just find it easier to apologize. It makes the issue go away, and we move on faster.
Not to say that I don't get angry, because, boy do I! But, I get over it. I'll be pissed, or at least incredibly annoyed, for like three hours, go to sleep, and when I wake up, it's fine.
Example: the room mate and I are both artists.
She's got OCD, I have a huge need for organized chaos. She's a stage manager, I'm an actor.
We've found several compromises and we both do our best to see the other person's point of view and to talk about any issues with gentleness, honesty, and affection.
However... Sometimes you just have a day. We both had one yesterday.
The night before, she asked if she could have the apartment for the day. I said yes, provided I could make a super quick pit-stop mid-evening to grab stuff for the show I was doing that night. She said that was fine and asked for an estimated time which I gave.
Now, Seattle traffic is not always kind. Especially when you have a bridge that goes up and fucks up your whole time-table. She texts, annoyed that I'm not keeping to the appointed time. I text, annoyed at traffic. She responds, annoyed and my annoyance, I respond to her annoyance with annoyance, and so it goes. Finally I just say "fuck it" and go straight to the theatre, without my makeup, and a few key costume pieces. God Bless my other actors who were willing to loan me stuff to make my piece work. But, I showed up fuming, and all the other actors could feel it. I bummed a cigarette of one, had a glass of wine, calmed myself down, and went onstage and did my show. I then drove to my mom and dad's place, where they were thrilled to have me spend the night. (There are benefits to being an only child. Empty Nest totally works in your favor!) I went to bed pissed. Woke up annoyed. And at work, I thought.
Of course she was annoyed. I wasn't where I said I would be, when I said I would be there. Now, I may not have had much control over the situation, however, this was an opportunity to let it go. She's under a lot of stress right now, with work and the show she's stage managing and the other artistic projects she is working on. She needed a day, and she felt that I had created a wrinkle in her neatly ironed plans. I get it. My fault? No. Easier to apologize instead of continuing to be angry? Yes.
She had her "10 to 10" today, which is basically an all-day rehearsal in the space doing everything and anything you can to polish the piece and try to start working out all technical bugs. So after I got off work, I went shopping. I went and bought her a few goodies: peanut butter cups, socks, a gift card to chipotle, and a bowl. (Yes, a bowl. It was cute and she liked it.) I also baked her a cake. A German Chocolate cake. From scratch. I did all the dishes, and cleaned the entire kitchen (which I knew would appeal to the OCD in her). I left her pretty wrapped present and cake with a sweet card on our living room coffee table, and went off to the show.
I walked in the door, and she was just so happy to see me! She was so thankful for her day yesterday, and so pleased and surprised with the little present I had left... It was wonderful. Her energy was so much more positive, and uplifting, and healthy... She just needed a mental-health day, and I was able to give it to her, and make it better. And I feel so, so good about that.
In the 70's movie Love Story, there's this really stupid quote that flows throughout the whole movie. "Love means never having to say you're sorry."
Bullshit. Love means saying sorry all the freaking time. Sorry I forgot to take out the garbage, Sorry I didn't return the library books, Sorry I wasn't where I said I would be when I said I would be there.
Love is all about sorry, because real love is valuing your person, and your relationship with that person, more that you value being right.
Perhaps this post comes off as preachy. I don't mean for it to. I guess it's just me working things out in my head. I'm much happier saying sorry than being right.
...well, most of the time, anyway. :-)
Sunday, April 22, 2012
You are the answer to a question that I never posed
It's easy to say "I love you anyway" but I don't. I love you because.
I just got back from the fantastic matinee performance of Spring Awakening at Balagan Theatre. It was incredible. It made me fall in love with theatre - modern theatre- all over again. I had a few friends in the show, and it was wonderful just watching them shine. And, of course, I was once again filled with a deep longing. A need. A yearning.
I must perform.
Several moments, I felt tears streaming down my face, and I couldn't even remember starting to cry. There were a select few moments in the show that I felt the hair on my arms and the back of my neck literally stand on end. I actually got goosebumps. But that's what good theatre does.
Not to say that this is a show for everyone. It certainly isn't. I'd rate it NC-17. PG-13 at the very very very least. It's not a show for the masses. It's a show for the few. For the young. For the rebels. For the confused. For the desperate. For the ones who need to make a difference, who need to belong, who need to question.
It's a show, in essence, about sex. And there's nothing wrong with that. But our society is still so sheltered, sex is still so taboo. And don't even mention masterbation!
I looked up the youtube video for the Tony performance. They can say the word "Bitch" onstage, but all the lyrics referring to masturbation or wet dreams had to be changed. Interesting they way society has evolved. And hasn't.
But, back to my origional point. The show was fantastic, and it filled me with the hunger for the stage. Again. As usual.
Now, I've got my own show coming up. It opens on Thursday, actually. (Whoops!)
But GOD I wish I could do a show about something revolutionary. A show with a message.
Which is why I enjoyed HAIRSPRAY so much I think. (I was just in HAIRSPRAY with Seattle Musical Theatre. I was Tracy. It was awesome). That show had several clear messages: Racism is dumb. Segregaion is wrong. Big people can be pretty.
I just... need to be in a musical again. A revolutionary musical. A show where my soul soars and my heart goes crazy and I fall in love with my life all over again every single night.
I need to act. It's who I am.
I just got back from the fantastic matinee performance of Spring Awakening at Balagan Theatre. It was incredible. It made me fall in love with theatre - modern theatre- all over again. I had a few friends in the show, and it was wonderful just watching them shine. And, of course, I was once again filled with a deep longing. A need. A yearning.
I must perform.
Several moments, I felt tears streaming down my face, and I couldn't even remember starting to cry. There were a select few moments in the show that I felt the hair on my arms and the back of my neck literally stand on end. I actually got goosebumps. But that's what good theatre does.
Not to say that this is a show for everyone. It certainly isn't. I'd rate it NC-17. PG-13 at the very very very least. It's not a show for the masses. It's a show for the few. For the young. For the rebels. For the confused. For the desperate. For the ones who need to make a difference, who need to belong, who need to question.
It's a show, in essence, about sex. And there's nothing wrong with that. But our society is still so sheltered, sex is still so taboo. And don't even mention masterbation!
I looked up the youtube video for the Tony performance. They can say the word "Bitch" onstage, but all the lyrics referring to masturbation or wet dreams had to be changed. Interesting they way society has evolved. And hasn't.
But, back to my origional point. The show was fantastic, and it filled me with the hunger for the stage. Again. As usual.
Now, I've got my own show coming up. It opens on Thursday, actually. (Whoops!)
But GOD I wish I could do a show about something revolutionary. A show with a message.
Which is why I enjoyed HAIRSPRAY so much I think. (I was just in HAIRSPRAY with Seattle Musical Theatre. I was Tracy. It was awesome). That show had several clear messages: Racism is dumb. Segregaion is wrong. Big people can be pretty.
I just... need to be in a musical again. A revolutionary musical. A show where my soul soars and my heart goes crazy and I fall in love with my life all over again every single night.
I need to act. It's who I am.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Hello? World?
Well... Curtain up and light the lights. I have started a blog....
Ugh.I kind of feel like I'm selling out. But, I have a story to tell. A journey to make.
And I'm sorta kinda maybe hoping the universe might give me some guidance. Or at least that this blog will help me look at and figure out things in my life before it all turns to drama....get it? Because I'm an actor? Oy. Tough crowd.
I'm basically going to use this blog like a journal. But be open to comment and suggestion.So, let's get the ball rolling, shall we?
Hi!I'm Kate. A 20-something actor in Seattle, WA. I'm not outrageously successful by any means, but I've done some really good work that I can be proud of, and I'm following my dreams. So I'm calling it a win.
Other fun facts: I'm a Cancer. I believe in astrology. I love to eat and cook (because food is awesome). I'm an alchoholic. I'm working on getting sober. I love art. And Shakespeare. And the color red. Deep red. Burgandy. The color of a good Shiraz. I prefer pearls to diamonds. I'm grew up Catholic but no longer practice. I consider myself Pagan. I love my Tarot cards. I'm plus size. Curvy. Full Figured. I love my body. I'm sexy. I like alternative music but have a soft spot for the oldies. I trust too easily and therefore cannot stand people who lie. I'm adopted.
Let's play with that last one there, shall we? I'm adopted. I've always known. I grew up with that knowledge. My adoption, however, was private and closed. Meaning I've never had any information or contact with or about my biological family. Unitl now.
A few months ago my mother dropped the bombshell that not only do my parents know who and where my biolocal family is, my father actually worked with my biological maternal grandmother.
Um, WHAT?! Oh, ok after years of calling hospitals, lawyers, geneologists, searching for even a crumb of information, you're telling me YOU KNOW THEM?! WHAT THE HELL?!
So, naturally, I've demanded some answers. Ok, I begged for answers. And then just for information. A city. An e-mail address.The last request was granted. I was given my biological maternal grandmother's email address. Out of respect for her privacy I'm going to refer to her as "Jean."
Jean and I have been emailing back and forth a little bit, which has been awesome. And nervewracking. And scary as hell. But, we'll see how it goes.
I'll be updating often with stories of how this is going. And how my acting career is going. And about my life in general. Like I said, I'll be using this blog as a public journal.
Wish me luck. All happy thoughts are appreciated.
blessed be,
Kate
Ugh.I kind of feel like I'm selling out. But, I have a story to tell. A journey to make.
And I'm sorta kinda maybe hoping the universe might give me some guidance. Or at least that this blog will help me look at and figure out things in my life before it all turns to drama....get it? Because I'm an actor? Oy. Tough crowd.
I'm basically going to use this blog like a journal. But be open to comment and suggestion.So, let's get the ball rolling, shall we?
Hi!I'm Kate. A 20-something actor in Seattle, WA. I'm not outrageously successful by any means, but I've done some really good work that I can be proud of, and I'm following my dreams. So I'm calling it a win.
Other fun facts: I'm a Cancer. I believe in astrology. I love to eat and cook (because food is awesome). I'm an alchoholic. I'm working on getting sober. I love art. And Shakespeare. And the color red. Deep red. Burgandy. The color of a good Shiraz. I prefer pearls to diamonds. I'm grew up Catholic but no longer practice. I consider myself Pagan. I love my Tarot cards. I'm plus size. Curvy. Full Figured. I love my body. I'm sexy. I like alternative music but have a soft spot for the oldies. I trust too easily and therefore cannot stand people who lie. I'm adopted.
Let's play with that last one there, shall we? I'm adopted. I've always known. I grew up with that knowledge. My adoption, however, was private and closed. Meaning I've never had any information or contact with or about my biological family. Unitl now.
A few months ago my mother dropped the bombshell that not only do my parents know who and where my biolocal family is, my father actually worked with my biological maternal grandmother.
Um, WHAT?! Oh, ok after years of calling hospitals, lawyers, geneologists, searching for even a crumb of information, you're telling me YOU KNOW THEM?! WHAT THE HELL?!
So, naturally, I've demanded some answers. Ok, I begged for answers. And then just for information. A city. An e-mail address.The last request was granted. I was given my biological maternal grandmother's email address. Out of respect for her privacy I'm going to refer to her as "Jean."
Jean and I have been emailing back and forth a little bit, which has been awesome. And nervewracking. And scary as hell. But, we'll see how it goes.
I'll be updating often with stories of how this is going. And how my acting career is going. And about my life in general. Like I said, I'll be using this blog as a public journal.
Wish me luck. All happy thoughts are appreciated.
blessed be,
Kate
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