So it's the end of July...in a little under 6 months I'll be blowing out 31 candles...31.
They say age is just a number and I believe that, I do. I didn't freak out when 30 came and went...but now that 31 is nearing it may be time to re-think the age game. At 23 I had my quarter life crisis...23 was a rough year. Then again so was 24...and maybe even 25. Those were the years I was lost...the first few years out of college without a clearly defined career path, or life path...the years that everyone wanted to know what I was up to...what now...and I had no answer for them, or myself.
I have a career path now, and my own apartment, and boyfriend who as of three months ago now shares said apartment with me. Is it true love, the everlasting kind? Well...that's really still up in the air and at the moment I'm okay with that because as much as I'd love that Earth shattering "this is it" type of love that most my friends have seemingly found...there are more important things in this 30 year old's life. Mainly figuring out how to live the life I have, and do it with grace and joy. How to create the life I want...or one I would be satisfied with...and that, all comes from within.
I've come to the acceptance that I'm the type of person who is never truly satisfied, but that my dissatisfaction is never quite enough to motivate me to make changes that are lasting. Sounds silly I know, especially at my age but you'll see it's true just by looking back across the pages of this blog. I'm fairly positive that 90% of my previous posts have to do with some sort of dissatisfaction at where I am in my life and the steps I should or get to take to get to the place I want to be...followed by a few months of cyber silence and then another slightly different post of the same nature. Hey, at least I recognize my patterns.
Anyways, welcome to yet another post of the same sort...
So 31. That's 9 years till 40, and though a lot can happen in 9 years...we all know how quickly they can pass as well. And it's not that I'm afraid of getting older...it's that I have to think from a different standpoint, a career based point of view. I'm an Actor...or at least that's what I say I am...the path I've claimed to have chosen. As an actor, age plays a different role...literally. In my 20's I could see myself playing the college girl, maybe even the late HS teen...then as I neared 30, the "fresh out of college" type the struggling career girl...but as I get older my youthful look is changing. I no longer get 22 when someone guesses my age...it's now 25; 26. I see people I haven't seen in years and they say I look older and the truth is, I do. I look at myself in the mirror and realize I am looking closer to my age than I ever have before...and I realize that before long, I'll be playing the mom in every casting. I'll have surpassed the age of "leading lady" or "romantic lead" and though I look forward to a long fulfilling career as the TV mom (I love Connie Britton and would LOVE her career), I'm not ready to get there without a little time as the "girl trying to figure it all out". So that puts a definite time crunch on things, which honestly may be a good thing. I've never worried about the age factor before, and it's been how long since I decided to move to LA with the dream of being an Actor? 2007. I made the decision and move in 2007, that's 7 years ago and yes, I can say that for the first two years I was young and getting my grounding, and working 2-3 jobs just to pay rent, and then I joined Atwater Playhouse, and quit my day job...I moved out on my own sick and tired of paying rent for the second broke roomate in a matter of 2 years...then I quit Atwater and joined Playhouse West, and Grey's Studio, and I got my first commercial agent...then I went back to working 2 jobs but at least they were both night jobs...I did horrible student films, I tried finding myself through transformational workshops, landed my present commercial agent, got a manager who I thought was going to be great (which I get to drop by the end of the year) and my present job, left Playhouse West, took improv at UCB, and went through all the trials and tribulations of creating my relationship...to land me here.
Half way through my 30th year on earth.
One job, 4 nights a week.
Still in an apartment I love.
Live in boyfriend who is also reaching for the dream.
Half time mom to an awesome kid.
Two weeks into an amazing new weekly acting class at Stuart Rogers studio, and one week into his Audition class.
I have a savings that allows me to think about world travel on a yearly basis, and the freedom to up and go whenever I want.
Commercial agency that sends me out on a regular basis with agents that I love.
Great co-workers.
Best friends that I couldn't do it without.
Healthy and alive.
A family that support me and love me and have accepted that this is my life and what I want to do.
I have a good life, there's no doubting that. Even the unsatisfied me has to admit that. But I want a GREAT life...and that is something that I get to work for...and not become lethargic about. It's easier to be comfortable and live the good life than it is to strive for the GREAT life...and I don't want another 7...or 9 years to go by and to look back on all that wasted potential. So where do I go from here?
Well happiness starts from within right? So that a start. Health...eating right, regular exercise, meditation, yoga, exploring the outdoors, regular sleeping patterns, they all would help me wake up more invigorated ready to take on the world. Auditioning for small projects, writing my own scripts, keeping up this blog, reading plays, working hard in classes, finding theatrical representation, workshops, working on dialects, getting a good manager, visiting my commercial agents would keep my pushing forward in my career. Traveling, shopping, dabbling in photography, getting back into modeling, starting craft projects, reading books, watching Indy movies, learning a new language, brushing up on Spanish, picking up a paintbrush would help get those creative juices flowing again. Taking dance classes, working on puzzles, camping, hiking, finding new hobbies and passions would help inspire me. All things that I know I "should do" and tell myself with my best transformational lingo I "get to do." So then wth...why don't you just DO IT already, right? Seriously.
I read so many articles about how to be happy, to live happy, to be successful...there are lists and lists and lists of things you should give up...or start doing. They all motivate for a moment or two and then are lost again as our attention shifts, let's make this the one time it doesn't. Let's make 31 the best year yet...and I've got 5 months to lay the foundation.
No more tomorrows, no more next weeks...because life happens
now.
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Friday, July 4, 2014
The day I realized the greatness of my hometown was a disallusion
I can't quite capture the horrible sadness and feeling of loss that happens the moment you realize the place you grew up is not the amazing paradise you always believed. I don't know if many people can relate to this at all...because I think I might have been one of the only people left in the world to have an idealized idea of where they came from, or at least one of the only ones to get that idea challenged and steamrolled at 30. Most people experience this type of let down earlier on in life...or maybe they never do at all, but tonight was my night. My night where I realized for the first time that I'm not proud of where I came from. Where being a minority...even if I didn't see myself as one here...in Marin County makes me "different."
Maybe I should explain. I am 4th generation Asian American on one side...my great grandmother was born in California in 1901, I'm more "American" than a whole heck of a lot of my "white" friends. I was born and raised in Marin County CA, the northern...predominantly white...upper middle class suburb of San Francisco where I grew up ignoring the fact I was different and fiercely fighting to not see or let others see I was anything other than just another Marin Co. kid. And it worked...or so I thought...for a long time. By the time I got to college I really didn't feel or act any different than any of my peers...and why should I? To say we were all colorblind is not as accurate as to say we chose to see every color as the same...white. It didn't matter what color your skin was...if you had grown up in Marin at the time I did you were white...unless you clearly identified as a minority and acted as such.
Then college hit. I went to UCI. Yes, I know all the jokes...University of Chinese Immigrants and any other acronym you can think of involving UCI and being Asian. It was a culture shock, to say the least, to be surrounded by so many people so proud of their different heritage, and in turn, so many that wanted me to identify with their so called "struggles" which, to say the least, I had no clue about...or at least believed I didn't. It took me 3 years for my friendship circle to slowly turn from caucasian to Asian and for me to truly embrace what makes me special...that I'm of mixed race.
Fast forward to now. I'm 30 years old, I have a live in boyfriend who is Korean by origin and I still absolutely love where I grew up. He's from LA where we live now, where I've lived for the last 6 years the entire time (plus the 7 years in OC before that) wishing I could someday return here...to the lovely bubble I came from, the idealized world I lived in. So it's his first time seeing my hometown...and of course, I desperately want him to love it as much as I do, to understand why I am the way I am, and why I love it so much. It's our first night...and I decide to go down to the only bar in town...the 2am club and meet up with a childhood friend and her new boo for some drinks and a chill night at the dive where we grew up.
Everything is fine...great even...until the lights go up. Then I go to close out. It starts bad...I say "oh don't close me out!" and the bartender retorts with "no, you HAVE to close out" to which I respond "yes...I know...I meant on the card. I want to pay cash," being in the service industry I like to pay everything with cash, b/c going to the bank isn't my strong suite. Anyways, there is a guy at the bar. And I hate to say it but I have to for this story to make the most sense in the most ridiculous way...but the ONLY black guy at the bar (and if you've ever come to Marin Co. you know the relevance of this) and he looks at me and says "oh how Chinese of you" and I just give him this unbelievable shocked death stare. Like did that REALLY come out of your mouth right now...REALLY you're going to say that to the ONLY SEMI ASIAN girl here just because I told her I'd rather pay CASH?? Like WTF?? Anyways I definitely don't let it slide, and call him out on his shit...while he tries to play it off as if it's not a race thing. And this is the first time I've ever really felt defensive about the race card...but COME ON. Then I go to pay my bill which I realize seems a little high for the two beers (at $5.50 and $5 each) and one Jameson neat (at $6.50) that we had, which to me even with tax does not equal out to $22. So I pay then I ask nicely and curiously what we had on our tab. The bartender goes to look and tells me we had 2 Racer 5's (which I clearly know we had 1) and the other two drinks I knew we got. So I proceed to tell her we did not get 2 of the Racer 5's at which point she gets angry and acts as if I'm trying to stiff her (btw at this point I had already dropped a $5 tip on the bar for our supposed $22 in cocktails BEFORE I asked her about the bill at all) and says "YOU DID GET TWO, OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE FIGHTING ME ON $5" and now I'm pissed off because if you know me it's not the $$ as much the principle (which I tell her flat out) and she CONTINUES to argue with me. I'm appalled, especially seeing as I bet I'm the best tipper in the house for the night as well as being in the service industry myself and having enough class to never EVER fight a tab just trying to get free shit. By now she's already thrown the disputed $5 on the bar as if to say "fine here's your $ you're trying to stiff me" and I am so pissed I stalk off telling her again it's not the money but the principle leaving both $5 bills on the bar. In retrospect I should have just said fuck you you cunt and taken both but I'm not like that. And if that's not enough as I'm walking off that same black dude (who may I add had a British accent and was not tough at all) scoffs and says "WOW" quite loudly and obviously trying to start shit...again. At this point I'm so pissed off and frankly disappointed in my fellow man...and just tying to cope with the realization that my love for this town might be a horrible mistake and disillusion after all, and the fact that I've never been so disrespected for no apparent reason other than the one thing that I worked my ass off growing up in this same town to not notice or feel; that I was different. That I was not WHITE.
Later after my boyfriend heard what the guy had said to me about wanting to pay in cash post exiting the bar after the bartender insisted (even after we both tried to tell her he did not order a second beer on my tab) that we were trying to get free drinks, he went back in to have words with this racist man only to have the guy try to step up to him and that same cunt of a bartender try to ease his anger by saying "relax he's just a really drunk gay guy" as if making him a second minority makes his racism or her bitchiness any better.
People may scoff, or react negatively to this entry. Perhaps they'll think I'm making a big thing about nothing...that it had nothing to do with race and I'm being extra sensitive, or that maybe I'm being stuck up thinking that I was probably one of the best most cultured and polite patron's in that bar (and yes, I'm super pissed off). Maybe they'll say I've been naive, or that I have no right to be so upset and pissed off at something that's taking me 30 years to see or experience, that I'm dumb and privileged, or that they've dealt with this their entire lives...and to that I say I'm sorry. All I can talk about is my experience and I don't ever mean to discredit someone else's or say mine is worse by any means...but it doesn't mean it crushes me any less. Doesn't' mean I'm any less hurt or at a loss...if anything my perfect perception of my hometown and the "wonderful" people in it makes this all more painful of a realization...
Mill Valley, you are full of ignorant racist people who treat others as if they are sub par for no logical reason other than the fact you believe you are better than them simply because you are narrow minded. My world is crushed, and I truly hate you 2am club. This is the first and last time I'll ever happily walk through your doors, you harbor nothing but the worst people who don't deserve my consideration.
Seriously, I'm at a loss. I'm disappointed beyond words in the quality of people they were and my hometown...and in the fact that not only do I have to come to terms with the loss of my ideal city...and the fact that my boyfriend's first experience with the place I have talked so highly of is of such ignorance and disdain.
I never thought I'd say it...but I can't wait to leave this place and go back to LA.
Maybe I should explain. I am 4th generation Asian American on one side...my great grandmother was born in California in 1901, I'm more "American" than a whole heck of a lot of my "white" friends. I was born and raised in Marin County CA, the northern...predominantly white...upper middle class suburb of San Francisco where I grew up ignoring the fact I was different and fiercely fighting to not see or let others see I was anything other than just another Marin Co. kid. And it worked...or so I thought...for a long time. By the time I got to college I really didn't feel or act any different than any of my peers...and why should I? To say we were all colorblind is not as accurate as to say we chose to see every color as the same...white. It didn't matter what color your skin was...if you had grown up in Marin at the time I did you were white...unless you clearly identified as a minority and acted as such.
Then college hit. I went to UCI. Yes, I know all the jokes...University of Chinese Immigrants and any other acronym you can think of involving UCI and being Asian. It was a culture shock, to say the least, to be surrounded by so many people so proud of their different heritage, and in turn, so many that wanted me to identify with their so called "struggles" which, to say the least, I had no clue about...or at least believed I didn't. It took me 3 years for my friendship circle to slowly turn from caucasian to Asian and for me to truly embrace what makes me special...that I'm of mixed race.
Fast forward to now. I'm 30 years old, I have a live in boyfriend who is Korean by origin and I still absolutely love where I grew up. He's from LA where we live now, where I've lived for the last 6 years the entire time (plus the 7 years in OC before that) wishing I could someday return here...to the lovely bubble I came from, the idealized world I lived in. So it's his first time seeing my hometown...and of course, I desperately want him to love it as much as I do, to understand why I am the way I am, and why I love it so much. It's our first night...and I decide to go down to the only bar in town...the 2am club and meet up with a childhood friend and her new boo for some drinks and a chill night at the dive where we grew up.
Everything is fine...great even...until the lights go up. Then I go to close out. It starts bad...I say "oh don't close me out!" and the bartender retorts with "no, you HAVE to close out" to which I respond "yes...I know...I meant on the card. I want to pay cash," being in the service industry I like to pay everything with cash, b/c going to the bank isn't my strong suite. Anyways, there is a guy at the bar. And I hate to say it but I have to for this story to make the most sense in the most ridiculous way...but the ONLY black guy at the bar (and if you've ever come to Marin Co. you know the relevance of this) and he looks at me and says "oh how Chinese of you" and I just give him this unbelievable shocked death stare. Like did that REALLY come out of your mouth right now...REALLY you're going to say that to the ONLY SEMI ASIAN girl here just because I told her I'd rather pay CASH?? Like WTF?? Anyways I definitely don't let it slide, and call him out on his shit...while he tries to play it off as if it's not a race thing. And this is the first time I've ever really felt defensive about the race card...but COME ON. Then I go to pay my bill which I realize seems a little high for the two beers (at $5.50 and $5 each) and one Jameson neat (at $6.50) that we had, which to me even with tax does not equal out to $22. So I pay then I ask nicely and curiously what we had on our tab. The bartender goes to look and tells me we had 2 Racer 5's (which I clearly know we had 1) and the other two drinks I knew we got. So I proceed to tell her we did not get 2 of the Racer 5's at which point she gets angry and acts as if I'm trying to stiff her (btw at this point I had already dropped a $5 tip on the bar for our supposed $22 in cocktails BEFORE I asked her about the bill at all) and says "YOU DID GET TWO, OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE FIGHTING ME ON $5" and now I'm pissed off because if you know me it's not the $$ as much the principle (which I tell her flat out) and she CONTINUES to argue with me. I'm appalled, especially seeing as I bet I'm the best tipper in the house for the night as well as being in the service industry myself and having enough class to never EVER fight a tab just trying to get free shit. By now she's already thrown the disputed $5 on the bar as if to say "fine here's your $ you're trying to stiff me" and I am so pissed I stalk off telling her again it's not the money but the principle leaving both $5 bills on the bar. In retrospect I should have just said fuck you you cunt and taken both but I'm not like that. And if that's not enough as I'm walking off that same black dude (who may I add had a British accent and was not tough at all) scoffs and says "WOW" quite loudly and obviously trying to start shit...again. At this point I'm so pissed off and frankly disappointed in my fellow man...and just tying to cope with the realization that my love for this town might be a horrible mistake and disillusion after all, and the fact that I've never been so disrespected for no apparent reason other than the one thing that I worked my ass off growing up in this same town to not notice or feel; that I was different. That I was not WHITE.
Later after my boyfriend heard what the guy had said to me about wanting to pay in cash post exiting the bar after the bartender insisted (even after we both tried to tell her he did not order a second beer on my tab) that we were trying to get free drinks, he went back in to have words with this racist man only to have the guy try to step up to him and that same cunt of a bartender try to ease his anger by saying "relax he's just a really drunk gay guy" as if making him a second minority makes his racism or her bitchiness any better.
People may scoff, or react negatively to this entry. Perhaps they'll think I'm making a big thing about nothing...that it had nothing to do with race and I'm being extra sensitive, or that maybe I'm being stuck up thinking that I was probably one of the best most cultured and polite patron's in that bar (and yes, I'm super pissed off). Maybe they'll say I've been naive, or that I have no right to be so upset and pissed off at something that's taking me 30 years to see or experience, that I'm dumb and privileged, or that they've dealt with this their entire lives...and to that I say I'm sorry. All I can talk about is my experience and I don't ever mean to discredit someone else's or say mine is worse by any means...but it doesn't mean it crushes me any less. Doesn't' mean I'm any less hurt or at a loss...if anything my perfect perception of my hometown and the "wonderful" people in it makes this all more painful of a realization...
Mill Valley, you are full of ignorant racist people who treat others as if they are sub par for no logical reason other than the fact you believe you are better than them simply because you are narrow minded. My world is crushed, and I truly hate you 2am club. This is the first and last time I'll ever happily walk through your doors, you harbor nothing but the worst people who don't deserve my consideration.
Seriously, I'm at a loss. I'm disappointed beyond words in the quality of people they were and my hometown...and in the fact that not only do I have to come to terms with the loss of my ideal city...and the fact that my boyfriend's first experience with the place I have talked so highly of is of such ignorance and disdain.
I never thought I'd say it...but I can't wait to leave this place and go back to LA.
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Reflections in the water
I imagine my life to be a journey, a path, with many twists turns and crossings which have all lead me to the here and now with the future trail yet to be blazed in front of me. It's an exciting journey full of laughter, love, and pain, and today I'm feeling a little bit nostalgic and thankful, and hopeful, and full of awe...so what better time to sit down in front of the keyboard which I often now neglect and see if I haven't lost my knack at capturing the moments to which a single specific emotion cannot be pinned due to the wondrous jumble of things flying around in my heart and mind. If I loose you in my ramblings...I apologize ahead of time, it's not my intent to do so but here it goes...
If this moment --this week -- was a point on my metaphorical path of life I'd be standing on a bridge that spans two banks. I'd imagine it's a walking bridge since my path is not meant for cars and trucks...an arched bridge like the ones in impressionist paintings. Wooden, sturdy and beautiful in it's simplicity. The water rushing fast below over rocks and swirling in small whirlpools, and here I stand, at the highest point in the arch, the exact middle of the span looking down leaning on the railing at the beauty of the tumultuous waters below. From this point I have a great view of the sun setting behind me, spraying her evening rays across the lands traveled...I can see my path at the horizon, see the ghosts of my childhood running along in the setting rays, the twists, and turns my trail takes away from the fading memories of my mom with the late 80's perm, my baby brother dressing up in drag to play "Jenny" with the 8 year old me, I see the hills which seemed like mountains...ridding my bike to school with that clarinet strapped to the back, passing notes in social studies, middle school dances and my first crushes. I see the high school version of me...quiet and insecure, acting like she had it all figured out...my first boyfriend and his crooked smile. I see the college me, the parties, the long days on campus, the sisters, the summers, the sorority house, Phil, Eric, the fraternity formals, the trips, Monday meetings, IFC sports. I see the people who meant so much to me, the ones who I couldn't imagine my life without, the years and the changing faces like a flip-book. I see the landscape of my friendships change, I see myself change. I see turmoil and pain, moments when I thought I couldn't hurt any more, when I couldn't cry any more, when I couldn't love any more but was too afraid to admit it out loud. I see college end, I see myself getting on the plane to Spain, I see hot long nights followed by hot long days, adventure, discovery, fear. I see distractions, I see Martin and Osa those wooden doors with the blue stripe and my first real job, I see Kiramas and dancing all night having the time of my life, I see South Coast Plaza, Taco Tuedays at the Cave, I see confusion, I see me loosing myself not wanting to loose him and realizing I lost both, I see Virginia, I see DC, Arlington, I see a new path in my mind...a new direction. I see it all in the warm orange glow of the setting sun. I see that path fade, the true path take a sharp turn, I see long hours and late nights out, I see independence, see me finding myself again, loving myself again. I can't help but smile at that long road that stretches behind me...letting the nostalgia wash over me and warm my face and soul like the summer sun. I look down...closer to the the edge of the bank from which I have just come...I see the immediate past more clearly and with less haze, almost as if the evening has fallen yet it is not dark. I see myself clearer, and those who share my road hold less weight. I'm in focus now, I guess that's how we look back on things, the more time and space between what it is we are remembering the more removed we are from it and the more we remember the others who took part. I clearly remember those last few steps up to this bridge, this moment. The fear, the hesitation, the contemplation...the bridge had been clearly in view for some time, but now that I was almost there...did I really want to cross the river? Was I ready to leave this bank behind and with it all the possibilities? Was I ready to face the shadows that in my mind lurked on the other side? Did I want to jump off this path, off this bank, and let the rushing waters sweep me down the river to a new path? If I crossed would I regret it and not be able to come back? Was I supposed to cross?
I remember thinking this bridge didn't look right, it wasn't the bridge I had in mind, wasn't picturesque, wasn't perfect. I grew up imagining that my future would be full of bridges covered in blooming vines bridges that you'd run towards filled with awe from their beauty and perfection, a bridge that you'd not think twice about sprinting across with a giant smile because what must lie on the other side had to be even more spectacular to merit such a gorgeous entrance. Of course, through the twists, turns, potholes, and boulders strewn across my dusty and rough trail called life I realized that nothing is the way you imagined it would be, but old habits die hard, and this bridge was not my fantasy bridge. In fact it's a little rough looking, unpolished, unfinished, plain. Thrown up for functionality more than beauty, and it's mine. It's exactly as it's supposed to be, and it's perfect in its imperfection. Some people are not supposed to have rose covered bridges, and I am one of those...for all the paths that included them I have successfully avoided to choose this one. And once I let go of my fear and took that first step off solid ground and onto the bridge all those doubts melted off.
And here I am...half way across the bridge and the sun is rising in front of me, spraying it's golden rays of possibility to the path ahead, filling me full of hope and excitement for the future. Who knows where my path my lead, but there's one thing I know for sure, whatever twists and turns and other rivers it crosses there's no going backwards. Just forwards. And these moments spent upon this wooden bridge...they are moments when the past and the future collide. When I get to look back and smile, remembering all the people and experiences that have led me here, and to be thankful for every single one of them.
Life is full of little blessings. Next week I'll be stepping off this bridge into new uncharted lands, but I'll still be me, and my path will still wind on and forward as it always has. And I'm a little afraid and excited as I watch the man I share my "now" with arranging his clothes in my newly cleared out closet surrounded by the years of memories wising up into the air from the objects they're attached to now scattered across the living room floor waiting for their new homes in storage or the donation bin or to be tucked away into another corner of ...my...our place.
If this moment --this week -- was a point on my metaphorical path of life I'd be standing on a bridge that spans two banks. I'd imagine it's a walking bridge since my path is not meant for cars and trucks...an arched bridge like the ones in impressionist paintings. Wooden, sturdy and beautiful in it's simplicity. The water rushing fast below over rocks and swirling in small whirlpools, and here I stand, at the highest point in the arch, the exact middle of the span looking down leaning on the railing at the beauty of the tumultuous waters below. From this point I have a great view of the sun setting behind me, spraying her evening rays across the lands traveled...I can see my path at the horizon, see the ghosts of my childhood running along in the setting rays, the twists, and turns my trail takes away from the fading memories of my mom with the late 80's perm, my baby brother dressing up in drag to play "Jenny" with the 8 year old me, I see the hills which seemed like mountains...ridding my bike to school with that clarinet strapped to the back, passing notes in social studies, middle school dances and my first crushes. I see the high school version of me...quiet and insecure, acting like she had it all figured out...my first boyfriend and his crooked smile. I see the college me, the parties, the long days on campus, the sisters, the summers, the sorority house, Phil, Eric, the fraternity formals, the trips, Monday meetings, IFC sports. I see the people who meant so much to me, the ones who I couldn't imagine my life without, the years and the changing faces like a flip-book. I see the landscape of my friendships change, I see myself change. I see turmoil and pain, moments when I thought I couldn't hurt any more, when I couldn't cry any more, when I couldn't love any more but was too afraid to admit it out loud. I see college end, I see myself getting on the plane to Spain, I see hot long nights followed by hot long days, adventure, discovery, fear. I see distractions, I see Martin and Osa those wooden doors with the blue stripe and my first real job, I see Kiramas and dancing all night having the time of my life, I see South Coast Plaza, Taco Tuedays at the Cave, I see confusion, I see me loosing myself not wanting to loose him and realizing I lost both, I see Virginia, I see DC, Arlington, I see a new path in my mind...a new direction. I see it all in the warm orange glow of the setting sun. I see that path fade, the true path take a sharp turn, I see long hours and late nights out, I see independence, see me finding myself again, loving myself again. I can't help but smile at that long road that stretches behind me...letting the nostalgia wash over me and warm my face and soul like the summer sun. I look down...closer to the the edge of the bank from which I have just come...I see the immediate past more clearly and with less haze, almost as if the evening has fallen yet it is not dark. I see myself clearer, and those who share my road hold less weight. I'm in focus now, I guess that's how we look back on things, the more time and space between what it is we are remembering the more removed we are from it and the more we remember the others who took part. I clearly remember those last few steps up to this bridge, this moment. The fear, the hesitation, the contemplation...the bridge had been clearly in view for some time, but now that I was almost there...did I really want to cross the river? Was I ready to leave this bank behind and with it all the possibilities? Was I ready to face the shadows that in my mind lurked on the other side? Did I want to jump off this path, off this bank, and let the rushing waters sweep me down the river to a new path? If I crossed would I regret it and not be able to come back? Was I supposed to cross?
I remember thinking this bridge didn't look right, it wasn't the bridge I had in mind, wasn't picturesque, wasn't perfect. I grew up imagining that my future would be full of bridges covered in blooming vines bridges that you'd run towards filled with awe from their beauty and perfection, a bridge that you'd not think twice about sprinting across with a giant smile because what must lie on the other side had to be even more spectacular to merit such a gorgeous entrance. Of course, through the twists, turns, potholes, and boulders strewn across my dusty and rough trail called life I realized that nothing is the way you imagined it would be, but old habits die hard, and this bridge was not my fantasy bridge. In fact it's a little rough looking, unpolished, unfinished, plain. Thrown up for functionality more than beauty, and it's mine. It's exactly as it's supposed to be, and it's perfect in its imperfection. Some people are not supposed to have rose covered bridges, and I am one of those...for all the paths that included them I have successfully avoided to choose this one. And once I let go of my fear and took that first step off solid ground and onto the bridge all those doubts melted off.
And here I am...half way across the bridge and the sun is rising in front of me, spraying it's golden rays of possibility to the path ahead, filling me full of hope and excitement for the future. Who knows where my path my lead, but there's one thing I know for sure, whatever twists and turns and other rivers it crosses there's no going backwards. Just forwards. And these moments spent upon this wooden bridge...they are moments when the past and the future collide. When I get to look back and smile, remembering all the people and experiences that have led me here, and to be thankful for every single one of them.
Life is full of little blessings. Next week I'll be stepping off this bridge into new uncharted lands, but I'll still be me, and my path will still wind on and forward as it always has. And I'm a little afraid and excited as I watch the man I share my "now" with arranging his clothes in my newly cleared out closet surrounded by the years of memories wising up into the air from the objects they're attached to now scattered across the living room floor waiting for their new homes in storage or the donation bin or to be tucked away into another corner of ...
Monday, January 6, 2014
Repetition
We are creatures of habit. This is a well known fact. We are also completely obsessed with "different," which is quite a contradiction if you really think about it. Seriously, think about it. We want to look different, to act different, to be different, to have a different lifestyle, to have a different level of income, a different job, a different family, a different life...you disagree? Well what if for a moment we replace "different" with "better," agree with me yet?
I've often thought about (and I'm pretty sure I've written about) the overall culture of dissatisfaction I feel we live in, where we are trapped in this never ending cycle to discredit all that is good in our lives by focusing on the "bad" or the things we wish were... "different." The endless quest to "start over" and "wipe the slate clean" to self improve and obsess over the things in our lives that we feel dissatisfied about, often forgetting all that we do have to be thankful for. This culture which I am completely and irretrievably guilty of constantly buying into or being sucked back into as I believe many of my fellow peers are. Which brings me to my next point...as much as we crave change...we are also slaves to our patterns. So instead of buck this system which will always find a way to prevail...and instead of saying "I refuse to put down or make resolutions this new year because I never follow through" I will unarguably concede to the pattern at hand and dedicate yet another entry in this poorly kept blog to nothing other than my favorite subject.
THINGS I WISH TO IMPROVE ON THIS YEAR ..aka my 2014 new years resolutions.
1. Have an unexpected adventure at least once a week.
- Do something different, out of routine, something fun. Spontaneity is--after all--the spice of life.
2. See a friend I haven't seen in ages at least once a month.
- Reconnect with people who life just wouldn't have been the same without back in the day...because why should life be lived without them now?
3. Work less, live more.
- A job is a means to an end, it pays the bills but it does not nourish the soul. Our time is limited, and worth more than $$. No working 7 days a week allowed this year. No more excuses, no more "...well...once I finish this week." (Even though I said that last week...lol)
4. Get those creative juices flowing.
- I call myself an artist...yet I do no art. Dance, write, act, get lost in the craft store. Take classes and get books, create something beautiful. Re-awaken that passion, get excited again!
5. Go outside EVERY day.
- Sounds simple right? Time to take more hikes, go camping, buy a bike...or simply take a stroll down the street. Anything to get out of the apt (and the drive too and from work does not count).
6. Be vain.
- Take a little extra time in the morning, put together an outfit, fix your hair, use those accessories because god knows I've got a ton of them. Youth is fleeting and before long it'll be gone. As it is I'm living on borrowed time.
7. Spread love.
- Don't let this city get to you. Wipe that jadedness from your shoulders and polish that smile. Say hello to people, let your energy find theirs and brighten everyone's day. Joy is created and sharing it just helps it to grow within yourself and the world around you.
8. Read more.
- Books...remember them? You used to loooove them. So what happened?
9. Hording Prevention Plan or HPP
- Yes, we all can guess what this one's about. It's time to seriously let go of some things in my apartment that I've had for far too long. Less clutter = freed up life (or at least that's what I keep telling myself)
10. GET STARTED!
- Procrastination and laziness are my biggest enemies...and I always let them win. Why? Get up and do something! You're happier when you are productive yet you let yourself lay around and do nothing all too often. There's nothing wrong with a day of rest...but not when it turns into a vicious cycle of a day...a week...a month....a year...a lifetime??
So there you have it. My "goals" for this year. The things I GET to do, and hell...I don't know about you but most those things sound pretty awesome to me, who wouldn't want to have resolutions like this?
Monday, July 22, 2013
Excuses
I live an existence full of excuses. That is my life. I've created it that way, and have lived it that way for as long as I have been in charge of it. There's an excuse for everything, for why I work so much, for why my apartment is a constant mess, for why I am not making progress in my career, and a lot of times I create an escape. I focus on something to distract me from facing myself and really taking myself on.
And if I've learned anything...it's that we all must take ourselves on sooner or later.
We are the creators of everything, and everything is perfect. Especially when what we've created is the perfect opportunity for us to stop and really look at what reality we're living in...and I that time for me is now.
I am not happy, and that is all my own doing. I have not truly been happy for quite some time. This realization today...and this admittance of my true state of being hurts, even though I know I've known it for a while. It forces me to really look inside and see why I'm playing this game of avoidance that I've become all too good at, for after all, we're always winning the game we're playing. So this here plain and simple is the game I've been playing.
I avoid success and failure at the same time, unsure of which scares me more. I avoid really putting myself out there in the career I've chosen by being a workaholic at a job that is supposed to afford me the time and flexibility to pursue said career. I justify it by living in a conversation of scarcity, one that no longer rings true yet that I've held onto so tightly for so long it's hard to let go of. Plus, it serves it's purpose in this mad downward spiral called my adult life. Being a workaholic gives me excuse to be lazy and to live is a space of constant disarray due to my "lack of time" or constant "tiredness" from working so much...and going out to drinks post work to blow off the steam and stress created from work doesn't help this either. And if that was not enough, when I do have free time I no longer use it in a productive way such as taking class or shooting, rather I spend it further avoiding the root of the problem by wasting it watching shows on the internet and when I had someone to give my time to...I gave him all of it. It was easier to distract me from my life than to actually live it, to do what I ultimately always knew I'd have to, to take myself and my life on.
And man, am I ever good at that game.
I truly believe we are the creators of everything that shows up in our lives, and whether we want to admit it or not the universe eventually hands us what we need; what it is we're truly authentically asking for and it's rarely pretty. Clearly what I've been asking for is a mirror. A mirror that cuts through all my bullshit, cuts through all my excuses, all my weak alibis that even I knew were weak, one which I can no longer avoid, for avoidance would only perpetuate the pattern.
None of what I'm telling you is news to me, so why am I sitting here telling you what I already knew? Well the first step in any recovery is always admittance. Admitting you have a problem, ending the denial that the ego has tried to cling onto for too long, and the first step to achieving a goal is declaration. So I guess in a way this is my first step on the road of recovery (or just another on a very long pathway if you've read any of my older posts, you decide). My goal being getting my life on track...actually living the life I say I want instead of making excuses and just saying I want it. I get to create it, not wish it into creation. I have spent too long not being the vibrant person I was put on this planet to be, I've spent too long avoiding and making excuses. It never feels good to hear what you don't want to hear...to realize that someone can see right through you and pinpoint the weaknesses you yourself were trying to pretend weren't there. But at the same time, I guess in a way I was just waiting for someone to be brave enough to hold up that mirror and make me look at it. To really see what I already knew, to not allow me continue my game of avoidance, so thank you for that.
Faith. It's knowing the universe never makes a mistake. It's giving me exactly what it is I've been asking for, and I can no longer pretend I couldn't see.
And if I've learned anything...it's that we all must take ourselves on sooner or later.
We are the creators of everything, and everything is perfect. Especially when what we've created is the perfect opportunity for us to stop and really look at what reality we're living in...and I that time for me is now.
I am not happy, and that is all my own doing. I have not truly been happy for quite some time. This realization today...and this admittance of my true state of being hurts, even though I know I've known it for a while. It forces me to really look inside and see why I'm playing this game of avoidance that I've become all too good at, for after all, we're always winning the game we're playing. So this here plain and simple is the game I've been playing.
I avoid success and failure at the same time, unsure of which scares me more. I avoid really putting myself out there in the career I've chosen by being a workaholic at a job that is supposed to afford me the time and flexibility to pursue said career. I justify it by living in a conversation of scarcity, one that no longer rings true yet that I've held onto so tightly for so long it's hard to let go of. Plus, it serves it's purpose in this mad downward spiral called my adult life. Being a workaholic gives me excuse to be lazy and to live is a space of constant disarray due to my "lack of time" or constant "tiredness" from working so much...and going out to drinks post work to blow off the steam and stress created from work doesn't help this either. And if that was not enough, when I do have free time I no longer use it in a productive way such as taking class or shooting, rather I spend it further avoiding the root of the problem by wasting it watching shows on the internet and when I had someone to give my time to...I gave him all of it. It was easier to distract me from my life than to actually live it, to do what I ultimately always knew I'd have to, to take myself and my life on.
And man, am I ever good at that game.
I truly believe we are the creators of everything that shows up in our lives, and whether we want to admit it or not the universe eventually hands us what we need; what it is we're truly authentically asking for and it's rarely pretty. Clearly what I've been asking for is a mirror. A mirror that cuts through all my bullshit, cuts through all my excuses, all my weak alibis that even I knew were weak, one which I can no longer avoid, for avoidance would only perpetuate the pattern.
None of what I'm telling you is news to me, so why am I sitting here telling you what I already knew? Well the first step in any recovery is always admittance. Admitting you have a problem, ending the denial that the ego has tried to cling onto for too long, and the first step to achieving a goal is declaration. So I guess in a way this is my first step on the road of recovery (or just another on a very long pathway if you've read any of my older posts, you decide). My goal being getting my life on track...actually living the life I say I want instead of making excuses and just saying I want it. I get to create it, not wish it into creation. I have spent too long not being the vibrant person I was put on this planet to be, I've spent too long avoiding and making excuses. It never feels good to hear what you don't want to hear...to realize that someone can see right through you and pinpoint the weaknesses you yourself were trying to pretend weren't there. But at the same time, I guess in a way I was just waiting for someone to be brave enough to hold up that mirror and make me look at it. To really see what I already knew, to not allow me continue my game of avoidance, so thank you for that.
Faith. It's knowing the universe never makes a mistake. It's giving me exactly what it is I've been asking for, and I can no longer pretend I couldn't see.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Where does the time go?
A new year, a new start, a new chance to make this one count.
It seems at the start of every year people are looking for ways in which to push forward. They make all these promises to themselves and resolutions which by the end of the year are all but forgotten.
I woke up this morning in a funk. I thought sitting here in front of the keyboard would help pull my thoughts together and pull me out but I'm finding it hard to even put my sentences in order. There's no particular reason for this dismal feeling as there usually isn't but it bothers me because I went to sleep last night thinking of all the many productive ways I'd start my day today only to be woken up by my alarm with the realization that I'm unsatisfied and unmotivated to start my day, my week. With that I rolled back over and snoozed for over an hour finally dragging myself out of bed and to this computer screen where now I sit my mind void of insight or clever prose.
I should make myself breakfast, I should clean the kitchen, I should re-activate my gym membership I put on hold months ago and go like I planned, I should turn on my music and continue with the purge that has left my room a mess and half my closet contents on the floor, I should take a walk, I should sit outside and write, I should prep for my audition tomorrow, I should get ready for class today...there is so much I could be and should be doing, all things that I know I wanted to do before I shut my eyes just a few hours ago. Funny how a nights sleep can make us wake refreshed and alive ready to tackle the world or leave us broken and empty. What on earth did I dream about? What caused this turning tide, this emotional disruption? And more than that...if happiness comes from within as I know it does...what is it inside of me that is wanting me to not access the joy and excitement that I know exists?
Perhaps focusing on a different topic is the key to my success...
It's two weeks into 2013, and they have been wonderful weeks so far. 2012 came to a close with the holidays at home with family and the New Year brought in surrounded by snow and far away from the city lights and work for once. The first week also brought my first shoot of the year with MTV Pulse Europe and my first commercial audition for Microsoft, later to be followed by my first on avail. It also brought the beginning of Killian's workshop which I finally after two years of talking about it signed up for and am attending, the first two classes so far being completely amazing and making me itch for the chance to put it into action. All in all, not a bad way to begin the year. I also told myself that this is the year I stop and smell the roses, that I take the time to have "me time," that I budget even more and work less, that I remember to live and not let the days slip by so quickly. The year I stop beating myself up for things I "should have done" and instead accept where I am at all times as perfect and turn those "should's" into "get to's" and "done's." The second week however was my downfall. It quickly brought back the stressing about money after being left off the schedule at one of my jobs and the realization of how much I just spent on my trips and taking off so much work. So I picked up shifts, and made the conscious decision to skip class both buying myself time to make money...as well as put off doing the work I know I had already put off all break. It solved two problems...feeling guilty that I was not prepared to come back to class as well as the workaholic's guilt for taking off so much time and spending so much money. But it did much more than that too...once again I had put "job" in front of "passion" subconsciously telling myself that my career and my worth as an artist was less than the $100 a night I could hope to get at the restaurant.
So now week 3 begins and I have a choice on how it begins. My subconscious is already betting against me so early on, the fear of failure is what it's used to living in...fear is what it's giving into...my ego wants me to be right once again, because it's easy to do. It's easy to live in fear. It's easy to give up, to not succeed and then say "see? I wasn't going to succeed anyways" but if last year taught me nothing it's that easy does not accomplish your dreams. Uncomfortable does. Pushing your boundaries and taking the leap...breaking through the box that is your comfort zone and living your life coming from LOVE regardless of the perceived costs and risks. If you do not live fully then you do not live at all. You cannot live in fear of failure or you have already failed. So despite my mood, despite my desire to crawl back into bed an let the day pass me up, despite the creeping frustration that my day is now beginning two and a half hours after it "should" have, I am ready to close my eyes and just breathe. Calming those voices and accepting that I am exactly where I need to be, exactly where I get to be...that where I am in my day, in my life, in my mind is absolutely perfect and accepting that my ego will fight against me but only because it is scared.
It's time to turn those "should's" onto "get to's"...it's time for my week to begin.
It seems at the start of every year people are looking for ways in which to push forward. They make all these promises to themselves and resolutions which by the end of the year are all but forgotten.
I woke up this morning in a funk. I thought sitting here in front of the keyboard would help pull my thoughts together and pull me out but I'm finding it hard to even put my sentences in order. There's no particular reason for this dismal feeling as there usually isn't but it bothers me because I went to sleep last night thinking of all the many productive ways I'd start my day today only to be woken up by my alarm with the realization that I'm unsatisfied and unmotivated to start my day, my week. With that I rolled back over and snoozed for over an hour finally dragging myself out of bed and to this computer screen where now I sit my mind void of insight or clever prose.
I should make myself breakfast, I should clean the kitchen, I should re-activate my gym membership I put on hold months ago and go like I planned, I should turn on my music and continue with the purge that has left my room a mess and half my closet contents on the floor, I should take a walk, I should sit outside and write, I should prep for my audition tomorrow, I should get ready for class today...there is so much I could be and should be doing, all things that I know I wanted to do before I shut my eyes just a few hours ago. Funny how a nights sleep can make us wake refreshed and alive ready to tackle the world or leave us broken and empty. What on earth did I dream about? What caused this turning tide, this emotional disruption? And more than that...if happiness comes from within as I know it does...what is it inside of me that is wanting me to not access the joy and excitement that I know exists?
Perhaps focusing on a different topic is the key to my success...
It's two weeks into 2013, and they have been wonderful weeks so far. 2012 came to a close with the holidays at home with family and the New Year brought in surrounded by snow and far away from the city lights and work for once. The first week also brought my first shoot of the year with MTV Pulse Europe and my first commercial audition for Microsoft, later to be followed by my first on avail. It also brought the beginning of Killian's workshop which I finally after two years of talking about it signed up for and am attending, the first two classes so far being completely amazing and making me itch for the chance to put it into action. All in all, not a bad way to begin the year. I also told myself that this is the year I stop and smell the roses, that I take the time to have "me time," that I budget even more and work less, that I remember to live and not let the days slip by so quickly. The year I stop beating myself up for things I "should have done" and instead accept where I am at all times as perfect and turn those "should's" into "get to's" and "done's." The second week however was my downfall. It quickly brought back the stressing about money after being left off the schedule at one of my jobs and the realization of how much I just spent on my trips and taking off so much work. So I picked up shifts, and made the conscious decision to skip class both buying myself time to make money...as well as put off doing the work I know I had already put off all break. It solved two problems...feeling guilty that I was not prepared to come back to class as well as the workaholic's guilt for taking off so much time and spending so much money. But it did much more than that too...once again I had put "job" in front of "passion" subconsciously telling myself that my career and my worth as an artist was less than the $100 a night I could hope to get at the restaurant.
So now week 3 begins and I have a choice on how it begins. My subconscious is already betting against me so early on, the fear of failure is what it's used to living in...fear is what it's giving into...my ego wants me to be right once again, because it's easy to do. It's easy to live in fear. It's easy to give up, to not succeed and then say "see? I wasn't going to succeed anyways" but if last year taught me nothing it's that easy does not accomplish your dreams. Uncomfortable does. Pushing your boundaries and taking the leap...breaking through the box that is your comfort zone and living your life coming from LOVE regardless of the perceived costs and risks. If you do not live fully then you do not live at all. You cannot live in fear of failure or you have already failed. So despite my mood, despite my desire to crawl back into bed an let the day pass me up, despite the creeping frustration that my day is now beginning two and a half hours after it "should" have, I am ready to close my eyes and just breathe. Calming those voices and accepting that I am exactly where I need to be, exactly where I get to be...that where I am in my day, in my life, in my mind is absolutely perfect and accepting that my ego will fight against me but only because it is scared.
It's time to turn those "should's" onto "get to's"...it's time for my week to begin.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Time to stop counting...and make it count!
BE the person in your vision. What would she be doing right now? How would she fill her time? Who would she be every morning when she woke, every night before she closed her eyes, and every moment in between?
Tomorrow I meet with SBV Talent, a commercial agency, to see if they would be a good fit for me and me for them. I also work a double...and get to figure out how to make my Friday work schedule conflicts work out. Saturday day I am meeting with my classmates to discuss the Seven Habits of Highly Successful People, the first book on the Playhouse West reading list, and Sunday some of us are going to get together and go for a hike and appreciate the cooler weather and each other's company. And somewhere in between I get to journal about my scene for class and begin writing my newly simplified and totally plausible idea for my much talked about web series I get to create. Then it's Monday and errands, and another amazing week begins, and I'll treat each day as the gift it truly is.
I cannot count the number of "new starts" I've attempted over the last four years, not to mention the last 10...or even 20. I've lived my life obsessed with starting over, starting new, being someone better, bigger...yet every time I start again and swear it's "it" I fall back into the routine of lazy comfortabiliy, no matter how uncomfortable it may truly be. Six months later I realize the little I've progressed and am pushed back into the rut and the routine of yet another "fresh beginning." Maybe my failure is not my inability to stick to my intentions as much as what focus those intentions were made on. Wanting to "start over" implies that I'm unhappy or unsatisfied with where I am presently, to "recreate" oneself or ones life means the person or life I'm living is not good enough and needs change.
And that's just not true.
I am wonderful the way I am...and that's where I must begin. I have to realize that my life is great, and to really appreciate who I am and where my life is. I'm exactly who and where I need to be, a perfect place to start. There's nothing wrong with wanting to elevate the level of one's circumstances...but how much more can we achieve if we realize how far we've already become. Starting over then becomes continuing at an increased rate...and instead of discrediting the last 28 years of journey I've been on and the person I have grown to be I'm simply building on an already tall building. How much better does that sound? How much more empowering and exciting is it to add another floor to two or twelve to a structure that already has ten floors? When building a skyscraper would you rather acknowledge an already sound foundation and base and just add on...or completely demolish what was already built and start from the ground up?
We live in a society where we value the new, the blank slate, the empty lot. We level gorgeous structures to make way for new, but yet what if we instead found ways to simply make what has come before even greater by adding on? Like adding a second floor to a home, or a new wing in an already incredible mansion. Sure the alure of total artistic freedom to build something completely new from the ground up is great...for an architect or a painter. But as much as we are the artists of our lives...our lives aren't rewritten, they can never be so why should we be unsatisfied and want to wipe away the history?
Of course I am not where I hope to end up. I'm no where near the end of my journey and I don't plan on simply sitting back and watching it go by...but I also don't want to start new, start fresh, I am done "restarting" and then being down on myself when six months later I feel I'm no further than I was. That's ridiculous, of course I am...and I know I can go further. I get to create this adventure, I get to write it, so why not write it from the future? Be the future me, do whatever it takes to make my amazing life come to life.
So tonight I decide. I decide to believe in myself again. I decide to praise myself, to acknowledge the strides I've made, and to get excited about the journey to come. Tonight I decide to take the steps, any steps necessary to be the inspired woman I see when I close my eyes and think of accomplishing my dreams. Tonight I rediscover my love of what I do...the passion behind being an artist...I chose to become obsessed in it, with it, by it. I choose to sit down and think smaller. To let go of how I think it should look, to stop expecting perfection and just go for it. I choose to make mistakes, I choose to live fully, to live passionately, to be wrong, to not shy away from my talents and faults. To not care what others may think or say...to not care about what I think...and most of all...to accept myself without judgement, and I challenge you to do the same. What greatness could we all achieve if we lived so freely?
Tomorrow I meet with SBV Talent, a commercial agency, to see if they would be a good fit for me and me for them. I also work a double...and get to figure out how to make my Friday work schedule conflicts work out. Saturday day I am meeting with my classmates to discuss the Seven Habits of Highly Successful People, the first book on the Playhouse West reading list, and Sunday some of us are going to get together and go for a hike and appreciate the cooler weather and each other's company. And somewhere in between I get to journal about my scene for class and begin writing my newly simplified and totally plausible idea for my much talked about web series I get to create. Then it's Monday and errands, and another amazing week begins, and I'll treat each day as the gift it truly is.
2012 is coming to a close, and my life is just opening up further.
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