Kris said this to me the other day after reading my last post " you know, the universe is you, therefore you are the one sabotaging yourself.” What?!!?! Man did that make me annoyed, I mean the one person who is supposed to be on my side totally throws it in my face like that? He is the one always saying we’re Team Payne. Well, some teammate I got, not really looking out for me if I do say so myself. But even in my fury at my Benedict Arnold “teammate” I knew the truth. He was right. We make our own destiny. But it makes me feel better to blame the universe for the course my destiny has taken, or not taken b/c otherwise I am stuck facing the sad reality that I have somehow chosen this path my life is on. And that is extremely depressing.
After my loving husband’s thoughtful insight and after a hysterical, crying, why-me fit on the front sidewalk of our apartment I went inside that night full of thought.
I had watched Michael J Fox’s “An Incurable Optimist” that night, putting the whole walk of shame home from the mechanic behind me. However, as I watched the show a nagging feeling started to creep through me. I listened to person after person talk about keeping hopeful and feeling happy through hardship. How optimism is simply a way of life for some people no matter what cards are dealt. Wasn’t I like that too? I certainly thought so. I have always considered myself a keep-moving type of gal, a glass half-full girl. I may have a melt down or two but I pick myself up and keep on trucking. But as I sat there on the couch some flashbacks started whizzing through my brain.
For example, I took an optimism test a couple weeks ago and as I read the result proudly –“ you always look at the bright side of life” Kris said “I don’t think you answered some of those questions honestly, you want to think of yourself that way but you are not.” At the time I suggested to him that he didn’t really know me but deep down I knew he was right. Or times I have said I hate being around so and so because they are always so negative – really knowing that I am not all that different and I am certain some of my friends are probably tired of me bitching. Or when I make up random reasons for why I will not get picked for the part – “I am too tall and the men out here are too short” is an often used one.
I have come to the realization and I hate to admit this most of all, is that my husband is right. I am a self-saboteur. I am really not an optimist in the slightest when it comes to my life. I am like a cutter for Christ-sakes, slashing the razor through the skin of my destiny.
Hello, my name is Kate and I am a pessimist. There I said it, another flash of honesty for me. Another embarrassing admission. Damn.
...Though you know, as I sit here thinking, maybe I am not entirely pessimistic, I mean after all I have been trying to force myself into thinking I am a positive person and that has to count for something, right? Pretending to be an optimist is an optimistic way of trying to change your pessimistic attitude. I am simply a well-intentioned pessimist trying to make the best out of life!
See, I am already trying to change my evil ways!
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Damn you Michael J. Fox
As I was walking home this morning, gym bag in hand, hot California sun beating down on me, I felt myself sink lower and lower into a dark oblivion. You see this is now the 3rd day I am without wheels in this shit city with no convenient source of public transportation. How did I get here? Well, lets take it back all the way to last Friday shall we?
I was driving home from work, heard my car pop and looked back to see its water had broken all over the road. I pulled over, called AAA and took a trip to the mechanic like the pro I have become at this sport. Come Monday; my mechanic called to say they are waiting for a hose to replace the one that exploded and trying to figure out why the fans don’t work. Come Tuesday; my mechanic calls and says my car is fixed and it will cost $189.00 (breathe a sigh of relief, not too bad). Then my mechanic asks me if I have any enemies or if someone hates me. Excuse me?!?! Apparently a part that I cannot remember was removed from my car and all the wires undone and tucked neatly behind the headlights rendering the fans useless and leading to an overheating car. Huh. “Well, I can’t think of anyone so I will be by in the morning to get my car.”
I get up early with a pep in my step bc today is the day I re-enter the world, a new start to this shit week. Kris drops me off on the way to work, he asks me if he should wait and I say no, you’ll be late. Words I will regret 10 minutes later when they pulled my car around only to discover another leak. Apparently my saboteur had caused my car to overheat so much that another part was damaged. Cut to me walking home in the hot California sun.
As I walked, sweat-stache forming over my lip, I just got more and more depressed. And once the depression balls starts rolling there is no stopping it. Throw in my lack of money, frustrating career, my hip that has been hurting, you name it and I will run with it. Another day stuck at home. It is not like I have so much going on in my life but it is depressing sitting at home, alone, with nothing to look forward to except lunch.
I began to think of my enemies and who would do this to me and I realized I know who it is – it’s the universe. The fucking universe that I try so hard to please and follow its path that it is supposedly leading me on but instead constantly pulls crap like this. I try so hard to be positive and keep my head up, keep going and working on what I want and the universe keeps pulling the rug out from under me and every time it does that, I pick myself up (sure after a few tears) and keep on trucking. But that is not enough, it is not good enough for this mean-spirited universe. It constantly leaves me confused as to which direction I should be headed.
Once I got home I sat on the couch and resolved to stay there all day and mope. That is until a commercial for an upcoming special Michael J. Fox is doing called “Adventures of an Incurable Optimist.” Are you fucking kidding me universe!!! I watched as a man with Parkinson’s traveled the globe to find out what made people optimistic in times of crisis. He interviews the Bhutanese, a cancer survivor (Lance Armstrong), a man with 2 jobs barely getting by trying to make others happy and others who talk about staying positive and enduring. Now, not only is the world is pitted against me but I can’t even wallow in it. Thanks to Michael J. Fox I am now forced to remember all I do have in my life instead of what I don’t have. Argh! I can hear the universe laughing hysterically.
I was driving home from work, heard my car pop and looked back to see its water had broken all over the road. I pulled over, called AAA and took a trip to the mechanic like the pro I have become at this sport. Come Monday; my mechanic called to say they are waiting for a hose to replace the one that exploded and trying to figure out why the fans don’t work. Come Tuesday; my mechanic calls and says my car is fixed and it will cost $189.00 (breathe a sigh of relief, not too bad). Then my mechanic asks me if I have any enemies or if someone hates me. Excuse me?!?! Apparently a part that I cannot remember was removed from my car and all the wires undone and tucked neatly behind the headlights rendering the fans useless and leading to an overheating car. Huh. “Well, I can’t think of anyone so I will be by in the morning to get my car.”
I get up early with a pep in my step bc today is the day I re-enter the world, a new start to this shit week. Kris drops me off on the way to work, he asks me if he should wait and I say no, you’ll be late. Words I will regret 10 minutes later when they pulled my car around only to discover another leak. Apparently my saboteur had caused my car to overheat so much that another part was damaged. Cut to me walking home in the hot California sun.
As I walked, sweat-stache forming over my lip, I just got more and more depressed. And once the depression balls starts rolling there is no stopping it. Throw in my lack of money, frustrating career, my hip that has been hurting, you name it and I will run with it. Another day stuck at home. It is not like I have so much going on in my life but it is depressing sitting at home, alone, with nothing to look forward to except lunch.
I began to think of my enemies and who would do this to me and I realized I know who it is – it’s the universe. The fucking universe that I try so hard to please and follow its path that it is supposedly leading me on but instead constantly pulls crap like this. I try so hard to be positive and keep my head up, keep going and working on what I want and the universe keeps pulling the rug out from under me and every time it does that, I pick myself up (sure after a few tears) and keep on trucking. But that is not enough, it is not good enough for this mean-spirited universe. It constantly leaves me confused as to which direction I should be headed.
Once I got home I sat on the couch and resolved to stay there all day and mope. That is until a commercial for an upcoming special Michael J. Fox is doing called “Adventures of an Incurable Optimist.” Are you fucking kidding me universe!!! I watched as a man with Parkinson’s traveled the globe to find out what made people optimistic in times of crisis. He interviews the Bhutanese, a cancer survivor (Lance Armstrong), a man with 2 jobs barely getting by trying to make others happy and others who talk about staying positive and enduring. Now, not only is the world is pitted against me but I can’t even wallow in it. Thanks to Michael J. Fox I am now forced to remember all I do have in my life instead of what I don’t have. Argh! I can hear the universe laughing hysterically.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
The Truth Did Not Set Me Free
I have not been able to relax since I posted my first blog and now the whole world knows I am in my 30's. Because I am sure the whole world is reading my blog. I meant it when I said I lied all the time. I lied so much that I would literally forget how old I actually was and now that it is out there, I am anxiety ridden over with whom I should share this bit of honesty. Everyone will know I lied and then I will be thought of a psycho…just great.
These have been my thoughts – “I can’t send this to person A because they will realize I am not 29 and do I really want them to know that?” OR “I can’t ask person B to follow my blog b/c I just told them the other day I was 27 and I will look crazy in the head” AS WELL AS “Crap, if this person finds out I am not 26 they will not think of me for certain roles and my (non-existent) career will be over.”
Now I am sure most of you clear-headed people will ask aloud what is the big deal with being in your 30's and to be honest nothing really. I know it is entirely a mental issue, but I have mental problems so there you go. It is just hard to admit I am this age and grasping at straws.
I wasn’t always like this. Really, I wasn’t. I was a girl who dreamt it and then lived it. I wanted to date a boy; I dated him. I wanted to be a hippie so I shopped at Salvation Army and rolled resin balls. I wanted a certain job; I got it. I wanted to travel the world, so I did (well, a small part of it). I even went to a country that I had no fucking idea even existed. It was lovely. But I had a bigger dream, a life-long dream so I packed up and took the drive thru Kansas for the 2nd time. I came to Hollywood and that’s when my troubles began. Now I cannot claim to have been this self-assured girl who thought she was just the cat’s meow, quite the contrary actually. But what I lacked in mental assuredness I made up for in free spirit and a sense of care-freeness that seems to have gone out the window once I hit 30.
These have been my thoughts – “I can’t send this to person A because they will realize I am not 29 and do I really want them to know that?” OR “I can’t ask person B to follow my blog b/c I just told them the other day I was 27 and I will look crazy in the head” AS WELL AS “Crap, if this person finds out I am not 26 they will not think of me for certain roles and my (non-existent) career will be over.”
Now I am sure most of you clear-headed people will ask aloud what is the big deal with being in your 30's and to be honest nothing really. I know it is entirely a mental issue, but I have mental problems so there you go. It is just hard to admit I am this age and grasping at straws.
I wasn’t always like this. Really, I wasn’t. I was a girl who dreamt it and then lived it. I wanted to date a boy; I dated him. I wanted to be a hippie so I shopped at Salvation Army and rolled resin balls. I wanted a certain job; I got it. I wanted to travel the world, so I did (well, a small part of it). I even went to a country that I had no fucking idea even existed. It was lovely. But I had a bigger dream, a life-long dream so I packed up and took the drive thru Kansas for the 2nd time. I came to Hollywood and that’s when my troubles began. Now I cannot claim to have been this self-assured girl who thought she was just the cat’s meow, quite the contrary actually. But what I lacked in mental assuredness I made up for in free spirit and a sense of care-freeness that seems to have gone out the window once I hit 30.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Lies upon lies upon lies
I have a life that I envisioned for myself and I have to say that I am nowhere near living it. Where did I go wrong? What happened to me? I was so sure of where I would be by this age. the dreaded 30's, ARGH. So horrible I can barely write it (but I did so there) I mean I lie most days how old I am. I am an actress for Christ-sakes and I live I in LA – so sue me. What do you expect, nothing less I hope.
Though I can now see where I went wrong, where my life took a turn for the worse. It all started with that lie. My age. I mean I have been lying about my age since I was 25. At 25 I would say 24, only a year back but it was a crucial year. The year between early twenties and mid-twenties, b/c lets be honest you have one good year of mid-twenties and then you are into late twenties and then the dreaded thirty. And I am past that! Again, ARGH!.
I must have had some foresight that I would be living a life of nowhere. Knowing in my 30's I would be nowhere and people would think I am pathetic. I mean I am really just saving them the awkwardness of having to say, ooh, well at least you are following your dream. Am I? I don’t recall my dream being an unemployed actor who barely books any acting job never mind one that pays. I don’t recall my dream-self always frantic about how I am going to pay my bills. I for sure didn't play Motezuma's Revenge on my phone for hours a day. The highlight of my day wasn’t reading gawker.com. I didn’t dream of me dreaming about the life I was meant to live!
My dream was chock full of artistic fulfillment, a great apartment in the city, great friends and a map covered with pins of all the places I traveled. A closet full of killer clothes. I was a style icon!
Fuck, I just stopped writing to play Montezuma's Revenge, it is a good game. Damn. Try it, you’ll see. No wait don’t then you will end up like me and that is just not what you want. I don’t want that responsibility.
Though I can now see where I went wrong, where my life took a turn for the worse. It all started with that lie. My age. I mean I have been lying about my age since I was 25. At 25 I would say 24, only a year back but it was a crucial year. The year between early twenties and mid-twenties, b/c lets be honest you have one good year of mid-twenties and then you are into late twenties and then the dreaded thirty. And I am past that! Again, ARGH!.
I must have had some foresight that I would be living a life of nowhere. Knowing in my 30's I would be nowhere and people would think I am pathetic. I mean I am really just saving them the awkwardness of having to say, ooh, well at least you are following your dream. Am I? I don’t recall my dream being an unemployed actor who barely books any acting job never mind one that pays. I don’t recall my dream-self always frantic about how I am going to pay my bills. I for sure didn't play Motezuma's Revenge on my phone for hours a day. The highlight of my day wasn’t reading gawker.com. I didn’t dream of me dreaming about the life I was meant to live!
My dream was chock full of artistic fulfillment, a great apartment in the city, great friends and a map covered with pins of all the places I traveled. A closet full of killer clothes. I was a style icon!
Fuck, I just stopped writing to play Montezuma's Revenge, it is a good game. Damn. Try it, you’ll see. No wait don’t then you will end up like me and that is just not what you want. I don’t want that responsibility.
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