Meeting Up

“Meet yourself where you are.” 

Have you heard that phrase before?  Until recently, I never had, so it’s a concept I enjoy wrapping my brain around.  I have this image of walking down the street, seeing myself at a corner, and going up to myself and linking arms.  Sometimes the corner is a café, and sometimes the arm link is a hug.  Other times the corner is the edge of a cliff and the hug is a shove.  It’s never the same image, but it always makes me smile (even when I am pushing myself off a cliff).

It’s not an easy thing to do, this meeting self where self is, especially for someone like me who has really specific goals and high expectations for self.  Why can’t “I” meet “ME” where “I” AM?  Does that make any sense?  Of course not.

One major internal struggle I have is whether or not I will do any acting again.  Now, I know that I cannot actually answer this question, and I don’t really HAVE to because it is an art and I believe it is always available to me.  (Hollywood producers that think women over 35 are “old” will disagree with me, but they are lame and I wouldn’t want to work with them now, or over 35.  So there).

But being that I moved out to LA to pursue a career in Acting, the fact that I am NOT doing that, despite finding a career that fills me up with joy and feels RIGHT, it does feel like a failure.  But like that saying, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder” couldn’t failure also be in the eye of the beholder?  Just because someone may look at my path and say, “Oh man, Kate has totally failed as an actor” if I do not feel that way, does it mean I failed?  If a tree falls in the woods….What is the sound of one hand clapping?  (Another awesome image!)

So, in times of  feeling like a “failure,” I ask myself this question: Do I want to succeed at making sure other people think I am a success, or do I want to actually succeed?  The answer is obvious, but until I can remind myself of the difference, I actually get caught up in the feelings of failure.

I am not a religious person, but I do believe that things happen for a reason.  Moving to LA was not something we would have EVER done if the right situation hadn’t come up.  And if you asked me 1 year ago if that particular situation was “the right one” I would have told you without hesitation “NO.”  I might have even told you, in a moment of extreme drama, that those circumstances ruined my life.  But that would have been a lie, and the reality is that those circumstances led me to where I am today.  And today I am on a path to something I NEVER would have found back in Chicago.  I miss home SO MUCH.  I can see our lovely little Andersonville apartment in my mind and hear the hum of the radiator and my eyes fill up with tears because I miss it so much- even 1.5 years later!

BUT, if I am doing the hard work of “meeting myself where I am,” I am embracing that self, and letting her cry when she misses Chicago.  I am giving her space when she wants to rage against the frustration of not knowing where the path is going and why.  And, most of all, I am not EVER judging her when she changes her mind- about anything- because that is her prerogative.

And it’s yours too.

So make a plan to meet your “self” at a cozy cafe and hug it all out.  Everything feels better after a good hug, right?  Right.

Where I was

Where I am now


August 28, 2011. Tags: , , , , . Hollywood, Home, LA. 2 comments.

List #3

I’ve been a bad, bad blogger.

I returned from Chicago and was inundated with work stuff and it just couldn’t put blogging onto the list of things to do. There was a flood at my building and I was taking great responsibility for it until I realized, “wait, I didn’t cause this…and I can’t go back in time and make it NOT happen….so, there is no need to lose sleep…” That was a revelation for me, and a good one at that.

I also picked up an odd job serving at a private party in Beverly Hills, which was fun. Seeing how “the other half lives” is always interesting. The family has a little boy and I began to feel a little sad for him when I realized he might have come into this world because his parents didn’t have a good enough reason NOT to have him, and not because they really wanted him. I also found that my Doula side over takes me at the most inopportune times. A guest at this fancy party had a new baby and I couldn’t help but strike up a conversation with her and almost forgot that I was not a guest, but merely the “help.” She didn’t treat me that way. In fact, she seemed happy to get a chance to talk ” baby” with someone who seemed genuinely interested. The experience showed me that I am truly meant to work with women because it’s where I am drawn and where I am most myself.

And here is this week’s list (in the nick of time!):


June 27, 2011. 52 lists, 52 weeks, Hollywood, Uncategorized. 1 comment.

Babysitting Adults

As the building manager for the apartment building we live in, I get a lot of crazy calls.

It started my second day on the job when a guy we dubbed “First Things First” called and said the phrase “first things first” about 6 times in a one minute message he left. “Hi Kate, it’s _______. First things first, the pool water is really low. So, yeah, first things first- fill the pool.”

Then there came “Bird Man” who called at least once a week to scream about a guy in our building who is “blowing that damn bird whistle.” In reality, a tenant of mine has a bird who whistles. I think it’s kind of nice- it makes me think I live somewhere more fancy than Hollywood, but that’s just me. Bird Man even went so far as to leave a note on the front of my building petitioning other people to complain to the owner.

This weekend, I had to step in the middle of ridiculous feud between two tenants. One lives right next door to me, and the other lives above her. For a year now they have been fighting. She is convinced that he has a “workshop with buzz saws” in his apartment and that he is “stomping around,” to ruin her life, when really he is a larger guy who works on computers. No buzz saws. No Irish dancing.

Saturday at 3am I woke up to the sound of my door bell ringing. My husband and I went to see who was there, and found the upstairs neighbor’s roommate, asking me to come up to the roof. So I did, in all my braless, bedheaded glory, and found my neighbor, her dog, her friend, and her friend’s dog. On the roof. AT 3AM.

Her story: “We just came up here to take pictures of the moon because it’s so beautiful out!”
His story: “She goes up there at least once a week to pound on my ceiling to retaliate.”

Who is telling the truth? I have no idea. And it doesn’t matter, because at 3AM, I hate everyone. Shortly after I yell at everybody to go home, the fire department comes tromping up the stairs because they were called by someone who was trapped on the roof! Seems they also hate everyone at 3 AM and we all got yelled at.

I have had many jobs before, and many of them involve acting as a mediator, but sometimes, this job of babysitting adults, just makes me feel like I am the fool.

April 17, 2011. Apartment Managing, Hollywood. 1 comment.