ladylike tuesday
sometimes the unexpected is the best bite.
i'll see your thunder and lightening,
and i'll raise you pleated dresses, chandelier earrings, and heels high.
rainy days and mondays
sorry ms carpenter i take issue with your libretto.
if i had my way, rain would appear weekly to wash away our muck.
her windy sidekick tagging along every so often, for extra exfoliation.
and every monday it's my chance to windshield wipe aside my baggage (typically pride and fear) that swaddles me tight in my anxiety blanket.
relief. breath. trust.
rainy days and mondays always get me right.
balancing act
and *snap*...
somehow i pulled this extra large, thick crust pizza, with everything on it, week off.
happy weekend loves.
this girl is out of words, steps, and fuel.
literally.
polly the prius has kicked into electric mode.
7 years bad luck
no amount of concealer can mask the snippets of sleep stymied.
this broken record has become a bore.
my undereyes of purple and grey are my must-have bags of the season.
they can take me from day into evening.
silver lining makes my eyes and heart bigger.
perspective
for me the glass isn't half full nor is it half empty.
thirst is what counts.
i've wasted too much time focusing on the contents of the cup.
slurping up buckets and buckets of excess for fear of another drought;
resulting in regret. the shameful, severing kind.
a qualm nonetheless.
only i can quell and quench the stirrings in my ping-pong brain.
no matter how full or how hydrating someone/something seems to appear;
i am my own deepest, most flourishing well.
bon week
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jDj44n5bjWU&feature=player_embedded]
an oldie, but oh so good.
bon iver never fails to quietly rattle my bones; produce that firework lump in my throat.
there's something about the {suggestion?} of impromptu song that always makes me happy.
gotta go loves.
there's much twirling to be had.
making do
the metal folding chairs at the starbucks on gower and sunset blvd provide a surprisingly comfy structure for napping.
tell me to use their restroom though, and i'd have to give you my kidney instead.
yesterday i had to drive to l.a. twice.
i saw a man lose his red angel's baseball cap on the 5 freeway at 10am.
on round two it was still on the side of the road, except a deep filthy brown.
all this movin and shakin will die down {i think} come tuesday.
till then, i've got a central line going of ethiopian nekisse.
the highs and the low, low, lows.....
yesterday, i booked a job on an upcoming court show.
fueled by the euphoric fumes of a successful audition i cartwheeled my way into acting class; only to hiroshima the shit out of my drunk driving monologue.
what was supposed to be a moving, heartfelt plea against alcoholism most likely drove my fellow actors to become alcoholics, themselves, just to get through my performance bomb.
carrying on.
ladylike tuesday
today i will wrangle the lady out of me.
i've had seconds of sleep, and resemble more a snarling, snapping yellow-bellied sea snake.
back off bitchiness, withdraw your surly sword.
no amount of busy or exhaustion exempts me from kindness and manners.
you're here
tap. tap. tap.
tap. tap. tap.
the sweet rap of raindrops scampering across our roof come three o'clock this morning.
my two crusty beasts and their surlier human all barked disgruntled disfavor to the interrupted slumber.
as hostess of the household it was my duty to welcome and usher in our new seasons' alms.
i robed up and received the first hints of fall:
big, giant gumdrops of rain, a charcoal sky, and 60'F (tee hee).
so maybe i'm not wearing a parka, but at least the flip flops are put away {for a day}.
happy puddle splashing.
l'histoire a fille française
the face, l'accent, and the dramatic interpretation definitely do their best to distract from what is a truly grisly, wretched, dismal story.
how old are you young lady?
what exactly do they teach these babes over there in france?
murder? suicide? chicken box?
plus terrible’.
http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/35ee3e3640/cutest-french-kid-in-the-world?rel=by_user
also, i don't know anything about this baby making thing.
but i've read you can do all this far out stuff now with genetic testing, spinning petri dishes, etc.
some parents really want a boy, want green eyes for their baby, or feel the need to safeguard against certain, god forbid, predisposed genetic diseases.
for me, it's VERY important that my baby speak fluent french.
immediately. upon leaving the birth canal.
curious if this fertility specialization works in jargon as well as gender.
and, no i'm not and nowhere near pregnant.
early for acting class
i see you. despite your preference for armor.
we don't shake hands or exchange glances.
you sit. i shift bench, to planter, back next to you on bench.
waiting, we both listen to the boasting and blustering of fellow roosters.
you're discouraged too.
i wish my sadness looked as pretty on me.
doors open, off to work.
i make silent, secret wish that, someday, you're the hotdog of our henhouse.
disabled
friday i entered the studio to teach my last class after a long, stressful week. my two-day vacation {first one in some time} was about to begin in 65 minutes; i glided in giddy, only one more hour, and it was teaching one of my favorite classes: a classical pilates, level 2, with all of my regulars, and many other fellow instructors.
in an instant, the glee turned into gloom when my studio advisor told me i'd be having a new student in class:
mike, a gentleman in his 60's, had broken his neck. he was wheelchair bound and had never taken a pilates class. he was coming to take mine.
my skin began to clam, my stomach knotted, and my heart raced.
NO!!! i snarled. you can't let him. it's too dangerous! he needs to do a yoga therapeutics, or a pilates private. you can't let him take my class!
she was concerned too, but much more composed and lovely than my shade of ugly. apparently, mike was not going to take no for an answer. he was coming to take pilates come hell or highwater.
i. was. terrified.
i didn't want him to get hurt. i was worried about liability. i didn't want him to feel uncomfortable with a room of advanced students. i didn't want him to feel unsuccessful or discouraged. he hadn't even shown up, and already i had spun myself into a dreidel of nerves and defenses.
rather than admit my fear, i acted like a bratty child, not getting her way.
i stomped around dramatically, eyes wide on the lookout, hoping to intercept him, and kindly discourage him from coming in.
class began. no mike. i was so relieved. he had changed his mind.
then i heard the clankety clank of an elevator {we have an elevator in this building???}, and realized he was late because our zig-zag, aztec-shaped building: hard enough to traverse even on two, healthy legs, is close to impossible to ascend in a wheelchair.
mike made it. his injury is no joke. from the tips of his toes, to the tops of his ears he is severely affected.
he cannot walk.
but he did get himself on his mat, and from there MY lesson began.
i conducted class like i normally do:
planks, push ups, crisscross, scissors, leg lifts, the gamut. i had two advanced instructors taking class so it wasn't like i could do an hour of diaphragmatic breathing.
mike worked at every exercise i called out. many looked agonizing. because of his injury some weren't workable; 99% of the participants can't do every exercise though. i don't give special attention, nor did he need any. this man's focus and determination could win simultaneous chess and wrestling matches. he heard every word i said. every right, left, lift, lower, breathe in, out. my cues, modifications, corrections had to be laser sharp, clear, and simple.
my body was fine from the demonstration, my brain was fried within the first 15 minutes.
after class, when everyone had left the room and mike was getting himself back into his chair i introduced myself and thanked him for coming. i was moved and emotional. in less than an hour i had undeniably changed roles from that of teacher to student. i was embarrassed by my earlier resistant and ignorant behavior to ban mike from class. rather than projectile vomit my insecurities all over the place {my propensity when faced with those who rock my world}, i just let mike talk.
he explained his injury and informed me it was his third time EVER out of his wheelchair. he was visiting from hawaii, and his wife is afraid to let him do things that involve leaving his chair. he said "but, katie!!, sometimes you just got to live life." and living life last friday meant taking my class no matter what.
no matter how wretched the stair, ramp, elevator system is in our building, regardless of the instructor's provincial and birdbrained attitude about having someone new or different in her class; living life meant not letting a physical body impede a mental and emotional resolve.
one of us walked into that room handicapped. his name wasn't mike.
happy weekend
my sweets,
what yummy concoctions of bustle have you whipped up for the weekend?
hh and i are finally celebrating year #2 of marital bliss {albeit a bit tardy} at a local resort.
for the second anniversary, it is customary to gift cotton.
i'll double dip my chip into that salsa bowl of tradition:
i just wish these linens came with their own handwasher.
preferably something in an ed burns/mark ruffalo mashup.
still nowhere near as hunky as the mister though.
happy weekend loves.
hazed not confused
sometimes this is my clearest lens in life.
many a time these blurry eyes have saved me from feelings hurt or cheeks turned that way.
we can in engage in the scrappy dogfights, get scratched up and bit;
or
we can choose not to play with those silly, boorish puppies misbehaving in their pen.
we can love them, but we don't have to get up on all fours with them.
she's here....
miss autumn has gracefully arrived.
delicious autumn! my very soul is wedded to it, and if i were a bird i would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
~george eliot
a return
i'm hiccup happy to share my latest news.
a few weeks back i made the decision to die a slow, painful, humiliating death
it's truly the most fulfilled, sickly stimulated i've ever been (career-wise, friends & family).
even just acting class, or preparing the crap out of an audition has me sloppy sunny and satisfied.
it's been 5 extensive years since i've auditioned.
everything is SO different: online this, webbed feet that....
thank god they still want great work!!!!
in already two weeks, i've booked two jobs, and i'm on my 2nd call back for a super, non, non, non, non-union film.
{and i've yet to sign with an agent}-more on that later...
today i'm shooting new headshots, have a rehearsal for a fitness video (not my own), and start an acting class tonight.
i'm sprinkling extra hee haw in my coffee.
so that's where i am friends.
i have my mother's voice in the back of my head telling me i'm sounding bold and brass for sharing such things.
ick if i am, handwritten apology note to follow.
but i was getting emails for my vague mentions to l.a., and those of you who take my classes are going to wonder where i've been/where i'm going to be this week.