For every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.
- Ecclesiastes 3:1
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Mantra
Nothing significant in history has ever been accomplished by playing it safe. Risks are terrifying necessities. If I must start from scratch, I will do so with grace and patience, knowing that God charts the map, not me. I have health, love, hope, faith and fervent dedication. Everything else will follow suit.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Manifesto: 1st Chapter
This is a work in progress. These issues have been on my mind a lot lately, and I've been itching put it all down. I will revisit this particular post later, it doesn't feel like a finished piece. The part at the end is actually what I wrote first, but then the rest of it just came pouring out and I haven't figured out how to integrate that particular section.
I had an interesting conversation with a co-worker today. She was telling me about how she wants to better manage all the stress in her life and that she feels that exercising regularly will help. She really wants to join a gym, but said: "I feel so self-conscious when I go to the gym, though."
I then rather bluntly told her, "Well, you should just get over it."
She was kind of taken aback. To be honest, so was I. I never say stuff like that. I could tell, though, that this was something she was really struggling with and I wanted to give her some advice.
I'm 5' 10 1/2". I'm a size 4. I weigh 133 pounds. According to contemporary societal convictions, I have what many would call an ideal figure. But when a girl walks by me in the gym who is skinnier or more fit than I am, I fall victim to the voice screaming "YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH".
This is what you do: you just have to get over it. You have to scream "SHUT UP" right back at the voice. You have to put on your sweatpants, drive to the gym and do 1 more mile than you think you can. You have to turn up your iPod and do five more reps. You have to suck in your stomach and do fifty more crunches.
You have to watch what you eat while still enjoying what you eat. And you can't eat your feelings. Summer of '06 I started having trouble with anxiety and depression, and the way I treated it was by going to Chipotle and walking to Graeter's. I gained 15 pounds and stopped going to the gym. I felt terrible.
On the flip side, you can't overdo it. Spring of '07 I was getting ready for my senior showcase in front of every major agency in New York City. I was exercising for an hour plus every day and eating somewhere around 1300 calories. I didn't think I was thin enough (It should be said I was not and never have been anorexic.). I weighed 122 pounds. And I felt awful.
5' 10 1/2". 4. 133. 15. 122. They're just numbers. I'm not afraid of them.
I've committed myself to working out at the gym a minimum of 3 times a week. I've trained myself to keep track of what I eat throughout the day. I do my research on nutrition. I'm in really good shape and I'm at a healthy weight.
I turned 23 last Sunday. When I look in the mirror, I am satisfied with the young woman I see. My health and fitness routine are vibrant threads woven into the radiant tapestry staring back at me.
People ask me how I do it; how am I thin. How I keep my figure. I tell them all the things listed above. I wish they would ask me "Why?" so I could look them in the eye and say the following:
"Because it makes me feel better. Because it gives me energy. Because it calms me. Because I feel like I'm taking good care of myself. Because I do it for me."
I apologized for being blunt with my co-worker. I then told her that if it was something she really wanted for herself, she should go for it, and she shouldn't let anything stand in her way. I told her about the numbers.
Everyone is self-conscious and insecure; you just have to deal with it.
[I was never very fit as a younger adult. In fact, I was kind of chubby. I played soccer when I was like seven, but sports and fitness always really intimidated me. I had to take weight training my senior year of high school. It was the most terrifying experience of my life. It was me (the future -valedictorian president of the THEATRE club), half the varsity wrestling squad and seven or eight of our star football players. Needless to say, I was out of my element. I had a really cool teacher, though, and he encouraged me to push myself even though he could tell I was really intimidated. I learned a lot, and felt a lot better in general. I lost some weight, noticed some muscles I didn't even know existed and felt pretty good about myself by the end of the term. On the last day of class, my teacher looked at me and said "Keep it up. Don't lose what you've learned here." I didn't really get it at the time, but that really stuck with me deeply.
Sophomore year I picked up a dance minor. I did it because I sucked at dance and I wanted to get better. I was mediocre on a good day. I also knew it would be really good for me physically; I'd be dancing five days a week for an hour and a half to two hours. I'd started working out more frequently at the campus gym all through freshmen year, but between 19 + credit hours per term and rehearsals and whatnot I didn't develop a solid routine. With the dance minor, I had to drag my ass out of bed for ballet, tap and jazz at 8 am, and I couldn't skip classes more than three times a term. It was fun, but it kicked my ass. It was good for my concept of self-image too; when you have to stare at yourself in the mirror wearing nothing but a leotard and dance tights, you pretty much have to accept the way you look. Picking up the dance minor was probably one of the best decisions of my life. It motivated me to go to the gym even more and eat healthier. I lost more weight and gained more confidence. Spring term my sophomore year, Josey, an upperclassmen who'd been dancing since she was in diapers, watched the end of my intermediate ballet class. As I was gathering my stuff after class, she said "You're a good little dancer, Kate". I still hold tight to that praise to this day.]
People often say that 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder,' and I say that the most liberating thing about beauty is realizing that you are the beholder. This empowers us to find beauty in places where others have not dared to look, including inside ourselves.
- Salma Hayek
I had an interesting conversation with a co-worker today. She was telling me about how she wants to better manage all the stress in her life and that she feels that exercising regularly will help. She really wants to join a gym, but said: "I feel so self-conscious when I go to the gym, though."
I then rather bluntly told her, "Well, you should just get over it."
She was kind of taken aback. To be honest, so was I. I never say stuff like that. I could tell, though, that this was something she was really struggling with and I wanted to give her some advice.
I'm 5' 10 1/2". I'm a size 4. I weigh 133 pounds. According to contemporary societal convictions, I have what many would call an ideal figure. But when a girl walks by me in the gym who is skinnier or more fit than I am, I fall victim to the voice screaming "YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH".
This is what you do: you just have to get over it. You have to scream "SHUT UP" right back at the voice. You have to put on your sweatpants, drive to the gym and do 1 more mile than you think you can. You have to turn up your iPod and do five more reps. You have to suck in your stomach and do fifty more crunches.
You have to watch what you eat while still enjoying what you eat. And you can't eat your feelings. Summer of '06 I started having trouble with anxiety and depression, and the way I treated it was by going to Chipotle and walking to Graeter's. I gained 15 pounds and stopped going to the gym. I felt terrible.
On the flip side, you can't overdo it. Spring of '07 I was getting ready for my senior showcase in front of every major agency in New York City. I was exercising for an hour plus every day and eating somewhere around 1300 calories. I didn't think I was thin enough (It should be said I was not and never have been anorexic.). I weighed 122 pounds. And I felt awful.
5' 10 1/2". 4. 133. 15. 122. They're just numbers. I'm not afraid of them.
I've committed myself to working out at the gym a minimum of 3 times a week. I've trained myself to keep track of what I eat throughout the day. I do my research on nutrition. I'm in really good shape and I'm at a healthy weight.
I turned 23 last Sunday. When I look in the mirror, I am satisfied with the young woman I see. My health and fitness routine are vibrant threads woven into the radiant tapestry staring back at me.
People ask me how I do it; how am I thin. How I keep my figure. I tell them all the things listed above. I wish they would ask me "Why?" so I could look them in the eye and say the following:
"Because it makes me feel better. Because it gives me energy. Because it calms me. Because I feel like I'm taking good care of myself. Because I do it for me."
I apologized for being blunt with my co-worker. I then told her that if it was something she really wanted for herself, she should go for it, and she shouldn't let anything stand in her way. I told her about the numbers.
Everyone is self-conscious and insecure; you just have to deal with it.
[I was never very fit as a younger adult. In fact, I was kind of chubby. I played soccer when I was like seven, but sports and fitness always really intimidated me. I had to take weight training my senior year of high school. It was the most terrifying experience of my life. It was me (the future -valedictorian president of the THEATRE club), half the varsity wrestling squad and seven or eight of our star football players. Needless to say, I was out of my element. I had a really cool teacher, though, and he encouraged me to push myself even though he could tell I was really intimidated. I learned a lot, and felt a lot better in general. I lost some weight, noticed some muscles I didn't even know existed and felt pretty good about myself by the end of the term. On the last day of class, my teacher looked at me and said "Keep it up. Don't lose what you've learned here." I didn't really get it at the time, but that really stuck with me deeply.
Sophomore year I picked up a dance minor. I did it because I sucked at dance and I wanted to get better. I was mediocre on a good day. I also knew it would be really good for me physically; I'd be dancing five days a week for an hour and a half to two hours. I'd started working out more frequently at the campus gym all through freshmen year, but between 19 + credit hours per term and rehearsals and whatnot I didn't develop a solid routine. With the dance minor, I had to drag my ass out of bed for ballet, tap and jazz at 8 am, and I couldn't skip classes more than three times a term. It was fun, but it kicked my ass. It was good for my concept of self-image too; when you have to stare at yourself in the mirror wearing nothing but a leotard and dance tights, you pretty much have to accept the way you look. Picking up the dance minor was probably one of the best decisions of my life. It motivated me to go to the gym even more and eat healthier. I lost more weight and gained more confidence. Spring term my sophomore year, Josey, an upperclassmen who'd been dancing since she was in diapers, watched the end of my intermediate ballet class. As I was gathering my stuff after class, she said "You're a good little dancer, Kate". I still hold tight to that praise to this day.]
People often say that 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder,' and I say that the most liberating thing about beauty is realizing that you are the beholder. This empowers us to find beauty in places where others have not dared to look, including inside ourselves.
- Salma Hayek
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Approaching Independence Day
This evening I watched the tail end of Christiane Amanpour's CNN Special, Notes From North Korea, which chronicles the New York Philharmonic's historic performance in North Korea a few months ago.
Amanpour interviewed a woman by the name of Ji Hae Nam. In 1993, she was thrown in jail, where she was interrogated, tortured and starved over the course of the next three years.
The charge against her? Singing a South Korean pop song at a Christmas party with friends.
The communist regime in North Korea is so strict that singing or performing any music that doesn't promote communist ideals or praise Kim Jong Il is forbidden. The slightest criticism against the communist government lands citizens in jail or worse.
Google Ji Hae Nam. You'll find her 2003 testimony in front of congress. It's heartbreaking.
I am thankful I live in a country where I can sing Gershwin in my kitchen. I can't believe places exist in the world where musicians are forbidden to express themselves.
For every man that lives without freedom, the rest of us must face the guilt.
- Lillian Hellman
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Label Un-Maker
I had a disturbing interaction with a customer a couple of weeks ago.
He was upset we didn't have coffee (the brewer was broken). When he found out I was in charge, he took it upon himself to start giving me a bad time. He ordered a beverage, then decided he wanted a different size and ultimately decided he wanted it iced. So as I'm re-making the beverage for the third time, he asks me my name.
"Kate," I answer warily.
"You from Columbus, Kate?"
"No, I'm from just outside of Portland, Oregon."
To which he replies (verbatim): "Oregon, huh? Well, you must be a tree-hugging liberal, then. Are you voting for Barack Obama?"
I was stunned. I was shocked that that kind of ignorance actually existed. I mean, he was totally serious.
I wasn't insulted; I happen to think environmental awareness is a key issue, I think Obama is the man for the job and they're both things I'm proud to say.
But why are people so obsessed with labels?
Even right after he said it, I came up with more than several unflattering terms for this particular gentleman, none of which I'm proud of, so I won't repeat them.
I'm currently reading A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle, in which he suggests that name-calling and labeling are the most basic and crudest manifestations of our unconscious' need to feel superior to others. By making someone a "this" or a "that", we make ourselves "feel better" by placing ourselves above them.
There's no point. There's no purpose to making yourself superior. There's no purpose in being superior to anyone, because it's impossible. We're all the same in the eyes of God.
How did I respond? I smiled smugly and replied "I'm not allowed to discuss politics while I'm working." According to Mr. Tolle (I'm totally paraphrasing, because I can't find the particular pages I'm looking for), lack of retaliation is the most effective response in regards to the positive upkeep of one's spirit. It really resonated with me when I read that.
It's beautiful outside. I'm going to the pool.
No one can make you feel inferior without your permission.
- Eleanor Roosevelt
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Blessings: Vol. 2
It's been a very stressful week. So I'm focusing on the many blessings in my life to keep myself from completely freaking out. Here are five of the highlights I am thankful for:
1. I'm thankful for my boyfriend. You know it's love when you both always offer each other the last little smidgen of organic chocolate cake/Dippin' Dots/bottled water.
2. I'm thankful for my job. I love the work environment. I love the people I work with. I love that I constantly have something to do, even though it's exhausting. I love that I don't have to sit on my butt and answer phones or beg people for money or con them into buying something they don't need. It's not awesome money, but it's decent money and I have great health insurance. I would rather make less money at a job I love than make six figures stuck in a cubicle. I gave a customer a complimentary beverage the other day because she was having a rough morning. She said it made her day. In turn, it made my day.
3. I'm thankful for Brooklyn Boy. I just finished doing a really great play with really great people. When I was in New York, I kept receiving the advice that I should "look for the actor whose career I want." I found bits and pieces in different individuals, but couldn't find who I really wanted to be like. I found her, in both of the other women in the cast. They have genuine down-to -earth personalities, have made pretty steady careers for themselves in acting, and they don't live in NYC or LA. It's hard to explain; I want a acting/performing life without an excess of the crap that goes along with it, and I found two other ladies who've done that. I feel like we proved that great art can happen anywhere when you have legitimately talented artists, great director and a well-written script. I'm also thankful for this experience because it's really rekindled my passion for the art.
4. I'm thankful for my parents. I'm really close with them. I talk to my mom at least once a day; sometimes twice. I'm thankful that I'll be closer to them (geographically!) soon.
5. I'm thankful for my fitness progress. All through high school, I was the kid who couldn't even jog two minutes of the monthly mile run. I usually walked the entire way in a little over twelve minutes. I'm now running an 8:07 mile on the elliptical at the gym.
My challenge for myself this week is to not get caught up in "stuff". My phone and my laptop both broke on the same day, and I had a fit. Two expensive devices I rely heavily upon. Broken. Cracked. In need of repair. Costing me money. Money that I want to save.
Ultimately, it's just a computer, it's just a phone and it's just money. There are so many other important things in life. They're just three things that have gone awry in the grand scheme of my many other abundant blessings. "Stuff" isn't important.
I have love. I have family. I have hope. I have faith. I have much to be thankful for.
God is good, even when life is not.
The master in the art of living makes little distinction between his work and his play, his labor and his leisure, his mind and his body, his information and his recreation, his love and his religion. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence at whatever he does, leaving others to decide whether he is working or playing. To him he's always doing both.
- James A. Michener
1. I'm thankful for my boyfriend. You know it's love when you both always offer each other the last little smidgen of organic chocolate cake/Dippin' Dots/bottled water.
2. I'm thankful for my job. I love the work environment. I love the people I work with. I love that I constantly have something to do, even though it's exhausting. I love that I don't have to sit on my butt and answer phones or beg people for money or con them into buying something they don't need. It's not awesome money, but it's decent money and I have great health insurance. I would rather make less money at a job I love than make six figures stuck in a cubicle. I gave a customer a complimentary beverage the other day because she was having a rough morning. She said it made her day. In turn, it made my day.
3. I'm thankful for Brooklyn Boy. I just finished doing a really great play with really great people. When I was in New York, I kept receiving the advice that I should "look for the actor whose career I want." I found bits and pieces in different individuals, but couldn't find who I really wanted to be like. I found her, in both of the other women in the cast. They have genuine down-to -earth personalities, have made pretty steady careers for themselves in acting, and they don't live in NYC or LA. It's hard to explain; I want a acting/performing life without an excess of the crap that goes along with it, and I found two other ladies who've done that. I feel like we proved that great art can happen anywhere when you have legitimately talented artists, great director and a well-written script. I'm also thankful for this experience because it's really rekindled my passion for the art.
4. I'm thankful for my parents. I'm really close with them. I talk to my mom at least once a day; sometimes twice. I'm thankful that I'll be closer to them (geographically!) soon.
5. I'm thankful for my fitness progress. All through high school, I was the kid who couldn't even jog two minutes of the monthly mile run. I usually walked the entire way in a little over twelve minutes. I'm now running an 8:07 mile on the elliptical at the gym.
My challenge for myself this week is to not get caught up in "stuff". My phone and my laptop both broke on the same day, and I had a fit. Two expensive devices I rely heavily upon. Broken. Cracked. In need of repair. Costing me money. Money that I want to save.
Ultimately, it's just a computer, it's just a phone and it's just money. There are so many other important things in life. They're just three things that have gone awry in the grand scheme of my many other abundant blessings. "Stuff" isn't important.
I have love. I have family. I have hope. I have faith. I have much to be thankful for.
God is good, even when life is not.
- James A. Michener
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Why I Love Geese
The meaning of life can be found in the following scenario:
I'm driving down Schrock Road on my way home from work. I turn left at the light. Not far ahead in front of me are two geese crossing the road. As I approach them, I see they are attempting to escort their six or seven goslings to the other side of the street. A police car is stopped at the corner of a parking lot entrance, watching them. Mama and Papa Goose are violently craning their necks; pumping their ebony heads rapidly up and down and hissing at the Ford Five Hundred and Honda CRV in front of me. These titanic monster-cars have them grossly out-gunned, but Mama and Papa are ready to fight my station wagon to the death. The tiny gaggle of goslings are slowly scurrying towards their parents, except for one who's decided all this street-crossing nonsense is making him tired so he needs to plop in the middle of the lane for a few minutes. I change lanes and slowly pass them. As I'm looking into the goose's intense beady-black gaze, it occurs to me:
We are the geese, fiercely defending our precious essence from the goliath cars life hurls at us as we cross the street. God is the police car; watching, protecting but not interfering with how we react to the monsters in our way.
He knows we will make it to the other side of the road, all the better for having made the journey.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
The Porcelain Goddess' Burden
I used to be self-conscious about my pasty white complexion.
I used to think I was unnaturally pale, until my make-up artist from a photo shoot commented that my fair skin made me a "porcelain goddess". Since that day, I've never lamented my melanin-deprived complexion. Power to the un-tanned!
But sometimes it sucks when I spend a grand total of fifteen minutes in the sun and then return to my apartment with pink shoulders and funky halter-top-shaped tan lines.
Totally worth it, though, for all of this amazing SUNSHINE!
In other news, I'm in a play. It's nice to be acting again. Turns out I've missed it more than I thought I did.
"Don't knock the weather. If it didn't change once in a while, nine out of ten people couldn't start a conversation."
- Kin Hubbard
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