No one to walk with, but I’m happy on the shelf

I thought briefly about apologizing for yesterday’s post.  I’ve decided I’m not going to.  It was how I felt at the moment that I needed to write it.  No, I wasn’t looking for sympathy, and no, I don’t always feel like that.  Significantly less these days then in recent years.  But, I needed to document it for myself.  And honestly, I didn’t put in anything that wasn’t true.  Yes, I have been crying my self to sleep, a lot.  Yes, I am often afraid of the empty space of being alone.  Sometimes, though, I revel in it.  Sometimes, I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

I think about people who have less then me, and I think about myself when I had less.  The truth is that there is always happiness to be found.  But sometimes its not enough to just make a conscious effort to find it.  Sometimes it takes a little bit more, and seems infinitely impossible.  And, I often don’t give myself enough credit.  For anything. 

So, I’m going to do my best to realize that things are better then I often give them credit for. 

And I’m going to try to sleep more.  No promises on that one though!

When everyone’s forgotten and you’re left on your own. You’re gonna cry, cry, cry.

One day soon, I hope I won’t have to cry myself to sleep.

I’m so sad all the time and I’m constantly fighting it and I just don’t know what to do.  Paul has been very helpful, just listening and being available via the phone, but even today I got a sense that he’s tired of it.  Hell, I’m tired of it. 

I’m tired of feeling uncomfortable.  I’m tired of wondering about whether my new friends are genuine (most of them are).  I’m tired of feeling homesick for a place I had to get out of.  I’m tired of feeling lonely.  I’m tired of being afraid I’m not good enough for my job. 

And on top of it all.  I’m tired.  I just want to sleep.  And I’m afraid to give myself the time to do it, because I’m afraid I won’t want to get out of my bed.  For days maybe.  That scares the hell out of me.

It will pass. (I hope.)  Till, then… I will keep piling on the work to keep me distracted.

And if the truth is told, they will never come again.

It’s no secret that I tend to write more here when I’ve gotten involved with someone. These are the things, the feelings I want to remember.  So I write more.  I think it might be premature to really start talking about it, but let’s just say, things are good.  I’ve met someone I really like.  I don’t know him very well yet, to be fair, but so far so good. 

Actually, the real reason I wanted to write today has to do with something that happened yesterday.  I was supposed to go to a band concert that some friends from Shenandoah were playing in.  One of whom was Justin. 

I’ve been round and round about Justin for so long I can’t even keep it straight.  But I’ve found recently that I’ve lost my rose colored glasses when it comes to him.  As long as I’ve known him he’s been, what I have lovingly referred to as, a “Story-teller”.  He tells little white lies that make for better stories, and generally I just assumed that everyone could tell the difference between what he was saying and the truth.  I always felt like I could.  Some of my friends in college just didn’t believe anything he said ever, and couldn’t understand why I adored him so.

Fast forward to this past year and a half.  I recently found out that he’s been telling me a lie the entire time we’ve been back in touch.  He didn’t mean it maliciously, he probably meant it not to hurt my feelings.  And about six months ago, the confirmation of this lie would’ve been devastating.  But it’s out there.  He forgets that we share friends, and that as his friends, we all sort of look out for one another.  So one of his friends told me the truth.  For which I was grateful.  The truth will set you free and all that. 

Recently, Justin told me another “story” about moving and one of our friends moving in with him.  I mentioned it to said friend, and he didn’t know what I was talking about.  What a stupid thing to lie about.  I don’t care if he moves, or if friends move in with him, or whatever.  And this is just one example of several dumb lies he’s told for no reason. That I can see.

So yesterday morning, as I was running, I realized that I hadn’t seen Justin since March, and that I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to seeing him.  That was a shocking revelation. I spent all summer so looking forward to getting to see him again.  So for me to not be excited, not even really want to see him, was a bit eye opening. 

I’ve been doing a lot of house cleaning.  I never asked him to lie to me, to sheild my feelings.  Honesty would have gotten him way farther with me.  And looking back without those rose colored glasses, I realize this is just how he is and has been for as long as I’ve known him.  The smart women have stayed away from him for their own self-preservation and so he continually ends up with women who are so blind that they believe everything he tells them.  That was never me.  And he must have kown it, as he’s kept me at arm’s length forever.  So, I’m thinking that maybe it’s finally time to let him go. 

Everything in my life has changed.  I’m strong enough to make this change too, and not spend the next fifteen years wondering if it was the right choice.  If he had actually wanted me, he would’ve made that work.  But, as my friends all seem to know, better than I, Justin only wants what Justin wants.

What a complicated relationship that was.  I’m glad to be able to categorize much more succinctly now. 

Also, what I ended up doing last night was way better.

And I know you see the me I lost in all of my lies

Maybe we should’ve gotten married when we were kids.  I still don’t know anyone else as awesome.  However, we are so much better for each other now, as friends, than before.  And turns out, we needed each other more as adults who’ve faced seperate paths, than as a couple who struggled together (and probably would’ve failed).

Just proof that we don’t usually understand what’s best for us, when we think we know what we want or need.  And sometimes, you have no idea why you make a decision other than a gut feeling.  Heartache is purposeful.

I am so incredibly lucky to have you for a friend.

Bridge the distance, drain the ocean, pave a highway on the sandy floor, part the waters with devotion.

I didn’t even realize how hard life was in New York.  I didn’t have a clue.

In the opening scene of P.S. I Love You (one of my favorite chick flicks), Hilary Swank’s character, Holly, says to her husband Gerry (Gerard Butler), that she’s tired of waiting for their lives to get started.  I so identified with that sentiment.  Waiting.  Waiting for the gig that’s going to change everything.  Waiting for Mr. Right to step up and make me forget about Mr. Right Now.  Waiting to lose those last ten pounds.  Waiting for everyone else to make my life better.  Just waiting. 

With no end in sight.

I know I have friends who also feel that shiftless empty void.  And I have zero advice for them.

As some of you know, I made it to the end of my rope this year.  I saw nothing ahead.  And not in that “the future is wide open and the possibilities are endless” stuff they feed you at graduation ceremonies. But rather, “there are storm clouds overhead and I see nowhere for shelter, so just let the lighting strike me down and be done with it” nothingness.  I am so lucky that I was in Maine with the salt water air when that feeling struck, because the salt water might have saved my life. 

I have no recipe for happiness.  All I can say is hang in there. Be as true to yourself as you can be.  And keep moving forward.  Happiness will find you.

My life has started.  I’m open and happy.  I didn’t know this could be.

 

Fly me away to Baltimore.

Well, well,well, will wonders never cease?

Ok. So, here I am in Baltimore. Who knew just a few months ago that I’d leave New York and move back to the only city that I could possibly love more.  Me! The adamant New Yorker. 

See , here’s the thing.  In New York, I was working with many different performing artists and companies, helping them to get their shows off the gr0und.  Often I was doing this for no money, or a small stipend.  If I was going to walk away wth more than $300 for the entire project that was a huge deal!  In Baltimore, (ok, College Park) I do the same work (actually less – don’t tell anyone that) and get a full salary, benefits, and the opportunity to work with amazing artists (I’ve already got Patti LuPone and Bill T. Jones on my work schedule.)

In New York, I lived in amazing Astoria, easily one of the best neighborhoods in the entire city. And I lived in a house, with outdoor patio, lots of privacy, and the cutest little dog ever.  Oh, and three other people.  At 32, I couldn’t see any way to live in my own place, not only in the near future, but ever.  It’s just so expensive, and I loved my “work” too much to give it up for something more lucrative.  In Baltimore, I have my own apartment.  And it’s huge.  In an awesome downtown part of town.   I live within walking distance of the downtown stuff, Inner Harbor, Aquarium, all that. The city sailing club is just up the street.  Living alone is a dream come true, that I never ever thought would happen for me. (I do miss my dog and my sister, though.)

While I was in Maine, it became very clear to me that I needed to make some changes.  My heart was aching, my psyche was in terrible condition, I felt helpless and lonely.  So I made a list of the things I wanted in my life.  I went whole hog.  What did I want in a job, what did I want in my life recreationally, what sort of location did I want to live in, etc. I sat at the kitchen table at Dunlap (oh, Dunlap, my love…) one morning, stared at the Stonington harbor and started looking for a job. 

The very first job I found was for an event coordinator at the University of Maryland’s performing arts center.  It fit all of my criteria, so I began working on an application.   It ended up being the only job I applied for.  A little over a month later, I got the offer.  A week after that, I got a raise.

The job was followed quickly by the first apartment we looked at, the first car we looked at.  Everything fell into place so neatly.  I was able to wrap up my last two shows in New York just in time for the move.  It was perfect.

I have missed my friends. Alot.  Making my mind understand that it’s not in NYC anymore will take some time.  I was feeling especialy lonely last week, and was able to meet up with someone I knew from home, who introduced me to a bunch of fantastic locals.  I also talked to Paul, my best friend in New York, who decided to come down for a few days last weekend.

And then, I found the catch. Nothing comes without a price, right?

Paul and I walked up to  Harbor Place for dinner.  Phillips has always been one of my favorite restaurants, so we decided to go there.  We sat down and waited (a while) for our waiter. When someone did finally come over, I wasn’t really paying attention, but I heard an overly familiar “Hey!” looked up and realized it was Aaron. 

Aaron, who destroyed me for years.  Aaron who hurt me in ways no human being should ever do to another.  Aaron who’s life was threatened by my roommate if he didn’t move as far away from me as possible, and never came back.  Aaron, who I believed was safely tucked far away in LA, trying to be an actor.  That’s who my server was.  At Phillips.  In Baltimore.  On. My. Street.

I stopped breathing.

I started shaking. 

Paul, who I remembered had never actually met Aaron, had no idea what was happening.  Aaron excused himself, and I turned to Paul and told him we had to leave.  It wasn’t until we got out of the restaurant that I was able to say “that was Aaron.”

Paul, was there for me, with me, when  the shit of my relationship with Aaron hit the fan.  He was there to start to clean-up the mess.  I was severely damaged for a long time.  Paul offered the first signs of hope that I would make it through with minimal scars.  I have friends (particularly guy friends) who don’t understand my relationship with Paul.  It stems from this.  Paul will always be extremely important to me, no matter who I’m dating, and this is why. 

I’m so so so lucky it was Paul with me when I discovered Aaron. 

He knew just what to do.  We walked away.  He led me, let me deal physically, figure out how to breathe. We went to another restaurant, he even did a shot of whiskey with me (he doesn’t drink colored liquor).  And then he was there for the next two days. 

Paul said something to me in the midst of all of this that sticks with me.  He said that I was the strongest person he knew. 

I am so much stronger and different then I was just four years ago.  The woman  am now wouldn’t have gone through what Aaron put me through.  She would have struck back and found a way to be selfish and proud.  She wouldn’t have lost three years of her life. 

So, today, I walked up to Harbor Place, just to see how it made me feel.  I felt nothing.  I didn’t feel anxious or afraid.  No tightness in the chest.  Nothing.

 I will be fine. I know now.  Maybe this is why he’s here. I needed to know that I don’t need to fear him anymore.   I’m free.  If I come across him in a social situation I may still punch him in his ugly face, but I don’t need to be afraid of him and his tiny soul.

Moving to Baltimore may have been the best thing I’ve ever done.

 

Pack up all my cares and woe, here I go, singing low…

Dear friends,

I haven’t called any of you because I would be crying all day if I spoke to each and every one of you with this news.  I am leaving New York. I’d say permanently, but nothing is permanent.  I’m leaving for a long time, at least.

I recently got a job at the University of Maryland, working on the events team at the Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center. My title is “Event Coordinator” and I’ll be doing production management and basic stage managing and event coordination for things university sponsored and outside rentals.  It’s kind of what I do now, for lots of little companies for little or no pay, but for which I’ll be earning a salary and working in one building instead of theatres all over New York City.

Most of you know that I haven’t been very happy in my life in the past year.  I’ve been thinking about leaving New York for a while now and my time in Maine really made me consider what I want in life.  So while in Maine, I started looking for a permanent position with particular things in mind.  It was more important to find the right job, than just to get out of New York.  This UMD job was the very first one I found, and after much thought I applied.

My time in New York has been spectacular.  It would be impossible to leave with out being a little sad about it.  I’ve lived here longer than anywhere else. I’ve had the greatest roommates, the very best friends, a wonderful theatre family, and an amazing theatre company.

I start my new job on August 29th.  I know. I know.  Too soon.  I would like to have a gathering at Jameson’s Irish Pub  (2nd Ave, between 51st and 52nd) on Monday, August 22nd 7ish to whenever. I will also be doing a list of my favorite New York things the 21st to the 24th.  If you have any time that week and want to join me for the cloisters, Grimaldis, the staten island ferry, or other activities, do let me know. Also, I am going to a lot of fringe shows in the next two weeks – let me know if there’s something you want to see.

The truth is, I won’t be that far away. The bolt and mega buses both go to Baltimore and DC, for very little money.  I hope to have a place with some sort of guest room, and you all are welcome any time, and I mean that.

You have made my life incredibly special, and I will miss each of you so so much.  Hope to see you in the next few weeks.

With much love,

Kate

Should fate unkind send us to roam the scent of the fragrant pines, the tang of the salty sea will call us home.

I’m not even sure where to begin.

Well, I’ve been in Maine for five weeks now.  I leave in two days.  This time Sunday, I’ll be in Connecticut with any luck, on my way back to the big bad apple.

I am a changed person, to be sure. For the first time since moving to New York eleven years ago, I was away without a single pang of homesickness.  Not once, not once, did I feel a longing for New York.  Last year, I was away for one week and couldn’t wait to get back.

Maine has taken me captive.  I have fallen in love and fallen hard with the small costal towns I’ve been privy to.  The lull of the water lapping with shore as I fall asleep at night.  The super friendly hellos from every single person I pass on my morning run. The vendors at the farmer’s market who actually remember me from week to week.  The sailing instructor who welcomed me back to rent a boat, and promptly helped to rescue me in a surprise storm. The lobster.  The stars, unlike I’ve ever seen anywhere else.  The two full moons I was granted while staying here.  The icy cold water off the end of the pier at Ames.  The lush gorgeous green.  The sight of sails all the time.  The seven tall ships that greeted me one morning.  The amazing artistic community that is supported within this fishing village.  The chocolatier’s cafe located on a nearly uninhabited island. The difficult hiking trails of Acadia, that lead to the most stunning views (and sense of accomplishment.)  The unending sky over the harbor.  The lupines, nightshade, and buttercups.  Serenity.

I’m dreading leaving in the very worst way.

Prior to coming here, I had been toying with the idea of leaving New York. DC had been on my horizon, for both personal and professional reasons. (I’d been denying the personal reasons, but I’m a liar to say otherwise.) I couldn’t put my finger on why I wanted to leave New York so badly, I still can’t, but what is clearer to me is that it’s not about New York.  With the right amount of money New York could be my dreamland.  But I don’t foresee ever having enough money for that to happen.  I want to be in a place where I don’t feel like I’m constantly struggling.  Where I can save some money and pay my bills.  Where I might feel like a grown up.  And where I’m happy just to be.

I started looking for jobs elsewhere.  Anything in my field: Production, Events, Stage Managing, etc.  I put in applications for things in College Park, MD, Annapolis, and Hilton Head, SC.  I am willing to give New York another chance, now that I’ve changed a bit, but if the right opportunity came to move on, I’d jump.

Something else that I’ve been doing while I’ve been here is taking a lot of pictures.  I’m thinking about organizing a show of my photography of Deer Isle.  When I mentioned this to a gallery owner in Stonington, she immediately suggested that I send her my portfolio when it’s ready. She said that they would be very interested in showing my work.

WHAT?!?!?!?!

I just want to say, this has been such an incredible experience.  I have really loved my life this past month.  My depression lifted almost completely with little effort from me.  I’ve slowed down, taken time for myself, and not felt guilty about it.  I’ve been working, but the work has been wonderful.

There is simply no way to write down everything I’m feeling right now.  I’m not a good enough writer.  I’m just trying to over load my senses with my new love, Maine, before I go.

I will be back as soon as humanly possible.  This is my paradise. Lost.

And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak

I have to brag about my day off a little.

I woke up leisurely, which around here means 7:30 instead of 7:00.  Sat on the porch with my coffee and emails. 

Eventually, wandered over to the theatre to help with some painting for Much Ado About Nothing set pieces.  Came back for some lunch, and then went on a 60 minute run.  Timed some of the 10K course for myself, and got an idea of what I’ll be able to do next week in the race. 

Home to a shower, a mini nap, and then some more quality porch time sipping gin and watching ants scramble about.  And as always watching the boats and the tides. 

Mid afternoon, I took my camera and headed off for a lovely walk to Peter’s house, where our cookout was going to be.  Last week we went to Peter’s and played some soccer and cooked together, but it seemed to be more of an inpromtu gathering.  This week was far more planned.  Again some barefoot soccer (my feet and legs are so beat up!).  And then we all took off to jump in the ocean water from this great pier on Peter’s property.  Only a couple of us were prepared with suits to swim, so there was a lot of swimming in your skivvies and even one skinny dipper.  The water was really frigid, but so refreshing.  I’d been waiting to get into the water since we got here and it’s just been too cold.  Well, it was still too cold yesterday, but we all did it anyway.  I forgot how amazing salt water is for you, and I will be reaping the benefits for a few days I think. 

Later, we all sat together for what seemed  like all-you-can-eat cookout food.  There’s a line in Elizabeth Rex  about  being over-stuffed and over-aled. That was me.  I ate far far far too much, and drank whatever was handed to me.  It was a feast. 

Smores followed.  Of course.

Then back up to the guest house/barn for singing and ending the night. 

I don’t know how rested my body is, but my soul feels ready for the challenges ahead this week!

Ooo, I’m just sittin’ on the dock of the bay, wastin’ time

Being in Maine has reminded of the value of doing nothing. Thinking about taking one day a week off of everything when I get back to the city.

Will it make me more productive? Or less?