Future looking less bleak, though room is still messy. That couldn't be helped, was house-sitting for over a week. Now that I am back to my 3 walls and a closet, the kimmah-cleanse will commence tonight! Thinking about doing a clothing swap with some ladies about town as I utilize maybe 15% of my wardrobe.
I am on a mission, taking action to be happy, and not fake happy smothered in booze and high-fructose corn syrup, but genuine "waking up in the morning and looking at the reflection of a beautiful, responsible, loving and deserving to be loved adult" happy.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
2010, present thoughts in the later months...
November. 2010.
As much as things have stayed the same on the surface, underneath I feel an evolutionary period beginning to churn. I want to change.
People have called me in my profession, numerous times, a "chameleon"; in its essence this means Kimberly Gilbert the actor on stage is more familiar than Kimberly Gilbert person out in the world, on the street. People hardly recognize me, even after face-to-face interactions. It is only when someone remarks about one of my performances that I come to the forefront of their mind, fresh as a daisy! "OhmygodthatwasYOU?!" is a phrase I hear over and over. Friends of mine say that this is indicative of my immensely awesome mad skills on the ol'boards; but I wonder, is that what that it indicates, or does it say something else...
That "else" is what I fear, what I have feared, and it is the possibility that I don't really exist in the real world. I am 34 and all I have to show for it in the REAL world is a messy bedroom, no art on walls, no savings, no ownership of a car/house/pet/plant, and above all this...the one thing people bug me about the MOST...no husband and no children. All I have to show exists in the memories of my audience. But those are my characters, not me. So I guess what this rant is saying is that
I want to exist in the world, but it is not the world's responsibility, it is mine.
I must get out of my old mindset to perpetually rage against the machine, and try to find a way into the daylight, for I fear I might disappear.
As much as things have stayed the same on the surface, underneath I feel an evolutionary period beginning to churn. I want to change.
People have called me in my profession, numerous times, a "chameleon"; in its essence this means Kimberly Gilbert the actor on stage is more familiar than Kimberly Gilbert person out in the world, on the street. People hardly recognize me, even after face-to-face interactions. It is only when someone remarks about one of my performances that I come to the forefront of their mind, fresh as a daisy! "OhmygodthatwasYOU?!" is a phrase I hear over and over. Friends of mine say that this is indicative of my immensely awesome mad skills on the ol'boards; but I wonder, is that what that it indicates, or does it say something else...
That "else" is what I fear, what I have feared, and it is the possibility that I don't really exist in the real world. I am 34 and all I have to show for it in the REAL world is a messy bedroom, no art on walls, no savings, no ownership of a car/house/pet/plant, and above all this...the one thing people bug me about the MOST...no husband and no children. All I have to show exists in the memories of my audience. But those are my characters, not me. So I guess what this rant is saying is that
I want to exist in the world, but it is not the world's responsibility, it is mine.
I must get out of my old mindset to perpetually rage against the machine, and try to find a way into the daylight, for I fear I might disappear.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Men, Insomnia, and Meeeeeeyyyyaaaargh!
What can't I get through my thick head?
Men+Kim=bag o'suck.
Kim+Yoga+Running+CalorieCounting+focusing on career=bag o'cute puppies.
My track record don't lie folks, so before y'all start thinking this is a "do these jeans make me look fat" not-so-veiled plea for a ego-confidence boost, go back and check your work.
I am a great friend, baker, sibling, daughter, and I will push down my bubbling acid reflux of self-deprecation and even say a great actor, but what I am NNNNOTTT, never have been, prolly never will be, is a great dater. I think I know why, too. I am so muthafucking focused on either avoiding any possible instance of being uncool or hurting their feelings, so, as any RomCom will show you, I fail on both points, every time.
It's raining here in Silver Spring, I'm at my office gig, pre-menstrual and my knee hurts. Naturally all I want to do is go and get deeerrunk and flirt with some bartender till he starts Jersey-pourin', but instead, I log in the banana I just consumed on my on-line calorie-counter (This one RULES it), take a big gulp of water and inhale reality, exhale woulda-coulda-shoulda, and let the day run it's course.
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