The Recomposistion of The Kimmah : Day 12

ENERGY!!!! That is the tangible difference I am experiencing. Whoa. Also I am sore as shit most days; feel okay this morning, but I am heading to the gym in the afternoon, so I will be right back on the pain train by this evening. No weight loss or inches lost of as of yet, but things are most definitely...ahem, shifting. A taught tuck here, a light lift there, and my strength is already improving substantially.
I just got my "goal" dress in the mail last night; slipped it on, zipped it up half-way, and as of right now that is as far as it is goin', so I've got a long way to go, but having that cute number hanging in my closet will be just the thing to keep me on track.
Oh and my first cheat day? Total glutton-fest, but it was worth it. I think I am going to have themes for my cheat days, this upcoming one I shall call Sake-it-to-me! As the day will be filled with Sushi and Udon and Sake. Konnichiwa, carbs! With perhaps a brownie sundae thrown in for good measure.

Love letters; keeping me in a flux and flutter.

It all starts with a look, doesn't it?
It arrives to you on an inhale and suddenly your breath catches;
which makes your eyes widen,
your blood flow hasten and gives you one larger-than-usual heartbeat
which presses against your ribs and practically propels you forward
towards the one who sent it.
You feel like a vehicle for something other-worldly
and a total goober at the same time.
There's a word that has come to mind over and over these past months since that look: inevitable.
And now...
Now we write letters, pen and ink and parchment honest-to-god snail-mail letters
and this is our only means of communication.

Why are we doing this?

A test, a trial, a quest perhaps, for some kind of an answer?
Because neither of us knows the how/what/and bloody wherefore the flipping universe had in mind, bringing US together and having us fall head over heels.

Have not yet acquired any sort of enlightenment. All I know for now is these letters are amazing. To receive a LETTER in this day and age is rare and I'd forgotten how much they meant, how much they mean.

Me and my best friend from high-school would write notes in school, lengthy ones; yes we could just TALK to each other, which we did of course, but when we were apart (she in English and me in Chemistry,) we would write to each other. It was sentimental and, more often than not, filled with teen-angst that could choke a fucking pig, but I still to.this.day. have every single one of her letters; even those she wrote when we went to our own colleges. Whatever has happened to our love for each other, now that we have become estranged, does not matter because I will always have tangible proofs that we were once incredibly important to each other, that we loved each other. And that, my readers, is some powerful juju.

What will my present day love-letters bring to the forefront of our decision-making abilities? At this point I honestly don't care; what will come will come, time unfolds everything, does it not? If you remain true and honest to yourself. (Wow, um Gilbert, you think you've read enough of the bard? Christonabicycle I'm a dorrrrrrk!)

These letters, they exist, therefore love will exist in them forever.

....will have to be enough for now.

So my advice to you my lovelies is to grab a pen and some paper and write a letter. It does a body good.

Until next time, be grateful, enjoy the day, for it is YOURS.
-KG

The Recomposistion of The Kimmah Commences!

So I am now embarking on a restructuring of myself; as you can gleam from my last post this might be a good time to do it. I mean, damn that shit was bleak and whiny...apologies.

The warmer weather is just around the corner, the Vitamin D of the sun awaits to bless my skin with happiness and positivity, and I want to get this party started right.

Because this year I turn 35.

Because I am sick and tired of being sad and dwelly and a general mopey mcmoperson.

Because I need to take life by its seemingly large and meaty balls and make it my BITCH.

Because I know I can.

So that said today is my first consult at the gym with my sensei, the tall drink o' water that is Vernon. He will be with me in this for the next 10 weeks, as will you be, my lovelies should you decide to come along for the ride.

I have to now get out of my fluffy pants and comfy nightshirt and push my well-endowedness into a sportsbra, slap on mah trainers, and dread the future pain of everysingleinchofmybody.

Because play time is over. Time for work.

Until next time, keep firing assholes!

So what is new?

Apparently FUCK. ALL.
Nothing changes in my little world; it's like I got put into a worm hole in 1999 and have yet to find a way to crawl out of it's slimy clutches, cuz in my mind a worm hole sounds awfully slimy.
STILL overweight by 15lbs.
STILL struggling getting cast by people other than the same four that I've worked with for 6 years.
STILL poor as shit, and the debt just keeps onnn growin'.
STILL getting my heart broken by falling in love with men that want me until they don't.
and therefore STILL SINGLE.
but no wait, there are NEW things occurring. Things like:
bad knees, NEW!
many more grays, NEW!
much more cellulite, NEW!
poorer eyes, NEW!
neck-skin sag, NEW!

Of course there are things I am blessed with, that should not go unmentioned.
But this has been such a bitch of a Winter and I just am so fucking depressed, the glass is most definitely half-empty and I am most definitely in the bell jar.
And look, just in time for Valentine's Day.

On the right track

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.

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.

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.

Avatar, Mucinex, Christmas break, and not a dime to spend.

I have been sick since Friday, but since there was a Thundersnow and I've had to walk to and from work everyday in it, the sick just won't quit. Now I'm on Mucinex, which helps. But what my body truly needs is a day in bed, which right now is NOT an option, seeing as I might not make ends meet at the end of the month. I have to work, there is no other option right now. Shit, I shouldn't even go home for Christmas. But I will. I am. I just hate feeling this desperate, and sick, and depressed all at the same time. On a high note, I got taken out to see Avatar last night, which was amazing. My first 3D film, in IMAX no less. I'd like to see it on a normal screen next to see the difference.
Ok. Gotta clean room and pack for tomorrow, somewhat... It is going to be so nice to go home.
Happy Christmas.

my life, the mess.

I have been up since 7am. In that time I COULD have been productive but instead I watched The Wrestler, had tea and oatmeal, looked at my old videos of my trip in January, all the while intermittently crying. so I am now in the midst of cleaning my room, which as always is a visual culmination of my inner turmoil and chaos. why can't cleaning my room be just that? why does it end up being a guttering of my soul into trashbags, dust cloths, hangers and the appropriate newly organized drawer? it's like a reset. not an improvement, not a plus. it's a return to zero. speaking of returning to zero I am single once again. don't feign shock, y'all new it had to come, it always does. but I am feeling really old after this last go round. was at a party last night, my friend had a camera setup along with his laptop so you could see the pic just after you took it. I didn't recognize myself. I look miserable, haggard, worn out in these shots, but all night people kept on telling me how great I look. Wait, is that what people do when you feel like shit on the inside, they over-compliment your outside? because I didn't FEEL great, and those pics told that truth. I wake up wanting to feel better, but all I feel is unaccomplished, lazy, tired, and sad. And I know I am healthy, but I feel sick inside. Not a snotty nosed, tummy-ache, swine-flu sick. A sickly feeling in my soul. My heart hurts, thus my body hurts, my brain is tired, therefore I am tired. and right now I am procrastinating finishing my cleaning. I feel I make a mess of things, let them pile up inside so very high, and right now my inner voice is screaming JENGA! on my ass. It's all crumbling, and at the worst of times. But then again, when is a good crumble time? I will get through this, I know, it just sucks being IN it.

Falling into so many things lately...

Recently, it's, well, Fall. My body WANTS to get it's seasonal cold, but I won't let it. Preemptive strike, yo's!!! Emergen-C, fluids, yoga, good food and the cure all of ALL preemptive cure all's... performance adrenaline. Wish we could bottle that somehow, make a fortune. Something about working on a show, puts my body into ULTIMATE MODE. Sore throat?? Piss off, Bruised - up knee?? Whatevs, Bloody knuckles?? All in a day's work. And it's like that, for the run of the show. The day, thee DAY AFTER however, my body's like a Jenga Tower in the final round...all my square pegs come a tumbling down and I am useless, for three days. But I hope to avoid that at all costs this time, with constant reinforcements, even if I don't feel crappy, I will supplement the hell outta myself no matter what.
I just wrapped on a film where we shot my shit in a cornfield in PA. I loved it. Think more film is in my future, if I can make it so. I love the new challenge of it.
I'm off to rehearsal.

my actor's nightmare last night

First read. Shakespeare play, but one that I don't know. Aaron Posner is directing. We are sitting in a circle and we come to my entrance, and I cannot read the lines. Can't hear the verse in my head, the words fade on the page, I say words backwards, stumbling, and all the while Posner is staring at me with the utmost contempt. Then someone whispers to me how we open in a week.
Then I woke up.
I hope to NEVER have that dream again.
But I probably will.
Gulp.

Summer 2009, more than half way over...

................{inhale}...............AndIstillhavenotgonetothebeachohmyfuckingGOD!

Other than that things have been going pretty fast, pretty busy.
T-Punks begin rehearsals for Measure For Measure in about a week.
I start my Angelo work tomorrow, give it a good week's prep before the real madness begins.
My hair isn't growing as fast as I would like it, but it is getting there.
I am doing much better with my workout regime, but like Angelo-work, Kimmah-work commences tomorrow and I am stepping up the inTENSity mothufuggahz. Jillian Michaels on-line support will help me thoroughly kick my own ass. I'm ready. But this also means no drinky-drinky for a whole month, which is gonna suck, but I gotta do it cause apparently?? drinking lowers your inhibitions?? and makes you have poor judgement?? and eat pancakes at 2:30 in the morning?? NOT that I have ever experienced those side effects, but hey you know, Jillian rules and I will bide by them.
My room is always in a state of chaos, that will never change, it is it's state of normalcy, and no matter how many times I clean, throw away, organize, it finds it way back to it's happy state of being: a big ol' fucking mess.
I give up, allow, and move on.
Tonight will be my last night of freedom, for a while.
Then it's ACTOR-Kimmah-MODE.
So next time I write to you all, I will be donning a more sophisticated, strong, determined, focused and sober, pretty pretty hat.
Be prepared to have your minds blown out.

Any excuse to eat carbs.

I will create ANY and EVERY excuse known to man to eat me some comfort carbs. Christ sakes, it's like I'm gearing to go hideout in the mountains. On other news, I didn't clean my room, or my bathroom, didn't go to the gym (going on month three now), but I DID however order Pad Thai, vegetarian of course cause you know, I gotta at least pretend I care what my chunky belly looks like, and sit at the head of my bed, which doubles as my work space since my laptop is on my nightstand, and read a crappy review that said I pace and try not to cry and that's pretty much it, read up on facebook and quickly go "on-line" to see if there is anyone I really feel like chatting with, read old e-mails, go on Twitter and...who am I kidding, I don't do anything on that fucking site, BIGGEST time waster ev-errrr, and then watch two episodes of The Starter Wife which I queued up on Netflix by some drunken mistake....its pretty good, just Netflixed the next one. So later on I will stare around my room, maybe measure my waist to determine what percentage I am allowed to REALLY feel like shit about my lazy ass, move one pile of shit to another part of the room, wash face, floss (ONLY thing I am proud to say I do everyday), brush, obsess over my weak double chin, my backfat, and my ever-sagging utters, throw on my Bon Jovi night shirt, and call. it. a. night.
Oh, and I have a crush on an actor, a yet againnnn. I fucking rule.

The End of September, the end of Temping.

Today is my penultimate day of temping at my friends' office.

It is windy and wet out, and most times I enjoy a grey day as much as any single, thirty-something artist; but this is not one of those times. I want sun, warmth, and color. Must be hormones.

So, this office life...not for me. Not that I don't love these people, the cool decor, the AMAZING espresso machine, the, yay, track lighting (fluorescence's suck my soul. It's being in front of a computer for eight hours, sitting for the majority of the time. I can't do it. It is not in me. By three o'clock I want to rip my face off. But, this was a new experience, which is ALWAYS a good thing. And I know now that, if I am in a state of financial desperation with no lucrative waitress-y job in site, I can now choose to temp.

I need a massage.

I had my first TV interview today. Earlier in the week I had my first radio interview. Feels cool.