Tuesday, November 22, 2016

The World Needs Your Art

Please know that the world needs your art. How could it not?
There is humanity in our sameness, and magic in our differences. We would be nowhere without individual inspiration, as odd as it might seem at its inception.
It doesn’t matter whether you believe that creativity comes from the brain or some divine source, either way you'd do well to honor that shit. You don’t need to know whether your art your will change the blueprints of the world or whether it will touch one single person. It’s all the same.
There are so many circumstances where we’re encouraged not to follow our impulses, and sometime those rules are correct. It’s not creative to be a criminal for example, or a deviant, or a bully. It’s been done. As an artist you might sometimes feel like those labels apply to you, but it’s important to remember that they don’t. Being a jerk is not inspired, being moved by your art on the other hand, is.
The only people who will be thrown by your creativity are the ones who are fearful, and they can be mighty with their control tactics. But by shying away from your art you’re only agreeing to that control, adding your signature to the petition of fear.
Of course sometimes those fearful people are the ones who are closest to us, and they can be pretty convincing with their arguments. They’re not right though, you’re right. Your spark rocks those people, and attempting to put it out is the only way they know how to regulate it. The urge to control comes from fear. Your spark frightens them because they don’t know where it’s going, and they don't know why they can’t honor their own, or find it at all. They don’t want to be less than or left behind. Your moving forward and rising up shakes up their world because if you can do it then they should be doing it too, and sometimes they aren’t ready to accept that it’s time to change. Be kind to those fearful people, they’re frightened. But those aren’t your fears.
Not everyone is brave enough to try, that’s for sure. For a complacent artist the burning desire to create without an outlet can feel like a personal hell. Really it is. But that’s because it’s a fire and it’s a gift to feel that even if you don’t know the how’s and the what’s quite yet. That fire is passion and passion offers you the keys to the driver’s seat in a world full of passengers and lost souls entirely. Please take the keys.
Sure it takes responsibility to accept it. It takes criticism, and commitment, and time management, and growing up enough to choose new priorities, and all of those other things that scare the shit out of us. But you can bet your ass that choosing your path is going to feel a hell of a lot better than letting the world choose it for you. It’s going to hurt either way, is the thing. You’re a human this time around and the endless oscillation of emotion just is what it is. Let it be. See it and step around it.
Thank your fears for the suggestions, and your tears for the clarity of what needs to change. Those are the clues that allow you to see where to go next, so thank goodness they’re there. Our emotions aren’t throwing us off course, we’d actually be lost without them. Don’t try to compartmentalize your thoughts or judge their whereabouts. Acknowledge them, and question them. Keep what you want and intent to change the rest, but don’t fool yourself into thinking that they’re not there.
Whatever you do, don't get caught in the trap of thinking that your art will suffer if you’re happy. Suffering can be creative sure, but only because it has to be. If your life is at stake you might come up with some more creative ideas about how to get dinner than if you’re sitting on the couch scrolling through your delivery options on a smartphone. But don't you dare give suffering all the power. It’s not the suffering that’s inspiring you, it’s that the suffering is distracting you enough to let your creativity sneak in while you’re not looking.
The same ideas are there all the time, you just say no to them before they get to the front of your mind. When you let your art come all the way forward then you’re faced with the accountability part. That’s why you shut it down. Stop saying no, we need your ideas now before the crisis hits, not after. We need happy people for a happy world, we all deserve that.
We also deserve to know that being happy doesn't mean that everything feels good all the time. It just doesn’t. Being happy means that you can observe what comes without attachment to it, or its outcome. Being happy means trying, and having good intentions, and being authentic, and accepting, and leaping, and then forgiving yourself and other people when you undoubtedly fall on your face or get pushed down. We're here to learn and grow and the opportunity to express how we have is through our character and our art.
You get stronger on the way up, you know it’s true. You know that heartbreak is kind of beautiful, because you’re an artist. You know that loss carries meaning because it makes room for the next thing to come in. Sometimes it’s the biggest blessing. Our egos like to assign things “good” and “bad” labels but you know that’s not how it works. You’ve felt the amusement and the ultimate aliveness in the midst of the dark moments. We’re so resilient, we always climb out.
In fact it’s sobering to feel, there’s a lot of clarity in it. There’s nothing to fear from it, and when there’s nothing to fear from feeling there is nothing left to fear about who you are. That’s where the real happiness lives. It’s not the lack of emotion, but the releasing of fear and the deconstructing of walls and other constricting “safety” tactics that have gone along with it. You already know how other people behave in the world, you only need to figure out how you do.  
You already know how inspiring it is to see someone living out their purpose, whatever that might be. Seeing that can be somewhat alarming in a way, it looks effortless. That’s because they’re not fighting it. It’s not that the process is effortless or easy, that’s not it at all. That shit is a lot of hard work, but living that life full out is worth the hard parts, because it gives back to you and it gives out to others and it transforms everything.
Honor your art, it’s your being. Be gracious that it’s there because it’s a gift to care about something so deeply, no matter how much it loves you back. Stop saying no before someone else can. They will definitely say no. But they will also say yes. 
Please, the world needs your art. 

Sunday, May 1, 2016

I Used to Be Funny, Relatively

I feel like you can't really claim that you're funny in the same way that you can't claim to be good looking, because it's subjective. I mean you can but walking around a braggart tends to irritate people.

However, when it becomes a relative measurement it's fair game, like how all the grannies are always saying "I used to be so hot." Along those lines, I feel like I can say that I used to be funny. Unfortunately, I also feel like the circumstances that cultivated my funny weren't sustainable for my well being so I'm not sure I should romanticize it. I do think about it though.

It was 2011. I took a flight back to L.A. from Australia and neglected to sleep a wink despite how uncomfortably long of a flight that is. Instead I drank four bottles of middle sized bottles of wine that I've never seen anywhere else. (They were free.) I was inspired by the girl sitting in front of me who was also drinking copious amount of wine, so we can blame some of this on her. I ended up watching four (five?) movies back to back in lieu of sleep, and the only one I recall was Limitless which really fired me up.

When I landed in at LAX it was around 6 A.M. and I was certifiably drunk. And naturally I was trying to pretend like I wasn't because my roommate who picked me up was a real rule stickler and I wasn't in the mood to be judged. I went home, took a nap, and then went out that night as anyone returning from a two week vacation does.

I don't know if I traveled through some sort of space time continuum skipping a night on that flight, or if that weird movie did something to my psyche, but I couldn't sleep right for about a year. It was a marked change from my previous sleeping habits. I don't know how insomnia goes for most people, but it really cracked me out. It wasn't comfortable, and half the time I felt like I was at risk of melting a little and sliding sideways off the planet, but I was also just funny.

I can confirm that I was funny during this time based on the fact that people told me so, and also that I've gone back and read my tweets from that time period. They're funny. This could have been a really useful time period for me to pen a hit screenplay or something but I wasn't a writer yet, so I did what most people do with strikes of creative genius...nothing.

Eventually I started sleeping again and my sanity was returned, but those strange moments of funny insight really tapered down with it. Is it possible to be both stable and hilarious? I'd like to think so. But while I wait for that to happen I can at least fondly reminisce about what once was and show you screenshots to prove it. At least I'm still good looking.

Saturday, April 23, 2016

The Book I'd Really Like to Write

Becoming a professional writer is a strange thing, because to make any money you either have to come up with something to sell and then actually sell it, or if you're like me, start writing a shit-ton of articles for other people and get so busy writing that you hardly have time for your own creative writing. It's complicated.

Writing all day long for work and then writing all night long on a creative project is a lot of time alone and in front of my computer. So I don't always do that. Even now it's Saturday, a charming 76 degrees outside, and I can see my neighbors laying out by the pool. I'll do as much work as humanly possible but I'm also just a girl with a bikini that wants to be worn, you know?

Not that I'm not inching along on some creative projects outside of my currently paid writing work because I am. I'm in the process of writing a screenplay with someone that I used to date but that is definitely a story for another day.

One thing that keeps pinging in my mind however is that what I really want to do is write a memoir of sorts. Bear with me before you scoff and roll your eyes. I like the way my brain works writing about my life from my perspective, and I think that sometimes it's even a little entertaining for other people as well. Except to get anyone to read your memoir you either need to be famous so that people actually believe that you have something interesting to say, or you need to do something. Like Eat, Pray, Love the crap out of your life or something. And as egocentric as some of my thoughts can be I am still well aware that it's not exaclty unique to be a young person existing and dating in Los Angeles while trying to live out my grandest dreams.

So while I figure out an angle, or get successful enough that anyone has to care about what I have to say, I guess I'll start blogging again. The title of my blog by the way, (which might suck I can't tell), came from a TV star I used to date who once said that to me in a way that was just bordering on disdainful enough to really drive home that not everyone would get me. "...that's random Kate." Although, he ended up getting arrested for something real dumb so what does he know.

I'll leave you with a random photo of me sitting on the ground in public because I do things like that. You should see the tanlines I got from those boots. Tragic.

Saturday, November 15, 2014

Hey Women, Your Issues With Kim Kardashian Are Doing All Women a Disservice

Some people are driving me crazy about this Kim Kardashian naked Paper spread, and it's not the Kardashians. It's the women looking for trouble and expressing their various forms of distaste about Kim. There's a lot of bullshit, and there's a lot of backwards stepping. The last thing that women should be doing is criminalizing other women for making choices that they feel celebrate their bodies, because all it does is keep in place the structures we have about judging women's bodies. Here are my two favorite pieces of bullshit:

1. The Idea that Kim is Shameful for Baring her Greasy Butt Because She's a Mother 

The last time I checked, we women have been working pretty hard to get the world to accept us as people who can both work and procreate in a lifetime. We don't want to lose our identities within motherhood, because we can only be good mothers when we show our children that it's safe and possible to be who we want to be. I don't think anyone wants to be considered a desexualized old hag, but saying that Kim's nakedness is a poor choice more so has to do with the fact that she's playfully and accessibly sexy, and therefore you're suggesting she should be a little less sexualized and maybe even a little more haggy.

Lots of people are naked. Lots of mothers are naked. Just this past week Kiera Knightly showed us her boobies, and Lara Stone also showed us her boobies. And hot damn hold the front door...Lara's boobie photo shoot is her POST BABY body. Except in this case it's brave and a powerful statement because she's sharing with us her fatter self which obviously differs from her average super model status. It's different because Lara's sexuality is off limits to us, she's a fashion model, it's artistic, she's unaccessible. Kate Moss can do Playboy, Beyonce can sing about sex, and Chelsea Handler can bare her bum in jest. Kim's own baby sister Kendall Jenner has bared her nips on the runway, but we're okay with that because it's high fashion.

Kim is also a model whether you like it or not, or whether you appreciate the sort of modeling she does. Does putting a separate classification on why "serious" people can be naked but so called "talentless" people can't really sound like a good way to support our women? It sure doesn't to me.

By all means don't get naked if you don't want your kids to see you naked, and don't look at Kim's photos or any other lady lumps if that's not something you want to see. But do consider, just consider, if there's any ounce of hypocrisy in your idea of what's approved nudity and what isn't.

2. The Idea that Kim is Flawed for Having Work Done

This one particularly insulted me when I saw it coming from a woman who has a made a career out of allegedly supporting women's bodies in all their various forms. However her line is clearly drawn at supporting natural bodies. I am in no way suggesting that anyone should engage in any sort of procedures or surgeries to enhance their bodies if they don't want to, but if they do, why must they lose your respect or gain your assumption that they need salvation? Your suggesting that getting work done is wrong is your attempt to claim superiority over the people who think it's right. Doesn't supporting your sister women include supporting their choices, not just their own conformation to your single idea about what is right or wrong?

One argument of course, is that the people who get work done are not respecting the human form and are setting different standards and bars that the people who don't get work done can't reach, which isn't sisterly. But hold up girl if you're so happy and comfortable with who you are and what you look like, then you really shouldn't care what anyone else looks like. Can you confirm that Kim's butt is even fake? Can you confirm that dying your hair and spray tanning your skin isn't a similar concept as getting work done just on a less offensive and more socially approved scale? Would you really prefer the photo to not be photoshopped so you can point out her cellulite? We know she has cellulite because we have cellulite.

I don't think it's necessary to point out how many women in Hollywood get work done, but I can assure you that it's happening all over the damn place and to the least expected faces. Just because you can't tell that someone has had work done doesn't mean they haven't, it means they have a good doctor. But again, if you're an A-list actor you're a "serious" person and we're okay with averting our eyes over a little work. (But not so much that you pull a Renee Zellweger, keep it quiet.)

Did you know that some people have been altering, stretching, tattooing, and adorning their bodies since the beginning of time, and yet at another point in time ankles were considered too sexy to show? Sorry but you didn't come up with your holy judgement, you're adhering to one culturally approved opinion without thinking about the breaks you're throwing on the forward movement toward peace and acceptance and woman power that you say you want so badly.

Plus, Kim looks amazing.

Friday, March 28, 2014

Things That Scare Me

Nothing scares me quite like a Google search that brings up no results. I mean fine, lots of things scare me. Emotional intimacy can be challenging, and to be honest I'm still haunted by the facial expressions that Britney Spears made during her stint as a judge on X Factor. (See below.) But other than that, empty Google searches. In the entire world there's not one thing that even looks a little bit like what I was asking for? So you're saying I'm alone in my thoughts and super weird? I'M NOT.

To be fair it's not like I'm searching for a key word like "ice cream" and it shuts me down, it's usually more like when I'm trying to find out how dangerous an antibiotic is on a scale from 9-10 and I misspell it's cute pharmaceutical name. But I'd like to think that the internet has some left field ideas for me since it knows everything and I thought we were friends. It's almost as bad as when I misspell "ridiculous" in a text and the spell check doesn't have the slightest idea of what I was trying to say. But that's what abbreviations are for. Redic.

via: celebfuck.tumblr.com


Friday, January 31, 2014

When Guys Flirt: Pin the Tail on the Donkey Edition

There are a lot of weird things that happen when guys on hit on women, like pretty much every part of it, but I have noticed a new bizarre occurrence in my own experience and I can't tell if I should be incredibly insulted or sort of flattered. Or some blend of both. I'll call it "the repeat". Or more colorfully "pin the tail on the donkey" for the blind and random element of it. Basically what has happened is that someone hits on me...and then on a different day they do it again...because they forgot about it the first time. WHOA BRO.

Example one: My friend and I are in Vegas minding our own business in the intimate nightlife venue that is Hakkasan. Just kidding, Hakkasan holds over 7,000 people which I obviously googled while I was there drinking my chardonnay because how can you expect me to have a good time without knowing those sort of important details. Anyway, these two guys start talking to my friend and I and we are not interested, but they're basically the most fun people we encountered so we hang out with them for a bit and dance to the extent that you can dance when you're sandwiched alongside 7,000 other people and disorienting strobe lighting or whatever.

Fast forward to a month or so later when me and my same friend are minding our own business drinking chardonnay at the Roosevelt pool in Hollywood, and would you believe the exact same guys walk up and start hitting on us! (Because they didn't remember the first time.) Now, I understand that people in Vegas can be a little drunk, and maybe I look slightly different when I'm in my hip Los Angeles clothing as opposed to my Vegas neon orange dress, but like there were TWO of us. You don't recognize either of us? Of course when I interrupted them and reminded them that we had in fact already met, it all came crashing back. What is interesting to note about this interaction is that Guy 1 hit on me both times and Guy 2 hit on my friend both times, so at least they were consistent in their approach. Could have been worse.

Example two: I'm drinking chardonnay at Warwick in Hollywood with my best friend and some guy asks for my number. I'm not interested but I give it to him anyway because I tend to forget that there are simple ways to get out of this exchange, such as saying "no". The same day of the following week I'm doing the exact same thing in the exact same place, and literally within feet of where he hit on me the first time he does it again...because he doesn't remember the first time. I'm like slow it way down guy, you got a blindfold on? Let me show you my pretend insulted face and point out that you already have my number right there in your iPhone. Look alive man. He has since texted me twice, so the best explanation I have for this example is that I must have looked way cuter the second time that he saw me for the first time.

Let's be honest, I probably don't remember half the people I made out with in college but that was 8,501 years ago. (I look great for my age.) And yes, these incidents both happened at nightclubs which are supposedly bad for meeting quality people. But pretty sure as a mature adult when I see a cute guy and speak even one word to him I would recognize him a mere week later no matter where the run in occurred, so I deduce that these "pin the tail on the donkey" type guys are the dating equivalent of those commercial fishing boats that use big nets and scoop up 43 different types of sea creatures that they don't need when they are just looking for one fish to sell/girl who will have sex with them. Offensive? Probably. But not more so than the fact that I basically just referred to myself as a donkey and a sea creature. I need better analogies.

Saturday, October 19, 2013

The Worst Coffee Shop

In the vein of those helpful and hip blog posts that highlight the best coffee shops in Los Angeles to sit down and pen your first hit screenplay, I'd like to suggest one that might be the worst.

I don't make it a daily habit to buy coffee out. I drink it black and hearty like a beast, and realistically I need caffeine to get out of the house in the first place, so it just makes sense to brew a cup of my own. Plus, I'm not raking in the millions yet and you can't read any type of financial responsibility article without coming across facts about how much money we waste at Starbucks. I listen.

But occasionally I run out of coffee. And then sometimes I specifically go to the store to refill my stash and then forget it anyway. When that happens I end up having to walk the half block from my apartment to Hollywood Boulevard where they sell some of that good stuff.

I usually cross the street for Coffee Bean because it seems like the most exotic choice for the neighborhood, but on this day I had already gone once at 8 AM and I didn't really want to go back at 2:30 PM just in case anyone recognized me. I don't need any judgments about my two-a-days, whether those judgements are fiscal or addiction related. It's unlikely that I would be recognized because I was wearing a different outfit but I had on the same groggy face, so you just never know.

To Starbucks I went. This particular Starbucks, which is about 100 feet from my apartment, is quaintly situated below Madame Tussauds wax museum. This is also next to the $10 store where everything is actually $5 as shouted at you by underaged boys pumping signs on sticks in your face. Of course all of these delightful store fronts are right along the boulevard where people dress up as Hollywood characters and beg for cash in exchange for photographs from tourists.

This spot is usually hot, might be more polluted than the rest of Hollywood if that's possible, has roughly one million tourists to duck and run through at any given time, and the dance music blasting from Madame Tussauds is louder than any nightclub in the world which I know because I've been to them all or at least enough to know. I'm not sure how many tables there are outside of Starbuck's because I couldn't see straight from the aggressive noise level, but my best estimate is that there is one. One table that could be the absolute worst coffee shop table in the city to write at.

In closing, I know that it looks like Madame Tussauds is spelled wrong, but it's not. I checked.