Notes from the World's Most Absent Blogger

I'm a woman of few words...sometimes. This statement alone will send people who know me into fits of laughter. But the fact is, I often find it hard to write. My internal editor is so very insistently vocal that I often give up before I begin. And there is also the question of feeling my life is not all that read-worthy. But it's living-worthy, so I guess I should have no qualms about chronicling it. Today marks (yet another) promise to myself to keep things going on my little elbow of the intertubes.

Since I last posted, I have fallen in and out (and in again!) of love, lost a job, found about a million new interests, moved, moved again, changed life direction entirely, made some new friends, revisited old friendships, and let a few people go.

Despite the changes, I feel more like somebody I was "back when" instead of a "new me". Something about change keeps us young. It forces us onto the path of exploration and growth. Resourcefulness, flexibility in mind and spirit, and the wonder of our own being seem to leak away from us as we get lulled into the illusion of security.

Anyway, through this blog, I'd like to challenge myself to get out there and be successful at seeing things through. I've got a lot of plates sitting on sticks right now. They're not even spinning yet, but I'd like to get them going and see what I'm made of. If this seems disjointed now, don't worry. All will be revealed.

So, consider this my re-introduction post. I am Catalina Keller and I will be your blogger today. Exits are at the top of the screen and to the side of the keyboard, but I hope you will stay a while.

A Mermaid's Tale

Once, there was a young blond girl who lived on the cliffs of Dana Point. Almost every day during her summers there, she would climb down the steep chaparral bluffs to the beach and dive into the ocean. She’d swim out past the waders, the surfers, and the waves. She would float for hours, letting the sea support her and whisper stories to her. Her blue eyes would turn green from the sunshine and briny water. Her hair would turn the color of pale sand.

One day, this little mermaid grew up and knew there was more in the world she needed to see. She ran off to the big city, then, years later, to the Smokey Mountains. But she always longed for the salty waters of her past. Her hair grew dark, and her eyes turned more grey than green, but inside she still felt the embrace of the sea.

One day, while sorting through her grown-up treasures, she came across her collection of mermaid charms, sculpted of silver and crystal, glass and pewter, a purple satin cord linking them to each other. While polishing these charms, she remembered who she was. Even though she was sitting in a February-chilled apartment, miles from any ocean, she could feel the sun in her hair and thought she heard a familiar whispered greeting.

She knows she still has much land to explore. Big cities and exotic countries still beckon to her. But she knows, when her travels are done, there will be a place for her beside warm waters. In her old age, she will once again have sand-pale hair and ocean-green eyes.

"The List" by Tara Ison - A Review

Why are two people who are so obviously mismatched compelled to be together? Reason dictates that if you are miserable together, you should be able to part ways, never to look back. What mysterious force draws us back and binds us to each other? What makes us remember the most obscure detail (a gesture, a scent) and turns it into a reason to stay? And should these little reasons be enough? The List, by Tara Ison, explores these excruciating puzzles within a tumultuous relationship.

Isabel and Al are as incompatible as couples get. One is driven and high-strung while the other basks in his slacker life-style. They can never seem to keep their relationship going for long, and yet can not resist the urge to reunite. Does the need to hang on to each other come from the fear of missing out on experiences left unshared? Isabel and Al set off to find out with unexpected, and often undesirable, results.

So much rang true in this story. Jealousy, anger, affection, desperation, lust, and memory whirlpool around this couple as they search for closure before moving on from their emotionally violent love. We watch them fight. We watch them profoundly misunderstand each other. We wonder how two people can ever come together in midst of all that is hurtfully said, and all that is felt and never said at all. And yet, when we are given a glimpse inside their heads and shown moments of tenderness and wonder, we understand why these two persist in hanging on.

In reading The List, I found myself torn, like the characters, not knowing whether to root for separation or reconciliation. Like most really remarkable books, this one gave me insight into myself and my own stormy relationships. Being able to observe this familiar couple was a strange, sometimes painful experience. I would guess the vast majority adults have been through a relationship of this ilk. The List is a wonderful sympathetic novel for all of us who have ever questioned ourselves in terms of our emotional bonds, our fears, and our choices.

Epiphany

So, there is a song out there that really bugs me because it’s about an ex-girlfriend calling a guy who is in a relationship with somebody else. It seems these two exes are still deeply in love and he wishes his current girlfriend were the one who is calling him in the middle of the night. It annoys me because a) I wonder if my boyfriend is really over all his exes and b) why is this guy in the song in another (live-in) relationship if he’s still so gone over the girl on the phone? The part that really annoys me is that it has a very pretty melody and gets stuck in my head fairly easily.

Then, this morning, the song didn’t bother me as much. I tried to figure out why, and I came to the conclusion that it is actually about my boyfriend and me, not some woman in his past. If we ever break up for good (our break-ups don’t seem to take), I am going to be the one he can’t get over, whether he knows it now or not. That made me smile as I looked at him all snuggly in bed. Of course, that would also make him the guy I never fully get over, either. That’s not a comforting thought when we’re apart, but I can certainly live with the idea when we’re together.

Thanksgiving

After reading Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi, I was once again reminded of the things for which I am thankful...

~I am not only thankful for what I have, but for what I am allowed to have.
~I look at my library and know I can fill it with whatever books I want.
~I am thankful for the bounty of food available to me, and that I can afford it on a modest income.
~I can take the lover I choose and, with him, define the parameters of our relationship.
~I can love my God and still love those who don't believe in Him.
~I can buy art supplies and still pay rent.
~There is no black market for the things I desire.
~Nobody in bombing my city and my friend don't just 'vanish' from their homes.
~I am thankful for frivolous entertainment.
~I can laugh loudly and run like a madwoman without fear.

Common Misconceptions about Actors.

Myth #1: Surely, you would have dressed up for Halloween because you're an ACTOR!

TRUTH: Since actors spend much of their time in costumes, wigs, and make-up, it is completely unnecessary to do so at the office of 'the day job'. If there were a party to go to, that is one thing. Entertaining co-workers, however, is just not high on the 'to-do' list when I haven't seen the surface of my desk in two weeks.

Myth #2: I am certain you will come up an adorable skit for the presentation because you're an ACTOR!

TRUTH: Acting does not magically grant you writing skills, nor does it give you the constant urge to pretend you are working in a theater when you are, in realty, at an AC distributor. If you want an 'adorable skit', ask the girl with the precious moments calendar to do it.

Myth #3: You must love public speaking, since it puts you in the center of attention, because you're an ACTOR!

TRUTH: I'm not even going to get into this one. Just know it's wrong.

What it come down to is this: When I am on a stage, I act. I love it. It's what I want to do full time. However, I do not feel the need to 'be on' every minute of the day. I do not need to be adored, stared at, or praised constantly by the masses. And I am not alone in this. Actors are not exotic vessels for a specific personality type. Most I know do not crave attention off stage, 'drama' (whatever that is), or exhorbanent wealth or fame. I know a few who would like groupies, but I know computer geeks with similar fantasies. Actors are just people. Spread the word.

Never Get Between an Actor and Her Food

This is conventional wisdom at play openings and other events where theater and non-theater people mingle. First, the actors not involved in the production get to swarm the buffet. By the time they are done, the actors that were on stage have shed their stage personae and are ready to feast on the still ample vittles. Only when ALL actors have piled their plates with cheese, fruit, and on certain charmed nights, a magnificent guacamole, and are noisily slurping the free wine, then those who have come out to spend their money, time, and love on the theater may partake of the meal. No nature program could compare to a bunch of actors around a chafing dish

Catalina's Bad Poetry Hour

This one is inspired by a hunt for a Christmas present...

Reading Erotica

Naughty stories, they're for me,
Even when literary.
A playful romp, a wild taboo,
A lot of things I'd never do
Except when played out in my head
And you there with me in my bed.

Descriptions Will Be Vague to Protect the Guilty

Today, I had to contact somebody I really did not want to contact. I was going along blithely in my day-to-day, then an incident occurred a few days ago that made it necessary to get in touch with this person. This morning, it all seemed a lot easier and I think I managed to keep communication to a minimum, but last night I was in the throes of anxiety. I can't imagine he would want to be in contact with me, either. He knows I know what he is. Eventually, our paths would have crossed again (this town is too small), and really, like I said, this morning it was no big deal. However, I also know that there will probably be a time where our interaction will not be limited to an email. If I felt this ill over having to do such a small thing, how am I going to feel in more 'involved' situations? I know he wouldn't ever physically hurt me, but there are some very disturbing aspects to him. It's not fear of him, but a hatred of what's inside him. I've never had such a powerful, involuntary hatred before. It is so unlike me to let the mere thought of somebody shake me up. I am a light and loving person, damn it!

I Need a New Obsession

I'm a bit restless. Though that is a constant feeling for me, I am not accustomed to not having a new 'thing' about which to be passionate. The new hobbies and interests I've developed over the past few months have settled into regular parts of my life, if somewhat neglected parts at times. I have no burning romance or crush on the horizon. I have a very full schedule, and active spiritual life (even if I haven't been to church recently), and a really incredible couple of friends. It's all great. But I'm missing obsessing (in a positive way) over something. I mean, we all need that little thing, temporary though it may be, to rev us up. Most look to a romantic conquest, but that's not the only path. Think of the artists and writers, chemists and archaeologists that lose days of sleep over their work. Maybe all I'm lacking is inspiration. If I find that inspiration, perhaps the obsession will come.

By the way, I love this picture for the fragrance. Most see an obsession as a dark, furtive thing, but here are all these bold, exposed people out in the light, not hiding or ashamed. I like that.

Once upon a time...

I thought I was completely nuts, but in a romantic, quietly glamorous way. I was attracted to nutsy people because I saw them as romantic and quietly glamorous. But now I see that the people I thought were good-nuts are actually bad-nuts. I mean bad in a dark, secret, creepy way. I don't want any more people like that in my life. It breeds thoughts I don't want to have and makes me regret being an open, loving person. I am afraid that if I meet any more bad-nuts people, it will make me bad-nuts. I don't want to be dark, secret, or creepy. And I don't want to be afraid to keep my heart open to new friends and lovers. Unfortunately, retreat from the world (something of an induced emotional coma until I heal) is not an option for me at this time, so I can only hope I can hack through the 'disappointments' (mild understatement) and still come out good-nuts on the other side.

Ooohh.....A New Thingy!

So, now I've started a blog. I hope I don't disappoint any unsuspecting souls who might stumble across it.