Authenticity = Self-awareness * Courage

I walk walking down Mission street listening to Chip Conley's 'Emotional Equations' on audible when I stopped in my tracks and out loud said "oh. mygod." Courage. duh.

let me back up.
I recently went to a leadership learning lab that my company does every quarter. It's your typical management workshop only since it's for internal employees, the content is incredibly well selected and it balance the right amount of neuroscience with hippy love stuff. I loved it.

What I didn't love was how difficult i found it to do the partner-work. I cringed a little inside every time they said to "find a partner." And it wasn't the work I found challenging, it was the small talk before-hand. The introduction, the trying to make a good first impression.

But this is something I knew about myself. I hate small talk. It's boring, it's awkward, it requires an intense amount of energy for me.

What I didn't know, tho, was that buried beneath my excuses that 'i'm an introvert' and 'i'm more self-aware so i'm more conscious of others reactions' was something I'd never considered. I'm just plain scared. Scared to be myself around new people. i'm worried they will judge me because honestly, i'm judging them. my inner critic is an asshole that forces me into a shell of a person that i don't even recognize. and when i hate how unreal i am, i hate the interaction.

this idea of being "your authentic self" always seemed below me. I know who i am, and I'm comfortable being vulnerable. i'm almost TOO self-aware. So then why did i struggle so much with it?

cut to: I start walking again and the word courage repeats in my head. I've got to find a way to get over the fear of being myself before i get comfortable with someone. Or i'm going to isolate myself from new connections.

But how the fuck do i do this? Well, this entry is the first step. I've never had a problem being authentic here because there's no immediate reactions to read from anyone reading this. So I'm admitting this in a safe place and then... less safe places.

I'm going to start posting some more personal stuff on social media. Invite the criticism. Stop trying to brand myself on facebook by hand-picking the stuff that i feel is judgement-proof.
 I've got a lot of great material to read and some great soul-searching vacations planned.

But for better or for worse, I'm going to have to start practicing this in the scariest place of all, other people. I don't have that quite figured out yet, but fortunately, they're fucking everywhere ;)
 

101 in 1001

Tonight, it is with intentional embarrassment that I link you to the webpage I just made as part of and to keep track of my newest endeavor, the "101 things in 1001 days" challenge.

The more time i spend on this, the more it feels like exactly what's been missing the last year.

It's self-explanatorily a short term bucket list. What's brilliant about it is that 3ish years seems to be the sweet spot of lofty and inspiring but SMART goal setting. Bucket lists are fun for the imagination but has no real planable deadlines to work around. New years resolutions fall flat because doing anything for a year that you aren't doing makes it hard to stay motivated. 3 years works well because you have multiple times to try seasonally dependent goals. Being 30 is kind of a perfect time to do this as well because I expect to be in a very different place 3 years from now and it's given me time to reflect on what I really want to do before i move into a more settled, domestic role.

The number seems to work well too, as it's big enough to throw "easy wins" on there, but small enough that you don't feel pressured to put "everysinglethingyoucouldeverwanttodo"

I tried to keep my travel goals off as much as possible because my travel bucket list is kind of insane right now and really, this wasn't the point.

It's been cathartic just to make the list. Lately I've been feeling somewhat directionless and lost. Go to work, come home, eat, take the dog out, go to band, dress up, go out, drink, fuck, sleep, read a book, watch Game of Thrones. Everything wonderful and fufilling but somewhat repetetive. And I feel like I already up and do whatever I set my mind to. I just hadn't felt inspired lately.

So i made the list. and considering how amazing i've felt without even accomplishing anything tells me 2 things about what makes me happy:
1- I need to have a plan. Even if the plan is just to make a plan. I need a plan. Feeling like i'm on track, even if I'm not there yet, is better than being content when i'm where i think i should be.
2- I need to be always working toward something. Always challenged. Always impressing myself with my accomplishments. Always feeling like i'm making "progress." Even if I give up halfway thru, which I often do, and have always kind of hated about myself, the trying was always the best part.


so my list has lofty things like "get married" and "swim with a shark" and stupid chores like "get passport renewed" and "make an appointment with a dermatologist."

But I built a website last night and it's terrible but I figured it out and am going to sleep having added another stupid url to the universe. and it is...

http://karis101project.com/

Be sure to watch the shore

(a dramatic interpretation of last night, inspired, as always by C$)

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, craddling the bottle to her chest. The wind whipped around her, violent at this height, but it wasn't cold. It never was in Maine this time of year. She took one long final drink from the bottle and set it carefully down on the rocks beside her, never tearing her eyes from the moon and the water.  The wool scottish tartan blanket had fallen uselessly down to her lap and she pulled it back around her shoulders. It wasn't a full moon, but it was close enough.

The night, like her mind, ebbed and flowed, raced and settled, soft and violent. As the wind died, she took a deep breath and pulled a piece of folded up music paper from inside her Hunter rain boots. She didn't need to read it again. She knew what it said.

She stuffed the note into the empty wine bottle and held it up to the sky, admiring the elegant courior.
The wind began to stir and as the tide receded past the rocks she flung the bottle over the cliff and sent it crashing to the shores below. with it went it all. and without it she sat back pleased.
"i sent you a letter," she said to him in her mind. "be sure to watch the shore"

african american out

it's been a long, scandalous while. i stopped writing mostly because a lot of things that were happening were not internet blog appropriate. and strangely- my inspiration to write music hit a lull. so it must be connected somehow.

just watched a bunch of old youtube videos of songs i wrote over the last year  . the stupid one about things i'd do if i were Britney Spears, the parody ballad about overcoming all obstacles (like finding a hotel room) to hookup with CW, the one about Ben, the other one about Ben. (conclusion- i'm a f-ing genius)

it's weird to get inspired by past you as if past you was a totally different person but that's how it felt. and it made me sad that i haven't contributed artistically to the world in months. so imma start blogging again.

the best i can describe things currently is "floating." Nikki and Jess moved. Then Ben moved. Then Pirate moved. Then Fight club friend broke up with me. Then i had an overwhelmingly ridiculous 6 months of weekend trips with Trav. Then T said he loved me. Then my drummer got engaged. These are starting to get out of order... My coworker died. I got an office. My team reorged and all that "career trajectory" I'd been so excited about died.

for a few months I spent every waking moment trying to move to SF. I cleaned my apartment like I was getting ready to move. I applied for 15 jobs a day. I interviewed in SF. and after a couple of rejections, I got dejected and started... well floating.

somewhere i still feel like moving to SF is the right call and will happen within the year. so i'm not motivated AT ALL to build relationships here. and every single close friend i've had moved within the last year so i've been spending a lot of weekends alone.

so just kinda floating. which is not at all like me. i'm always gunning for *something* now it feels like i'm waiting. which inherently makes me unhappy. but i'm really lost as to wtf i should be doing.

i will say that my mind is in a really good place to handle all of this. reading all of the cliche "7 habits" and dale carnegie and siddhartha. taking meditation classes. running alot. still working hard on veganism. sleeping 8 hours a night. yoga. lots and lots and lots of sex.... so mind is at peace despite the chaos or lack thereof.

it's weird how you forget what *actually* makes you happy versus what you assume makes you happy.

yesterday i started spiraling. went to a happy hour for Jess, who was in town visiting. Spent most of it alternating between awkward small talk with people i didnt know or care to know, remaniscing about how much closer i used to be with our mutual group of friends and how the likelihood that they'll ever be my "group" again is slim to none and then texting my coworkers on my phone.  (sidenote- coworker friendships seem to be the only group i really haven't ever attempted to build (read also- slept with and fucked up) and since i spend most of my time there it's becoming an actual social outlet, details forthcoming)

i walked home after the HH feeling like everyone was moving on without me. like i'd stayed in my hometown and friends were coming back to visit from college.
and how none of my friends should feel sorry for me. it's my job to get my shit together. and if i'm relying on feeling "missed" to feel loved, then i'm fucked.
so...
i walked into the studio almost in tears
and andy had my stuff already packed up.
casey pulled the tour bus around.
jeremy bought me a 18 pack of PBR for our offsite rehearsal
i made a racist joke that made everyone laugh
and by the end of the night it felt like what almost made me cry earlier was beyond trivial. and i can't leave seattle. my bandmates, thru no choice of their own, have become family.

and with that, i'm going to leave blogland and go write a sappy drunken email to my bandmates about how much i love them.

love > everything

xoxo
k

Vegan Day 2/ Overdue rant on crushed childhood dreams

Here's something I didn't expect... being vegan feels a lot like having an eating disorder...
I realize that sounds like a joke but sadly, going on a severe dietary restriction that most of the population misunderstands and judges feels EXACTLY like it did when I was balls deep in ED back in school.

Bold leap, so I'l expand...
the last time I didn't eat my own birthday cake was sophomore year of college. i wish i had a really sexy compelling lifetime reason. like being an olympic level gymnast or a super model or ... anything really. even being a dance major at my school would probably make me feel better. but... I was a dance... minor (finance major/ german/ journalism triple major). I also wish that I was actually in the class that gave me so much anxiety but...
okay here's the pathetic details...
I wanted to be a dance major and I started out as an auditionee. and when everyone would gather in a pile of leg warmers and sewing needles for pointe shoes and gorgeous new leotards covered in destroyed, disheveled Rent T-shirts and discuss their semester's classes... I was always painfully jealous. Mariah (the bane of my dance career existence) had early morning theater and then advanced pointe work (with me) and then a TA position with the elective intro to dance class and rounding out with a Balanchine theory course.

Meanwhile, I was either the weird girl in a leotard in my econ class beforehand, or late to warm up and changing in the bathroom.

I hated it...

But i loved it...

okay so you get the dichotomy. the important thing to get from this is that when you already feel ostracized from something you love and you have little control, you tend to grasp on to the things you feel you can control, in the interest of saving some short term depression...

but i haven't mentioned the worst part...
Suzanne Ferrell.
google her. she's the most ridiculously amazing ballerina that ever lived, in my opinion.
and she taught at *my school*
at the class that was *after mine*

Because, you see, as an advance pointe non-dance-major, your class is right before the *real* dance major classes.

and i have been ob*SESSED* with Suzanne Ferrell since I was a kid.  I've been in ballet since I was 4. Everyone who sticks with it after the parental- preschool-hobby phase wears out, has a sick fetish for perfection. And I.... do not have an ideal ballet body. Every failed ballerina can list their flawed body type faster than their social security number... I have bad arches. My feet are too small. My shins are too short compared to my thighs. My hips have no turnout and I'm too tall.

Suzanne Ferrell had all kinds of body issues but she was... ugh. you couldn't take your eyes off her. She was perfect without being perfect. I worshiped her. She was a principal with NYC ballet during the Balanchine era. She was his muse. Some of my favorite ballets were inspired by her. Ugh. whore. anyway...

she taught_the class_after mine.

so i would hide in the office and watch. and listen to her post- rehearsal advice.

and obsessed over everything.

she told her class how cooking carrots took the vitamins out of them, so eating them raw meant you could get the nutrients without consuming as many calories...

this and other lessons... and blah blah blah... skip 2 years ahead I'm hospitalized for... anyway... I'm better now and that's all that matters.

BUT** the point of this entry was...
in those 2 years I skipped over... I felt embarrassed for the way I ate. didn't feel like anyone would understand. felt the need to hide.

and it was also the last time i didn't eat my own birthday cake.

haven't thought about that stuff in a long long time.

BUT-  in happy news, i'm on day 2 of the experiement and have no idea why i was able to maintain the ridiculous temptation of mom's cooking but i did so that's something.

thank god wine isn't made from animals....

So I play like I am waiting, but it's just my hesitating

Completely overwhelmed by alternating waves of peace and tranquility followed by violent stomach butterfly anxiety.

It's been a mindfuck.

Trying to play housekeeper to my own head and figure out what's really going on when I feel waves of panic over trivial things.

and the conclusion seems to be that all these fears are justified. I keep getting the urge to cry when i think about Nikki and Jess moving and it seems like an overreaction. But then I remember the last 12 months... 

One year ago was the dramatic kick-in-the-stomach end to the 3 year gut-wrenching saga of me and Dan. 

back and forth and back and forth and finally an ultimatum ending at the top of the space needle with a dozen Peonies and promises of a new beginning. A year comfort and peace riddled with unresolved issues and lack of trust. to the violent and bitter end.

The loneliest I've ever felt was losing that group of friends. Which I'd always known would happen, but hadn't stopped me from not making any new ones along the way. And trying to reconnect with old friends just made me feel more lonely and left out and so much had changed. 

So lonely that I let a boy I knew I didn't truly love, pack up his life and move across the country to be with me. It seemed ridiculous, but it felt better than the alternative.

That breakup ended with the beginning of the most unhealthy relationship I've ever been in. Despite all of my better judgement, I couldn't say no to the boy I'd always wondered about. It was intense. It was misplaced passion. I fell in love with the idea of us being together. I needed more than anything for him to love me because he represented everything I wanted... and then he didn't. and 4 years of "will they" turned into a hard no. and i watched someone go from lover to friend to asshole telling me i'm being crazy and need to suck it up for the sake of the band. 

and then C told me she was moving. and i hit rock bottom. and had a bender of events that led me to the therapist's office.

and then the healing process started to begin. and my therapist said i should reach out to someone i've always wanted to be closer with. so i agreed to go to SF with Nikki and Jess and found 2 of the best friends i've had. 

and now they're leaving...

and i'm falling for a guy who doesn't live here and thus has a very cap on how far it could go.

and all of this, the fact that i'm never going to get over my drummer while we're in the band together, and everything that makes me happy is in SF, and my rent is skyrocketing... it makes it so hard to want to be *here*...

but i can't leave yet. my career has never been on such a trajectory. and my parents just bought a house across the water.

so i'm just having nightmares and panic attacks and breaking down and crying at weird times for the stupidest reasons. 

I'm just not good at being alone. All my lowest points stem from lonliness...and it's extra hard to play the "starting over" game when I'm not motivated to be here. 

I guess there are worse problems to have than loving people so much it breaks your heart to miss them. After they move, there's a Hawaii trip in the works that will likely take the edge off. And a few weeks after that is my 10 days silent Vipasanna retreat. So I may come out extra zen on the other side.

In other news, I woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare and started writing half-asleep in my journal. Here's what I found this morning:

"Fuck, oh fuck. My ears are ringing/

I want to fuck, but I've been singing/

Praises counting on my fingers/

of the places he should linger/

stop, you have too many days/

and there's lots of flags he's raised/

so why not stop before it starts/

and be one less broken heart"

-Subconscious Kartarr

ManFrancisco Part II

I had a truly epic and wonderful weekend and it's almost making it hard to be home.
After meeting a boy in Shasta and promptly flirting over sms for a month, I packed a bag of Agent Provac and Kiki De Montparnasse and headed to Cali for a weekend to mutually enjoyed activities.

This is the second trip to SF that's exceeded my expectations and left me feeling that wonderful glow of having met new people that you connect with super quick. It was "Occupy ManFrancisco" where NiJesKa was born and last weekend did not disappoint.

There was something very safe and familiar about being a group of 2 couples. I guess this is why married couples like hanging out together. It worked really well getting to know T while hanging out with 2 of my closest friends. The dynamic felt good. and i laughed a LOT. which is always my measurement for a good weekend.

Stories of note-
1. Suite O
2. Accidentally going for a 6 miles run b/c I got lost on the Standford campus
3. The fingers...
4. Being so drunk that I somehow missed seeing T in bed, convinced myself he was lost and i needed to find him, wandering the streets of the mission looking for him, somehow finding my way back, interrogating G as to his whereabouts, then finding him in bed and falling asleep.
5. J to the pizza guy- "i'm sorry we're so drunk... hold on i'm getting flogged..."
6. T stepping on said pizza
7. Having to rush to make a 3pm armory tour
8. Drinking champagne (a lot of champagne) at the park
9. FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS!
10. 22 points
11. Photo booths
12. Getting high fived for an epic performance on the stage of a club

All in all, amazing weekend.

In the airport, enjoying a ridiculously good lentil burger, it started to feel like there's more and more pulling me toward SF. and i have a feeling that when nikki and jess leave, Seattle is gonna feel a lot less like home.
and my lease is up in October... and Amazon's music team is based in SF...  feels... tempting...

and after 2 severely emotionally jarring breakups in the last few years, a new city could be cathartic.

or maybe i'm just still high from all the ... mutually enjoyed activities...

here's the the dreams i know i'm about to walk into...