Inspiration doesn't come easy and like wise for what I'm about to say.
Rosa was my first (besides my Mom, my husband, and possibly one friend who lived miles away). She was my first true confession.
We found each other and reconnected through Myspace and then later on Facebook as well. It had been so long since I had even thought about her. She had just become a childhood memory tainted by regret. I still cared about her (and not in a weird way). I always did.
She had a son now and that much I knew already. Also she wasn't married and I had no idea who the father was. I assumed that it had been a painful experience and never wanted to actually ask, but I did begin reading some of her special posts (I forget what they are called...notes?) on Myspace. I left a few comments of encouragement. It was never anything really amazingly profound, but just enough to let her know that I wasn't judgmental or even as uptight about these sort of things the way she might have assumed I was from our history together (i.e. youth group and Christian college).
I began to think that either she didn't check the site very much or (my paranoid self kicking in) she was snubbing me. However there were a couple (meaning 2) of occasions she did respond.
Rosa began to talk about her life very specifically laying out her feelings about the path that she now was taking, and what kind of woman she saw herself as. It was all very personal, I could tell. Especially, when she said, "I don't know why I am writing all this...Maybe I'm just tired and possibly a little tipsy." (paraphrase of actual words - not a quote) Drunk or not, it was nice to finally hear something real from her.
Finding her again brought up a lot of my past. My interactions with Rosa were confusing ...always confusing, and I still had so many unanswered questions. Since she was my longest ongoing "crush" that I had ever had on a girl, she really stood out as a clue to how I got to where I am today. I wanted to ask her. I had so many "why?" questions running through my head. I knew that there had to be a better way to find closure to this though. So I prayed about it.
Then I wrote this letter (via Myspace) to her.:
(This is the actual letter and not a paraphrase)
------------------------------------------------
I'm sry for the way I have been overreacting to everything or "nothing" that you have been saying to me ...I know this is crazy (or rather I am crazy) and I want to be honest with you finally about some stuff that might make you understand why I appear hypersensitive to our interactions...even now after many years have gone by..
this isn't easy to write I'm sry I'm stalling soo much BUT I'm tired of playing a guessing game in my mind...
here goes...*deep breath*
I had a "crush" on you in high school.
wow! that was really hard to type
Now, I'm not stupid...I know right from wrong...and there is more to the my story than this but I'm not sure that you'd really care to hear about it anyway.
I'm not gay, never thought I was (always been attracted to guys so can't relate to that)... I'm just weird..always weird (again -a story for another time)
I had so much more I was gonna say about this..something about how you are not the first person I've told about this temptation that I sometimes struggle with..and how I found it to be 'freeing" in a sense and that it also has brought accountability with it. I also could tell you all the stuff I have learned about myself since college when I made a real verbal heart-2-heart commitment to God to become the true "woman" that he created me to be and not to live my life by the way others may perceive me to be.
I wanted to remind you of our last real conversation in college that I remember - the one, that in turn made me not want to walk through your door again...(I told you about my Dad and how he "treated" me and all the stuff no one knew about my family and you wouldn't even look me in the eye...it was like I wasn't even there)
So bottom line...none of that stuff matters anymore...
I just want to stop second guessing of whether you could tell that I "liked" you and so you didn't ever want to really be that close to me..or if I'm just not cool enough..
I just don't want to think about it anymore..I want the air to be cleared and so I can take what you say or don't say @ face value and that's it.
oh yeah..and one more thing to throw in here (as if finding out that some "freak" girl that you went to church with had a crush on you wasn't it bad enough =P)
I also had a huge crush on NAME HAS BEEN REMOVED - what can I say he's all-around hottie right?- but when I found out you liked him too...Lol I was like, well, that's it for me...I don't even have a chance against Rosa.
Guess I will be hearing from you...or I won't
aside from all this- when I said, "I care/ed about you" that was the real deal nothing weird.... and I do.
----------------------------------------------
Rosa never responded. So after a few weeks I wrote to her again telling her how anxious I was becoming. Saying that I would rather her swear at me and call me names then to just not respond at all. Her only response to this was removing me from her friends list (first from Myspace then later from Facebook). Nothing more was said. And I had not expected that someone who now lived so far away, and had been removed from my life for so long with very little communication between us, could still hurt me this badly.
It made me feel even more "disgusting" than I ever had before.
And that is a good lead-off for my next post which will be about facing my own prejudices concerning homosexuals and the like.
See ya all next week.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Friday, September 3, 2010
A New Door
Lenny Kravitz is beckoning you to come and share your story. If not here in this blog, then somewhere else. Someone needs to here what you have to say and more importantly to you..You need to GET IT OUT.
I will keep writing my story till someone takes over with theirs.
See ya next week. Have a safe and enjoyable LONG weekend!!
Friday, August 27, 2010
Clothing Optional part 3
As a Christian I am forever rooted in Christ. The Bible says that He lives in me and grows, matures, and eventually will produce fruit.
Looking back through my hour glass of my childhood and adolescence, I found something good. I had a very real and deeply rooted personal relationship with God. He was my hope. He was what I held on to. He was the first one I talked to in good times and bad. He was everything that my earthly father failed to be for me. He was my best friend. And I...I was important to Him.
That relationship, that closeness, and innocence was certainly something that I wanted back in my life again. I was unhappy with what was happening to me (from all sides) but I was joyful on the inside because of the peace that knowing God gave me.
Beyond losing that I also discovered that I had abandoned my pursuit of music and writing. Although, I had helped coach a soccer team when my son was young, I still felt inhibited by my thinking that a grown woman shouldn't behave this way.
Helping out with the youth group, which had been a "dream job" growing up, I wanted to act goofy just like them but then would remember that maybe that was not very "lady-like".
Breaking down those stereo-types in my mind wasn't easy, but it helped that at my core was Christ and He had been there all along. But now...not as much. Why?
And, How do I go back to Him (my root) without going back to my sinful delusions?
I could draw this story out longer but let me just say it. I tried to. And...
I failed.
But my friend (back at the beginning of this series) was right. They were just clothes. I can wear those same clothes knowing that I am a woman now. Knowing that I'm not a freak of nature hoping to look cool for someone who would care for someone like me. In fact, I have worn those clothes again! But my vision has changed. What I see looking back in the mirror at me has changed. My heart has changed.
The hobbies, the special interests, the career choices, and the clothes are all "optional" to God. It's the heart that matters.
It's the heart, He sees.
Looking back through my hour glass of my childhood and adolescence, I found something good. I had a very real and deeply rooted personal relationship with God. He was my hope. He was what I held on to. He was the first one I talked to in good times and bad. He was everything that my earthly father failed to be for me. He was my best friend. And I...I was important to Him.
That relationship, that closeness, and innocence was certainly something that I wanted back in my life again. I was unhappy with what was happening to me (from all sides) but I was joyful on the inside because of the peace that knowing God gave me.
Beyond losing that I also discovered that I had abandoned my pursuit of music and writing. Although, I had helped coach a soccer team when my son was young, I still felt inhibited by my thinking that a grown woman shouldn't behave this way.
Helping out with the youth group, which had been a "dream job" growing up, I wanted to act goofy just like them but then would remember that maybe that was not very "lady-like".
Breaking down those stereo-types in my mind wasn't easy, but it helped that at my core was Christ and He had been there all along. But now...not as much. Why?
And, How do I go back to Him (my root) without going back to my sinful delusions?
I could draw this story out longer but let me just say it. I tried to. And...
I failed.
But my friend (back at the beginning of this series) was right. They were just clothes. I can wear those same clothes knowing that I am a woman now. Knowing that I'm not a freak of nature hoping to look cool for someone who would care for someone like me. In fact, I have worn those clothes again! But my vision has changed. What I see looking back in the mirror at me has changed. My heart has changed.
The hobbies, the special interests, the career choices, and the clothes are all "optional" to God. It's the heart that matters.
It's the heart, He sees.
Clothing Optional part 2 of 3
What is the definition of a woman? And how do we know what a man should be? I think these questions are more crucial to find answers for in our nation today then merely trying to define marriage. Now I guess I should post a dictionary definition or something research related from Wikipedia. But if it were that simple to answer then why are we still asking?
Marriage (typically) is a choice, an agreement between two individuals to spend their lifetime together, till death, no matter what the circumstance. Motherhood, on the other hand, is not a choice (although there are some that would argue this). It is something that you might or might not prepare for in advance. And even with all the child rearing training classes and books available, the constant advice streaming in from all sides both family and friends, NOTHING adequately prepares you for a baby entering your world like life experience.
When my son came home with us from the hospital I was a nervous wreck. I had instantly felt a connection to him while they wheeled us into the other room (after surgery) and I sang to him. This is something I had thought of and planned before hand. My effort to pass on something meaningful to him through my voice and the power of music. Later while rocking him to sleep at home I spoke aloud all my fears to him. It was my simple confession that I had no idea what I was doing but then realizing that we had that common ground between us. This was his first time too. And that made me feel better.
Sometimes my son sees his little sister getting her nails painted or playing with her "princess play make-up" and jealousy flares. He used to say, "When I'm a baby again, I'm gonna be a girl." In the past this small statement might have scared me a little and fed some unfounded fear inside me that I had somehow passed this burden on to my children. Not this time. Because I understood (correction: I understand) that whether my son plays with dolls or army men, wears polish or dirt on his nails, loves pink or blue... he will always be my son. He will always be a boy and someday a man, just the way God created him to be. Our society makes these distinctions between the genders, not God. What an amazing revelation that is to me! (and to my son) Freedom to be anything you want to be, and knowing that your identity is forever secured by the one who made you.
When life gets hard and your way gets blurred, "go back to your roots".
I had ignored the feelings of doubt and inadequacy for so long. To be a better wife, a better lover, and of course to be a mother. My mother in law pushed me into church involvement. I'm grateful that she did because I needed to get out of the house and socialize. But it also made me realize that I'm an adult now, not just a crazy college student. People look at me and they see a grown woman. I feel like a child amongst them but they can't tell that. At home I could raise my kids how I wanted to. By that I mean, I didn't have to pretend to be anything I wasn't. They didn't know any better. They didn't know that other mom's don't like to dig in the mud with their kids to find worms. They didn't know that it was weird that I like spiderman and super hero movies just like their daddy. And if mommy only wears dresses once or maybe twice a month, she's not abnormal for that.
Watching these other ladies at church their behaviors, their hobbies, their family life I felt like I needed to cover myself up again.
And I did...but wearing so many different shoes will eventually produce blisters, especially if they don't fit.
"Go back to your roots." My face a mess with tears streaming and my head swimming with questions, all I could hear was my professor saying, "Go back to your roots."
I had no roots to this "character" I was playing. I was ashamed of my family(Mom and Dad), my past, and ultimately ...I was ashamed of me.
But I had to fix this. I needed to be rooted in something, by something, or someone.
I couldn't keep running away.
(Think of this as an attatchment for clarfication: After proof reading I realize that it might seem that I am saying there is no definite difference between the genders. That is NOT true. God clearly states descriptions for each role in life. And I do understand that there are inherinant differences between the genders (beyond the physical) whether we can see them in ourselves or not. Where the "society" part or our culture kicks in is in the little things... such as our hobbies, our likes and dislikes, and even our facial structure or body type can be scrutunized to not be adequatly living up to the "gender standards". These things don't make a man or not to God. I hope this clears up any misunderstandings. =)
Marriage (typically) is a choice, an agreement between two individuals to spend their lifetime together, till death, no matter what the circumstance. Motherhood, on the other hand, is not a choice (although there are some that would argue this). It is something that you might or might not prepare for in advance. And even with all the child rearing training classes and books available, the constant advice streaming in from all sides both family and friends, NOTHING adequately prepares you for a baby entering your world like life experience.
When my son came home with us from the hospital I was a nervous wreck. I had instantly felt a connection to him while they wheeled us into the other room (after surgery) and I sang to him. This is something I had thought of and planned before hand. My effort to pass on something meaningful to him through my voice and the power of music. Later while rocking him to sleep at home I spoke aloud all my fears to him. It was my simple confession that I had no idea what I was doing but then realizing that we had that common ground between us. This was his first time too. And that made me feel better.
Sometimes my son sees his little sister getting her nails painted or playing with her "princess play make-up" and jealousy flares. He used to say, "When I'm a baby again, I'm gonna be a girl." In the past this small statement might have scared me a little and fed some unfounded fear inside me that I had somehow passed this burden on to my children. Not this time. Because I understood (correction: I understand) that whether my son plays with dolls or army men, wears polish or dirt on his nails, loves pink or blue... he will always be my son. He will always be a boy and someday a man, just the way God created him to be. Our society makes these distinctions between the genders, not God. What an amazing revelation that is to me! (and to my son) Freedom to be anything you want to be, and knowing that your identity is forever secured by the one who made you.
When life gets hard and your way gets blurred, "go back to your roots".
I had ignored the feelings of doubt and inadequacy for so long. To be a better wife, a better lover, and of course to be a mother. My mother in law pushed me into church involvement. I'm grateful that she did because I needed to get out of the house and socialize. But it also made me realize that I'm an adult now, not just a crazy college student. People look at me and they see a grown woman. I feel like a child amongst them but they can't tell that. At home I could raise my kids how I wanted to. By that I mean, I didn't have to pretend to be anything I wasn't. They didn't know any better. They didn't know that other mom's don't like to dig in the mud with their kids to find worms. They didn't know that it was weird that I like spiderman and super hero movies just like their daddy. And if mommy only wears dresses once or maybe twice a month, she's not abnormal for that.
Watching these other ladies at church their behaviors, their hobbies, their family life I felt like I needed to cover myself up again.
And I did...but wearing so many different shoes will eventually produce blisters, especially if they don't fit.
"Go back to your roots." My face a mess with tears streaming and my head swimming with questions, all I could hear was my professor saying, "Go back to your roots."
I had no roots to this "character" I was playing. I was ashamed of my family(Mom and Dad), my past, and ultimately ...I was ashamed of me.
But I had to fix this. I needed to be rooted in something, by something, or someone.
I couldn't keep running away.
(Think of this as an attatchment for clarfication: After proof reading I realize that it might seem that I am saying there is no definite difference between the genders. That is NOT true. God clearly states descriptions for each role in life. And I do understand that there are inherinant differences between the genders (beyond the physical) whether we can see them in ourselves or not. Where the "society" part or our culture kicks in is in the little things... such as our hobbies, our likes and dislikes, and even our facial structure or body type can be scrutunized to not be adequatly living up to the "gender standards". These things don't make a man or not to God. I hope this clears up any misunderstandings. =)
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Clothing Optional
"They are just clothes,"
A friend said to me after I had spent a weekend laying my past out before her. I confessed how embarrassed I've become to even photographs of my childhood. Because I would see what I was wearing, the way I was standing, who I was with or even the expression on my face, and I knew everything. All that I needed to know. I could see which gears were spinning behind those eyes. I knew why I chose to wear that shirt for that particular day and who I was trying to impress.
And she said, "What's the big deal? They're just clothes."
She was right. They are just clothes.
After "coaching" myself over and over...and over...that I was indeed a "woman", I had to establish a new identity.
I've always thought that the correct answer for a Christian to "Who AM I?" is "I am HIS." That means I am to be whatever God wants me to be. Of course that presents another question,
"What does He want from me?"
The generic Bible answer (insert verse here) is not specific enough, to say the least. And waiting on an unseen, inaudible, omnipotent being to give you marching orders makes it even more difficult.
I can remember..
sitting at my desk while kids at summer school tossed paper wads and various easy to reach objects (paper clips, pens, pencils, erasers, food garbage, pocket lint, etc) at my head. Basically, it was just this one really heavy-set girl who chose me to bully so she would be liked (I'm guessing at that, of course). And I found myself thinking not just WWJD (What Would Jesus Do) but actually viewing myself as if I were Christ himself being taunted by his peers.
And as much as it embarrassed and angered me to be hit and laughed at so many times while the summer school teacher slept at his desk, I did not retaliate or show my frustration. In fact, I even started giving her "weapons" back to her to throw at me again. They (the girl and her onlooking groupies) thought that was absurd. They laughed (that time) in disbelief. And that's when she started to get violent about it. She kicked my desk and was gonna spit in my face when one of the off season football players stood up and said, "Come on now, that's enough. She's cool and this ain't cool no more." Then she had no choice but to like me for the rest of the term if she wanted to remain liked by those she thought really mattered.
Christ would be the ideal identity to have if I wish to please God. But then aren't we all supposed to be like Him?? What's the deal? Are we not all differently designed with each of us livning within the confines of our own personality?
So becoming like Christ might be a good rule of thumb in tough situations and in important decision making, but God created us to be uniquely different.
So who am I?
I awoke to this question again and again, but this time I was sitting with a group of ladies at a Tupperware party. All the ladies were talking about Tupperware like it was their life's dream that they could finally obtain this new limited edition 5 piece "store and seal" in their latest cool blue color... (and on sale!). I tried to feel excited about it too. But really, I felt like a child sitting at a casino while my grandmother hit the slots... A.K.A. out of place.
At this time in my life I also had a toddler and a not yet walking baby at home and so I was attempting to play the role of supermom for everyone. I thought that included Tupperware parties...and more make-up, longer nails, ALWAYS spot-free house when company was over, scapbooking, various women's small groups, saying, "awwww.." every time someone showed me a picture of their kids or a new outfit that they bought for my kids. I thought women were pink loving, flower smelling, skipping rope, and tea parties. When I signed up for MySpace and later Facebook, I was finally asked the direct question in the form of my, "About Me" section. I had to list my hobbies and my interests and I...I didn't even know what to say.
My babies and my husband were my life. They... they defined me.
The "supermom" or "superwoman" that I'd created had no past, no childhood memories, no fun photographs to look fondly over and reminesce. Beyond my marriage to Drew and my choice to change, "I" didn't exist.
It seemed easier that way...
(This will be another two parter, sorry. I need breaks to regroup my thoughts and I don't think you want to read a lot in one sitting either so...see ya again soon!)
A friend said to me after I had spent a weekend laying my past out before her. I confessed how embarrassed I've become to even photographs of my childhood. Because I would see what I was wearing, the way I was standing, who I was with or even the expression on my face, and I knew everything. All that I needed to know. I could see which gears were spinning behind those eyes. I knew why I chose to wear that shirt for that particular day and who I was trying to impress.
And she said, "What's the big deal? They're just clothes."
She was right. They are just clothes.
After "coaching" myself over and over...and over...that I was indeed a "woman", I had to establish a new identity.
I've always thought that the correct answer for a Christian to "Who AM I?" is "I am HIS." That means I am to be whatever God wants me to be. Of course that presents another question,
"What does He want from me?"
The generic Bible answer (insert verse here) is not specific enough, to say the least. And waiting on an unseen, inaudible, omnipotent being to give you marching orders makes it even more difficult.
I can remember..
sitting at my desk while kids at summer school tossed paper wads and various easy to reach objects (paper clips, pens, pencils, erasers, food garbage, pocket lint, etc) at my head. Basically, it was just this one really heavy-set girl who chose me to bully so she would be liked (I'm guessing at that, of course). And I found myself thinking not just WWJD (What Would Jesus Do) but actually viewing myself as if I were Christ himself being taunted by his peers.
And as much as it embarrassed and angered me to be hit and laughed at so many times while the summer school teacher slept at his desk, I did not retaliate or show my frustration. In fact, I even started giving her "weapons" back to her to throw at me again. They (the girl and her onlooking groupies) thought that was absurd. They laughed (that time) in disbelief. And that's when she started to get violent about it. She kicked my desk and was gonna spit in my face when one of the off season football players stood up and said, "Come on now, that's enough. She's cool and this ain't cool no more." Then she had no choice but to like me for the rest of the term if she wanted to remain liked by those she thought really mattered.
Christ would be the ideal identity to have if I wish to please God. But then aren't we all supposed to be like Him?? What's the deal? Are we not all differently designed with each of us livning within the confines of our own personality?
So becoming like Christ might be a good rule of thumb in tough situations and in important decision making, but God created us to be uniquely different.
So who am I?
I awoke to this question again and again, but this time I was sitting with a group of ladies at a Tupperware party. All the ladies were talking about Tupperware like it was their life's dream that they could finally obtain this new limited edition 5 piece "store and seal" in their latest cool blue color... (and on sale!). I tried to feel excited about it too. But really, I felt like a child sitting at a casino while my grandmother hit the slots... A.K.A. out of place.
At this time in my life I also had a toddler and a not yet walking baby at home and so I was attempting to play the role of supermom for everyone. I thought that included Tupperware parties...and more make-up, longer nails, ALWAYS spot-free house when company was over, scapbooking, various women's small groups, saying, "awwww.." every time someone showed me a picture of their kids or a new outfit that they bought for my kids. I thought women were pink loving, flower smelling, skipping rope, and tea parties. When I signed up for MySpace and later Facebook, I was finally asked the direct question in the form of my, "About Me" section. I had to list my hobbies and my interests and I...I didn't even know what to say.
My babies and my husband were my life. They... they defined me.
The "supermom" or "superwoman" that I'd created had no past, no childhood memories, no fun photographs to look fondly over and reminesce. Beyond my marriage to Drew and my choice to change, "I" didn't exist.
It seemed easier that way...
(This will be another two parter, sorry. I need breaks to regroup my thoughts and I don't think you want to read a lot in one sitting either so...see ya again soon!)
Monday, August 16, 2010
Things that are left alone go unnoticed ...till one day...
New info related to the post two weeks ago (Curly Blond) coming soon.
Everything is related to everything else...don't cha know? ;)
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Sometimes your hands could use a hand and sometimes... your ears could use an aide
Random song lyrics needs no introduction because... it's "random"
My God, What do you want from me?
Silence still
Unseen, Unheard
Watching and waiting
To move, too blurred
I am lost
I'm confused
What can I do?
I need you...to
Speak!
Speak your love
Come On and
Speak!
Speak to me
Can ya
Make it real
Make it more
Than just ideal
Will ya
Explain your plan
Spell it out
You might have to say it twice
Or even SHOUT!
Just..
Speak
Speak to me
Speak clearly now
Speak your love
Cause..
I wanna know
I wanna change
Can't be in the show
with no part on the stage
Oh Where do I staaaaaaaaannnnnd?
I need to believe that you're greater than..
Speak!
Speak to me
Speak it clearly
(I'm holding out)
Speak!
(Still holding on, to a false hope in a song)
Speak!
to me
Speak your love...
And all the world
is lies
I need to know you
you still believe
in me
My God, What do you want from me?
Silence still
Unseen, Unheard
Watching and waiting
To move, too blurred
I am lost
I'm confused
What can I do?
I need you...to
Speak!
Speak your love
Come On and
Speak!
Speak to me
Can ya
Make it real
Make it more
Than just ideal
Will ya
Explain your plan
Spell it out
You might have to say it twice
Or even SHOUT!
Just..
Speak
Speak to me
Speak clearly now
Speak your love
Cause..
I wanna know
I wanna change
Can't be in the show
with no part on the stage
Oh Where do I staaaaaaaaannnnnd?
I need to believe that you're greater than..
Speak!
Speak to me
Speak it clearly
(I'm holding out)
Speak!
(Still holding on, to a false hope in a song)
Speak!
to me
Speak your love...
And all the world
is lies
I need to know you
you still believe
in me
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Curly Blond but the roots are brown
I was always the pretender but never the person.
Even when I sang, I would try to sing in the exact same manner and voice of the original artist. I remember that being a little weird to people. Especially when I would sing out Amazing Grace as some kind of negro spiritual.
My favorite artist as a young'n was Amy Grant. I could imitate her voice, her inflections, and after I studied her autograph awhile, I could forge for her too.
(That's a little creepy, I know)
That what I was/am (take your pic) an imitator. A chameleon of my choice. When it came time finally to be Kayt Masterson (wife, mother, lover, or even daughter)...I never knew just who that was, or what she would look like.
If it wasn't someone in Hollywood playing the big screen then it was someone close to me. But never too close because I thought they were too cool for me.
Hannah W. was everything I wanted to be. She wore the striped leggings and retro skirts with complimentary ratty band t-shirts (many of whom I still have yet to see in concert~jealousy looming). Her cherry on top was her outrageously curly blond hair. She usually styled it in cute little puff ball pig tails off to the side of her head. Everything she did or said she did it with flare. She was not a super model eye-candy centerfold, but her personality and individuality made her more than "they" could ever be.
She was amazing...just thinking about her and her persona...I'm still in awe.
No no. I know what you're probably thinking and no.
I did not have a crush on her. I just wanted to be like her.
I'm sure we all do this to some extent. Otherwise there would not be a hit show entitled "American Idol". The idea of worshipping another person by imitation is not a new one. However, when you lose who you are because you are always trying to be someone else.. You have a problem.
That's me.
I never wore crazy colored tights. I didn't want to be that obvious, but I did start wearing funky skirts and t-shirts together with converse shoes. I wanted to be admired for my weirdness as Hannah was. I wanted to be content with me like she was.
I bring this subject up only because recently I was talking to my husband about how I was thinking of choosing this new persona (from a movie we watched together) to model after.
I realized that I had never talked to anyone (including him) about that part of me. Probably because it's a bit embarrassing to say that I constantly try to morph into someone else.
I get so intense into the transformation that not only do I study everything I can get my creepy little hands on concerning said person, but I also begin to view myself as them. As if I am looking out at my world from behind their eyes.
If I could harness this ability with some confidence I might actually make a pretty good actress.
Just for the heck of honesty I will list off a few "characters" that I have chosen in the past to mimic.
Amy Grant
Ally McBeal (Calista Flockhart)
Elizabeth Shue (Karate Kid and The Saint)
Jodie Foster (various movie roles)
Kate Winslet (Eternal Sunshine and Titanic)
Julia Roberts (Runaway Bride)
Surprisingly (I guess) men are in this list too...
Mark-Paul Gosselaar (Zack from Saved by the bell)
Richard Gere (First Knight)
Brad Pitt (The Mexican and Spy Game)
Val Kilmer (Top Gun)
and the guy that played Karate Kid that we never saw in any movies ever again. I think his name was Ralph.
And the actress that I was speaking to my husband about is Zooey Deschanel (Yes Man).
Even when I sang, I would try to sing in the exact same manner and voice of the original artist. I remember that being a little weird to people. Especially when I would sing out Amazing Grace as some kind of negro spiritual.
My favorite artist as a young'n was Amy Grant. I could imitate her voice, her inflections, and after I studied her autograph awhile, I could forge for her too.
(That's a little creepy, I know)
That what I was/am (take your pic) an imitator. A chameleon of my choice. When it came time finally to be Kayt Masterson (wife, mother, lover, or even daughter)...I never knew just who that was, or what she would look like.
If it wasn't someone in Hollywood playing the big screen then it was someone close to me. But never too close because I thought they were too cool for me.
Hannah W. was everything I wanted to be. She wore the striped leggings and retro skirts with complimentary ratty band t-shirts (many of whom I still have yet to see in concert~jealousy looming). Her cherry on top was her outrageously curly blond hair. She usually styled it in cute little puff ball pig tails off to the side of her head. Everything she did or said she did it with flare. She was not a super model eye-candy centerfold, but her personality and individuality made her more than "they" could ever be.
She was amazing...just thinking about her and her persona...I'm still in awe.
No no. I know what you're probably thinking and no.
I did not have a crush on her. I just wanted to be like her.
I'm sure we all do this to some extent. Otherwise there would not be a hit show entitled "American Idol". The idea of worshipping another person by imitation is not a new one. However, when you lose who you are because you are always trying to be someone else.. You have a problem.
That's me.
I never wore crazy colored tights. I didn't want to be that obvious, but I did start wearing funky skirts and t-shirts together with converse shoes. I wanted to be admired for my weirdness as Hannah was. I wanted to be content with me like she was.
I bring this subject up only because recently I was talking to my husband about how I was thinking of choosing this new persona (from a movie we watched together) to model after.
I realized that I had never talked to anyone (including him) about that part of me. Probably because it's a bit embarrassing to say that I constantly try to morph into someone else.
I get so intense into the transformation that not only do I study everything I can get my creepy little hands on concerning said person, but I also begin to view myself as them. As if I am looking out at my world from behind their eyes.
If I could harness this ability with some confidence I might actually make a pretty good actress.
Just for the heck of honesty I will list off a few "characters" that I have chosen in the past to mimic.
Amy Grant
Ally McBeal (Calista Flockhart)
Elizabeth Shue (Karate Kid and The Saint)
Jodie Foster (various movie roles)
Kate Winslet (Eternal Sunshine and Titanic)
Julia Roberts (Runaway Bride)
Surprisingly (I guess) men are in this list too...
Mark-Paul Gosselaar (Zack from Saved by the bell)
Richard Gere (First Knight)
Brad Pitt (The Mexican and Spy Game)
Val Kilmer (Top Gun)
and the guy that played Karate Kid that we never saw in any movies ever again. I think his name was Ralph.
And the actress that I was speaking to my husband about is Zooey Deschanel (Yes Man).
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