Beginning to read Eat, Pray, Love

 I don't feel like going into backstory here, so forgive me for diving in without much explanation.

May it suffice to say that:
- I just went through a surprising, traumatic breakup with a man I thought was my future husband
- I almost booked a television role that would have changed my life in a major way, and I cannot talk about it because I'm still under a Non-Disclosure Agreement
- and everything else that's affecting everyone else in negative ways right now, which we're generically blaming on the year 2020

Twice in a week, the book "Eat, Pray, Love" was recommended to me. I'd heard of it, but never seen the movie or read the book. So I decided, hey, maybe I should get the audiobook and start listening to it on my hikes. (I recently hiked 32 days in a row... and am now 32 days into a meditation journey...)

I wrote the following email to a relationship coach that had recommended the book to me:

"Hey Kate,

I decided to download the audiobook of Eat, Pray, Love and listen to it on my hike, since you had mentioned it.

In the opening, Elizabeth Gilbert mentions that each section will have 36 chapters, and that she is in her 36th year of life. As I am currently in my 36th year (age 35, and turning 36 in October), it felt like now was the perfect moment to read this book. Like it was a sign.

In chapter 12, she starts to describe the statue in her favorite fountain in Rome.

I studied abroad for a semester in Rome in the fall of 2003, and I had the brief thought of “I wonder if I’ll recognize it,” but quickly brushed that aside. There are just so many statues and so many fountains. In fact, in 1995, my family Christmas photo was in front of one of the fountains in Villa Borghese in Rome, and when we went back in 2015 with the hope of recreating the photo, we couldn’t find that fountain even though we knew where to look for it. That’s how many fountains there are.

But as she described the fountain, I listened in disbelief. She spoke of a bronze family, with parents holding each other’s wrists, while their child sat on their arms eating grapes. She was describing the very statue that my brothers and I had posed in front of, and then couldn’t find.

I listened 3 times, shocked, before I let myself move on. The next thing she said was, “It was early September of 2003. I had been in Rome for four days...”

I got to Rome the last week of August, 2003. Elizabeth Gilbert was in Rome writing what would become “Eat, Pray, Love” during the same three months that I was living there.

It felt like a sign. And I wanted to tell you.

~A~"


And, well, I wanted to tell more than Kate.

And I remembered this beautiful time in my life when I used to write to strangers on the internet, and tell them everything that was going on in my life.

And while I'm quite certain that no one, literally no one, has looked at this blog in many years, and all of the blog aggregators we used to use to follow each others' lives have tumbled into dormancy...

I still thought of this. And decided to write it here.

Because even if you're not reading it, I needed to write it. And even though most of my own life is now documented through facebook posts and instagram stories, and those are sure to be ignored by future generations in place of whatever rises up to replace TikTok and SnapChat... 

Well, I missed this. So here, I write. If not for posterity, then at least for sentimentality.

And maybe for luck.

May you all be alright, and may you be following the omens, wherever you may be.

~A~

Why I Didn't Report

Why I didn't report:

(Trigger warning)

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First of all, I have no proof of the majority of the events on this list. That's a pretty strong deterrent.

I won't explain all of the things that have happened. Some of them are still too upsetting to think about. I'm not ready.

1. He was gay, so I didn't think it counted as assault.

2. He was my boyfriend.

3. I was friends with his girlfriend. I punched him in the face. I guess I thought that was enough. 4. I was a month into grad school and I didn't want to cause a problem. By the time I finally did report (after many incidents -- and by which point, I was terrified of him), I was asked to file a formal complaint with the university, and take him to some sort of hearing. I refused, crying, because I was so sure that he would try to kill me. (He did eventually get kicked out of grad school, but not for all of the things he did to me: he got kicked out for using the c-word in front of a donor to the school.)

5. He was my friend, and he was drunk. I left him stranded at the bar where he was without a ride home... and I felt so guilty about it that I called and apologized.

6. A professor witnessed what was happening and stopped it. I was mortified and celebrating someone coming to my defense simultaneously in my mind.

7. I tried to report it to a female stage manager. She laughed. (I was not Equity at the time, so had no Deputy or union to report it to.)

8. He was a stranger who approached me from behind, and I never got a good look at him.

9. He was my boyfriend

10. He was a stranger.

11. He was my boyfriend.

12. It was a stranger. It was in public, in daylight, in front of my boyfriend, who did nothing to help or

stop him. I was so shocked that I didn't do much either, although I was able to stop it from happening and the guy ran away. And by the time I thought about doing something (which, honestly, wasn't until a few days later when I worked up the courage to tell my parents why I'd been crying), there was no way to track him down in NYC.

13. It was at my job on a tv show. I reported it to a union rep. I was told "well, we're his union, too, so we have to protect him as much as we have to protect you. If you want, you can sue Sony Pictures..." (Spoiler alert: I did not sue Sony Pictures.)

14. I forgot about it for a full year (to the week) after it happened, until a friend posted about a similar event on her facebook wall. It was so, so awful that I guess I blocked it out of my mind. What's strange is how clearly the memory came back after that year. And I realized then just how horrific it was. I recently realized I'm still facebook friends with one of the men. I didn't delete him, because I feel like I have some sort of responsibility to other women to keep tabs on him.

15. I forgot about it until yesterday, when I read another woman's "why I didn't report" list, and it came flooding back. At the time, I didn't even confront him about it. He was staying with me at the time. It happened while I was sleeping (or while he thought I was sleeping). I felt so badly for him and excused his behavior because of everything he'd been going through... I remember telling a mutual friend what had happened, and she told me, "Yeah, he did the same thing to me a few years ago."

16. It was a first date. He very forcefully started making out with me against my will. He seemed like a nice guy who just misread the situation. He kept writing to me for months, and I liked him, but I just couldn't see him again after that.

17. It was a first date. We spent four hours together. I drove him to his apartment, because he had walked to the date. After I told him I didn't want to kiss him (because I was trying to draw boundaries after the last one), he grabbed me by the back of the head and very forcefully started making out with me. I was terrified that he might rape or kill me, and I just froze. We were at his place. I managed to get away from him. When I got home and told my male roommate what had happened, he said, "What a baller move!" The guy texted me the next day wanting to go out again. I deleted the dating app and blocked his number.

18. It was a second date. It took me weeks to process just how badly things went. I still see him in social situations. When I retell the story of why there was no third date, I tell the lie of what SHOULD have happened on the second date... which would have been bad enough... because I feel this need to spare him from gossip, and to spare myself from the pain of people telling me what I could have done differently to prevent it.

Note: this is a partial list. Both because some things I don't want to talk about, and some I'm sure I'm just not remembering in the moment (I mean, if I'd made this list yesterday, it would've been one shorter). And these are all pretty traumatizing events. This doesn't count every time a male actor has touched me inappropriately in a rehearsal, or every time a drunk man has groped me while dancing in a club, or every guy that kissed me after I told him I didn't want him to (even my FIRST kiss happened that way). Those are such frequent occurrences that my brain hasn't bothered to record them. BUT THEY ARE STILL WRONG.

A Year of Improvement

One year ago today, I returned to Los Angeles. I took the train from NYC, via New Orleans after a hiatus on the east coast. I think I came back better than I was when I left.

This year I was hired for my dream job (tour guide at Universal Studios Hollywood), I was cast in my dream role (Vanda in “Venus In Fur”), and I started dating a dreamy guy (Mr. Nick Sweet).

I’ve had a total of ten jobs in the last year, I think. (I currently have seven... Being an actor is weird.) Three of those jobs, I was paid to act. Five, I was paid to perform. One, I’m being paid to write. And the tenth, I was assisting a casting director. Suddenly my jobs are reflecting my goals in life, in a way they haven’t in the past.

I’ve gotten better at saying yes to things through my fear. I’ve gotten better at saying no to things through my guilt.

I’ve gotten better at chasing what I truly want. I’ve gotten better at letting go of things that are not meant for me.

I’m still on a journey of self-improvement. I’m trying to stay positive. I’m trying to stay disciplined. I’m trying to find ways to help others. I’m trying to take chances. I’m trying to ignore what is easy, and to do what is right.

I made vision boards and have a constant reminder of my plans (The Secret). I KonMari-ed my room in the most serious attempt yet, and it has stayed much more organized than normal (The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up). I’m waking up an hour earlier in the morning for prayer, affirmations, visualization, exercise, reading, and journaling (The Miracle Morning). I’m paying more attention to how money flows into and out of my life (Rich Dad, Poor Dad). I’m taking a magic class that I hope will help me delight others for years to come (Magic University at The Magic Castle). I am sending strangers my dormant books, with hope that someone else will get joy out of them (PaperBackSwap).

During this Lenten period of reflection, I wanted to express my gratitude for the last year of my life. All that I’ve learned. All the friends that I’ve made (USH, LA On-Call Filmmakers, CV Rep, Candytopia, TGS Collective, Theatre Dybbuk, etc.) All the opportunities that I’ve had to perform and to grow.

God is good. When you pray, move your feet.

Thank you for this year. 🙂

(And happy International Women’s Day!)