Katie Regan

Writer. Editor. Explorer. Creator.

Category: Reflection (Page 1 of 3)

Preconceived Notions: Geelong, Australia

November 23, 2018 / / 0 Comments

Preconceived Notions is a feature I do before traveling to a new place. I think it will be interesting to see how my impressions of a place change once I get to know it. Disclaimer: the whole point of this exercise is to expose my ignorance, please don’t @ me telling me how wrong I am. That is the point. Thank you.

The very first house sit I set up when I conceived of this mission was to take place in Australia. More than six months prior, I agreed to head down under to take care of two Russian Blue kitties just outside of Melbourne.

I’d been to Australia before, but while I was studying abroad I never made it down to Melbourne, let alone to the Melbourne suburbs. As it is a very large country, I think it is fair enough to not expect to know what one area is like having experienced a few others.

Before arriving to my house sit in Geelong, I was honestly not expecting anything too extraordinary. When I first arrived in Australia in 2004, my immediate impression on the shuttle from the airport to our dorms was, “Ah, it’s like if Canada and Florida had a baby.”

Unlike that journey, this trip will not be in the tropics. Geelong is a large suburb outside of Melbourne, so I was imagining a pretty normal place, maybe even painfully so, such as Highlands Ranch (Colorado), or Stamford (Connecticut), or Quincy (Massachusetts), etc.

Kangaroo
Obviously, I’d see a lot of these bad boys

Having done this flight before, one thing I was really dreading was the exceptionally long journey across the Pacific. When I flew from L.A. to Sydney in 2004, I didn’t have the best time. I am not the best sleeper even in the coziest of circumstances, so sleeping on a plane certainly doesn’t come easily. For the flight, I decided to take a bunch of NyQuil, have a couple of glasses of wine and pass out.

NyQuil, it turns out, is for babies, and was not at all strong enough to take me down. So, instead of sleeping, at all, I was awake the whole flight but was really, really exhausted the whole time. It was torture. After learning this lesson on the way there, I resigned to stay up the full 15 hours on the way back, and it was much better.

Going into this house sit, I basically was just imagining super friendly people, tasty, slightly weird food (Tim Tams PLEASE), döner kebabs for me to munch on, inexpensive shopping, etc.

Since I wasn’t able to come to this part of the country during my last trip down under, I intended to go see the Great Ocean Road (did I make it?! Only those who don’t follow my social media don’t know). I was also planning to take a couple of train rides into Melbourne proper and explore the city. I also thought I would ideally take advantage of the lack of language barrier and do some more comedy. All in all, I expected to meet some more folks, chill out, and get some writing done.

Stay tuned to see if my expectations were spot on.

One Year Job Single and My First Time Doing Comedy

August 17, 2018 / / 0 Comments

Bookending a Year with a Failure and a Triumph

One year ago last week, I was let go from my last full-time job, sending me on a wild whirlwind of anxiety, self-doubt, and under-employment. Exactly a year later, I did stand-up for the first time. 

Cat desk

Maybe the office cat pushing everything off my desk daily was symbolic of things to come…

Since I lost my job, a few things have happened:

  • I hit bottom enough to entirely change my approach and take some real risks (how successful this will be is still TBD)
  • I met and connected with a wonderful fella, and perhaps we wouldn’t have really seen each other had I not been on my way out the door
  • I met numerous amazing humans: at part-time jobs, in fleeting locations, humans everywhere!
  • I sold all my belongings, for better or worse!
  • I’ve been able to travel all over, experiencing different environments, cultures, and cuisines
  • A woman who used to work at that company found me on LinkedIn and told me about the emotionally-abusive revolving door that has been operating there since well before me. This is essential in letting me know I’m not alone.
    • Hot Tip: if you have left a bad work environment, please leave a review on Glassdoor. It could save people so much heartache.
    • Hot Tip: If you are applying to a job, do your homework. Find people on LinkedIn who have worked there and ask them about it. Worth the effort in spades.
  • I did stand-up comedy for the first time, after months and months of saying I would

Breakfast Sandwich

The day before I got laid off, I celebrated Sunday with a breakfast sandwich and a milkshake. Little did I know, every day was about to be Sunday.

Being let go from that job has allowed me to have many experiences that I other wise would not have had. That being said, I’m still too deep in it to say if actually working there was worth it or not. I still think back to the red flags I ignored and wonder if I might have been better off staying at the library and continuing my job hunt. However, I do know one thing, I am glad to have been away from that environment for a year. If three office cats can’t make a work environment pleasant, you know you’ve got a real problem.

The significance of being underemployed for a YEAR was not lost on me. And as I recalled the feeling of packing up my office (I guess decorating your office too soon IS a jinx), and driving away from that place— the mix of relief and fear, disappointment and elation— I was inspired to do something. Something I have been talking about for months, but hadn’t yet dug up the cojones to do.

I did stand-up comedy.

I had already looked up all the open mics in the area that were reasonable for me to attend. I had talked to a few people about it. I kept putting it off, however, because my tight 5 “wasn’t ready.” As I was sitting and reflecting on the year I’ve had, I realized:

Doing comedy is like having a baby. You’re never going to be ready.

So, I sat down with my jokes and scrambled to put them in some kind of sensical order. I knew if I didn’t at least GO to this open mic, that I never would. I wasn’t sure if I would actually go up, but I wanted to have something in my pocket just in case. At least that’s what I told myself in order to get out the door. 

I fiddled with my bits until 5:50. Yes, I fiddled with my bits. Sign-up started at 5:45, the show started at 6:00. I was pushing it, probably hoping that I’d get there and the list would be full. Or, maybe there was no hidden meaning and I’m a terrible procrastinator. Maybe a little bit of both.

When I walked in at 5:55, I greeted the hostess and put my name on the list. Didn’t even think about it. I immediately wanted to puke. I went to the bar to get a beer, which helps.

Once the comics started, I felt a lot better. This is only the second open mic I have intentionally attended, but so far, they seem very supportive. Everyone is here for the same reason. No one is expecting perfection. The thing is, I’ve been a teacher before. If you can stand up in front of a room full of 14 year olds all day, you can stand up in front of a few adults for 5 minutes.open mic

As expected, some people were really funny… and some were not. A curveball was thrown during the third comic’s act, however. A large dinner party was shown into the room. They were not there for an open mic, they were there for a post-work dinner party. Immediately, the mood of the room changed. These people were legit not even smiling. Comics were trying to do crowd work with them and they were not having it. What an excellent scenario for someone’s first foray into stand-up.

The other thing was, since I arrived just before 6, I was the last person on the list. Generally, when people were done with their sets, they would leave. By process of elimination, this meant by the time I went up I would be facing the two hosts, maybe one or two comic stragglers, and this stone-faced party of 12 who didn’t come for amateur comedy. What could go wrong?

Finally, I was the last one in the room that hadn’t gone up. The second hostess, who was not in the room when I signed up, got up and accidentally introduced me as the headliner. Oh good lord. She corrected herself, but I was thinking, “Man, I really hope these people aren’t expecting a headliner.” If anyone should have been the headliner it was the guy before me as he was probably the best guy of the night. 

So I got up, I thanked her, and I fucking did it.

And, guess what? GUESS WHAT?

I did. not. bomb. I didn’t bomb! People laughed! I got pretty consistent chuckles. Some more pronounced than others (feedback!), but it was not some deadly black hole of silence. I know this crowd was capable of that, because I saw it with TWO comics who went on before me. This green, inexperienced little wank was able to get up and elicit laughs from complete strangers.

It felt amazing, and was such an important thing for me to do on that particular day. When I told them it was my anniversary of getting laid off and not having a full-time job, they cheered. CHEERED. For ME! I left there feeling like a million bucks, like I had my own little cloud to whizz around on (like my buddy Lakitu). I now know why addicts are so often drawn to this line of work. I could definitely see chasing that high indefinitely… and I hope I do.

Cat Burrito

I didn’t really like sharing my morning burritos anyway

After I got home and called my mom and my cousin and bragged to all the people, I sat down to write some notes about the experience. At the top I wrote:

“As someone who normally doesn’t follow through on anything. Tonight felt really good.”

Last August, I was thrown into the too familiar abyss of not knowing what was next. Once again, I was left wondering, “Is there something wrong with me? In what ways am I so deficient that I keep ending up in these professionally questionable situations?” This year, as I reflected on that, I somehow mustered the cojones to do one of the bravest things I have done to date. It felt spectacular, and was much needed. Sometimes it’s incredibly important to remind yourself that you CAN. Because you totally can. I promise. 

Adventures in Tourist Fatigue

August 6, 2018 / / 0 Comments

Galleria Vittorio Emmanuele II Milan

Traveling doesn’t have to mean seeing everything all the time

About a week into my stay in France, the homeowners came home for a week and encouraged me to take advantage of our location and do some traveling. How could I resist? I was in a part of the world I had never really been before, surrounded by cities I’d never seen. Why wouldn’t I pop away for a few days?

Milan Streets

Forget that I was staying in one of the most picturesque, peaceful, pastoral settings ever, or that I had just gotten into a really great productivity routine— I had to go! I spent some time mulling over where to go. Paris? Been there. Lyon? It’s close and new. But as I looked at the map, I couldn’t help but be seduced by one international border to the east. A country I hadn’t been to besides a short layover in the Rome airport where I ate McDonald’s. Italy.

Italy was right there. A few northern Italian towns were quite in reach. I settled on Milan. Then, I noticed that the route to Milan had me switching from a bus to a train in Turin, so why not spend a few days there as well? What was originally going to be a long weekend had somehow turned into a 6-day trip.

You see, I do this. If I am going to a new place, I tend to pack it in. How many days do I have? How can I efficiently see as much as I can in that amount of time? Especially when I’m traveling by myself and I don’t have to deal with the, “Well I don’t know, what do you want to do?” back and forths, I am a machine.

Milan Mermaid

This is not always a good thing. I’ll always remember when I went to Paris for four days in 2008. I slayed that city. I looked at the map, planned things out geographically, and swept through it like it was a game of Risk. By the time I hit the third day, I found myself far out in the gardens of Versailles, by Marie Antoinette’s little “hamlet,” and I realized, I had run myself into the ground. I felt weak, shaky, dehydrated. I had hit a wall, and I had a long way to travel back before I got to a solid seat, food, or water.

So, yes, I may be efficient. But, with no one to hold me back, I seek to conquer. Sometimes in the process, I also end up conquering myself.

Duomo Milan

I could tell this was starting to happen with the planning of Milan. As soon as I booked the transport and lodging, I got buyer’s remorse. I didn’t need to be gone for 6 days. Not only would I be losing out on productivity, but I would be spending a lot of money. This is silly.

So, I went to Milan. I did a LOT of walking around the city in the hot hot heat. I spent a lot of money, I wasted a lot of money (more on that in my next post). The city was beautiful. I really liked the vibe. People were friendly. I’ll talk more about the city specifically in another post, but the point is that I did Milan as I do. I used my two little feet to carry me on routes around the city where I could hit what I wanted to see. And by the end, I was exhausted and ready for a return to normalcy.

Milan Bosco Verticale

Once again, I had to remind myself that the whole purpose of this journey of mine is not to be a voracious tourist, knocking out city after city, doing ALL the activities. I am meant to be living for free, working on my stuff, and getting to experience places all around the world. Experience them like I live there, not like a tourist tornado. So, it’s okay to pass up this or that opportunity. It’s okay to not run around like a chicken with my head cut off.  For the foreseeable future, this is my actual life, not a trip.

 

I’ve Never Been a Slytherin

July 20, 2018 / / 0 Comments

Slytherins are known to be incredibly ambitious, and that traditionally hasn’t been a big problem of mine

Colorado 14er Grays and Torreys

Seven years ago, I would have laughed at you if you told me I’d climb mountains like these, and like it.

Draco Malfoy

This is not me.
(Photo taken from PotterWiki)

My whole life I’ve been content not to reach. I have been content to phone it in. I never aspired to be an astronaut or an author or even a doctor or lawyer. I aspired to have a damn savings account. Maybe it’s because I was scared of failing. Maybe it’s because as a female I was hardwired to NOT shoot for the stars. Maybe it’s because I just didn’t want to work that hard. It’s definitely partially because growing up, we always lived paycheck-to-paycheck and I just didn’t want that to be my life. Above all, I wanted security.

Don’t get me wrong, I may not have been terribly ambitious, but I’ve always been crazy idealistic. I grew up before the recession when you could be anything you wanted to be… as long as you had a college degree. That piece of paper was the key to every professional open door. In fact, I landed a great, normal job soon after graduation. I enjoyed it, there was a future in it, I did well at it; but then three years in the recession hit and like so many others, I found myself laid off. Instead of doubling back and getting another job in that field, as I probably should have, I zoomed off to Spain to teach English. I was free from my cubicle! I was going to live my life! Who needs the job title and 401k when you have travel?

Cava Tast Catalunya

According to this girl, derailing my potential career for Spain was worth it

Admittedly, I was also blissfully unaware of what it was like to hunt for a job in a difficult market. I had gotten my last job mostly because of a zippy cover letter.

For a long time, I thought I was broken, that there was no fixing me. How do you rewire someone who is in their 30s and has always done things the same way? Seemed like… well, frankly it seemed like too much work.

Something special is starting to happen, though. I’m starting to retrain myself. If I think of something funny, I write that shit down. If I wake up at 6am and accidentally read an article that gets me going, I ignore the sensible voice that says, “Go the hell back to sleep, asshole,” and I start writing. This is kind of magical. A lot of what has been happening in the past few months is magical. And I’m gonna run with it.

Adolescent Tuba

Damn right I was

I think what has happened for the majority of my adult life was that I was so scared to try and fail at something monumental, that I’ve failed at the regular… regularly. Now, my only chance is to try to fail at something spectacular. At best, I J.K. Rowling the shit outta this. At worst, I fail hard and end up right back where I was. If I land somewhere in the middle, I have some great times and I build up a portfolio so maybe people have a reason to hire me for regular jobs.

Another problem I run into is that I’m a bit impetuous. Impatient. This is one of the reasons I couldn’t be an architect (though I thought about it), or a photographer. I don’t thrive on precision (in creating, in editing I can be super precise). My favorite art mediums are charcoal and pencil because they are always malleable. Luckily, writing is similarly malleable, if you have the time.

Just recently, I’m pretty sure I lightly annoyed a friend while playing mini golf because I wouldn’t take the appropriate time to set up my shots, thus leading to me being way over par. This is probably something I will need to work on, as much success involves precision, patience, and a finished product. But, for now, this is me.

Work schedule

I mapped out my hours

Since being away, I have gotten much, much, much better about writing every day, and capturing thoughts as they flit by. I’ve made a schedule, and while I don’t record my times and follow it to the minute, just knowing how I need to parse out my time has helped immensely.

It’s scary aiming for ambitions that were previously thought to be out of reach. It’s even scarier to re-train myself to depart from what I’ve always been taught leads to success and head toward what could lead me, in particular, to success. It’s like breaking and re-setting bones. Bones that, hopefully, I will soon be running on.

Impostor Syndrome is my Boyfriend

July 3, 2018 / / 8 Comments

…but the kind of boyfriend that won’t leave you alone, is scared of your success, and gaslights you all the time.

Boo has Impostor Syndrome

I feel ya, Boo

We all have our demons, our imperfections, the things we can’t hide from. I think of those comics about depression with the cloud, or the dark blob, or whatever it is consistently hulking over the protagonist. Even in times of mirth, it lurks in the corner. I am fortunate enough to only suffer from situational depression, so that is not my reality. But, I have my own hulking cloud(s).

Depression Comic

Like this, but different (click for more)

Impostor Syndrome has been getting in my way for the majority of my life, though I only learned the name for it a few years ago. As we all know, there is comfort in knowing you’re not alone in something, in putting a name to it.

In order to do what I need to do (truly attempt to succeed, for those not keeping up), I need to chase away Impostor Syndrome. In order to do that, I am going to have to become self-indulgent (or more so than I already am). I have to self-promote. This makes me VERY uncomfortable. Who am I to think I am funny, or clever, or that I can create something of value? What if I promote something and it’s not as good as I think it is? What if I make no one laugh? Or think? Death.

Look guys, I apologize in advance if I’m not funny, or if what I have to say is trite, or if I can’t write. It’s okay if you think so. It’s okay if you roll your eyes every time you see a post from me. Just, please, keep it to yourself. Hide my feed, whatever you need to do (unless MAYBE what you have to say is incredibly constructive, then, I am interested). This is important because no matter what, I have to start ACTING like I believe that the shit I’m producing is worthwhile to someone, regardless of whether or not it actually is. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? If I keep believing and pretending, then it’s bound to eventually become true, right? RIGHT?

I have this subset of people in my life: a collection of friends, and family, and family friends who are really excellent cheerleaders. People who believe that I have talent, that I do good work, that I have great successes ahead of me. These people are beyond valuable. Whether they truly see something special or are just heavily biased by knowing me, I don’t care. These are the voices I need to listen to at this moment in my life. These are the voices I need to cling to, to try to drown out the voices of self-doubt that come with being an experiencer of Impostor Syndrome… and, to a degree, human. 

A brief flare-up

Last week, I made my public Instagram and Facebook page. At first, after I created the Insta I was feeling great, productive. Yea, I did a thing! But as the day wore on, I started feeling a bit anxious and doubtful. This ramped up considerably after I “shared” these with my network of friends. Who am I to think anyone’s interested? My writing is probably super mediocre and my photo-taking skills are lazy at best and certainly leave something to be desired.

Why does something like this, that should make me feel good, bring me down? I’m counting “likes,” and “follows,” taking each one that is missing personally. People are bored of my shit, they don’t want to read it or see it. I’ll never make it anywhere as long as I’m putting out content like this. And forget about the aesthetics of my website, Geocities called, they want their web design portfolio back. Ah, the things we say to try to talk ourselves out of risking the truly great rewards.

Rejection PTSD: When a generic rejection letter sends you spinning

I’ve gotta say, I spent many months not applying for nearly any opportunities because I was working on making and executing plans. Sure, there were a lot of times I labored over decisions and maybe doubted this or that choice, but in general, since I made the decision to make a move, my confidence has come roaring back. Perhaps this spike in confidence is because of the hiatus I took from putting myself out there, allowing myself to want, to seek (approval). 

In the past month or so, I have started applying to things and submitting writing to contests again because momma needs income, you know? Last month, I applied to a freelance gig that I was 100% qualified for. It was writing content for English Language Learning software. My original intent was to share the actual rejection letter with you, but it appears I deleted it rapidly to get it out of my face. But, fear not! I have this newer form letter that I received just last week:

Rejection Letter

They’re all the same, but they all sting a bit

These knock me down. I can’t help it. All the familiar feelings and doubts come flooding back. If I can’t land THIS gig, how will I land any others that may be more of a reach? The first letter (which I can’t find) very specifically said that my experience and qualifications do not match… but they do. I KNOW they do.

How easily something so simple can infiltrate your psyche. It gave me flashbacks… so many times I applied to this or that opportunity in Denver and got nothing back. How many times have I  been brushed aside or not considered? No bueno. It’s so so hard not to internalize this, especially after so many years of fielding various rejections or pure oversights.  

But, what actions can I take?

I know that perhaps my presentation could be a little better. This is a totally different presentation format than I’m used to. I’ve reached out to the appropriate people and asked advice. Perhaps I need to do a little more. I’ll hire someone to help me with the web design of my online portfolio, because it is something I struggle with, and apparently no one wants to dig through a Dropbox file. I’ll reach out to a couple of people via LinkedIn for advice on resume structure and pitch wording. It would be so easy to let this sink me because upon receiving these rejections, I immediately wanted to walk into the sea.

Oh, I still can’t get a job, it’s still completely hopeless. Nothing has changed.

But they were only a couple of gigs. Some with very unfortunately worded and triggering form letters. There will be others.

In the meantime, I will continue to create on my own terms. Maybe I’m not meant to create content for others, maybe there’s something else in store. Time will tell. Even if it’s not perfect, at least I’m still creating, right?

Dangers of seeking (or expecting) perfection

That reminds me. A reason I so rarely finish my own creative projects is that they aren’t perfect. It’s a symptom of this Impostor Syndrome; not wanting to put anything into the world that’s less than perfect, so instead, I put out nothing at all. This is one hurdle I am really trying to get over, especially with this blog and my social media. I had to really push myself to not wait for the perfect design or the perfect handle or the perfect anything. I knew I needed to start creating, regardless of perfection. As I continue to move forward, I will continue to learn and improve. It will get better. Doesn’t necessarily stop me from itching when I see this imperfect design or this imperfect blog structure, but I must push through! 

I would love to hear others’ stories of how they got over this debilitating mindset. For a while, I thought I had surmounted it. I was moving and doing and being! Can’t hold ME back. I ran out of fucks to give. But, they have started to crawl back. Get out of here, little fucks, I have no time for you.

Give no fucks! Be happy!

 

A couple more links about Impostor Syndrome:

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