Little Victories

So, this is what I know... Passion for Creativity Acting Dating Failures Relationships Love Fears Successes Forever determination and motivation And The Journey To All Of Our Little Victories

[kaleymccormack]

When Your Face Gets Hot and Your Stomach Gets Sick

It was a hot day in September.  We were fresh back from Summer Vacay.  School had been back for a few weeks now and the third grade couldn't have been better.  I went to a Preschool-8th Grade kind of Catholic School, St. Matthews, in Glendale Heights, Illinois.  It was the best kind of school, small enough to feel special, to feel like an individual, but big enough to still get overlooked if you were acting out during Friday morning Mass.  

I had my eye on Ryan Pineda for a while now.  He had been around since preschool, but my little third grade heart started noticing him in a new light on day one of the school year.  He was tiny.  And not because he was a third grader, but because he was a tiny, little, Filipino boy.  He was dark skinned, with gorgeous features.  He had a perfect nose, dark eyes, and a birth mark right above his upper right lip.  His hair was pin-staright, jet black, silky, and fell over his forehead.  When he'd move his head, his hair would follow, but land immediately where it had started, like it had never been touched.  You know that kind of hair, so shiny, you can almost see your reflection in it.  Unfortunate that it was wasted on a boy.   Here we are, a few weeks into school, relaxing in and getting comfortable in our assigned classes, unless you were that one kid that had to switch classes because the teacher was "unfair".  I never switched classes, the temptation may have been there, but I just took the cards I was dealt, like a real third grade badass.  

On this particular day something happened to me that I still remember all these years later.  Something that clearly made a significant impact on me if I can play it back in my head so specifically.  We are outside at recess.  The school rotated where you had recess because not everyone could fit on the playground all at once, still makes me question where all our tuition money was going, anyways, this day we were scheduled to be on the blacktop.  We had sidewalk chalk, jump ropes, balls, and our legs.  I remember playing a game of tag, me chasing Ryan, him chasing me, the adrenaline was rising, but the truth is the adrenaline had more to do with the acknowledgment of my feelings, rather than the running of my legs.  It was like we were the only two playing the game or that we were the only two that mattered.  Ryan caught up to me, tagged me with the tip of his fingers and as he did his eyes locked on mine.  With his little fingers stretched out as far as they could reach, Ryan tapped my shoulder, and in that moment, I can remember vividly, the look we shared.  Time stopped briefly and it lasted a solid ten seconds.  Sweat was running down his brown skin, his needle thin hair was sticking to his forehead, and his coffee bean eyes were locked on mine.  My stomach got sick, my face hot, and I wore it all through a smile on my face and so did he.  

It was so long ago and we were so young to really understand or put a word to what our feelings were.  When you boil it down I guess you could say, those were all just signs of experiencing your first crush.  But, I'd rather believe that in that moment, my young third grade heart, felt the very early stages of love.  

[kaleymccormack]

Backless in the Battlefield

October 24, 2013

I sat sipping on my latte outside my local Coffee Bean.  My favorite season is fall and many like to tell me that Los Angeles doesn't have seasons and that that's just one thing I'll miss about living in Chicago or North Carolina.  Now, I must say the leaves don't get as vibrant and the colors aren't quite the same, but the air does have that chill and does force me to put on a boot and especially a scarf.  And today is one of those days.  The air is brisk.  I'm wearing pants and a long sleeved sweater.  I threw on a scarf, cozy socks, I ordered a hot drink, and I even changed tables to one in the sun.  The shade was a little too "Mt. Everest" for me.  See, we have fall. 

Anyways.  I'm sitting there enjoying my fall day.  Soon enough I find myself wasting energy and time cruising my Facebook, as we do, when I come across more evidence that my ex-boyfriend is dating again.  It's been four months now since I've broken things off.  It didn't end because we fell out of love or because we secretly hated each other.  It ended because I started realizing I wanted more out of our relationship.  I moved to Los Angeles and he was still in Chicago.  The distance was hard but we were doing it.  And had there been an end date in sight, a time when we knew we would both be together again, I could have continued pushing and fighting for us, but there wasn't.  In the end I just wanted more and I truly believe he didn't know how to give me more.  When we broke up I had this hope and expressed my hope that in time we could work this out and come together again.  That he would love me enough to move for me or come up with a compromise that could make us both happy and together.  I realize now the hopefulness I was clinging to, was to keep me from completely falling apart and grieving the loss of him.  Since we had been doing the distance thing for so long, it was easier for me to believe he was still there, still part of me. 

Tears were shed, words were emphasized, feelings were crushed, and two hearts were feeling the repercussions of brokenness.  So, it ended, we broke up.  Days later he had expressed to me in an email that he felt he needed to work on himself and being single was probably best for him at this point.  I respected that and was happy he could admit that to me and that he didn't hate me for ending it.  After all I didn't want to do it.  I didn't.  I wanted a change and I wasn't happy with the current state of our relationship.  And I knew there needed to be a change.  It seemed like the only solution.  I felt like I had been settling for a partial relationship, for a partial person, l craved a stronger bond and a more passionate one at that.  But, him admitting to me that he needed to work on himself, gave me that hope, that he would do just that, become a "whole" person, and walk back into my life.  That was naive of me. 

Today wasn't the first day that I speculated he was dating someone else.  With the beauty of Facebook it isn't hard for one to notice if a new "friend" pops into his life and starts "liking" and commenting on his pictures and posts. Especially when she "likes" the photo you took of him, in your kitchen, with his shirt off, drinking a beer, from over a year ago.  Facebook likes to notify me when she "likes" my photos.  So, then my mind jumps to, "Oh, this picture was taken a long time ago, she had to be searching through all his photos, oh and she chose the one with his shirt off.  The only other people who like this photo were friends of ours.  She must be dating him".  Yes, this is crazy, irrational, behavior for me to jump to conclusions like that, but you get it.  I didn't push it, I mean it's not like I started calling him over and over again, or texted him asking who she was and why she was there, in his life.  It just irked me and I blew off my assumptions and accusations.  That was until, the constant activity on his Facebook wall persisted.  So, now I know.  I just know.  And that's fine.  He's dating again.  I guess he's "whole" and "all better".  Great.  Fantastic.  

The unfortunate part about all of this is what happened today.  I'm sitting here trying to enjoy my fall day and I can't.  I can't because I need to know who she is.  I need to know what she has that I don't.  Why is he picking her and not me.  Does she have a better job?  That's a given.  I say daily I want to quit my job.  Is she prettier?  Kaley, stop.  Seriously, don't do that.  Is she more responsible?  Ugh, probably.  But, I've really worked on not losing my keys or cellphone...or wallet.  Is she nicer?  No way, I'm so sweet, such a thoughtful gift giver.  Is she more cultured?  What does that even mean?  Is she funnier?  Please tell me she's not funnier.  Please, tell me she doesn't do impressions of gremlins too??  But, someone anyone, please tell me what it is.  Why can it be her and not me?  Why couldn't it work with me?  And since we still did love each other, why wasn't I worth it for him to put the effort into fixing?  And why am I cruising the internet trying to answer all these questions about her?!  Somebody, anybody, why?

She's one of those uber private "Facebookers".  So, it's not like I can get a direct answer on whether she loves kittens the way I do.  Or whether she likes hiking, biking, or boating.  Does she post selfies and make an excuse for why she posted it?  Or does she get overly excited about her Pumpkin Spiced Latte from Starbucks, but ugh, "Why do they always spell her name wrong!?!"  And yes, of course these are all crucial discoveries that need to be made so I can compare myself to her.  So I can understand why he is drawn to her and why he wants her over me.  And if she does post about Pumpkin Spiced Lattes, I can at least know she is "that girl" and I can feel a little better.  It's sick, I know.  I'm completely aware.  

So, she's got some serious lockdown on her page.  I can at least see her profile picture and it does let me cruise her "cover photo" album.  Which is boring and gives me nothing to go on.  It also tells me she's from Michigan.  So is he.  And she lives in Chicago.  So does he.  Okay, living in the same city definitely helps her case.  New Girl-1, Kaley-0.  Alright, what now?  How do I figure her out?  Oh, Google!  "Just Google her Kaley."  Yep, she's got a Linkedin account.  Thanks Cassie (my BFF) for being such a good detective.  Did you think I was on this hunt alone.  Please, once your sister and girlfriends know there could be another girl in the picture they say, "Give me her name", and the investigation begins.  I'm telling you, we should really start using our skills for good, crack some cold case files.  We could totally solve all the "Unsolved Mysteries".  Not sure how we do it, but I guess when the stakes are high, you'll find what you need to find.  And the best part is, whatever we do find out about her, the girls always will find a flaw in her story to make you feel a little better.  Even, if it's just that she has skinny eyebrows.  Not saying that she does, but if she did...

So, she's got a lengthy Linkedin profile, that answers the whole "better job than me" question.  Judging by her graduation date she's older than me.  But, this is all lame.  Lame info that gives me nothing to go on.  I want to know what she does on the weekend and where she grabs beers after work.  Unless she doesn't drink beer?  Is she a wine girl?  What if she goes to where I use to bartend at?  He wouldn't go in there with her would he?  Yes, these are all the crazy thoughts that are running through my mind. 

As the investigation goes on, we discover she uses Twitter.  Something I still don't understand.  But, she does.  And she uses it.  Cassie discovers she posts her Instagram photos on here and with one click I can see what her life looks like through a "filter".   I feel like I've hit gold.  Like a winning scratch off lottery ticket.  Cassie has two kids, a two year old and a five year old, and still manages to find the missing DNA to any case.  That's the thing about really good friends, they do whatever it takes and will find the missing time, to help heal your heart.  So here I am clicking away and going nuts.  Okay, she has sisters, okay she is an aunt, okay she likes Of Monsters and Men.  Okay, CALM DOWN KALEY.  I had officially stepped into a bad place, a slippery slope, I had frantically gone click happy.  Jumping back and forth from her Twitter page to find more "Earlybird" and "Mayfair" photos of her.  My heart rate was elevated.  I'm sure it had to do with espresso on an empty stomach, but for a brief moment I felt like Carrie off of Homeland.  I had seriously lost it.  But, I couldn't help it!  I had spent the entire morning crying on the couch about losing him.  And about how him being with someone else meant it was actually over.  I reached that point when your so deep in tears, your choking on your own spit.  Not a tissue left in the box, not a roll of toilet paper I hadn't stuffed my face into.  My eyes were swollen, my nose was raw, I felt defeated and dehydrated.

Him being with someone else meant I was alone.  That I didn't have him anymore and that she did.  She got to be the new me.  She got to be what I couldn't be.  She gets to take my spot on the right side of the bed, her toothbrush fills that hole now, her extra hair dryer gets to move in, soon she'll get that spare key that use to be mine, but the one thing that hurts the most is knowing she gets his cuddles now and soon all of his love.  I felt helpless, desperate, neglected, scared, and empty.  As my cousin said, "You've been dropped in the battlefield alone" and I'm terrified.  Yes, I have my sister and Cassie, my family and all my friends, but I don't have my partner.  My teammate.  And until he found someone else, by default I felt like he was still mine.  Like he still had my back, because he wasn't on the lookout protecting anyone else's.  That if the world was about to end, we could find comfort in each other, because it's familiar and we shared love, so deeply, for so long.  If we didn't have anyone else, we would have each other.  That's how it's suppose to go right?  But, it has been four months now and it seems he's recruiting new teammates and she seems to be in the lead.  They're becoming a team and he's going to have her back now.  And sure, maybe they aren't strong enough quite yet to fight battles together and to share weapons or defend their turf, but they're at least in training.  And the truth is, I'd rather be in training out on the battlefield than trying to learn to do it alone.  I just want an extra set of eyes on my back, preferably his, because at this point, he knows my back best.  Maybe that sounds pathetic, but that's where I'm at today. 

The initial breakup is tragic and painful.  It's startling and unsettling.  But, I truly believe we don't go through the actual moving on process or the mourning of the relationship until someone moves on.  And once that person does, once their heart feels like it's in good enough shape to share again, that's when the relationship is over.  This is when the real heartbreak hits.  The funeral is over and the next step is the burial.  No turning back and no digging up the dirt once it his that coffin.  It's been put to rest.  The realization kicks in, you're in deep.  And so here you are again, dropped in the battlefield alone, seeking shelter in the trenches, but with an empty back.

[kaleymccormack]

What my body craves after #HotYoga. I never said it made sense, I never said I was proud. #corepower #triplehydrate #nalgene #water yes. #coconutwater absolutely. #dietcoke why?

[kaleymccormack]

A Boy Named Devin

Devin wasn't "cool".  It was seventh grade and we were all fighting for recognition, for status, for some place of acceptance.  Even if that place meant that we blended in, like camouflage.  Sometimes flying under the radar was the best place to be.  Not cool, not a nerd, just a nobody.  I can't imagine what kind of skill that must take to be someone like that.  So even tempered, so relaxed, so patient.  I was not even tempered, nor relaxed, or patient, definitely not under the radar.  I was, to talking, as the sun is to the sky.  One.  We were one.  My desk was relocated to the front of the class on several occasions, or placed parallel to, or touching my teacher's desk.  I never understood why I was the one moved, I WAS ALWAYS SINGLED OUT (Redhead syndrome).  I can remember a specific time.  Sixth Grade, Mr. Jackson's class.  Whitney, Ashley, and I were sitting next to each other.  Of course we were all giggling and talking about God knows what, but I remember trying SO badly to keep quiet.  I had been warned, "Miss McCormack, this is your last warning, ya here?" (read that with a STRONG southern accent).  I knew I needed to behave, but these were my besties and they were cracking me up, they were setting me up.  Handing me little gifts, a comics dream is to be set up, they would say something and I knew I was the one intended for the punchline.  So, I did it.  I took the bait.  And with the bait came, the relocation of the desk.  Fine.  New real estate.  At first I thought it was awful, until I learned I was facing the class.  The lights got brighter and the curtain swung open, I was on stage.  My first real stage.  Well, besides when I was one of Joseph's sheep in our Easter performance at my Catholic Preschool.  I was pissed.  I deserved the role of Joseph, but whatever.   So, I'm facing the class.  Dumb.  Don't give the "talker" the "class clown" the gift of facing the entire audience/class.  Stupid y'all.  It was a treat every time they moved my desk.  In my mind I succeeded.  I had made enough laughter to relocate to the stage.  Needless to say, I didn't "fly" under the radar.  I had a lot of fun.  I engaged with anyone and everyone.  I wasn't the girl with the natural athletic talent, nor was I the girl with the golden hair and sun tanned legs, but I was cute enough, played sports, did school plays, and was funny.  I didn't blend in and I also wasn't teased.  Slightly teased for having red hair, but I could handle that. 

Devin, wasn't like me.  He was the kid who came to school not in his finest clothes.  Not always with the freshest hair.  He was the kid that stood out because he wasn't perfection.  He wasn't "tidy".  Devin in the 7th grade, was me at 24 living in Chicago.  Rolling into work at 10:00 a.m. still drunk and greasy from the night before.  I worked at an Irish Pub in Chicago, so this was slightly acceptable.  With enough makeup/dry shampoo, I could fix this.  The problem is, I might roll in wearing the exact same shirt I worked in yesterday, that I also slept in that night.  This isn't right, but it happened.  But, because I was an adult and I could say, "Look shit happens, I didn't go home last night", I could get away with it.  Again, I worked at an Irish Pub, there were many days when Courtney and Bri would walk in wearing the same outfits too.  But, we would joke about it, no one judged anyone.  

This got me thinking.  Sometimes kids like Devin would come to school wearing the same outfit over and over again.  And of course we would all have an opinion about it.  Make a statement or a joke.  But, shit, maybe Devin had a long night.  Maybe he didn't go home from school as planned to an awesome dinner, warm shower, and cozy bed.  Who knows, maybe his family didn't have a washer/dryer.  Maybe he had a late night too, like my 24 year old self.  Maybe he fell asleep in those clothes at 3:00 a.m. and woke up in a hurry to catch the bus.  I don't know.  I never asked.  Point is, he was judged.  And so wrongfully.  I was so lucky that my girlfriends didn't judge me.  They accepted me and laughed it off, because they loved me.  But, who loved Devin?  Who was there to "laugh it off" with Devin?  I'm sure our teachers were helpful.  But, teachers are like bosses.  They matter because they're "rulers", but they aren't "one of us".  Again, who was there for Devin?  I know I didn't sit with him at lunch.  I don't know who did.  I know he had friends.  I know there were people that he related to and people who he felt comfortable with.  And he did talk to me, so in a way, looking back I feel privileged.  Devin talked to me.  I guess he felt safe enough to talk to me.  I recently looked at our "Mutual Friends" on Facebook.  I thought we would have several.  We don't.  It's only a few. People that I guess he felt gave him the time of day.  And by "time of day" I mean, a nice "hello", an acknowledgment. Devin sat in class with his head down most days.  Sometimes he would over hear a conversation between other kids and try to contribute.  This one time I remember some of the "cool" kids were joking and laughing about something, everyone adding on their piece of the joke to make more laughter.  We were all talking on top of each other.  I remember Devin sitting there and by default due to the seating chart, he was part of the conversation, so he too felt like he should interject.  Devin added on, making his little joke.  The laughter quickly came to a halt.  Everyone held their breath.  Who's going to be the one to shoot him down?  We all knew what was coming.  "Shut up Devin", that cool kid said, and then the laughter started again.  But, this time it was at him.  Devin became the joke.   I want to go back in time.  I want to say more than, "Guys..." in attempt to shut my friends up.  I want to put an end to it.  I want to protect Devin and help him.  I want to be strong enough not to be friends with those jerks.  I want to ask Devin if he is okay.  I want to tell him I'm not perfect either.  That I put on a good act.  That I can be his friend, that he can trust me.  He can confide in me and laugh with me.  I want to go back to that classroom and hug him.  I'm sure as a 27 year old man, he would like to go back and hug his 12 year old self too.  Tell himself that life gets better, that he'll be okay.  To cry if he needed to cry, but to save his tears for something that matters.  Because, these jerks and their opinions, don't matter.  I want that little boy's pain to go away.  I want him to play dodgeball with the rest of us and not get picked last.  I want him to sit at our lunch table and laugh with us.  I want him to be invited to birthday parties.  And I want to sit next to him in the bleachers at football games, cheering for our school.  Rather than being pushed up against a locker and having his books knocked out of his hands.  Rather than having his hair be filled with gum, candy, rubber bands, anything and everything.  Devin said, "I felt like a piece of trash that was on the ground, flowing in the wind", just waiting to land and be stepped on again. I don't know your story.  You don't know mine.  We keep our "home life" on lock down.  Especially as kids, those details don't leave us.  We refuse for anyone to learn that our parents aren't "normal".  God forbid the "Bible Belt Children" learn my mom likes her wine or that my father is an alcoholic.  Here's the thing, as kids, we want nothing more than to conform, as adults, we want nothing more than to be individuals.  I didn't come from a normal household.  I didn't have the "picturesque" southern home, like most of my friends.   I came from Chicago, now I'm in the south, I had no way to relate.  I wasn't Baptist, I didn't know what a gravel road was, and I only saw cows at petting zoo's.  It was difficult.  I hear people say they're "country" or love "country life", but true "country life" is a lot a gravel roads, cow patty's, everyone being cousins with everyone, lawn chairs, clothes lines, and the luxury of a WalMart.  Which I now understand, and appreciate, but for a long time I didn't.   I didn't fit in when I first moved to North Carolina.  I was made fun of for being Catholic, because apparently that meant I worshiped Mary... At 12 my Dad said, "Kaley it's time to get confirmed"  I said, "No, I don't want to be Catholic anymore".  Dad heard my reasonings and said, "Okay".  I had valid points that I still stand behind, however, the problem was my main reasoning was about conformity.  I wanted to be a Baptist.  I'm not saying all Baptists are wrong, I'm just saying organized religion altogether is a little ridiculous.  Believe.  Practice in your own way and believe.  Why do we create "rights and wrongs" for how one believes and worships?  Enough.  It's all manmade.  All those rules were made by man.  So, since you are "man" just decide your way of worshiping.  However, at this point, I thought Baptists seemed to have a lot more fun.  Trips to theme parks, bon fires, potlucks, stuff like that.  Kaley's in.  Sign me up.    

I think about having children one day.  I think about the love I have for my boys, my nephews, and the thought of them getting teased at school brings a lot of blood to my face.  I love them more than I love myself, their life in my eyes matters more than mine.  They are everything in this world to me.  At age 5, Patrick is smarter than I am.  Little Victor-Grant has sass like no other, and Jude, well, Jude is the purest form of humanity.  He is a baby.  Babies don't know better, so they just feel and do what they want.  He has no filter.  This is the best observation time to view another human.  Jude is Heaven.  He laughs when you tell him no and he bites your toes because it feels good.  But, the thought of someone hurting them the way Devin was hurt makes me angry.  Angry is not strong enough.  My face gets hot and tears well up.  My skin gets tight, my jaw tense.  Thinking of the kind of pain a child can go through due to other children scares me.  Because, again children don't have many filters.  I often say things like, "I hope I have a 'nerd'", because I fear the opposite.  I never want my kid to be the "bully" or the "popular" one, who fears standing up for what's right due to his status.  I cannot have a Geoffrey (Game of Thrones ref. sorry...).  

Devin seems to be happy.  He is with his family in Florida.  He is an uncle, so he can relate to the love I have for my boys.  He seems okay.  And thank God.  I don't know all the details.  What it must have felt like to be him.  Probably dreading school and every face there.  It sickens me.  Truly, I look back on those days when we were in class together and it breaks my heart.  Devin was just one of those many students, who you all know, that were put down for no reason other than status.  When you put people down, it upped your status and lowered theirs.  Like a dog marking a tree, or a fire hydrant, or a car tire.  Those people are nothing more than dogs who know no better.  Or maybe they do know better and they're just assholes.  But, a lot of times the "bully" has an untold story that holds some pain.   

I'm sorry Devin.  I'm sorry I didn't say more.  And I'm sorry you ever had to hurt.  I'm sorry that we are all so selfish that we concentrate on survival of the fittest.  I'm sorry that I was secretly relieved I wasn't in your shoes.  But, I promise you, I got your back.  I had it then, I just didn't have all the tools yet to prove it.  I tried.  I have a full tool belt now and I can do much better.  Live your life and be happy.  Push for happy every day and know that you are incredible for surviving the battle field you were thrown into.  More than incredible, you're a badass.  I wish you would have had more support, more help, in the trenches, we know as school.  But, you survived.  And that's huge.  Take your story and tackle the world.  

So to you Devin, love.love.

[kaleymccormack]

A sunny afternoon with a #paint brush. #takeyourownadvice #artsandcrafts #springtime #allergyattack

[kaleymccormack]

"A Doll's House", Circa 2014

Within the last 24 hours I was rear ended, TWICE!  Seriously, you girls giggling with your passengers while checking how many likes your "Bathroom Selfie Pic" on Instagram has gotten, need to get a bus pass, grab an Uber, OR just learn how to drive.  It was a RED LIGHT!  As for YOU, Miss Silver Honda Civic, traffic had come to a stand still on the 10, so should you.  Okay, so I was hit 2 times, in 12 hours, annoying.  My neck and shoulders didn't feel awesome, don't feel awesome.  And I had a headache, a giant one.  I get to set.  Throw on my costume, mascara, and swing by Craft Services in time to snag half a PB&J and a black coffee.  Done.  I'll be better in no time.  Within minutes we are filming.  Fantastic.   Soon enough the scene is wrapped and I find myself propped on the cooler that specifically says, "Do not sit on me".  I'm a rebel.  Not really, just a conformist.  Everyone else ignored the bold letters for the last week, so will I...? Don't worry, you don't have to shame me for being a conformist, karma creeps in soon enough.  So, I'm on the cooler, just texting Sister, which typically takes up most of my day, and as I tap away at my shiny, gold, iPhone, the wind picks up.  Unbeknownst to me, I'm sitting under a large piece of plywood that's been lying against the warehouse we're filming at.  Wind picks up, blows that piece of plywood right down on top of me.  Directly onto my head and shoulder.  iPhone survives.  Little victories everywhere.  My body however, that had previously been slammed into by two distracted female drivers, not so much.  Of course the crew runs over, helps recover me, and no EMT is needed (have I mentioned this cast/crew is the best ever?).  

Here I am, my body crumbling before me.  Too much impact within a short period of time.  I'm beginning to believe my Chiropractor has put an "out", out on me.  Too many freak neck/spinal injuries for one 24 span of time.  Maybe he's hurting for cash.  As for my eyes and nose they're draining like a leaky pipe, due to wind and pollen, and again my neck, shoulders, now skull ache.  After a few Advil a couple more cups of coffee, I'm starting to do better.   I give credit to these "relievers", but the truth is, the energy from every single person on set gave me a new energy.  Had I been serving tables or dealing with assholes sitting at my bar, my life would have been a level 9, on the "I hate my life o'meter".  But, it wasn't.  Sure, I felt like hell, tired and sore.  But, every single person I was around reminded me of my gratefulness.  I'm grateful that I'm not behind a bar, that I'm not telling the daily specials to table 26, that I'm not bringing yet ANOTHER cup of hot water with lemon to the two entitled women at table 24 who have told me 19,854 different times how freezing they are, while they are layered in their 16 scarves, coats, gloves, you name it, from Channel or Louis Vuitton.  I can't build a fire ladies, I just can't, it's against code.  I'm grateful that I don't have to bite my tongue and say, "Ladies, thank you so much for the 3% tip.  It was my pleasure.  Oops!  Don't forget your "Sak's" and "Hermes" shopping bags!"  

Today, I am so happy.  You can hit my car of steel 1,762 times a day, as long as I get to be on set.  I will pour 18 cups of hot water with f'ing lemon, to a table of 2, as long as I get to be on set, as long as I get to do what I love to do.  And be surrounded by people who love what they are doing too.  

It has been said a million times.  "Do what you love, love what you do."  It's a cliche that annoys most.  "How can I do what I love and live my life?"  I get it.  It's hard.  Electric bills have due dates.  One day you wake up and you aren't 18 anymore.  You no longer have access to your parents bank account or fridge.  We forget just how lucky we were as kids.  Not all of us, but a good number of us were beyond lucky.  I never went hungry, always had clean clothes, my parents even spent the money on private school for many years, had every Polly Pocket one 8 year old could imagine, an immaculate dollhouse, a lot, I had a lot.  But, you grow up.  You are no longer a child, you are an adult whether you asked to be or not.  Rent is due, the "Control Arm" on your car needs help, (Control Arm?  What?), Sallie Mae has tracked you so far down, that you are starting to believe you have committed a felony (okay, it's not THAT bad, but it's been close), things like health insurance become a priority, friends get married and never in the town you live in, then you need new rotors, those I know about, they help your car stop, but life happens and you have to pay for life.  You aren't living the "dollhouse" life that you once imagined you would.  But, you can. What is serving you and what isn't?  Leave behind what doesn't fully fulfill you.  It makes room for the process of finding what does.  Let this begin.  It is terrifying to do this, but essential for living the right life.  If you love him, but it just isn't "clicking" right now, then don't force it to.  You could be sabotaging a future with it by forcing it now.  Let things breathe.  Step away, be an outsider.  Do this with your job, your friends, your living situations.  Find the freedom to walk away, but only to walk actively towards.  

It's not a fast process.  Start slow.  Find what makes you feel like life is worth living.  Something that excites you, something that would break your heart if you couldn't have it in your life.  It doesn't have to be what makes you the most money, but once you know what it is you must make it a part of your life.  And try not to make it about someone else.  People make us want to live.  People make things better.  But, make this about you.  Not about some cute boy.  Or even some cute baby.  THIS IS ABOUT YOU!  You alone are worth living for.   One thing I know for sure is, that once you find what drives you, when it starts defining the person you are, once you find that and you start doing it, good things come.  It's like karma.  I know that when I'm acting, I'm around other actors, other artists, other creative personalities like myself, and when I meet these people, only more great energy comes to me, ever greater possibilities.  Acting isn't paying my bills yet, but that doesn't stop me from allowing all that good juju into my daily life.  Maybe your love is yoga or painting or writing, and maybe it hasn't "paid off" yet, but I'm certain that when you are dragging your brush along your canvas or you hold "Crow Pose" for 60 seconds, that you find excitement.  A little part of you feels like life is worth more than you thought.  And once you are brave enough to start acknowledging the person you are, you get to share your work and your love for what you do with other people, that's when you find yourself alive.   Living the life you want, doing what you enjoy, creates opportunities to meet great people who fit into your world.  People say things like, "My friend is moving to LA, he's an actor too, you'll love him, you guys should grab a beer" or "You should meet my nephew, he loves improv too, you guys would get along great".  People take notice of what you do and what you want to do.  They know people like you.  And most of the time people like you, you will like.  It's a win, win.  

We get one life here on Earth in the body that we are in.  One.  And we must fight each day to live.  We could so easily lay on our couches watching reruns of "Friends" day after day, which I have been guilty of, or we can acknowledge that we have been given minds, freedom of choice and freedom within ourselves to be just that, ourselves.   Who are you?  Do you know?  Maybe start there.  Just start getting to know yourself.  Go on a first date with yourself and start asking questions.  When you start to understand your own dreams, thoughts, passions, then you can start living the life you are capable of living.  I've just started finding who I am and I'm barely tipping the iceberg but it's opened my eyes to a whole new world.  And maybe I'll never fully discover exactly who I am, which is absolutely okay, better than okay, it's great.  I keep changing.  Every city I live in, every relationship I have, every job I take, every 73 year old man at the bar I meet, changes and shapes who I am.  It's about making sure you recognize your changes and keep current with yourself.   I could have easily remained a nursing major and gone on to be an RN.  Easily is the wrong word, but I could have done it.  I could have stayed in Western North Carolina, one of the most beautiful places on earth, been able to see my family, my friends every day, and I'd have been happy.  I miss my family every second of the day.  But, had I not left I would have been ignoring my hearts true desires.  The inner truth of who I am.  This wasn't about my family, it was about me.  And they've always supported that.  You don't always have to leave where you are, but for me I did.  And what I have found is remarkable.  I have discovered who I am. My childhood dollhouse had it all.  And the little people that lived there had it all.  They were happy.  They lived extraordinary lives.  And I know I don't live in that teeny, tiny, wooden, victorian, but I do know I can have the kind of life I imagined that teeny, tiny, family to have.   love.love.

Thanks Lora Swarts for the steal ;)

[kaleymccormack]

Photo of a photo, of a fake photo. You get it. @jasonfyu #photographer #actor #onset #martinishot #dtla #clouds #chillydayinla

[kaleymccormack]

It's nice when the #set tells you what to do. Ready, Set, Reset. #onset #filmmaking #reset #act #railroad #graffiti #tagging #DTLA

[kaleymccormack]

Who knew one little #succulent could bring me so much #joy? #spring #greenthumb #thelittlethings #simple #easytoplease #tokillamockingbird #oldbooks #littlevictories

[kaleymccormack]

"There are only two days in the year that nothing can be done.  One is called yesterday and the other is called tomorrow, so today is the right day to love, believe, do and mostly live." -Dalai Lama HI.  I'm Kaley.  This is a picture of me pretending to be someone else.  I guess if you are trying to introduce yourself, you should probably find a picture of you, that is just you.  Not you pretending to be a PA on a film set.  But, this says who I am.  And this captures just one of my "Little Victories". I'm an actor or actress for those of you who are already wanting to correct me.  I call myself an actor because Merriam-Webster says, "Ac*tor:  One who acts".  No sex defined.  You are just a "player".  Shakespeare called men playing women actors, so, I think the term works for either sex.  We don't say "Doctress" do we?  I know for sure I say "Flight Attendant", these days.  Whatever, this is not what this is about, call me an actor, call me an actress, I just like to act.  That's me.   However, I use to think, for many years, that being an actor was all that I was.  I've been acting since I was in the 7th Grade.  I give thanks to Andrea Byrnes for being my best friend and auditioning for Apple Valley Middle School's, school play, which started it all.  When Andrea didn't show up to volleyball practice, I was all, "Um where's my BFF?"  Turns out she was auditioning for this play, I'll forgive her for not letting me in on this.  Regardless, I quickly made up a story, I too had an audition at 3:30 and had to leave practice, sorry coach.  I didn't know what I was doing.  I didn't know what the play was.  I just knew I was clearly good at acting since my coach believed me and that Andrea was my girl and I didn't want to be in volleyball practice without her.  I also knew I didn't want to be left out of whatever she was doing.  So, I auditioned for "Snow White".  And the good news is Ms. Martin, (now Natalie Ezell/future mentor) saw my absolute potential to become a future Oscar winner and cast me as the "Enchanted Vixen", thumbs up.  A 12 year old playing a "Vixen", okay.  The pic of me as "Lisa the PA" shown above, along with my first role as, "The Enchanted Vixen" proves, there are no small roles.  You take what you get and you make the 9 hour "back story" up to make it worth it.  You savor every moment that your character gets to speak.  "These pretzels are making me thirsty!"  Anyone?!  You Seinfeld groupies get me.  Make those words count y'all.  

So, for years, acting was my identity.  All I knew, all I was, all I wanted to be.  Without acting, I decided I would be miserable.  Without acting I wouldn't know happiness.  It was my career and my career alone that would make me who I am and dictate my happiness.  Good news is, I'm no longer that arrogant or sad.  I have recently acknowledged that I am far more than an actor.  Kaley, you are so much more (just a friendly reminder to myself). It was a profound moment.  I was lying in my squishy, feather pillowed, bed.  A February morning in Southern California.  Sun was bright, birds overly excited, and my body was rested, refreshed after flying home from a week of indulging in tacos and tequila in Mexico, for my cousins wedding.  

So, I'm in my bed, slightly warmed by my sunburn, slightly warmed by the handsome guy lying next to me.  My phone rings, Mom calling to make sure I wasn't captured by the Cartel.  "Mom, I was in Cabo!  Not Tijuana."  And so I'm giving her the family/wedding details, play by play.  As I lied in my cozy bed talking to my mom, the heat of the sun, warming my room, my guy with his hand on my thigh, heating up my leg, his lips on my neck, in attempt to distract me, make me laugh, anything to make me have that feeling of, feeling "busted" while talking to your parents, I smiled, and crawled out from beneath the blankets.  I stood up, went pee, flushed, looked in the mirror, smiled again, then interrupted my mom's monologue and said, "So, I think I'm happy."  That was it.  I can't explain the overwhelming feeling, but I had to blurt it out.  Like saying "I love you", I just couldn't hold it in!  She immediately muted.  I was happy.  She takes my happiness seriously.  She knew this was huge.  And the second you acknowledge your happiness, you hold onto it.  It's your baby, your kitten, your puppy, your love.  You do whatever you can to embrace it, protect it, but you know you need to share it.  It's too good, too sweet, too precious, and perfect, the world, needs to see it.  If not the world then whoever's currently in your house.  I got off the phone, walked into my room and shared my smile of happiness with that handsome guy lying in my bed.  That was the moment I realized I am more than just an actor.  And I could be happy just being Kaley.   If I could find a way to express the actor in me, make a comfortable living, enjoy good drinks, good food, and even better conversation with friends and strangers, travel, take risks, be enlightened by other cultures, pitch a tent after a long hike, have a good kiss, hug people, make my nephews laugh, make my sister say, "STOP making me laugh or I'll pee!", better yet, make my brother say that, embrace the positivity yoga can bring, collaborate, scare myself, and maybe one day, possibly, share all this love and happiness with a partner, then, well, Kaley will be happy.  True happiness, is the most rewarding feeling in all of the world.  Because, happiness is love, just love, (which I'll talk more about later).  Loving your own life and personal journey can take a lifetime, or it can start now.  Take into consideration, literally, and metaphorically open your eyes, to what makes you gasp for air.  What makes you shake your head, smile, and say, "Yes!"?  Ask yourself what that is.   When, I saw my nephew Patrick, come alive by playing "Sharks" in the make believe ocean in our basement, I knew that we all, as adults, were once happier, and we can all find our way back to that pretend ocean.  Patrick looked into the abyss of his "pretend ocean" and said, "Do you see them?  All the fish?  With all their beautiful colors of white!?"  All their beautiful colors of white.  I'm in love with that child and more in love with his gorgeous imagination.  I want to know what all the colors of white are and what they looked like in his three year old mind.  I want to start living my life looking for all those colors of white.   I am a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a best friend, a laugher, a lover, a storyteller, an animal lover, a nature craver, a good gift giver, a wonderful gift receiver, a carb enthusiast, a flower buyer, a coffee enjoyer, a Cliff Bar liker, an Avett Brother's fan, a cuddlier, a writer, a yogi, a wanna be book clubber...

And the point is, I am so many other things than an actor.  I am so many other things than a Cliff Bar lover or a red wine/whiskey drinker advocate.  But, all of this, all of this makes up who I am.  Without loving nature, I may have never become a fan of a Nalgene bottle or camping in a 3 lb 2 man tent.  All of this makes me, me.  And once we set aside our preconceived ideas of what we "thought" we should be or what we think people "want" us to be, we start living.  And when we live, there is nothing else to worry about.  Not yesterday, not tomorrow, just now, just the breath that we are taking in at this very moment, and the smile that is sitting across from us.  Embrace that smile, whether it is your's, your child's, a strangers, or the handsome guy lying next to you, whoever's it is, take full advantage of it.  Soak it up, that smile might not be there tomorrow, but it is today.  And the energy it provides could last you until tomorrow.  Embracing a smile, is more than a "Little Victory".   love.love.