I’m Sorry that I’m Sorry That I’m Sorry

I am a serial apologizer.

I apologize for everything. Mistakes, failures, missteps– and more often, when I absolutely don’t need to.

It’s strange, really. I never noticed how much I actually do it until Jake pointed out that I apologize, all the time, for things that make absolutely no sense to apologize about, to the point of ridiculousness.

It usually goes something like this:

Jake: Hey, want to go out tonight and do something fun?

Catie: I’m sorry, I’m just really tired and I don’t feel like it. I’m sorry.

Jake: It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize.

Catie: Sorry!

Jake:Really, it’s okay, you don’t have to say you’re sorry. We’ll do something else.

Catie: I’m sorry.


When my back hurts (well, more than it usually does), I apologize. If I need help with something, I apologize. If I feel that I have, in the slightest way put someone out or caused them the smallest inconvenience, I am wracked with the senseless need to apologize.

I don’t get it. Well, I mean, I do. I apologize for things like not wanting to go out or feeling shitty because, in my mind, I am ruining a night’s plans because of my bastard back or something. I feel bad that I have to constantly be aware of  what I’m doing and for how long– yeah, my whole movement disorder thing isn’t usually a big issue, but I hate that it affects my life in any way.

In some ways, I think my apologies are a denial that what I deal with is a “thing”– an apology means that it’s temporary, that it’s something that will clear up in a week and everything will be fine. “I’m sorry we can’t go to the amusement park today, how does next Tuesday sound, because I’ll be fine by then!”…except next Tuesday, I still might start twitching if I ride the wrong roller coaster.

In other cases, it’s simply a way to avoid conflict. I hate yelling. I hate angry confrontation and that sickly grey-cloud-over-my-head-knotted-stomach feeling that happens when I know someone is mad at me– so I immediately apologize. Even if the other person is in the wrong. I back down and apologize because it’s easier. But it never is. Because hurt feelings stay hurt if you don’t talk about them, and an instantaneous apology doesn’t help to fix that part of the problem– it just ends the conversation, and, more often than not, that’s the exact opposite to what I want to happen.

I also realized that I have started apologizing for being honest– I do it all the time, and I realized that I had started apologizing for being honest here– on MY blog that I write and control—but still, apologizing nonetheless to a faceless public who– might be offended that I occasionally break from my whackity-shmackity daily antics and open up about the more serious parts of my life?

The biggest realization I had was that for some reason, I still don’t think I deserve the things I’ve been given.

I don’t think it’s a leftover ‘catholic school kid thing”– the guilt I feel isn’t nessessarily connected to some unseen deity, it’s deeply rooted to my sense of self-worth. I’ve gotten a lot better about self-acceptance, but what I didn’t realize is that self-acceptance isn’t nessessarily the same thing as self-worth. I accept myself for who I am, but that doesn’t mean that my definition of who I am isn’t flawed or skewed by my guilt at not being able to meet the expectations I ascribe to myself.

I’ve never been a person to flaunt my successes. (Well, most of the time). Occasionally, I will get fired up about something and pull out my “look at how successful I am” card, but in daily life, I’m far from a braggart.

I know that I should be proud of what I’ve accomplished, and not apologize for being good at something– the thought of offending someone because I mention my success is almost ridiculous when analyzing it, but in daily conversation, I do it all the time. I’m a good writer– I always have been– but I often apologize for it, and downplay my success.

I don’t feel like I deserve the success of this blog, or my amazing boyfriend or really, much of anything. What have I done, really, to earn this? Most of my successes involve writing of some kind– something that has always come to me so easily– I was born this way, with this skill. I haven’t worked at it, or really done anything to develop it–it’s just always been there. So why should these successes be deserving of a celebration? Instead, I apologize for bringing it up, mentioning that I have an awesome talent and skill that I would love to share with people.

I wish I understood why I feel so guilty about enjoying things or asking things of others. Jake has never hesitated to give me a back-rub when I’ve been particularly hurty, but I always feel a twinge of guilt asking him. I know he’s more than willing and that he doesn’t mind, but in my head, I’ve decided that it must be a horrible inconvenience for him and he’s probably counting the days until he can dump me and find someone who doesn’t ask for back-rubs during movies all the time.

Stupid, right?


I’m sorry.

^^ I just typed that without thinking. Literally. My instinct for sharing something about my life or the way I feel was automatically followed by an apology. It’s strange, looking at it objectively (well, objectively as I can). Sometimes writing on here kind of lays everything out and gives me some perspective.

I don’t know if this is one that I can nessessarily get a huge amount of perspective on, but I do know that it’s something I want to look in to. The first step, I suppose, is trying NOT to apologize all the time for things.

I don’t have an end for this one. Not yet. I don’t want to make any bold promises about a magical shift in attitude, nor do I want to act like everything is fixed.

Sometimes, I just like to type things out and see what happens.




Skyrim Workout Plan

So Jake plays a lot of Skyrim.

A lot.

And I’ve taken to watching him play like it’s some sort of weird never-ending movie. I can’t help it.

But I realized that I’ve also been sitting around a lot this summer, so, much like those “movie workouts” that I’ve been seen all over the internet, I’ve created this Skyrim Workout for…well, anyone who sits and watches their friends play video games.

Maybe it’s just me.

Why I Suck At Skyrim

So, it finally happened.

After an exhausting “four” month (read: one and a half years prep + 4 months actual rehearsal) process, Titus is finally over and we’re all (slowly) starting to move on with our lives.

Not only has Titus passed, the “Skyrim Ban” has finally lifted.  During the show, a cast-wide embargo on Skyrim was put in place, and I was amazed at how many people actually stuck to their word. We didn’t even have a functioning PlayStation during the run, so not only did we not have access to video games, Netflix was also right out. I feel like it made us more productive, notwithstanding our Godzilla marathon.

We’ve only got one more Godzilla movie to go before we’ve completed the entire Toho Kingdom Compendium of Godzilla Movies. Meaning that Jake is either going to have to propose or break up with me, because we’re either going to never talk about this again or start over so we can start a website and REVIEW ALL THE TOHOS! Including the rare ones that I went through highly-questionable means to get for Jake to complete his collection.

Anyway,this week, Jake finally cracked and bought a new PS3 to replace our dearly departed and picked up a copy of Skyrim to boot. I’ve been watching him play all week, and I’ve tried the game myself, but I’ll be honest and say that I don’t have the personality to deal with it.

Here’s what I figured out.

I get shit done, and I get it done quick. You want a toe? I can get you a toe. You need someone to memorize an entire script by tomorrow afternoon? No worries. Theatre is my job, whether or not it be my “paying” gig of the moment, and I am wired for efficiency. I can’t keep my house or my car clean, but if you forget your blocking, I wrote it down for you, just in case.

This is why I can’t deal with Skyrim. There’s absolutely no efficiency to the process. Jake has been wandering around Mount Doom or whatever for about four hours now and absolutely nothing has happened.

(Jake is insisting here that I tell you that he’s not only killed a Dragon today, but has also killed a Giant and he is only a level 9). So…there’s that.

Now, here, you say “But Catie, you’re clearly just a fan of side scrollers, why don’t you stop whining?” And it’s true– I love me some side scrollers– but Dead Space still remains one of my favorite games. (Although, Dead Space did have the Magic Guiding Light to guide you to your next task…), and I’ve played the hell out of many other free-roam games…I just never finish them. I want there to be an efficiency to my questing.

“But Catie” (you say) “The journey to the end of the quest is what it’s all about!”

My response, of course, would be : Shut up,  nerd. If I have to walk the hell across Skyrim to give some asshole a letter so he can send me right back where I came from so I can go climb a mountain to fight a dragon so I can move on with my quest….he can do it himself. What else is he doing, anyway, besides reciting three arbitrary lines of dialogue every time I bump into him?

Anyway, boyfriend interjections aside, I just don’t get it. The game itself is beautiful. The world is expansive and detailed to a point of ridiculousness. But all I want to do is make friends, and whenever I try to play, people try to stab me in the face with arrows. Plus, I have a guilt complex about killing dragons because I listened to a lot of Peter Paul and Mary as a kid and I feel like they KNOW.

I think a great deal of it has to do with attention span. I am absolutely impatient unless I’m passionate about what I’m waiting for. I’ll go through weeks of rehearsal and dwell on a four-line speech, but give me a controller and an open world with no direct option to get to point B and I will go berserk in 10 minutes. I’ve never finished a Legend of Zelda game. There. I said it. I get about 1/3 of the way through and just get bored. I promised Jake that this summer I would finish Ocarina of Time. I started it last year,but life and shows and not understanding why the
@#$%(*#$$# HORSE WON’T JUST COME OVER HERE got in the way.

I’m determined to finish it. I think it will be a good exercise in patience. And understanding. And not throwing controllers. Not that I’ve done that.

What I need to do is go memorize my lines for Hamlet, but this is so much easier and less Hamlet-y.

I don’t think Hamlet would like Skyrim either. There. I just did character research.