I think love can come in many forms. I think we can all practice love…loving others, loving things, etc. But to say, “I’m in love with you” is something deeper. To really be in love, you have a foundation for that love. Part of which includes an opening up of the other person. To be *in* love, you’ve made yourself completely vulnerable, and have been wholly accepted by the person you’re with. And vice versa.

For me to say to a friend (or an acquaintance, or even a stranger), who has never given me the room to let my true self, ugliness, vulnerability and all spill out, “I’m in love with you,” isn’t actually love at all. It may be infatuation…it may even be a form love…but in love? What’s it based on?

I’m not saying every two people who are in a relationship and vulnerable with one other are definitely in love. I’ve seen plenty of self-destructive, self-interested people claim to be in love, and then suddenly be out of love when a bump in the road comes. But I am wondering if we throw a really important term around more so to validate ourselves and our feelings, instead of paying attention to its true meaning.

That’s all. Just thinking. I’m not editing this. I never edit my blogs. I will never get famous from my writing. Ha. : )

This week, the Ramstein Class of 2001 descended upon Las Vegas to reminisce about our glorious days of attending high school in Germany. But I was sincerely walking in with some nerves. Throughout the planning process, I could tell that there were many (myself included) folks still carrying some battle scars from high school. I wasn’t sure how it was all going to work out in Vegas…if there were going to be loads of stubborn, hurt people who would act out in passive aggressive, or maybe even straight up aggressive, manners. And folks, let me tell you. There was no. reason. to worry.

I was amazed at how quickly *everyone* fell into conversation. Everyone was genuinely interested in what everyone else was doing in their lives…there was no marking who was in what group in high school, or who did what to whom…it was just a lovely, fun couple of days with a LOT of laughs.

A huge thank you to everyone who made it out…everyone who put aside what may have happened 10 or 11 years ago and just lived in the fact that we all had a pretty unique high school experience, and let it be fun to have that common thread of the Kino, Riverside, doner plates, Kristkindle markts, and the last few moments of an amazing exchange rate. I love you all…can’t wait to see you again…but I’m not planning another reunion for 10 more years. ; )

First and foremost…my parents. I cannot fully express how amazing they are. To have two people who rejoice in your successes, carry you through your trials, and are simply there in the inbetween times…I’m just so humbled to have them. From their support in what I moved here to do…to their gentle (and not-so-gentle) reminders when I’m meandering off course…to even the financial help on the occasion that eating becomes a luxury instead of a necessity…I know, without a shadow of a doubt, I wouldn’t be able to walk this road without them. And to think I’ve never done one thing to deserve it…but they care for me because they love me…because I’m theirs. They are truly an example of love and grace and mercy.

My amazing hair stylist, Sandra “Nina” Buiges. Ha. I know, I know. But she hasn’t just been a “hair stylist”. In the times I’m in her chair, she’s been a voice of reason, a deep well of encouragement, and, simply put, kind. I know it’s bizarre…but I genuinely never expect people to be kind in just about any industry (except for church. then you betta be kind.) Here in LA, because I’m “no one”, I always assumed people in the fashion/beauty industry would speak to me just long enough to get my money and get out of their chair. Not Sandra. She’s always taken time and care with me. And I’m humbled to know her. (Oh…and she gives the BEST haircuts. You should go see her at Fusion Salon 323.804.3120.)

Staci Tobias, ladies and gents. Here is a woman that started out as a friend, and chose simply and without hesitation to help me with my severe back problems. She’s an incredible, licensed masseuse and has never once thought twice about helping to relieve some of the pain I’m living with on a daily basis. She, too, has been a wellspring of encouragement, inclusion and kindness. I am consistently floored by the simple way she loves me and the other people in her life.

The list goes on…but alas, I must depart and get to work. But please….go be kind today. Find people to pour into. It saves their life.

I’ve wanted to write about pride, about dating, about love and selfishness…I’ve wanted to update my friends on life in Los Angeles, and in this industry…I’ve wanted to talk about my discouragement, about my hope, and about my loneliness. But it’s all bottled up in my brain and the synapses just don’t seem to be firing.

So…in short, my friends…I’m feeling ever so slightly empty lately. Chock it up to a million and one things, partially where I’m finding my validation, but it’s where I’m at. And this will pass, as it has before, but…my sweet friend Laura Combes reminded me today I hadn’t said much on here lately…and I just wanted to say hello. That’s all. : )

Love you guys.

He said something that made me laugh so hard, I told him to stop everything he was doing and tweet it. He fell back laughing, then said, “Hold on, everyone! I’ve said something mildly amusing! I must share it with THE WORLD!”

I hung my head in conviction. Because…you know…that’s how I tweet.

It was just a surreal evening. And big enough for my shortest blog post ever.

> Coffee. Not for it’s effects, because I’m almost certain its caffeine doesn’t do anything for me. But simply for the comfort it gives in holding a hot mug and breathing in the aroma.

> Unexpected friendships. The people I would never, in a million years, think to be friends with, that seem to come along side me at the most perfect moments and love me well. Like Glenn Camhi…an incredible man I met at French Laundry in Napa. We sat near each other for one meal six months ago, and his consistent kindness over Facebook still warms my heart. Or Audrey Assad, who never in a million years would have thought I’d learn so much from. She’s a surprising little sucker. Or Kelli Stegeman, Kathrine Thomason, Joey Ciccoline, Brian Bergman, Anna Santos, Annie Williams…the list goes on and on and on.

> Music. Thanks to Nashville, my iTunes library seems to be chock full of a song for every conceivable mood. I’m so thankful for the talent of the people in that city, and their tastes, and the time they take in introducing me to new artists.

> Autumn Petersen and Julie Rice. Autumn, for her simple, healthy cooking techniques and her seemingly limitless ability to give and care. Julie, for her ability to listen and be a steady rock in the midst of just about any storm.

> My family. The sweetest, most supportive bunch I could ever hope for.

> Home improvement stores. Their smell, their smooth floors, their garden centers, their wide aisles and unlimited project possibilities.

> Humility. In the midst of a city and an industry that asks for nothing more than complete self-service, I’m so thankful for the gentle, selfless folks who are able to consistently rise above those temptations.

> Jesus. Because I’m fairly certain that when my heart feels like it’s going to combust out of love and joy and gratefulness, it’s probably because He made it that way.

> Art. And the opportunity to see it in a million different forms. And for the time that Brian Garcia told me I was an artist. Because no one had ever told me that before him.

> Mariah Carey. Because my life would be dismal without her Christmas album. And I’m sure Gina Nykerk, Sara McManigal and Christina Griffith feel the same way.

> Baking. Especially when I nail the lattice top crust on an apple pie. Don’t worry, I’ll be posting pictures later of today’s work of art.

> Emma. Because without the chances that company took on me, I know without a doubt I wouldn’t be the person I am today.

> Nature. And every season. And every climate. And every weather pattern. I love love love love love it.

> Judah Solomon Kahne. My unborn nephew. Whom I love love love so much.

> Every single person that has helped me on this road towards my dream of acting for a living. Ashley Giovannettone, Julie Swistak, Michael Hepburn, Chris Conner, Ramon de Ocampo, Johnny Yoder, Jonathan Runyon, J. Claude Deering, Lindsey Kroeger and Alan Dysert.

> Technology. Especially video chat. Which makes me feel so close to the people I like so much.

Happy Thanksgiving, y’all. And Los Angelesians (not a real term, by the way), save the date on December 11th. Holiday bash at our home.

Please note…you’re about to find things out about me you really…really…probably don’t want to know. So if there’s anything in you telling you to turn back…do it now. Ha.

Dear R.E.I.,

I recently bought a pair of your Rendezvous Trekking Pants to take on a trip to Machu Pichu, Peru. My oldest brother came back from a long tour in Iraq and wanted to have a new adventure, and I was the lucky sibling he invited along.

The trip was beautiful. The five day hike over the Incan trail was out of this world. It was certainly a once in a lifetime trip, and I was so thankful to have had the wonderful folks at R.E.I. prepare me for the expedition. I mean that. They prepared me more than I can tell you.

One thing I wasn’t expecting on my trip were the, ahem, bathroom difficulties. Chock it up to the change in elevation, the delicacy of guinea pig and alpaca on the menu, or maybe the fact that our facilities on the trail consisted of a broken toilet seat balanced over a bucket inside a loosely constructed tent made of shredded tarp. But, suffice it to say, I didn’t have much need for a bathroom break for about a week.

That all changed our last night in Peru. In the van on our way from Machu Pichu back to Cusco, my system decided to open up and make up for the last six days. There was nothing I could do, except delicately take off my fleece jacket and wrap it around my waist, then calmly ask my brother to get the key for the hotel room as quickly as possible. We had about 15 more minutes in the van before reaching the hotel, and I used that time to think about what had just happened.

When what seemed like an eternity passed, we pulled up to the hotel. My brother hopped out and walked straight to the front desk, while I stood up to make another mortifying discovery. My accident had made it to the cloth seat of the van. And come daylight, this same van, with this same driver, and this same translator, would be picking my brother and me up again to take us to the airport.

In the interest of your very important time, I’ll spare you the details on how I handled that particular part of the story. Suffice it to say, someone up there (pointing heavenward) must really like me…or at least recognized my plight enough to give me a little bit of mercy in that moment.

Here’s the miracle as it relates to R.E.I.:

Clearly, my little accident got me a little messy. And it got the van a little messy. But as my brother and I inspected my Rendezvous Trekking pants, they were perfectly clean. Pristine, even. We both looked at each other…then back at the pants…searching for some indication that they needed to be left behind in the hotel wastebasket. But they didn’t.

So my compliments and gratitude go out to you, R.E.I. Thank you for creating the most incredible wick-away trekking pants known to man. You’ve earned a customer for life as a result. I hope, though, that will be the last time I need to test your products in that way.

Sincerely,

Rachael C. Kahne

Wearing the famous pants with my brother in Peru

]]> http://www.soundslikecon.com/archives/417/feed 0 http://www.soundslikecon.com/archives/399 http://www.soundslikecon.com/archives/399#comments Fri, 12 Nov 2010 05:11:29 +0000 Rachael http://www.soundslikecon.com/?p=399 I have two.

Two recurring dreams that I’ve had since approximately 1991.

The first? Bryan Adams (yes, Bryan Adams, not Ryan Adams) is madly in love with me, and I with him, and he sweeps me off my feet to ride off into the sunset together. I’m fairly certain this began after I watched his video at the end of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves at the very impressionable age of 8 years old. But it’s happened at least once a year for the past 19 years.

The second? It’s my wedding day, but I’m marrying someone I don’t love, or want to spend my life with. But I force myself to stay with it because I always follow through on my word. And yes, I wake up in cold sweats.

So I’m thinking this either means I’m supposed to marry Bryan Adams (not opposed to it, Old Man!)…or I’m not supposed to get married at all. Or maybe it just means my wedding song is supposed to be ‘Everything I Do‘. Or maybe it doesn’t mean anything. But it sure would be funny if it did.

I miss Sonnie. She was always down for Starbucks.

I miss Kath. She was always around for Calypso.

I miss Paul. He was always around to talk.

I miss Carly. She was always up for a sleepover.

I miss Gina. She was down for just about anything.

I miss Sara. Because…well…she’s Sara.

Being new to any place is hard. I’m coming up on my one year anniversary in Los Angeles, and while I love it, it is tough making friendships out here. The type that are around for just about anything, that is. It’s a much bigger city, and the chances of just running into friends while you’re out is incredibly low. (And I actually like LA for that reason.) But lately, I’ve been missing those deep rooted friendships.

Alright. Miss Fest 2010 is over. At least online. It’s onward and upward from here.

I’m about two feet away from hopping on the PETA, animal rights, ASPCA train. I’m about to give up meat, volunteer all my free time at an animal shelter, go back to school to become a vet, the list goes on and on and on. (And maybe I’m not really planning on becoming a vet…but perhaps working in a vet’s office?)

All this to say, traveling around Spain has been a little tough on that front. I’ve wanted to start a “Spay & Neuter Your Pets” campaign, as well as bathe every animal I see (to include cats…and that’s a big step for me). I saw a dying sparrow in Cordoba and I couldn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the night…I passed by the line of horse-drawn carriages a few times in Seville yesterday, and a few had sores and scars on their noses from the bridles. And then there’s Pamplona coming up in the next couple of weeks. We’ll be on a balcony overlooking the running of the bulls…but I’m already prepared to be in the fetal position for most of that day. (And if you’d like to join Ricky Gervais in a step to end bullfighting, you can do so here.)

So…that’s it. That’s where I’m at. Someone…tell me I’m crazy. Tell me there’s room for moderation. Tell me it’s the cycle of life for birds to die. Tell me dogs have done just fine with all of their organs and limited baths. Tell me horses get scrapes and sores just like humans do, and they seem to carry on. And someone *definitely* tell me if I hop on the PETA train they’ll stop being my friend. And remind me how good a juicy cheeseburger is. And how life simply isn’t the same without bacon. Please?

And for now…here’s a peek into my life in Spain so far.

Yep. Lots of beautiful architecture, babies with forks, fountains and peeking into doors. I love it all.