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Friday, April 20, 2012

In spite of everything, I am not Kathy Bates 


It's late. I am posting this against my better judgment, as my better judgment is currently (shhh) asleep.

For years, I have been mistaken for the actress, Kathy Bates. This is not something I'm making up for the sake of the blog. I once used this picture of her in my profile to test my friends' reactions. Almost no one noticed. This is a serious problem that needs to be addressed, both for my sake and for hers. And, quite possibly, that of the entire human race.

On some levels, I can understand the confusion. After all, we have a ridiculous amount of common ground. First and foremost, we are both alive. We could easily be confused with one another on that basis alone. Beyond that, as if going beyond that were even necessary, we are both human. We are both female, and we have both viewed the sun, moon and stars from exactly the same vantage point in the universe. And it doesn't stop there. We have each experienced weather as well as the occasional sunburn. We both eat and drink, sleep and speak. Usually not all at once. We both live in coastal states with roughly the same shape, although California's has obviously been stretched and sags a bit after having given birth to one too many American television shows. That distinction now rests with British Columbia, Canada. (Why are almost all the actors on American tv either Canadian or Australian? Everyone talks funny these days and believe me, I know. No one I know talks funnier than I do, because I sound weird even to myself.) But that is neither here nor there. Well, I'm pretty sure it's not here. Anyway, we have both received some level of education and, as a consequence, can both read and write. Now, I don't know Miss Bates and have never personally seen her read or write, and she may well have people in her employ who do those things for her. I am going out on a limb to state that she can read and write, due to my affinity with the woman. The laundry list of our similarities is practically endless, unlike my attention span. So, onwards.

I am not Kathy Bates. I have nothing against her. How could I? I don't even know her. The sole piece of information I have, albeit a subjective one, is that she's a fine actress. But we could quite possibly unravel the very fabric of reality if we ever met. Although I would hope that the fabric of reality is made of sturdier stuff than that. Advertising would have us believe that cotton is the fabric of our lives. It's soft and cuddly and not very durable. I like to think that the fabric of reality is more like chain mail. Chain mail lasts forever and refuses to disappear, whether it be in the form of armor or letters promising miracles if you perpetuate the message and dire consequences if you don't. Be that as it may, I do empathize with the woman, because I know a little of what it's like to have people come up to you with preconceived notions of who you are and want something from you that you may or may not be able or willing to provide. Besides, in all honesty and the words of Keith Urban, "Who wouldn't want to be me?" I am admittedly pretty fabulous, depending on my mood, and Miss Bates could certainly do worse.

At the risk of further redundancy, I reiterate - I am not Kathy Bates. I have never tried to pass myself off as Miss Bates or trade on our similarities in any way. I would advise that she avoid this area of the U.S., though, unless she is prepared to be frequently mistaken for me. And, of course, risk compromising the integrity of the fabric of reality. If she does decide the risk would be worth it in order to spend time with someone besides her family who would accept her for who she is (whoever she is), her people are welcome to call my people and chat like the people that they are. Which sounds a bit scary, actually.

'night.

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