Funny Skinny

If I’m funny I don’t have to be skinny, right?  Are you still sexy if you are funny, but not skinny?  I feel like yes, but to less people? (Yes that is a question, insert upward inflection on "people").  Is sexy or funny better?  I feel like funny is way better.  I want to have the ability to be sexy and funny and also not be a waif.   How do I get funnier? I need attention and want people to like me so they will hire me for acting jobs.

I’m going to take an improv class at Upright Citizen’s Brigade.  I’m hoping that will make me funnier.  Maybe if I am around other people who are funny people, I will become a funny person too.  Also, I will learn things.   Improv things that will make me funnier.  I just really don’t want to be hungry all the time.

Being skinny would be such a pain in the ass too.  Oh, and I know I’m not overweight, don’t think I’m whining or anything.  I have a healthy and normal weighted body that I am as happy with as a 24 year-old actress living in la la land can be.  So, anyway, so much work, right?  And WORRY!! Worrying about the gym, and what you put in your mouth all the time.  I exercise, I eat healthy, but I don’t want to turn myself into a product.   Or am I supposed to do that?  As an actress, I am a product? (Inflection again.)  Yeah. Yeah, damn, I think I am.

BUT, though, I feel like the more normal human I am, the more relatable? A normal human product?

Yes.

People who are really skinny are scary though, huh?  Decidedly non-sexual as well.  Less human?  I mean, obvs, you’re still a human being if your are totes thin, but I’m talking about the relatability factor.

ANYWAY.

I just want to be a normal Kelly person and not a scary bobble-head on a stick that used to be a body.  And my head is so huge I would look so weird if I had a stick for a body instead of a body for a body.  I don’t want to look funny, I want to be funny. 

Hire me.  I’m so awesome.

Bad Things

If you act crazy in front of, beside, or behind me, I will assume you are on drugs and move away.

If you drive sloppily, swervy, SHITTILY, I will assume you are drunk and change lanes. 

If you are another customer in line at the super market and touch, rearrange, and/or generally handle my purchases and then comment on them I will not like you and will think bad things about you.  Probably, even, REALLY BAD THINGS.

When I am at work and you act crazy I will smile and ask you if you’d like to open a GAP card.  I will make fun of you later with my co-workers.  Really, I should thank you for the entertainment. 

If you bring your dog shopping at my work and then act crazy I will either want to steal the dog for myself, be scared of the dog, or hate the dog.  If it is wearing clothes each of theses potential feelings will be greatly intensified.

If it is 11pm and I am walking to my apartment from my car and you hit on me while hanging out with your drunk friend who is peeing on a wall I will not be attracted to you.  I will walk faster and make sure the gate to my complex is thoroughly locked behind me.

If you hit on me in any way that references the fact that I am rather tall for a woman it is likely that this will cause me to wrinkle my nose at you and talk about something gross to make you go away.  I will be happy when you leave and will whine about you to my friends later.

Secondly, if you hit on me while referencing my height and then proceed to utter the phrase “you must intimidate other men”, as in other than you, I will take it on as my PERSONAL MISSION to intimidate you.  When I see the fear in your eyes I will know I have succeeded and proceed to wrinkling my nose, talking about something gross, and being happy when you leave.  Whining later to my friends still applies.

If you think I’m weird for having cats without even having a conversation about it with me then I will certainly not want to be your friend.  I will think YOU are weird.

If you see me put on my blinker and are far enough behind me to let me in, but in fact speed up to pass me, I will SCREAM and curse you.  If it happens in Seattle, where no one, NO ONE, knows how to drive the reaction will be intensified.  This will frighten my passengers.

If I invite you over and you ask me if you can smoke weed in my house and I say no and you then proceed to smoke it out of my view near a window I will not think you are being considerate.  I will be mad.  It will be an uncomfortable situation.

If you are a famous actress who is my age and skinnier than me then I will not like you. Sorry, I’m just jealous.

If we are scene partners and you touch me inappropriately without discussing it with me first I will not think you are a brave risk taker.  I will think you are gross. GROSS.

If you use say “no homo” or call something “gay” in a derogatory way, I will not take you seriously.  I will question your cognitive power.

There are many, many more bad things.  Many BAD things.  I will start a list and update it periodically.  This will be fun.  It is fun to not like things.

Oh! And I don’t like Star Wars.  That is my right as a human being, and if you have a problem with this, then you have a problem.  I will be happy and content not liking Star Wars.

Cats

Both my mother fucking sneaky adorable BASTARD plotting, but let me reiterate ADORABLE, so I let them hang out with me, cats escaped out a crawl space in my bathroom this morning.  You might think this is my fault for not securing the crawl space before bringing the kitties home.  Well.  You’re wrong.  Everyone knows cats are a little bit evil, so it’s their fault.  Anyway.  This really pissed me off.  Actually, it nearly gave me a heart attack and made me do that girl panic cry thing we do.  But basically, I was not a happy camper. OBVS.

So I got down next to the crawl space in my mini bathroom with my head sandwiched between the wall and the toilet and did the “here kitty, kitty” thing.   Louie came right out purring when I called his name cause he’s like that.  Steve just hung out down there for like AN HOUR while I canvassed the neighborhood CERTAIN that he must’ve gotten out somehow since I couldn’t see or hear him.  I eventually realized that unless Steve had some awesome super powers I was unaware of (which I wouldn’t have totally been surprised by) there was literally no way for him to get out from under the building short of digging a tunnel.  So, I got this broken toy of his that used to be one of those fishing pole toys with a feather boa and bell on one end, but he totally destroyed it.  It is now half a plastic stick with a bell on a knotted string.  I dangled this contraption outside the crawl space for about 10 seconds and he hopped right out. I shoulda thought of it earlier.  Its his favorite toy. Sigh. 

Air In My Tires, Not In My Head

Do I really look like someone who doesn’t know how to put air in my tires?  The most basic of car ownership skills?  I don’t know whether to be offended or use this to my advantage.  The worst part is, it wasn’t even a man who offered to fill them up.  I would’ve gotten that.  I’ve had men offer to fill up my tires before (there is a double entendre in there somewhere...) and then proceed to stare directly at my chest or tell me I’m tall and that must intimidate other men.  They want to impress me and try out the double entendre later on, I get it.  I always thank and decline, I really should just let them do it.  I hate how dirty my hands get twisting off the little air caps. 

This, however, was a cracked out woman on a motorcycle, who had trouble turning off her bike, stumbled over her feet, parked too far from the air hose, and suggested I buy mace cause it is dark outside.  Like, in general, the outside is dark.  Oh, I hadn’t noticed.  Despite her cracked-outedness she was very nice and helpful.  Or like, theoretically would’ve been helpful had I actually needed help.  Maybe just nice because she was clearly high...? Duhno, can’t say.

Hey, guess what?  I also know how to change the oil in my car and change a tire.  Impressed?  Know any euphemisms?  

"Fuck You", NPR

So, NPR is awesome.  And by NPR, I mean public radio in general, or I guess ACTUALLY I mean 89.3 KPCC, no rant, no slant as they seem to announce every five minutes.  And I don’t really think that is exactly true, EXACTLY, but its a helluva lot better than Fox news in the ranting and slanting department.  Plus everyone loves a catchy catchphrase that catches. CATCH!  Got it? Good.

Writing is made difficult by an adorable kitty trying to make cookies on my belly as I slide my laptop further and further down my legs and crane my head around the purring furball.  Louie. Stop. Oh, wow, thanks. Thank god you can read.  Talented cat.

ANYWAY.  The radio about which I am speaking, which shall heretofore be referred to solely as “NPR”, is awesome, some might even say awesometastic.  I would, for instance, and for a number of reasons.  One reason is that NPR introduced me to Cee Lo Green.  Yeah.  Public Radio made me aware of the awesome(tastic?) song, and 2010 summer hit, “Fuck You”.

NPR also taught me the back story of “99 Problems” by Jay Z.

If you're havin' girl problems I feel bad for you son

I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one

That bitch, is a literal bitch.  A K9 unit.  Cop stopped him, threatened K9 search of car, but that bitch was tied up at another job.  Like, on a leash, even.  I didn’t learn about the actual 99 problems.  Cavity?  Boxers or Briefs? Mom bugging him for grandchildren?  The possibilities are endless.

And who couldn’t love Garrison Keillor and A Praire Home Companion?  That man is serio my hero.  Or like, so much not that it goes in a circle, a heroic circle, and he comes up on top and I can’t not listen.  Recently, he had Paula Poundstone on and they totally had a passive aggressive radio fight.  Totes hilario due to cold stares, which just register on the radio as extended periods of silence and them then having to describe their tiff, making it all the more awkward.  Just like this picture of Garrison:

I just love that I can get in my car, turn on NPR, start driving, probably to LA for the 10 millionth time in a week, and learn much much much.  Usually things I wouldn’t have had the opportunity for exposure to....hahahah like Car Talk, and obvs. other stuff toooo.  From politics to “Fuck You” by the fabulous Cee Lo Green, I learn much, my attention is held, and I know whats up in my community.   NPR is a treasure.

Oh, and I wish I had a little puppy to cuddle with also. That would be rad.

Planet Kelly and the Tea Factor: Guilty!

There is one thing that I know for a fact I can blame on my mother.   At least one thing that I can think of right now; give me an hour, a cocktail, and a tape recorder and who knows what will come out...real or imagined.

Guilt.  Oh guilt, guilt, guilt!  This is big with my Mims, as I fondly call her.  I was taught to be a good hostess, and to put other's needs ahead of my own whenever appropriate, particularly when that person is a guest.   But the thing is, you see, sometimes I forget to offer people tea when I make it for myself.  There I said it.  This does not sit well with the Mim.

Honestly, I think it is because it was made to be such a big deal that the stress of it was too much for my brain to handle.  So my brain was all like, “Hell no, girl, don’t even worry yo’self, we don’t need no stress up in here!  I’m taking you on a stress vacay bitch.”  Obviously, I couldn’t argue.  Hello!  This is my brain we’re talking about, it controls like everything on Planet Kelly.

Also, it must be said, I drink a ton of tea.  The “tea act” as I just decided to call it is not so much a special event for me.   It is life-blood.  The act just must BE, regardless of others, I must drink it.  It is only special in that without it I am not myself.  Who has time to stop their compulsion and ask others if they’d like to partake? 

Like, ya know?

I drink a lot of tea everyday, I loves it!  A slow day is about 3 cups.  When I was at UCSB I discovered the best invention of all time, the electric kettle, and my tea habit settled in at 12 cups of green tea per day. And we’re not talking “about 12” either.  I had 12 EVERYDAY on top of the one or two cups of Earl Grey or English Breakfast I’d have in the dining commons with Aimee in the morning.  I fully do not understand how I managed 12, because if I have one cup now on an empty stomach I get nauseous and start dry heaving.  I’m so pretty!  I think it is a vitamin K overload or something.

Now, come on peeps, does this make me deserving of guilt?  Obviously tea and I are really special friends and I can’t always make room in that relationship for others.  Or at least the rulers of Planet Kelly aren’t too keen on the idea at present.

And so I blame this guilt on my mother.  She’s a strong lady, she can handle it.  Now for some tea.

Honeycrap Conspiracy: An Apple a Day Keeps Your Mind at Bay

Hello folks.  I’ve decided to write about something today that has been bothering me for the last few years.  I’ve noticed a problem lurking in our grocery stores that needs to be addressed.  We all know that fruits and vegetables are a delicious and healthy way to meet our daily nutritional needs.  I personally love fresh berries and dairy-free yogurt in the morning.  What can be better than a large salad at dinner with avocado, olives, corn...the creative possibilities are endless. There is one food item, however, that threatens the very survival of the others.  I am talking about Honeycrisp apples.

Honeycrisp apples are the destructive and evil child of the Macoun and Honeygold apples.  The apple industry has created this uncommonly delicious foodstuff in an effort to control our eating habits and thusly control our minds.  When Honeycrisp season comes around in September, who can eat anything else?  Inevitably, the season ends, the apples are no longer available, and we then spend the rest of the year in withdrawl, unable to stomach any other apple.  Granny Smith? No ma’am!  Red Delicious? No, no, not delicious!  Fuji?  It doesn’t even have a clever descriptive phrase as a name!

If you are like me then you want to defend your freedom to eat and enjoy the food that nourishes your body without fear of mind control and slavery to the apple industry.  The first step to this freedom is awareness of the savage authoritarians behind the Honeycrisp movement: The University of Minnesota.  At a particularly vulnerable period in our nation’s history, the 1960’s, this supposed “institute of higher learning” (what does that even MEAN?) began a breeding program to develop new and more delicious apples.  The very thought of such an endeavor brings to mind Hitlerian ideals of perfection.  The unfortunate end result was the Honeycrisp.

It is with a heavy heart that I must inform the reader that the Honeycrisp only grows in popularity and deliciousness every year.  Please do what you can to stop this movement.  Contact your congress person.  Inform the media about the evil inner workings of the University of Minnesota.  Boycott markets that sell this forbidden fruit.  As disgusting as it may sound, try other apples! You can do it!  There are support systems out there for you when all you can think about is your next Honeycrisp fix.  As a Honeycrisp survivor I am here to tell you that you can get through the cravings, through the tears, through the anguish, and come out the other end a better person for it.  Together we are strong and can make a difference.  Our voices will be heard.

University of Minnesota: You say Honeycrisp, I say HONEYCRAP.  I will not be controlled!

The Kid To Throw Dirt At

It is times like these, with my nose running down my face, that I contemplate the many special dysfunctions of being me.  I am an allergy sufferer.  The allergies are bad. Quite, quite bad.  Sometimes I get a fever and an unstoppable stream of snot and tears run down my face for a few days.  I also get man voice. During this time it is inadvisable to leave the house.  Allergies cannot be mentioned without bringing special attention to another one of my special dysfunctions: partially collapsed Eustachian tubes in my ears, with particular dysfunction resting in my left ear.  Ears cannot drain properly=worse allergies.  Also bad hearing, ringing and crackling in my ears.  I’m like my own little sound check at all times.  It’s as awesome as it sounds.

Ok, so you know what else is cool about me?  My left leg is shorter than my right!  Pain.  Weird limpy walk when I forget to wear my lift.  My spine is all out of alignment making me achy and cracky and poppy.  Sounds like a new cereal.  Don’t try it!  This one gives you the gimps!   Its kind of funny when my back is especially hurty from this extra special dysfunction cause I get tired and a bit goofy, like I’m buzzed and I can’t think properly.  I am prone to idiocy, I guess you could say.  But it’s not my fault, it’s the leg’s.

Then there is the gluten and dairy allergies or intolerances or whatever we call them these days.  No ice cream?  Oh, not a problem.  No pie?  Fine. That’s fine.  Actually, its not fine, I was being sarcastic.  But you can’t hear my inflection.  So.  I just thought I’d point it out.  The really bad part about this situation is that I stopped eating meat in 8^th grade.  I have been a vegetarian for over 11 years, and the thought of eating meat has disgusted me since then, and honestly quite a bit longer.  I never could stomach a steak or pork or chicken.  I did love bacon, pepperoni, and barbecue ribs, don’t ask me why.  So, finding something to eat can be an issue.  Food and I are in a fight right now, but potato, beans,  and rice, are my lovelies.  I kick it with veg and fruit too.  Almonds be my homies.  Ok, so its not really a fight, but more of a tiff. 

Thank god my eyesight is good or I’d be the walking definition of “kid to throw dirt at in the playground”.  I’ve got eczema too.  Not bad.  Not bad at all, just a few patches. 

So there you have it.  I have proven I am especially awesome.  You’re welcome.

Rehearsal Day One aka. HELL

I got cast in a play.  I was excited because #1 I had previously been cast in a play that I decided to quit when I found out how illegit it was (ie we had to pay to be in it....um, shouldn't it be the other way around?) and #2 I love/miss/live for acting and haven't been in a play since graduating acting school and I'm beginning to feel like a lame-o.

The following is my experience of the first rehearsal.  Oh, it was a special two hours.

Rehearsal: Day 1

Drove to the ghetto. Parked in the ghetto.  Was scared in the ghetto.  Felt bad for being scared in the ghetto. Worried about my car getting broken into in the ghetto.  Felt bad for worrying about my car getting broken into in the ghetto.  Got out of my car in the ghetto, and quickly, swiftly, walked around my car and like a diving gull snatched my computer bag up from the passenger side floor so as not to leave it alone in the ghetto. Began my walk through the ghetto. All the while maintaining a general sense of guilty fear and high levels of self-consciousness.  I didn’t see a single white person.  I felt bad for noticing.

I arrived at the theatre, breathing a mental sight of relief that I made it, and was greeted by a staircase.  It is up! Ok! I climbed up the stairs in the definitely not handicapable accessible theatre to find a surprisingly nice little black box housing an equally surprising menagerie of folk.  Less nice, more surprise.  And as time passed: annoyance, coupled with regret, realization of future embarrassment, and general feelings of dissatisfaction with my station in life at present.  Although, these feelings do come up often being that I am a newly graduated professionally trained actor unemployed and living with my dad. WITH NO PROSPECTS.

The folk included a mild mannered and soft-spoken know-it-all not afraid to correct others even if he is not sure himself and might be wrong gay man playing the strong and handsome manipulative male romantic lead.   His pacing while reading, turning of his full back to the audience, and the monotony of his voice WORE on me. 

An assistant director who acted like a just plain old director although it was his first day.  He was replacing someone else due to drama I didn’t understand.  He had no research or plan, not a single note in his script.  Kept smoothing back his Hollywood hair, and sayings things like “most people just say the lines but you guys are actually like really saying them like they mean something and that is good because they do”.  His voice is halfway between Kelsey Grammar and Zach Morris. 

Sincere Leigh.  Sincerely. I’m not lying. She plays the stripper girlfriend of the romantic male.  She has a new white mustang, a purple mark jacobs purse, scuffed as hell pilgrim boots, a skull belt on her acid wash skinny jeans and black button up shirt outfit and scraggly greasy bleach blonde with roots short Cameron Diaz length hair, make-uped over acne, and the smell of wet cigarettes. Did I mention her name is Sincere Leigh? Sincerely.

Other notable mentions include the director/writer.  The woman is frightening because she seems to be one of those people that are on a different brain wave and you just can’t really get ahold of them.  Like how crazy people are scary because of their unpredictability.  There is a lot of little girl, broken dreams, and revenge mixed into her personality.  Add into this pot a 58 yr old (I know because she told us) frizzy short-haired big 70’s glassesed pants-suit wearing lady playing a 26 yr old single mom giving every emotion and American dialect in the book except the appropriate one.  An older down-trodden looking man playing the coked out caricature of a boss taking every line so seriously that he could only seem to do two in a row before being hopelessly lost.  As in, he lost his place in the script. CONS-TANT-LY. And then the cute 18 yr old looking stage manager who actually seems kinda cool and really excited about theatre.  It can't all be bad. Right?  I mean, I hope.  The liklihood of him being a serial killer or something is quite low I'd imagine.

Rehearsal was two hours.  Wretched, unexplainable, non-sensical horror.  It did not go well, but only I seemed to notice.  Favorite quote: "There is no reason this play can't end up on Broadway".  YES there is. YES THERE IS.  I can't even get into how bad the script is, but, BUT maybe you can guess at how bad the acting was based on the aforementioned characters.  The play will last two hours.  We will have 12 rehearsals of two hours each.  NOT ENOUGH TIME.  LAUGHABLE. LAUGHABLE!!!!!!!!!

*****

I quit

My second play in less than a month

Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,
Keep on the sunny side of life
It will help us ev'ry day, it will brighten all the way
If we'll keep on the sunny side of life

OR WHATEVER.

***I have to say that I applaud the effort of the people organizing the play to take the leap and do theatre, get themselves out there. However, my horror for this production was based in the general lack of effort to find anything out about theatre before beginning the process of putting on a play people were going to (supposedly) pay money and come see.  It felt like an LA fame drive.  People hoping to be famous and putting as little effort into it as possible.***

Steve and Louie

My cats are adorable.  They make no sense.  I am amazed and perturbed by them on a daily basis.

I’ve got Steve, a too-cool-for-school slinky Russian Blue who loves to do somersaults on human feet and rub himself on legs.  Sometimes late at night he’ll deign to sit on my lap.

Then there is Louie. Louie is a contsa-purring Japanese Bobtail. He is square-like and compact.  He looks smaller than Steve, but weighs more. He needs attention, like, ALWAYS, and sits/stands on my chest whenever possible.

Steve likes to crawl quietly into small spaces.  Or jump delicately up high.

There is nothing delicate about Louie, and he makes a big *HUFF* whenever he lands on anything.

They talk to each other.  They talk to me.  Sometimes they sing along to music. (And I don’t literally mean, “TALK”, I’m not that nuts.  They do that guttural half chirp, half purr thing.) Sometimes, their inflection makes it sound like they’re asking a question. Obvio, I find this adorable. :)

Often, Steve will grab a toy upstairs, start squawking, squawk all the way down the stairs, make a final squawk upon entering the living room and then drop the toy.  He looks real proud of himself.

Louie likes to wake me up in the morning.  First he’ll hop on my bed with the requisite *HUFF* and then he’ll come up to my face purring REAL loud.  He’ll plop down on my chest and try to sniff out my fingers.  He’ll nibble on them a bit, and if that doesn’t wake me up, he’ll get under the covers and sniff out my toes, bite them, first gently, then with a mighty force.  He’s trained me well; this gets me right out of bed.

Yesterday I was in the shower and I heard a really strange repetitive thumping sound, which I dismissed as I knew my cats were in the bathroom.  I just assumed that they were playing, or swatting at the cord on the blinds or something.  The sound kept up so I peeked out of the shower.  There was Steve, perched on the toilet on his hind legs, like a little prairie dog.  His front legs were extended.  He was bouncing up and down with his front paws spinning, hitting, and tearing at the toilet roll.  I laughed so hard.  He was SO INTO IT!!! Louie was sitting on the window perch intently following the little snowflakes of toilet tissue make the descent to the floor.  When Steve noticed me, he just turned around, squawked, and went back to his business.

The thing that gets me about this little escapade is that I was right there in the shower and they still got into some big mischief.  Destruction is their MO.  Oh, and how dare I interrupt them! 

Cats are weird.

Steve likes small spaces.

Louie likes attention.

Where Do Queens Hide?

There are ant mother fuckers climbing on me! I hate finding them. I love to smooosh them.  I can feel them and I don’t know where they are and alls I want to do is smoosh smoosh them.

It is unseasonably warm outside.  Ants want to come inside and be cool.  I say no!  Go find another home!  You are unwelcome here.  And you can only be cool to get in this house to get cool, and you’re not COOL cause you’re an ant mother fucker, so tough luck bud, get outta town!

I got chocolate on my comforter last night.  I bought chocolate covered almonds at See’s Candies at Crystal Court in South Coast Plaza.  I was mad so I bought yummies.  Mad because Borders, where I wanted to go to buy my dad’s birthday gift, was closed due to a book signing or some THING and I couldn’t get what I wanted to get.  Yummies were needed to assuage said anger.  But the yummies just made me anxious/hyper...maybe due to combo with caffeine and alcohol also consumed this day?  So then I got soup and felt better, and then chips and felt even betterer.  Also, I bought some for my dad.  Some chocolate covered almonds, that is.

I think maybe the ants are after the choco.  Must do laundry.  Don’t want to move is so hot.  Those ant mother fuckers are moving all over the place.  I don’t even get the satisfaction of kicking their asses for invading my housey, but must smoosh smoosh smoosh them and get guts on me.  I like smooshy, but not gutsy.

I know!  I will find the queen, I will threaten her with a dangerously too close finger in her face (I will do finger exercises first!), she will get the message, she will be scared of smooshy, she will call the troops out and I will not feel little tickles on my legs.

Where do queens hide?

Like a Hobo in Detox

Oh, hi November! I'm sorry I didn't recognize you! I thought you were July 'cause its 100 degrees outside, but now I see that Thanksgiving is right around the corner. Oh, no no, my mistake!

Today I woke up feeling extra crappy.  So I decided to get coffee.  I gave up coffee, with the intention of having it occasionally, and this was the occasion, as I felt like fossilized dino shit.  It was wonderful and lifted my mood right out of the gutter like a hobo in detox.

I was all high on caffeine and driving around Irvine, and realized I needed gas.  Stopped at a Chevron in some shopping center I’d never been to before, which is weird, cause it’s Irvine. If you don’t know what I mean then just know that Irvine is studied in architecture school for being one of the most planned communities in the world and has been number one several years in a row on the FBI’s safest mid-sized cities list for the whole US of A.  So, its one of those places you get to know if you spend any extended period of time there.

When you are all buzzed on caffeine and you’re me, as I am, sometimes you make bad decisions.  I glanced over the pump as I was getting gas and noticed a BevMo.  So, I finished up with the gas, drove over and bought me some rum.  Can’t really tell you why.  I never buy alcohol for home use.  I would just drink it.  Think about what caffeine does to me, and transfer that to a more addictive depressant that completely inhibits your ability to function in any sort of normal and generally safe way.

So now I have a bottle of rum, and like NOTHING to mix it with.  Or, really, even a desire to drink it.  I don’t know man.

It’s hot outside.  

Psychic Football

Do you ever find yourself watching something ridiculous on TV like you care?  I guess for most people it might be reality TV or something.  I personally find value in many reality shows, as strange as that may sound, and is a whole ‘nother story. But, anywho.....I just found myself absorbed by the instant football replay on the news! Gah! I know!

Um, I don’t even understand football.  Like, at all.  Well, I understand it more than I understand baseball. Which is just like watching the plutonic form of CONFUSION before me. The problem is that football doesn’t make logical sense to me like basketball and soccer.  There are all these little side rules and things.  Plus, basketball and soccer players tend to be the hottest, and that goes a long way, as they are also the ones that spend the most time running around.  Additionally, I find their uniforms the most adorable.  I know I sound like a major girl, and that is ‘cause I totes am! hehehe....xxx muah <3

Right now I can’t even tell you what I was absorbed by.  I can’t remember.  But at the time I was into it.  I cared.  About something related to how a play went.  To me this means that I understood it (“it” being “football in general") in the moment and formed an opinion about what I thought should happen.  Not that I literally understood football as a whole, not possible, I guarantee you, BUT, I did understand the play and I did have some sort of primal care, or an understanding of why I should care.  A psychic understanding, if ye will.

We’re all hard-wired to care, make decisions, form opinions, and they happen whether we’re there mentally for them or not. Why? I know as much about that as I do about baseball.  What do we ignore, what do we tell ourselves to dismiss and worry about later?  What do we actually know that we won’t even let ourselves admit?  What happens when you turn off the chatter, sit down, and actually experience what you feel and believe?  What you actually know?  It’s amazing to realize that we are capable of going on, existing, functioning, without trying too hard.  Maybe I should watch more football.....

Ghosts

I really like the idea of ghosts.  My favorite ride at Disneyland is totally The Haunted Mansion and I am obsessed with Paranormal State.  Aside from the spooky fun of it all the idea that we imprint ourselves permanently on our surroundings, for good or for bad, is a powerful thought to me.  Surely, my vanity adores that power as well :)

Even if there aren't literally ghosts: apparitions shimmering in the dark at the foot of your bed, old civil war generals with guns and whiskey bottles, little girls singing nursery rhymes and skipping rope in your hallway, we do leave an impression.  On other people at least.  Not just the way someone thinks of you, but their impulse in response to the thought of you or the sound of your name.  What they smell, and recall.  What happens to their heart rate.

You still reside in your childhood room as a product of how you treated the space.  Drawings hidden in the walls of a closet, a hole in the wall, all your sports medals neatly hung on a shelf....a product of who you simply are, you left your impression.  The mere way the room was arranged will affect others coming into that space.

Your physical movements and actions are an obvious way to affect space, because you can see the result.  If you punch a wall and it leaves a hole, you see the hole, you remember how it happened, others see it and wonder.

We all know how our bodies change when we are experiencing emotions internally. We send out little brains waves, we heat up, we cry, adrenaline courses through us, we sweat, we release all sorts of natural chemicals.  This must affect our space also.  I am the last person to ask about the science of it, but I just wonder.

We leave our ghosts everywhere just by being ourselves.  Wouldn't it be nice if the strongest impressions left were positive?  If people thought of you and smiled?  Better yet: to affect the negative ghosts, accept them for what they are, let them go, move on, and let them absorb some of your positivity.

Aimee and John's Wedding Toast

This didn't actually make it to the reception, but here it is now:

(minus an actual ending)

You know, Aimee and John have been together a long time.  Not as long as I’ve known her, I met her like a month earlier, but still a really long time and now they’re married, and you know, that is so great.  I know you all are familiar with Aimee and John as a couple, but Aimee and I have a special relationship too. Um, a different relationship.  I’m not saying OUR relationship is equal to or even better than Aimee and John’s relationship, its just, um different and...special. 

Aimee and I met freshman year at UCSB and it was love at first sight.  I can tell you exactly what she was wearing.  A light blue “bubba gump” tee shirt elegantly coupled with a dashing pair of equally light blue Abercrombie jeans.  Her hair dangled sweetly from her head in ravishing Pocahontas style braids.  She. Was. Exquisite. 

We spent our days in Environmental Science and Psych 1 giggling quietly at the back of the lecture halls at inside jokes and delicately brushing each other’s hair in the dark.  We’d see movies downtown, get pedicures, and dip our freshly lacquered toes in the gentle waves of the ocean watching beer cans float by and planning the rest of our lives....It was college and we were free and everything was ok and we were happy.

I remember the first day John joined us in the UCSB Carillo dining commons for lunch.  He wore...something boyish. and his hair was all curly.  Lunch was something Aimee and I usually did together, but I was totally willing to give him a chance. I mean its just eating.  Its not like I can’t eat in front of people besides Aimee...now....so it was fine.  It was sweet. They flirted and stuff.  You could tell they really liked each other. Which was nice.  John was around a lot more after that.  There were less pedicures and hair brushing, but, um, I had Karl.  Hey Karl!  I love Karl, he is a great friend. A great unmarried friend.

Well, time passed, and Aimee and John’s relationship grew stronger and stronger.   I grew sick of the constant sunshine and beauty of Santa Barbara and I eventually decided it was time to move on....1200 miles away to Seattle. Not, BECAUSE of John or anything.  I transferred schools and moved to the great Pacific Northwest to focus on my acting, like all great actors do, such as Brendan Fraser who went to my school. It was rainy and grey and important and I did acting things that were meaningful with artists who made important statements about the environment and eating organic and the plight of bees and I like to think it made the world a better place.

So I left AND they moved in together and now they’re married.  So, I guess you could say, we’re all here today because of ME.  You’re welcome.  Enjoy the cake, I hear its really good.

All joking aside, I dearly love those two people, I am so happy to be here to see this.  Aimee has been a true friend since the day I met her, to the full extent of what that word means.

halloween head shot bonanza

I have no money right now, so I'm not really in the mood for any big Halloween plans.  Although, interning at a talent agency does have its advantages in this area as I came up with a wonderful costume idea while working.

We are literally surrounded by head shots in the office and there is this bin that we just dump them all in when they come in the mail.  The cover letters don't get read, nothing else extra you send does either, and honestly your headshot probably won't even be glanced at.  Even the really good ones.  Frankly, your only really good chance is a referral (through e-mail!) or being scouted.

Some are really bad. Think senior high school photo.  Think reject senior high school photo.  Actually don't think senior anything because these people probably didn't even graduate as the grammar and spelling on their resumes is just silly bad.  Not that I claim to be good at either, I just think you'd give something a second skim over if you're sending it off in hopes of getting an agent.  And if they did give it that second skim over.....well, then they've got bigger problems and should be focusing on some self improvement before making any big career moves.

It makes me a bit sad because its this massive fame drive and some people think they'll just get an agent and be famous and all their hopes and troubles and dreams will go the way they want.  So, my future definitely isn't in an agency.....I could go on and on but the point is:

Halloween Costumes.  We (the person I work with and I) thought it would be a great idea if we made masks out of the really bad reject head shots and went as them for Halloween. Not so much to make fun of them, although that is most unavoidably part of it, but to honor them.  Yes, oh yes!  They will rise as the stars of their own real-life theatrical display. Not reality, we won't be them, we'll play them.  Their own Ray or Walk the Line.  They exist and everyone will know.

The power went out on 9/27 and I got scared.

The power is out. I have 6 hours and fifty-nine minutes left on my computer battery. Ohps, it just went up a minute and then down a minute.  We’re at 6:58 people.  And now suddenly 6:44.  Ok, that is getting annoying.  To me.  I am annoying myself.

So, obvious ponder of the moment: we are so freakin’ dependant on power!  After watching the horror of my TV switching off as if it had a mind of it’s own, my first inclination was to go and check the internet to see how long the power would be out. Yeah, not happening.  The WiFi dispenser, as I like to call it, is plugged into the wall. So. I’m thinking to myself, well, no bother I can’t watch TV, I’ll just go and watch some hulu on my laptop.  How funny for me to have this thought, as if the internet I was going to use before to check the news was somehow different from the one used to supply me my hulu.

So phones still work right? Wait, let me check. NO! They don’t.  A rotary dial would though, right?  Why don’t I have a rotary dial somewhere? What if there is an emergency?  I can’t find my cell phone in this dark madness, and what happens when it runs out of juice? What if the candles I’ve lit burn the house down?  6:47 now which is kinda odd, eh? Obviously I’m not that distraught about the emergency....and now 7:16! Blast! What is going on macbook? Has the lack of power made you go nutty? Or is that just me?

Seriously though, I hate to say it, and actually don’t even want to type it, but wouldn’t this be the perfect time for a massive terrorist attack? These are the things running through my head. Ugh. But, I mean, I really have extremely limited contact with the outside world right now.  My cell phone, to be exact, which as I stated earlier I can’t find, and it is kind of a piece of shit that runs out of power after about 45 minutes of talking.  No phone.  No internet.  I literally don’t know what’s going on right now.  I don’t know why the power is out, when it will be restored, if aliens are invading, nor can I call 911 when I fall down the stairs later in the horrible, horrible darkness.

My cat almost just licked the flame of the candle.  Weird.

Anyhow, the thing is, I don’t want to sound like a whiny biznatch that can’t survive without hulu.  I don’t feel that way.  I just can’t think past that way right now because my brain is still in ‘check the internet every hour’ mode.  Let’s face it, a few days no power, we’d all be reading constantly and outside doing activities and finding plenty of happiness in the world around us.  Talking to our neighbors more, digging through the attic for the old rotary dial, or going to Target to buy one, if they even have them anymore.

My general point from my ‘the power is out disaster’ frame of mind is that we are SO dependant on power that even if we don’t mind it being off, we are in danger with it off.  At least at a major disadvantage.

Well, I guess its time for bed.  I miss you TV.

Rant Inspired by Jon Stewart's Rally To Restore Sanity

One big idea is never enough to revolutionize.  You don’t just fix giant socio-economic problems by changing one thing.  Even if it is a big thing and a big idea to match, for change causing.  People are different, this is something we know to be true and is easy to accept. Some people are nutty craze-o’s who don’t understand difference.  They see that people are different and what that means to them is that some people like hamburgers and some people like hot dogs and some people have brown hair and some people are blonde.  They see things like religious belief and sexual orientation as choices you can make, implying a right answer.  People naturally gravitate towards what makes sense to them based on their life experiences and who they innately are.  You don’t really make the choice to be Christian, you are because it makes the most sense to you, and it is your only choice.  Upbringing is factored into that.  Any other choice would take intense effort, and is unlikely in most cases, although, certainly not unheard of.  (I’m not saying, however that I think you can choose to be gay, its more like, how you stay in the closet is the choice.) Some people say they are Christian, but are truly atheist on the inside; they just can’t admit/deal with it yet because of how it would affect their lives due to any number of potentially oppressive forces like parents and culture.  They are not choosing to be Christian; they are Athiests, who lie. 

You can be liberal as all get-out and still be a close-minded xenophobe.

The problem with the one idea, one change, the right way, is that it involves labeling, as everything does, but in a very intense way.  This is right, this is THE idea; leaves no room for exceptions and anomalies, making them wrong for not being quite right.

I’m not offering a solution I just think it would help if people started thinking differently about what it takes to make change, why it is necessary, and why things cannot be universally true.

For instance, people talk about Catholic priests molesting children like it is something unique to Catholicism.  They don’t even necessarily believe this to be true, but because it is not spoken about in depth, but people simply read headlines of “another priest molests child” without any “why” behind it and people begin to think of it as an innately Catholic issue.  The real problem seems to be the power dynamic between adult and child and a lack of responsibility used to investigate the adults involved in those relationships nor monitor potentially precarious situations.  It happens in families and in schools all the time, it is not surprising it happens in the Catholic Church. 

There is no one right answer and our current political and media system does not innately support this, and as such it is important to remember to do the extra thinking that is not given to you in a headline.

I’m not editing this.  I like it better all nuts.

Pretty Good Picture

I took this picture of myself today, and I've got to say, my eyelids are looking seeeeex-y!  I find that not often enough do people embrace this aspect of their physiognomy.  Perhaps, we should adorn our lids with some kind of colored powder or jewels so as to bring out their best qualities.  We could even line them so as to say, "Hello, I am an eyelid, I exist, ignore me no longer!"

Eyelid Power.

Adventure

Hotel bars are really funny. The decor is always either in the style of the hotel, which is generally the least barish decorative styling possible.  Featuring, like, African masks and paintings of sparrows perched on gnarled branches with the morning sun glistening off the dew bespeckling their delicate wing feathers...for instance...OR in some tackytaculously wonderawful theme a la “Tiki Tom’s” (who is this ‘Tom”?) or “The OK Corral Saloon” (how original).  I find this lovely.  I only want to go to hotel bars from now on.  I mean, I’ll go other places too, but as far as bars go, I want to keep it in the hotel category. 

Irvine does not have a single bar...in the traditional sense.  There is no corner pub, no neighborhood “spot” if you will.  There are strip malls with restaurants that often feature a bar section.  There is the Irvine Spectrum; a spectacle of an outdoor mall, with a Dave and Busters, a Ferris wheel AND a merry-go-round, some strange themed clubs (which do not count, because they involve dancing/entertainment, and we’re talking BAR here), an Improv, lots of shopping and restaurants, and an Edwards 21 movie theatre with an IMAX.  This is where you go if you are age 12-18 on a Friday night, well before 10pm so as not to stay out past the 10pm city curfew.  You might also end up here on Friday night if you are kind of gross and from a city far away where there is even less to do than Irvine and you always wear shorts and a tank top no matter the weather.  Still, not even one true bar exists in this complex of “fun”.

One awesomely convenient thing and also just plain awesome in general thing Irvine does have is an airport.  It’s called John Wayne, which is rad cause I love cowboys, and it has a giant statue of him in a cowboy get up.  There are postcards of this, one of which I happily own.  The airport’s code is SNA for Santa Ana, which is super dumb, because it is clearly in Irvine.  Anyhow, there are tons of hotels nearby the airport, which are definitely in Irvine as they all have Irvine before their name, such as the Irvine Courtyard Marriott. Last night, my friend and I went to El Torrito for margaritas, as you do, which is also right by the airport, next to IHOP and a place called Gulliver’s. For Gulliver’s Travels, which is cute, I guess, because of its proximity to an airport, which is clearly all about travel, so there’s that connection.  I needn’t mention what a menagerie of choice these restaurants offer to the hotel guest’s discerning palettes.

So, we’re at El Torrito and we’re talking about this Irvine debacle.  We’ve both lived in other cities, that are actually city-like, have bars within walking distance to housing and corner stores and homeless people and hookers and the like. I like Irvine, more than I could’ve imagined as an idealistic teenager wanting to experience “real” life (I use quotes a lot...and parenthesis).  However, the lack of bars is kinda annoying, especially since there is absolutely no alcoholic drinking opportunities within walking distance.  We were talking about how there are so many bars in Seattle, where I went to college, and that people would go drink at the hotel bar near my school after school, or even, haha, in between classes.  And thus, the brilliant idea was born.  We were literally surrounded by hotels.

After a second margarita, made super especial, especialmente for us by the kindly bartender at El Torrito (the little bull) we were off to the Hilton.   This bar was decorated in the style of the hotel, meaning there were these strange giant gourd-like things everywhere and giant light fixtures on the walls that looked like piles of sticks.  It was also kind of in the lobby, which was a little strange.  We were the youngest people there by 20 years and it was a little awkward at first.  We hunkered down at the bar.  Football was on which my friend liked as a football fan, and I liked as a girl who likes to watch strong men run around in tight pants.

After a few minutes a 50ish year old man sat down next to us and we started chatting with him.  I was immediately skeezed out.  Best news of the evening: He was in no way creepy, and did not overtly hit on us.  There was a bit of flirting at the end of the evening, when we’d all had a bit to drink.  And he was married, so that was a little weird.  But whatever sexual whateverness that ended up being there was in no way the point of anything that was going on.   He was genuinely nice and personable and happy to be there.  And yes, we hung out with him all evening at the bar.  I had an awesome time.  It was the best time I’d had in awhile.  Not exactly true, cause my best friend’s wedding was two weeks ago, and unbeatable in the best night ever category.

I can't get over the fact that yesterday was a normal day and I just kept on doing normal things, decided to hang out with a good friend and I had SUCH a good time.  I want every night to be the best night and every day to be the best day, every TIME to be the best time.  It is so possible.  Mindset you know. Not caring you know. Not worrying. Being available.  The best part: it doesn't even have to be in a hotel bar!  You can have the best time anywhere without even trying.  In fact, trying, usually makes it not good.  Alls you gots to do is just live that life and be happy.

Thank goodness for hotel bar adventure number 1.  Actually, lets face it, I was one of those students that would (occasionally) drink in between classes at the hotel bar by my college.  BUT, I wasn't aware of the hotel bar adventure possibilities, so lets compromise and call this one 1.5.

<3 

Benicia

So, Benicia is a lovely cute little town with a cute little town square with a gazebo and everything. Yesterday they were showing a movie in the park and a band was playing and it was just so adorable. Many people walking their dogs, old people on benches, cute little shops...like tea shops and antiques and shit; legit cute little main street town shops...you know. Apparently, according to Matt, who is from there, there is a big ol' meth problem too. So thats good. Head off Main street, which isn't called Main, but it might as well be, and you have creepy old guys slithering about in front of run down old victorians. Don't get me wrong though, the place is totes adorbs, its just no more adorable than anywhere else. So, its a well-rounded cute little place.

It is actually on the bay....like in between San Pablo Bay and Suisun Bay. Although, I had to look it up because after living in the "Bay Area" for two months I just generally assume every body of water is the SF Bay. Its weird to see the water since the town is so far east. And then, the really weird thing is that Benicia used to be the California State Capital from 1853-1854. I took a picture in front of the Capital Building. It's down there, below. You'll see it. Also, there is this old train station which I totally should have taken a picture of, but didn't, and its really cute too, but kind of creepy. Like, right by the water, and you're wondering why the train would run so close to the water. Just doesn't seem right. I get the train running by the ocean up the coast, but this just seems weird. Anyhow...

I like Mexican food. And I saw a place that looked cute (cause Benicia's so cute). So Mimsie and I parked and walked to it and it was not as cute on the inside as it seemed from the outside, but whatevs, we sat outside. AND the menu was kinda weird, like CREATIVE for mexican food, but not in a good way. Cheddar in the Chile Rellenos and in the bean dip, "tomato sauce" on the tostada, and fried shrimp with beans and rice, but not like spiced Mexicany, just fried shrimpy. So, maybe not so creative as lazy? One of the two. But, whatever, still good, its hard to mess up Mexican, even when you mess it up. And the Margaritas tasted weird, but still good, but you're like "is this ACTUALLY a Margarita, or did someone throw like some caramel in here, not that I mind, I just wanna know".

So we're sitting there and we hear the the music from the band and its good, but not that good, and the sun is KINDA in my eyes, but its nice to be outside, so cool, and I'm chillin' with my Margarita which is confusing, but fine, I'll drink it. And then THIS WOMAN. I don't understand THIS WOMAN and PEOPLE LIKE HER. She is quite loud and informs the waiter that the people he is serving chips to should not be getting their chips, because she and her son and her dog were seated first. So, ok, ok, glitch in the plans, they're slow with the service (what did you really expect anyways with cheddar in the rellenos?), maybe kindly and, privately so as not to have to raise your voice, inform them that you are waiting on your chips. I might also mention that she had JUST, and loudly, reminded a different waiter of her drink order, and then not but a minute later, no time for him to get the drinks in the first place, chastised the other waiter. Ok. So, bitch, fine, she is uncomfortably close, but I'll get over it and continue on with my meal.

The owner then comes over to apologize and explain the problem, which bitchy dog/child lady responds to with, "yeah, that's not my problem, ok? (gross, syrupy, sickly fake nice ew ew voice) just bring me my drinks, like you're supposed to, ok?" Owner: "If you're going to give me attitude, you are welcome to leave." Owner walks away. Bitchy dog/child lady calls after her(cause everyone in the restaurant must hear everything she says): "Oh lets just start over, ok hon?" (same voice).

Ok. Fine. Sip margarita. Admire...try to admire, what I can kinda see of Benicia through the sun in my eyes. Check in with bitchy dog/child lady (cause I like watching train wrecks, obvio). AND I SEE HER SLAP HER DOG ACROSS THE FACE. um. Ok. cause it was sniffing the table. AT A RESTAURANT. DOG + FOOD = SNIFFING. DUH.

So, I'm all like, "You shouldn't hit your dog, that isn't right" She says, "I'm not, I'm teaching the animal a lesson" (which is, by the way, the second time I've heard that in a month. The first was from a craze-o at the vet who the lab tech confronted for being overly aggressive with her 'animal') Then, I'm like, "I saw you slap your dog across the face." And then she's all like, "Thank you."

???

My mom thinks its because I was helping her remember what she had learned in anger management or something. Maybe she's not used to people calling her out? I don't know. Maybe the trifecta of meth problem, former state capital, and situation by the bay, but it doesn't seem like it should be by the bay, but it is, makes for crazies in Benicia. Well, certainly the meth would. Or the train station? Taunting all who live there with the possibility of travel without actually coming through with any....that is kinda depressing, but I don't know about crazy making. Or she was just drunk, which the more I think about it, the more it seems kinda likely.

Her poor son! He seemed so sweet and loving of his mommy. She seemed genuinely interested in his conversation when I was spying on them. You know when kids look up to and adore their parents and all they do. You are little, and everything they do is right, and it shapes your view of the world. Then you realize your parent isn't always right, and you don't always agree with them, and the way you shaped your world is wrong for you and you missed out. Hello crisis! And poor dog!

So, moral of the story, make sure to go to Benicia in a good mood, so you're prepped for possible crazies. Defo check out the old state capital and train station. Oh, and go during the day, everything was closing/closed when we went.

<3
Kelly

Vaya con dios frontierville

I have to quit frontierville. I can't take it anymore. I thought it'd be different this time. I moved from farmville to the frontier and everyone knows I love the Wild West. Cowboys are sexy. Big open country. Horseback riding and ten gallon hats! But its noooooot wooooooorking oooooout.

I hate that I care about how big of a pie I'm going to get from harvesting my peach trees and that I actually think about who I think might send me supplies to finish my school house. Its not even a good game, there is a lot of clicking, staring, and waiting involved. And the graphics, or whatever you computery people call them, pretty much suck, right? I find myself literally sitting on the couch, macbook in lap, anxiously watching the seconds tick down waiting five minutes for my energy resupply so I can harvest one more damn "crop". Or chop down a "tree". Or beat a "groundhog" to death. I mean, come on, I am vegan, mostly due to circumstances beyond my control (hello food allergies), but I definitely don't think its right to, as frontierville puts it, "clobber", anything.

Facebook is awesome. It has made us more connected to other people. It has allowed and encouraged many important and interesting discussions. You can stay in touch with tons more awesometastic people. Event planning: a piece of cake. Obviously it has its drawbacks, and most run of the mill casual to even advanced users are well aware of what those are and maintain normal lives outside the realm of FB. It can be addictive, and weird, and definitely stalkery. You know that feeling when you've checked all the little facebook red flags, connected with a few friends, read some status updates, and you really don't have any more reason to stay on facebook, but you just do. You kinda just click on random shit hoping to be entertained, searching for a piece of news, or a funny picture or waiting for someone to respond to your witty (or at least YOU think so) status. I'm not even that into facebook and I feel this way from time to time....everyday....jk. Or am I just a craze-o?

So, you feel kinda empty for a few seconds and you're all like, "theres. nothing. left. to. do. uggh. booooooo" and then it occurs to you: "its a rather nice day outside, how jolly a walk could be at present". Or, whatever you like to do with your time. And BOOM, you're happy again and continuing on life in a way that gives you something great and helps fuel you being wonderful old you.

But what if what occured to you was that you should probs check in on the ol' homestead and see how your "crops" were doin'? (And we're of course assuming you're not actually in the boonies somewhere with a tin can toilet, some candles, and a dead squirrel roasting on a spit on a fire you built yourself with your totally awesome and sexy cowboy skills, but sitting on your couch, macbook on lap, making the decision to play frontierville unknowing of your future doom. Although if the former is true, lets be friends cowboy man.) So then, you don't go outside on that really nice walk, or whatever, but you play in the fake outside that doesn't look like outside at all and get upset over the snakes you uncovered and excited about leveling up cause now you can buy "eggplants".

Pretty soon you're going to forget you even like taking walks, and then where will you be? Wherever it is in reality or in your mind, it won't be good. So therefore, I must quit frontierville. I will be outside if you need me. Or crafting.

Vaya con dios frontierville. Vaya con dios.

<3
Kelly

I don't know

I don't know a lot of things. I do know what I don't want, don't want to do, and don't know. So, there is something. This is my first blog post ever and I'm not really sure why I started this thing in the first place. Writing makes me anxious, more than most things, which always make me anxious, so long as it is a thing. But also, I like writing, and I am bored, and it seems like a good way to pass the time. And I have opinions and shit, so there is something else.

I just graduated college (BFA in Acting. Hello useless to the "real world" degree.), I am 24, I feel old, bored (as I mentioned), relatively useless, and wasting. Wasting in general. Like, AWAY. Also, time, money, energy. I need something to do, besides my fully un-lucrative in all aspects coffee shop job. This can be something, which is another reason I started this thing. This thing which makes me anxious as things do. It is something to do that will help fuel me creatively? I hope. I am feeling the lack of acting in my life. As things do, acting makes me anxious when I'm doing it, but when I'm not things are just weird. I feel jarred and off kilter.

Hey, but I'm not all anxiety and struggle. I love kittens and puppies and craft projects and going on walks cool places, and I'm going to Montana in a week, and certainly I'll have cool stuff to say about that. I love the ocean and buttons and beads and fabric and clothes and all things vintage and plants and habitats and potatoes. I love the movies and seeing plays and margaritas and hanging out with friends. Mexican food is awesome. So good. I wish I had a better camera because I love taking pictures.

So, I want to do this blog to get some creative juices flowing. Comment on things I find interesting, flex my writing muscle....we'll see how it goes.

<3

Kelly