Tag Archives: this is my life

A Crazy Idea

I have a crazy idea.

I think this is the part where I say “Just crazy enough to work.” But I don’t know if it will work.

I also don’t know if it’s just boredom. I don’t know if it will help me find whatever it is that I’m looking for.

I do know it’s scary. I do know it’s the kind of thing that parents advise against. And the kind of thing that friends encourage, or at least until they realize you’re serious. And I do know that I’m so beyond restless.

I have a crazy idea.

In a few months I get to celebrate the wedding of two friends who are awesome and I wish I could see more. I get to go all the way to DC for the wedding and then head to New York to visit another friend and just enjoy the city. While looking at flight and train plans for getting there and back, a thought popped into my head.

What if I didn’t come back to work? What if I left my job, took my vacation pay and spent some time exploring? What if I took trains, took my time, meandering my way back to the West Coast? What if I did all that and wrote about it and took photos and video to share and to remind myself of it all later?

Then the serious questions appeared: could I really leave my job? What would my family say? What would I do when I got back? Could I afford it? What would my roommate do? Where would I go? How long would I spend? Am I just trying to escape? Will I be able to keep up my half marathon training? What would I do if I don’t come back energized? What would I do if I couldn’t find a job when I got back?

I don’t really know the answers to any of those questions. Despite that fact, I have started formulating a plot. A plan. An itinerary?

I’ve always found the best way to approach a crazy idea is to answer the questions you want to know the answers to and avoid the ones you don’t.

A month.

Philadelphia – DC – Atlanta – New Orleans – Chicago – Denver – Salt Lake City – Sacramento – Portland – LA?

Philadelphia – DC – Atlanta – New Orleans – Chicago – Minneapolis – Portland – LA?

Philadelphia – DC – Atlanta – New Orleans – Houston – San Antonio – Tucson – LA – Oakland?

I have a crazy idea.


Back in Action

I haven’t been around lately. Brew Review got off to an awesome start and then fizzled as a result of complete slacking (both in drinking new beers and writing). I have about 12 half-finished posts but can’t seem to find the words to conclude them.

My life is weird lately. Or it always is, but the weirdness and complexities and lack of direction have been much easier for me to see lately. Either way, it seems like just when I think things are going the way I’d like or I’m getting into a routine things immediately change or I unconsciously self-sabotage whatever thing I’ve been building. Like my latest foray into running, I’ve run more (and longer) races this year than I ever have before but I haven’t run in almost 3 weeks at this point and can’t convince myself that I should. And then there’s this space, which I felt like I was getting a real handle on and ready to take it to the next level with weekly features and more posts and possibly self-hosting and cool designs and whatnot, and then didn’t write for more than two months.

A lot of times I feel like writing but more times than not I convince myself that I don’t have time right now or I should be going to bed or working or doing dishes or that if I stare at a computer screen for another 20 minutes today, I might lose my vision or my mind.

But here I am deciding to be back. Deciding that it’s the right thing to do for my sanity and my career and myself. Deciding to make this space better and to create time for it. Doni’s latest newsletter has inspired me to make writing and posting and sharing things that I have to say a priority. And to make it easier for myself to write whenever I can.

And that’s where you come in, not only do I want to write more here, but anywhere. Not only do I want to do social media and web content for fun and as a part of my job, I want to do it as my whole job or my side gig or my volunteer position because this is where I think I’m headed, although I know the universe finds plans (especially mine) utterly hilarious.

Regardless, this is me putting it out there on the internet (like my favorite wizard-panda Amber recommends) that anyone who wants this kind of help or needs an unpaid intern or a volunteer or a guest post or just someone to send crazy emails to or knows anyone that does, then let me know.

What have I been doing since July, you ask? Let’s see, infused some bourbon, went to San Diego, drank a habanero IPA, ate a lot of Pizza Port, found out how many craft breweries exist in San Diego and decided I never wanted to leave, came home anyway, pined for living near the ocean and riding a beach cruiser again, got a promotion-ish, hired an employee, ate all the wrong things, continued to wish I lived somewhere else, drank a lot of whiskey, ran a couple 10k races and kicked off our nine-month busy season at work.

So basically, nothing of note unless you count the part where my new favorite beers are any beers made with hot peppers. Or maybe the part where I might have a drinking problem.

Let’s Go to the Tape!

So I was going to write a post all about how Katherine is an evil vlogging genius and why one day I was going to finally record a vlog post. Also possibly I was going to talk about how all the vloggers I “know” have really great hair (see: Katherine, Ashley, Nicole, Nico, etc.). But instead of all of that, I decided I would follow everyone’s advice and just record a vlog post since I’d been considering it since some of my favorite bloggers did VEDA in August. So, here goes nothing…

Kelly and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Mood

I’ve been in a bad mood for at least a week. A mood that makes me want to just quit everything and crawl in my bed and just sleep for days until it goes away. At what point do we stop calling it a bad mood and start calling it a state of mind?

Regardless of semantics, this bad mood, bad state of mind, bad attitude is wreaking havoc on my life (and making the people around me crazy, I think). I’m not sure what really got it rolling (although I have a sneaking suspicion  that my job is not helping) but it’s causing me to sit around being pissed off, getting irritated about the smallest things and becoming envious of other people (something I HATE to do). And while I’m doing that I’m letting opportunities pass me by because of my total disinterest in everything.

The problem isn’t really the bad mood anymore (although that is still A problem), it’s that I know I’m in a bad mood and can’t figure out how to fix it. I’ve been running, listening to my pick-me-up tunes, writing, sleeping, thinking, trying to do all the things that usually help, and have come up short.

Despite the fact that my mouth doesn’t naturally form a smile (which causes people to say things like “do you need a hug?” a lot) when I’m not actively smiling, I am generally a positive person. A fun person at least. And yet, here I am stuck in the worst mood and unable to find myself. Stuck being envious of other people. Stuck being the friend who is constantly complaining about work. Stuck showing up to work late because I’m not sleeping or sleeping only when I shouldn’t be. All of which just piss me off even more. I know I have to kick this funk because if I don’t I might end up missing out on something crucial, driving my friends to drink (not too difficult) or possibly eating cereal for dinner for the rest of my life.

How do you get out of an extended bad mood? What are your go-to cheer up moves? Any help would be greatly appreciated. Short of that, maybe just send me some coupons for cereal.

PS- This was supposed to be the day I posted the first of what will be a weekly post coming from Doniree’s 52 Weeks of Blogging Prompts, but I never finished it because I’ve been so disinterested. Anyway, expect that tomorrow and then every Wednesday for the next YEAR, because Doni rules.

My B.A. in Kicking Ass

You know what I’ve been doing almost non-stop for the last four days? Working. Getting up at the buttcrack of dawn. Covering for coworkers. Running around like a crazy person. Existing off of sheer willpower.

And other than my sun kissed cheeks, extra freckles, sleep deprivation and neck stiffness, what have I gotten out of this all? An even more exaggerated sense of self confidence and awesomeness, that’s what.

On Saturday I covered and wrote about 2 baseball games, 2 softball games, a golf tournament, a track meet and a water polo game. Oh yeah and I ran a 5k. But instead of being just utterly pissed that my job continues to prevent me from doing things I love: having a social life, drinking beer, being active, seeing my family, sleeping and blogging, this weekend actually just further proved to me that I can do anything.

So here I am ready to fucking kick ass and take names. That new skill I want to learn? I’m going to go and figure it out. My changes for this month (that I haven’t had a chance to write about)? I’m going to make them habits. Those things I’ve been letting bother me? I’m going to get over them.

Sure “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger” but why not “what doesn’t kill you, makes you better”? It’s about time I stopped complaining and started seeing the positive in all the bullshit I’ve been digging through lately.

On Santa (Literally-ish)

There’s no time quite like the holidays to cause people to sit around reminiscing on Christmases, Hanukkahs and New Year’s Eves past. For some reason, each year we make it through the holidays marks another milestone and another “this time five years ago” moment to remember.

But I’m not going to sit around here telling you depressing stories about how old the holidays should make you feel or about all the things I didn’t do in the last year that I should have done. Instead, I’ve been thinking about kids and Santa and the hilarity that can ensue when the two meet.

Last week I was watching old episodes of the Graham Norton Show and he had a segment featuring awkward photos of kids with Santa. The annual trip to the mall or visit from Santa at school for some reason is a polarizing event. Kids are either pee-their-pants ecstatic or utterly terrified of jolly old St. Nick.

Elf - Santa's coming!


As it so happens, you can stick me in the “utterly terrified” category. Despite the fact that I, like any kid who believes in Santa, was beyond excited to let the guy break & enter and eat cookies in exchange for gifts, meeting him in person became quite the ordeal for three-year-old Kelly.

Such a seemingly quiet, helpful child...

Although I appeared to be just a quiet, average kid (and clearly helpful and outdoorsy), my meeting with Santa in preschool revealed my utter awkwardness and possibly a slight dramatic streak at a very early age. Upon Santa’s arrival in our classroom, we were all excited, if a little bit nervous because we were all well aware of STRANGER DANGER (and he probably smelled of beef and cheese). However, after finding out that we would each sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what we wanted for Christmas, my anxiety grew.

As my turn to visit with Santa drew closer, I began to panic while my parents got the video camera ready. Finally, my turn was here and the panic and anxiety broke through my three-year-old cool, calm and collected exterior in the form of sheer terror and tears. Not just tears, but uncontrollable sobbing with plenty of snot and slurping. There may have also been screaming as my teachers and parents tried to coax me into being lifted onto this stranger’s lap to share my desire for a mouse stuffed animal that smelled like grape (completely serious, does anyone else remember these? mine smelled like dimetapp aka heaven).

With all the hysterics of my fit, the adults in the room quickly realized there was no way they were getting me to sit with the big guy alone. Thanks to some creative thinking and complete openness to humiliation, one of my teachers hatched a plan that would allow me to share my Christmas wish AND avoid getting to close to the scary man in the red suit. In a thankless act of complete dedication to children and the spirit of Christmas, my teacher plopped herself down on Santa’s lap before allowing me to be placed on her lap to ensure delivery of the Christmas gift without having any physical or eye contact with the scary stranger.

Eventually, I got over my fear of old men in red suits, probably just in time to realize his hand writing looked A LOT like my parents’ and grandparents’. Regardless, this Christmas instead of worrying about how many Christmases have passed, how many presents I’ve given or whether things will be different next year at this time, I’m going to think about my preschool teacher (who even allowed herself to be filmed during the ordeal) and that three-year-old version of me giving everyone a preschool holiday party to remember. I am her and she is me. We share the same mind – inquiring and skeptical, yet full of joy – and the same ability to bring a little laughter to everyone’s day, even if it’s unintentional.

So, if anyone needs me this Christmas, I’ll be re-channeling that three-year-old (minus the hysterics). And snuggling with a stuffed animal that smells like artificial grape, of course.

Happy Christmas and Hanukkah and Kwanzaa!

The Terrible Twosome

So, I was thinking we should pack some tall boys in our purses to make this trip to the zoo better.

Today is my Partner In Crime’s birthday. Anna is the other half of The Terrible Twosome and has been since early 2004. And, before you ask, we didn’t give ourselves the name, but that’s another story for another time.

For a friendship that began as mutual dislike, at best, and mutual hatred and desire to choke a bitch, at worst, I’d say we’ve made some amazing progress since we first met at the radio station in the fall of my sophomore year.

Our friendship has evolved from drinking peppermint schnapps chased with Hansen’s raspberry soda (the only chaser we could find) to sloppy seconds (her) to bestie sweatshirts to slow-pitch softball to zamboni-ing green beer (me) to long car trips through Central California in vehicles equipped only with radio to Drinking Decathlon (champion) to Nigerian princes (me) to cross-country gchat drinking games to real jobs and the real world (although honestly, not much has changed).

We’ve survived her insistence that we listen to Christmas music year-round, drinking rum with dead ants in it, multiple Assassins water gun ambushes, a year sharing the smallest bedroom in Isla Vista – where we discovered that Cap’n Crunch starts to smell & look like tuna after sitting in a bowl long enough (her) – two years of living in the Dirty South (me), too much food and too many road trips and boys to count.

Looking back, it’s clear that our friendship was built and continues to thrive on sports, laughter and (mainly) booze. So, because it’s like your death birth birthday, let’s party like it’s Mardi Gras baby!

These tell you everything you need to know about our friendship.

Happy birthday buddy!