Kelly Well

Why is it that belly button jam smells the exact same as toe jam?

Kelly — Sun, 31 Aug 2008 09:59:51 +0000

It’s strange the things that send us meandering back to our blogs after months and months away. Not that there IS any reason in particular that I showed up tonight. It’s just strange that there ARE things. I couldn’t sleep and was done with my book and was finally bored with watching movie trailers on Imbd, so I clicked on my folder in favorites marked “Diversions” and idly let the mouse fall over my blog name. I tapped one finger, and after thirty seconds, there I was, wearing that same tired old Morticia Addams outfit and taking a picture of myself in the school bathroom. Oh, and look! There was the same old regurgitated phrase that my eye always falls on: “versional pink.” YAWN. I figured anything would be better than having to see those ancient chestnuts again, which is surprisingly the same thing I think whenever I see myself naked in the mirror.

PLUS, I’ve been appreciative of my faithful bloggeteers who don’t seem to follow the credo “Out of sight, out of mind.” I’ve recently heard from Jennifer and Talena and Aakanksha and Christine and Beth and Twyla and Heather Anne, all of whom have sent me loving regards in some way or another, despite the fact that I’ve essentially ignored them for the equivalent of an ice age so as to better fix my eyes on my own fuzzy navel offerings. You guys are awesome chickydoodles.

So, this summer I spent a month in Oregon cosying (I’m so international) into the bosom of my family. It was a balm to my spirit because I’m OH so tired of living in the south. The south is nice. The south has great storytellers and crackling-good thunderstorms. It has sausage gravy and grits. It has some of YOU. But it doesn’t have my family, and as I’ve gotten older and tend to look backward more often than I do ahead, I appreciate them like I never did before. I also hung out with Lorraine and Kary, friends from way back, both of whom I have kissed on the lips in a non-sexual manner, and I miss THEM, too. Everybody spoiled me way past the pretty point. I visited with Scott’s parents, who are struggling with but refusing to back down to his dad’s lung cancer. It was good to see them. Oregon is home.

Big chunk news items: I’m in school, Scott is still distributing beer and wine, Van is training to be a cage-fighter (wouldn’t THAT be awesome? No, he’s living in Oregon with my parents and going to firefighter school); Jesse is working as a cook at Ruby Tuesday’s, and Torie is a senior in high school and looking forward to wedding bells next summer.

Here’s Lorraine and me in her beautiful backyard. You can tell I’m really happy to be there. And if you’re wondering why I’m always propping my chin on my hand in pictures? That’s easy. My head is too big to stay up on its own.

Add to del.icio.us

Search blogs linking this post with Technorati

Want more on these topics ? Browse the archive of posts filed under journal.

Emphasis on the “nut”

Kelly — Sat, 23 Feb 2008 02:59:14 +0000

Hi punkins. I know…it’s been ages since I’ve written, and I know, know, absolutely KNOW no one is out there listening anymore. But I’m going to write anyway. I am having a really bad day and the person I usually write to when I’m having a really bad day is out with friends tonight (hi, Mally), so I’m on my own.

Jenns, did you have your baby yet?

So, after Spanish today I slipped on the steps and landed on my knees… In a SKIRT, mind you, though thankfully nothing rode up and mortified me further. I remember, in high school, a very shy girl who was forced to take part in a pep rally activity in which she had to get on a tricycle and race another person, also on a tricycle, across the gym floor. Our school wasn’t big, but because it was a private school, girls had to wear dresses, and you can see where I’m going with this, can’t you? Yes, she flipped over and her legs flailed at the entire student body like a pair of scissors trying to cut us in two. That poor girl: I don’t remember her name, but by God, I remember the color of her panties. They were virginal white. sigh. Part of that sigh is because I’m 99% sure I’ve already told you that story, and that her panties were pink in that version. Versional pink.

Whenever I’m tempted to feel like a perfect idiot asshole for slipping down the steps today, I shall remember her and the fact that there is ALWAYS something worse that can happen to a body. Imagine if I’d been riding a tricycle down the steps….? I’ll just have to quit Spanish now. Oh swell. Frito-lay! I can stay home and lick my wounds. You may not know this, but knees taste like wet grass, chewed gum, and a little floor grime.

Guess what I’m writing to you on? Nooo, not drugs. I’m writing to you on my new laptop! I love it so. I held out and got what I wanted: a white Inspiron, which I have named Archimedes, for the cranky little owl who sat on Merlyn’s shoulder in the fantastic novel which you must all hurry out and read this second, The Once and Future King, by T.H. White. I’ve always loved that little owl. NOT the Disney version, people. The NOVEL version. I beg you, please, don’t make me weep frustrated tears.

School is still going well, aside from the slipping and the falling, though I have yet to make many friends there. I AM becoming friends with Lisa, whom I met en espanol clase last term, but who is also my Literature-Based Research profesora this term, and I like her tremendously. The fact that I have only one good friend there doesn’t bother me too much, however; I’m not a person who needs a lot of friends. I just need tight friends…people who love both my nonsense and my seriousness, because that’s me in a nutshell (see: post title). Hey, you guys? I kiss you all! xo

Addendum: Contrary to appearances, I don’t always dress like Morticia Addams’ second cousin, I swear.

Add to del.icio.us

Search blogs linking this post with Technorati

Want more on these topics ? Browse the archive of posts filed under journal.

Remind me to pick up notebook paper.

Kelly — Sun, 06 Jan 2008 14:29:13 +0000

Good morning, sweeties. I’ve had a rather quiet morning, contemplating some changes to my blog to make it simpler and less, oh, pressuresome to me. I know pressuresome isn’t a word, but you don’t mind, do you? With school starting tomorrow I’m going to have less time to post and visit other blogs, but I don’t want to give everything up entirely. I’ve been a terrible blogger over the last year or so; I’ve attended no blog gatherings whatsoever, and I’ve neglected to throw sheep at any of the bloggers who frequent Facebook. Neither have I gone a-visiting many other bloggers at their place. I’ve gotten out of the habit of telling funny stories and I haven’t felt all that contemplative since school started with its accursed emphasis on critical thinking, so my posts haven’t even been poignant. I think I need to shorten things up. I was admiring three bloggers in particular this morning.

Cathy has been struggling a lot regarding the fact that she’ll be saying goodbye to her heart-adopted African son, Tejan. I appreciate her being honest about how she feels; sometimes it’s hard to take a turn into more emotional, sensitive topics, and she’s done it gracefully. Neil Kramer amazes me with his ability to stay consistently funny and interesting, even when he’s going through difficult circumstances. To me, he’s the quintessential blogger (and that IS a compliment), because he also knows how to stay connected with people. People-people are the best bloggers in the world, IF they have a soul, and Neil does. And lastly, I was newly inspired by Jul, who has made her blog as minimalist as possible, while keeping it intriguing and beautiful (not to mention tantalizing, as often - even after pressing “More” - there is no more). Her blog is what I’ve had in mind lately, regarding my own.

To follow-up on my last post, ALL my skirts are now clothespinned to hangers in my closet, ready to be donned this next term so I’ll feel like a woman instead of a recent high school graduate; and all my textbooks are bought and stacked on the table. I feel virtuous and thrifty because I bought most of them used and saved myself thousands and thousands of dollars. (Textbook prices are ridiculous.) I have plenty of money left over from the Pell Grant to buy a laptop in the next month or so, and this makes me butt-clenchingly ecstatic. Steve is going to help me with that; OH, it helps to know a computer genius. And today the Christmas stuff goes back in the boxes. Mal was telling me that in Ireland, January 6th is known as Little Christmas, and is the day when, traditionally, the Christmas tree comes down and the women go out on the town. It’s akin to Mother’s Day, and I think that’s nice. So have yourselves a merry Little Christmas (even if you’re not Irish, or a woman). kiss!

Add to del.icio.us

Search blogs linking this post with Technorati

Want more on these topics ? Browse the archive of posts filed under journal.

Run away! But stay within shouting distance.

Kelly — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 15:21:23 +0000

Good morning, peepholes. I feel that today is the last day I can truly breathe for another four months. Tomorrow I have to go to the campus bookstore and buy my textbooks because school starts on Monday. sigh. Whenever I feel stress creeping in on me I try to remember that the point is not the grades I get, but the fact that I’m in school at all; the point is to keep moving until I finish, like a shark. But the higher part of my psyche keeps chiming in with, “No, that’s not the point, sweetie peas. The point is to LEARN. Your grades only reflect how well you’ve learned, and if you get less than an A, that indicates that you haven’t learned perfectly, and by GEORGE, if you haven’t learned perfectly, then you are going to fall flat on your face when it comes to actually applying all those years’ worth of information.”

The higher part of my psyche can be a real jerk sometimes, and I don’t even agree with it in this case, or at least, only to a point. I think it’s inevitable that I fall down whenever I try something new, no matter how much information I’ve gleaned about it beforehand. I think a person learns more through participation than by observation, though I try my best to avoid it. I always have preferred to sit on the sidelines instead of play in the game, until recently. Now I’m ready to suit up. Kind of. Could I have another week, though? Please? During the break I didn’t get to papier-mache anything, or hang the pictures in the family room, or paint the bathroom orange. I barely got all the clothes in my room folded, and since that was last week there’s a whole new bunch to rassle with. One thing I am determined to do today, however, is go through my closet and put outfits together for the winter.

I adore outfits, but you’d never EVER know that by looking at me. By looking at me you’d think I adore rolling out of bed and pulling on the first thing I find on the floor. But I’ve started watching Smallville, and you know Chloe? Any of you who’ve seen Smallville? I LOVE how she dresses: it’s all layers and boots and tights and skirts and scarves. Delish. That’s my look, if only I can muster up the energy to implement it instead of sleepwalk over to the same old boring wrinkled jeans and tops. I’d like to have some style this year at school.

Okay, which reminds me of something I was going to say earlier. I was thinking last night, as I lay in bed, that four months to learn each particular subject, even if you’re in school for years, doesn’t truly prepare you for the application of it. Of course, that fits into the category of observation rather than participation, doesn’t it? I mean, we participate in our classes, surely, but it isn’t until we actually take up our occupation that we learn. sigh. And even then, I wonder how much you really know. C.G. Jung told his students to learn everything they could about psychology and then immediately forget it the minute they met their next patient, because every single individual is different and needs to be approached from a fresh perspective. I think that’s so wise, and also, freaking terrifying. Psychologists bear so much responsibility; even one misspoken word can throw a fragile and vulnerable soul into turmoil; the thought of that scares me and propels me back into the arms of chicken wire and cardboard, flour and water, and orange paint. Or into the closet, choosing outfits. Or even the reassuring and safe seat behind a computer screen, sharing my thoughts from a distance. Well, life. Isn’t it interesting? Hey you guys! Happy day to you all.

Add to del.icio.us

Search blogs linking this post with Technorati

Want more on these topics ? Browse the archive of posts filed under journal.

Once is (not) enough

Kelly — Fri, 28 Dec 2007 04:35:43 +0000

You guys! You guys! I just saw the most transporting movie in the universal world. Have you seen it? HAVE you? Have you cast your peepers on Once? Oh my children, listen to me, and listen to me good while I grab onto your lapels and shake you briskly and kick you repeatedly in the hindquarters: RUN OUT AND BUY THIS MOVIE THIS SECOND. PLEASE. WITH SUGAR ON TOP. And if you can’t afford to buy it, RENT IT. And then burn it illegally on your computer. But you MUST HAVE IT.

[Note from the Wordpress editors: We in no way support this blogger’s suggestion that you illegally burn a movie, no matter how transporting it is, or how hard she kicks your quarters, on your computer. In fact, we suggest that if you are going to run out and do anything, it will be to call the FBI, thus saving us the trouble. Thank you.]

I just had a little rum and Coke, so I’m feeling loosey-goosey. I know, I know; not even two months ago I told you I was allergic to alcohol, and I believe I still may be, as my throat is closing and my toes are curling and my armpits are tingling and there’s a little guy named Harold whispering limericks in pig latin in my right ear, but that could be due to the drugs. I think I also have the flu. I can never decide if it’s better to be sick while you’re on vacation and can stay in bed without feeling the least bit guilty, or if it’s better to be sick when school is in session and you’re forced to stay home when you’d normally be going out, say, on a really freezing rainy day. Hmm. Hmm. I pick vacation, no guilt. What do YOU say?

Having a good book to read while you’re sick helps. I found one that is totally absorbing, one I actually think about when I’m not reading it and long to get back to, and it’s been ages since I’d read a book like that. It’s called The Quincunx, by Charles Palliser. I still don’t know what the title refers to, but the book is really good. I would write you a review, but I don’t know how to condense it to a few lines. It’s a long story, set in the Victorian era, featuring a little boy named Johnnie who lives with his mother and who is probably the heir to a great fortune, but of course - this being a gothic novel - must go through Dickensian-proportion troubles to get there. If he ever does: I haven’t gotten that far yet. I’ll let you know if it was worth it, when I get to the end.

Our own Maolsheachlann O Ceallaigh has a new blog, so be sure to take a look! And speaking of irresistable Irish people, here’s something for you to feast your ears on. ONCE. But watch it lots of times, okay? kiss!

Add to del.icio.us

Search blogs linking this post with Technorati

Want more on these topics ? Browse the archive of posts filed under journal.