Sexual Assault: My Story

I've had several people comment on something I briefly revealed in a previous post here, in which I made a list of my top favorite television shows of all time. Law and Order: Special Victims Unit made that list and when speaking on why I love the show so much, I mentioned that I am a survivor of sexual assault. All comments have been very respectful, with most saying how sorry the person is that I had to endure something so horrible. But, something else also happened. I had a few people private message me and tell me their survival story and ask more specific questions about mine. In the post, I also briefly discussed Mariska Hargitay's No More Campaign. One of the goals of this campaign, is just to get people talking about this issue. Because keeping quiet is part of the problem. Not many people in my life know the entire story. I chose to tell only a select few as if it were some shameful secret to be kept. I've decided that the time has come, to finally speak up and speak out. This will probably be the most difficult thing I will ever write. 

There was a boy back when I was in 7th grade that was a horrible bully. He was a total asshole, actually. I'm not sure what set his target on me...probably the fact that I had extremely low self-esteem growing up. Because sexual assault is never actually about sex. It's about power. He exploited a weakness and wanted to prove to me that he could dominate me and do whatever he wanted. It began as rude, sexual comments. I tried my best to ignore them, hoping that if I did he would get bored of eliciting no reaction from me and stop. I think he instead accepted this as a challenge and things began to escalate. He found different ways to touch me inappropriately; reaching through the hole in the back of the seat of my desk, rubbing against me, "tripping" and "falling" into me etc. I thwarted his every move, but it didn't matter. I finally threatened to tell the head teacher if he didn't stop. I remember it like it was yesterday. We were standing in line at lunch. He was behind me making comments and trying to grab me. I spun around and finally told him that if he didn't stop,I would tell and he would get in trouble and then marched to the back of the line to get away from him. After lunch period, the teachers would allow us to stand outside the lunchroom and socialize. My friend and I would always stand in this one particular corner of the wall. She left to go buy some ice cream at one point and that's when he made his move. He walked over and put his hands on the wall on either side of me essentially trapping me in the corner. He then leaned in extremely close and whispered in my ear all of the things he would do to me if I told on him. He may have been whispering, but he was angry and I could tell. He kissed me on my neck and walked away just as my friend was returning. She could tell I was visibly shaken, but when she asked what was wrong, I told her I was fine. 

I became truly scared of him at this point. I stopped thwarting his moves and he became more and more bold. This was middle school, so of course rumors began to spread about he and I; mainly about me. I got called all sorts of terrible names; slut and whore being the most popular. All I wanted to do was defend myself. Tell everyone that he was forcing himself on me. Tell them I didn't want any of this. Ask them how on earth they couldn't tell that I wasn't interested in his attention. But his daily reminders of how bad things could get if I squealed would ring through my head and I would stop myself. I lived for the days that he was absent, or the days he would choose for some reason to leave me be. The afternoons I had to stay after school for band practice were the worst. To this day,I haven't a clue what legitimate reason he had for staying after school, or how he was allowed to hang around the damn band room so much. He would usually catch me leaving practice to go to the bathroom. People were more scarce at this time of the day, so he would take his time with his torture. He'd get me off in a corner somewhere, make me let him touch me and kiss me and vice versa. Not at first, but eventually I would go completely numb. It's like my brain would shut down and I would pretend I wasn't really there. There's a lot of gaps in my memory during that time in my life. He made me feel like everything was my fault. That somehow, the blame of what he was doing was all on me. The guilt and shame I felt led me into never telling my parents about this. I told my Mom a portion of the story years and years later, but never in its entirety. 

One day I showed up at school, he started in on me as usual, and something snapped. I couldn't deal with it anymore. So, I told a trusted teacher that he had been bullying me. I felt ashamed of the actual nature of the "bullying" so I left out the bulk of the sexual element. She took it to the Vice Principal and she called him into her office. He pretty much got away with a warning but he did leave me alone for awhile. But only for awhile. He started in on me about a week later.The first encounter after that week was the worst.I shoved the memory of that day way deep down until one day, in therapy, it all came bubbling back up again. He caught me after school, yet again. He shoved me against a wall and began slapping me in the face. He said he knew it was me that told on him and that I was going to pay for it just like he'd promised. He then began choking me, hitting me etc before he brought in anything on the unwanted sexual side. I stood there crying. Taking every hit, every slap, every touch. I didn't know what else to do. All I could do was pray that I wouldn't die. I honestly can't tell you how, at 12-13 years old, I was able to pull myself together. Maybe I wasn't able to,I really don't remember. Like I said, I still have many gaps. The abuse continued for a bit longer. Then one day, it stopped. I don't know why. But I was grateful. I still went to school every day stressed out of my mind that he would start up again. But, he never did. The next year I found out that he moved away. I kept it together all throughout the day. The minute I got home and into my room, I broke down crying. 

I used to be so angry. All I wanted to do was hurt him. Emasculate him. Make him feel as weak and vulnerable as he made me feel. But I can honestly say that I don't feel that way anymore. I say that, but I'm not sure what my reaction would be if I ever saw him in person again. I googled him once. I searched for a bit, but then decided it was probably best that I didn't find out how his life turned out. I just assume he is in jail somewhere for something. And imagining him behind bars helps tremendously, so I don't think I want to learn the truth.

I mentioned therapy earlier. Therapy saved my life. I saw an amazing woman who helped me work through everything and she helped me feel like a whole person again. Actually, I credit Law and Order:SVU and Mariska Hargitay herself in pushing me into seeking out help. When I began watching the show and learning more about Mariska's foundations and such, it brought my experience rushing to the front of my mind and I couldn't shake it. Olivia and Mariska were always talking to victims about finding help in dealing with what happened to them. So I am truly grateful that I just happened to watch an episode one night on a whim. 

So there's my story. I don't want to hide it anymore. I remember feeling so alone during that time and I hate to think that anyone else out there experiencing something like this is feeling the same way. So if my story helps even one person. Just one. Then I've done what I've set out to do. And sharing this with the entirety of the internet is worth it. Please, if you are a victim of sexual assault, reach out to someone. You are not alone. It is not your fault. There are people out there who can help you. Please feel free to message me if you need to talk and I will provide a space to do so. It will get better. I promise. Even if it doesn't feel like that at the moment. It will. I'm sending so much love your way. Stay strong. 

All my love,
Kel~

Here are some websites that warrant a visit:
www.joyfulheartfoundation.org
www.rainn.org
www.safehelpline.org

Milestones

As some of you may or may not know, I turned 30 back in April. I probably should've written this post back then, but oh well. Say la vie. Society dictates that women are supposed to freak out over getting older. And that such freak outs generally begin with turning the big 3-0. Sadly, I was that very cliche for several years. I did not want to get older and between the years of 23 and 28, I would barely want my age to be recognized. But, an amazing thing happened when I hit 29. I stopped caring. Not only that, I began looking forward to my 30th birthday. What brought on this sudden change you ask? Well, I began looking back at the decade that was my 20's, and I saw some scary shit. Like some Pan's Labyrinth type shit. Especially the early years. *shiver* I have changed so much in the last ten years. I have a lot more confidence and am so much more accepting of myself, flaws and all, of which I have plenty (I will sit down an purposefully watch The Kardashians for Christ's sake. If that isn't a character flaw, I don't know what is). I also care less about what people think (Screw you. The Kardashians entertain me!) and I know so much more about who I am as a person now. 

I have also learned many, many....many lessons from making many, many.... many mistakes. Not to say I think I won't make more in my 30's, but the ones I made in my 20's, I never want to re-live again thank you very much. Seriously, I did not have the best decision making skills back in the day. Like I probably shouldn't have listened to so much Sum 41. But I definitely don't listen to them now. I absolutely do not have 'In Too Deep' on my phone's playlist like a loser. Because that would be lame. I mean, who would listen to that crap? A lame, loser person that isn't me,that's who.  

I've wondered if I would like to go back and re-live those years with the knowledge I have now gained. I think I can honestly say no.* Because there were a lot of amazing things that happened that I  would never want to change, and if different decisions were made then those amazing things may never have transpired. Butterfly Effect and all that (I don't care what people say,that was a damn good movie and Ashton was golden). So I'll wear my bad decision scars with the pride of a person that has learned from them and who looks forward towards the future, not back to the past. Everything I have been through has made me into the person I am today. Besides, if you'll forgive the cliche, age is just a number. And I damn well don't act mine. You can ask, well, anyone. My grandma has given me some of the best advice over the years. One such gem was when she told me to never let your inner child die. That you don't have a choice in growing old, but you do have a choice in growing up. And as for me? I refuse. 

Kel

*My brother Stephen says fuck that. He'd go back and change a lot of things. Including, but not limited to, investing in Google and Facebook. 

Best Authors Ever

I really enjoyed doing that last blog post about my Top 10 Best TV Shows of All Time  along with my friend Jason's rebuttal, so I've decided to give it another shot and do a list of my favorite authors. I didn't hold myself to a specific number this time though. I have loved to read ever since the days of "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish." My book collection is off the charts and I refuse to get one of those Nook things or read books on any type of electronic device. There's just something about being able to feel the pages that you just don't get with an iPad. I tried it once and hated it. Trying to read it on a tablet made me feel less connected to the story. It was less organic. Which is why I guess I still write out everything I do with pen and paper before typing it all up. Okay, I'll shut up now and get to the list.

1. Jodi Picoult: Jodi has this ability to write within the gray areas of life and leave you questioning your previous convictions on many different topics. You may think you have a fairly staunch opinion on say, assisted suicide, but after reading Mercy you will question every opinion you've ever had on the subject. I love authors that make you think, and Jodi's works do just that. The first book I ever read of hers was called Perfect Match. It is about a little boy who was sexually abused and how his parents deal with it. I think I read the book in its entirety in 24 hours and by the end I was an emotional wreck. So of course I immediately ran out and bought another title. It may only take a short amount of time to read (well, when you binge read as I do) but her writing will stay with you forever.

2. Wally Lamb: I have only read a few of Wally's works, but they were some of the best novels that I have ever read. The very first title I ever picked up was "She's Come Undone." Wally took what you could call a coming of age story and turned it on its head. His writing style is extremely raw and at times would make me feel uncomfortable. I loved it.After I finished "She's Come Undone" I read "I Know This Much is True", which I found at times to be more bizarre, raw and uncomfortable than "Undone" was. Wally is the kind of writer that I aspire to be. One who isn't afraid to boldly go to those dark, guttural places and come out the other other side beaten and scarred, but better for it in the end.

3. J.K Rowling: If I were to write about everything that I love about Miss Rowling , then we'd be here for ages. She didn't just create a book series. She created an epic empire. On the surface, the series is about wands and strange creatures and magic. But deep down it is about so much more than that. It is about good verses evil, it is about friendship and loyalty, it is about strength and courage in the face of death and destruction. I am a complete and utter Potterhead and am sorted and have spent (I used the term 'wasted' in my first draft. But then scolded myself because time with HP is never a waste) many hours on Pottermore. Go Gryffindor! I have lost count of how many times I've read these books. I tend to go to them when I'm going through something difficult and trying in my life. Getting lost in Harry's world always brings me comfort. There was even a period of about nine months in my life whilst living in Panama City Beach, Florida that Harry Potter was literally the only books I read. Thank you, J.K. Thank you for everything.

4. J.R.R. Tolkein: I didn't read Lord of the Rings until after I saw the movies. But once I started, I couldn't put them down. The level of detail alone in the world that he created should certify him as pure genius. I'm finding it difficult to come up with the words to describe why he is so amazing. I mean, how many other authors do you know of that have entire Oxford University classes taught on them and their works? Exactly. So I'm going to actually get my brother's help for this one as he is also an avid fan. (Cut to seven hours later after he finally called me back) And he was of absolute no help whatsoever. And I quote, "How do you describe one of the greatest literary minds in human history?" The one gem he did give me was when he said, "You could talk about how he created Middle Earth in order to explain where the creation of his Elvish language came from. Which is like Michio Kaku creating the next literary epic in order to explain his string theory." *Copyright Stephen McKown*

5. Patricia Cornwell: I read my first novel by Cornwell when I was around fifteen or sixteen years old. It is titled Postmortem. Postmortem was the first in her Kay Scarpetta series (of which there are now twenty-two) about a Chief Medical Examiner and the investigations she is involved in. I'm a total slut for good crime fiction and there is no other like Madam Cornwell. She is the Queen of the crime novel and is such not only because of good writing, but because she does in depth research. So much so, that she is highly respected within the forensic science community. She has given talks at the University of Tennessee, which has one of the leading forensic programs in the country. I spent a lot of time with the resident CSI for the Thomasville,Ga field office of the Georgia Bureau of Investigation during my internship there. I became almost uncontrollably jealous of him when he told me he attended one of said talks while he was studying at the University. He loved her books as well and said that, as a writer, she is the most accurate out there when it comes to how forensic investigations work.  

Every one of these people have influenced me when it comes to the written word. And in the end, if I could even posses a smidgen of the talent that these authors have, I would be the happiest girl in the world.

Top 10 Best TV Shows of All Time

I’m going to take a note from my good friend Jason and write a list post. I’ve not done one before and thought it would be a fun. So here it is (in no particular order), my top 10 best TV shows of all time. *SPOILER ALERT*

1.       Dexter: They made you root for a serial killer for Christ’s sake!!! If that isn’t indicative of great writing and acting, I’m not sure what is. In saying this though, the series finale was total and utter rubbish. He becomes a lumberjack? And Deb dies?!?!?!? No. Just….no.

2.       The X-Files: This show was the beginning of the end for me. It is the first show that started my fangirl life. Of course this was long before the term “fangirl” was even a thing and before nerd culture was positively portrayed in mainstream media. I was crazy for this show. I collected the trading cards, read the books, and played the video games. I still own and watch the first film over and over again. It’s also the originally purchased DVD I bought back in 1998. Scully was responsible for me getting more interested in science and I shipped her and Mulder so hard. I fangirled like crazy when the new episodes that will air in 2016 were announced. I. CAN’T. WAIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

3.       Doctor Who: If you haven’t figured it out by now from previous posts, I’m a bit of a nerd. Ok, I’m a lot of a nerd. And this show has stolen my heart. The story lines may be about aliens on the surface, but they are very human at their core. Not consecutively, this show has been on air for over 50 years. When the original actor became too sick to continue, the writers came up with the concept of regeneration. Brilliant!!!!!

4.       Seinfeld: Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David took the concept of a show about nothing and made pure comedy genius. I quote this show, some say, way too much. I can relate almost anything back to Seinfeld. But I’m going to move on to the next show because these pretzels are making me thirsty!!

5.       Supernatural: Little did I know way back in 2005 that this show would take over my entire life. This show about two brothers fighting against supernatural entities is about to enter its 11^th season. At its center, it is about the relationship between the two brothers and the idea that no matter how bad or dark things get, you never give up. You #AlwaysKeepFighting Actor Jared Padalecki created a foundation geared towards helping people who struggle with depression and anxiety that is called Always Keep Fighting and has personally struggled with these issues. I've dealt with these issues for most of my life as well and for him to begin this campaign, it has endeared me to this show even more. 

6.       Once Upon a Time: Ok. So this show is fairly new in comparison to the others. Season 5 begins this fall. I love fairy tales and am a total Disneyphile as well. I also am drawn to the unconventional. So when a show about the fairy tale characters we all know and love getting turned on their heads came along, I was there. I love all of the characters, but the Evil Queen is the best. I’m a total Evil Regal and if I’m being honest, a bit gay for Lana Parrilla! Google her. She’s gorgeous! 

7.       Star Trek (All of them excluding Enterprise because let’s face it…it was a fucking disaster): My first foray into these shows and thus the fandom, was with Star Trek: The Next Generation. Ah, Picard. The ultimate captain in my eyes. An extremely close second is Janeway. She’s the first female captain within the Star Trek universe and frankly a total badass. I kind of want to be her. I honestly don’t have the words to describe the epicness of this franchise. So I’m just going to leave it at this.

8.       How I Met Your Mother: Some people may say that Neil Patrick Harris made this show. And while I think Barney was hilariously “awesome” (ha!), ultimately it was successful because of the ensemble cast. This show is definitely legen-wait for it-dary. However, the finale was horrible. How are you going to have an entire *comedic* show about a man telling his kids how he met their mother and then go and kill off the damn mother?!?!?! This is an opinion my brother and I do not share. He thought it was apropos to the series and was happy that Ted ended up with Robyn. He’s wrong.

9.       Firefly: Because Joss Wheadon.

10.   Law and Order: SVU: What can I say about this show that would do it justice? It’s revolutionary. It depicts a topic that isn’t discussed nearly enough. I began watching this show in 2003 when it was in its 4^th season. My Mom and I were into a show at the time that aired before SVU. We caught a preview of the episode titled “911” and we both thought, “Eh. This looks good. Let’s give it a try.” Best television decision I’ve ever made. I adored Stabler, but Benson is the heart of the show. Mariska Hargitay has also taken her role as a spokesperson for these issues very seriously. She founded the Joyful Heart Foundation that has helped many survivors of sexual assault heal. She also spearheads the No More campaign. It encourages everyone to stand up against domestic violence and sexual assault. The campaign also encourages people to start a conversation about these issues as 64% of Americans say if we talk more about it, then it would make it easier to help someone. Please help get the conversation started. The show also hits home for me as I am a survivor of sexual assault myself. I’ve been asked how I can watch the show after what I’ve been through. This show does not give me flashbacks or make me relive that horrible time in my life. Instead, it gives me strength. It makes me happy that the show has caused these issues to be put more out in the open.

So, there you have it…my top 10 list of the best shows of all time. But here are a few honorable mentions that I couldn’t leave off. Basically, I’m cheating.

1.       Sherlock: It’s like watching a movie written as a TV show. There’s so much detail and nuance it feels more drawn out. *Copyright Stephen McKown* 

2.       The Office: My Mom thinks this is one of the most un-funny shows ever to be made. My mother is obviously insane because this show is brilliant! Michael Scott? Dwight?! Come on! Even after Steve Carell left it remained hilarious, albeit in a different way. And then they had the absolute perfect idea of adding Catherine Tate to the last two seasons.

3.       Chicago Hope: A lot of people will say this show was the lesser ER. But I beg to differ. It was definitely overshadowed by ER and never quite got the recognition it deserved. I wanted to become a heart surgeon because of my character obsession with Kate Austin.

4.       Will and Grace: As much as I love the titular characters, this show should have been called Jack and Karen. They were just the worst kind of people but in the funniest way. I also feel as if the show did a lot for showcasing gay characters on prime time television. It did so in the way that it wasn’t some big political statement. It was just funny. It was about four friends, two of which happened to be gay.

The Jump

What in the actual hell am I doing? I’m rising a lot higher than I thought this would be. The ground seems like a million miles down and my vision is blurring.  The kid controlling the bucket chewing his gum looks like he would rather be anywhere else than here. How old could he possibly be?! Sixteen? Seventeen? Oh my god…his face could be the last face I ever see up close. And frankly, not to be mean or anything, but he isn’t really even cute! I’m going to see his uncute face in my head as I’m plummeting to my death. However, people say that your life flashes before your eyes right before you die. What would I see? Why am I picturing the time I was scared shitless of the suction McDonald’s Happy Meal Ursula toy in the bath? Is that seriously what is going to be flashing into my head right before I fall into the swirling abyss of the afterlife? Oh! I wonder if it is really like Hercules. That. Would. Be. Awesome. I automatically assume I’m going to hell when I die. I guess that’s what comes from watching so much Supernatural. I wonder if Mark Pellegrino will be there….. What? We’ve reached the top? Ok. Shake it off, McKown. That’s right. You’re a McKown. You come from strong Scottish heritage. Your ancestors survived three different brutal attacks on their clan for Christ sake! You can do this! Freeeeeedooooom!!!!!  I can do this. I can do this. I can-does this thing have rust forming on it?! I seem to be sweating quite profusely. Is Uncute saying something to me? I seem to only be able to hear the beat of my own heart; which is beating quite quickly. “You’re all strapped in. Ready?” Huh? What? No I’m not ready! Damn you for not being able to turn down a dare, Kellie! If you stop now you’re going to look like a total pussy. Deep breaths. Deeeeeep breaths. “Ma’am, if you don’t go within the next few minutes, I’ll have to take you back down.” Ma’am?! How dare him! I am nowhere near ma’am status! “Ma’am, when I count to three this time you have to go.” I think I answered him back with something understandable. “One.” Oh my God. “Two.” I’m really about to do this. “Three.” Holy Shit!!!! Is it over? Did I survive? I did! I made it! Good lord that was scary. They didn’t think I would actually go through with it. But I did. Now…where’s my money, bitches? 

The Love of a Dog

We lost our sweet boy Cotton a few weeks ago. I couldn't bring myself to write this post until now, and I'm sure I will still be shedding a few tears as I do so. We adopted Cotton from the Greenville Humane Society which is incidentally where I was working at the time. We had already had Prince (we also adopted him from the same place years before I began working there) for two years and wanted to adopt another dog not only for ourselves, but for Prince as well. We wanted him to have a little brother or sister to play with. For weeks I sent Bryant pictures of little puppies from work. Luckily, I was privy to the incoming pups before they were put out on the adoption floor. We did try getting an older dog but Prince did not get along with them very well. Bryant responded no to each of my text messages until I sent him a picture of Cotton. His reply? I'm on my way. I was also lucky enough to run a program that enabled me to keep holds on certain dogs for people on a special list. I totally abused that power and kept Cotton out of the limelight until Bryant could come down to meet him. Bryant arrived fairly shortly after the texts, took one look at Cotton, and said, This is our boy, Mama. And it was done. Bryant and my brother who was visiting at the time took him home that very day.

Jump ahead to a few weeks after his adoption and you come to a scene of Cotton jumping from our futon in the living room straight onto Prince's back. They had bonded immediately and were very protective of each other. They loved to play rough and tumble. They were our boys. We could tell straight away that Cotton was going to be a handful. I employed a lot of the same training techniques that I used with Prince and well....let's just say they didn't all stick. He was into everything! At four months old, over Christmas at my in law's house, he fractured his leg. This led to a $2,000 dollar vet bill for x-rays and surgery. Over the years we were constantly taking him in for eating things he shouldn't have. Anytime he saw another dog he went in-sane! No, I mean properly loose his crazy mind insane. I've never *seen* a dog go that nuts. We were mystified because he saw another dog every day of his life! When he got excited for walks or rides he would "talk" to us. I have this on film and I still haven't been able to bring myself to watch them. Maybe soon. Maybe not. Anytime I was on the phone with someone they would constantly hear me saying, Cotton, no! or Cotton, stop! We called him our Marley. 

A while back, we noticed that he wasn't acting his usual hyper self. For the first few days, we figured it was his tummy again; getting into something he shouldn't have. I gave him the tummy medicine I had learned to keep on hand at home, but it didn't seem to do any good. He didn't want to go on walks, or want to go outside period. He would only get so far before he tired out. He didn't want to eat or drink. All he wanted to do, was to lay around and sleep. We hadn't found a vet here in Atlanta because up until then, we had no cause to go to one. We were going back home that Monday so we decided to take him to his regular vet in Valdosta where I used to work. (Animal Health Center ) I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that something was seriously wrong. Call it mother's intuition. So, I took him to see Dr. Moseley, whom I trust implicitly, to get some tests done. The gut feeling was right. It wasn't good. You see, a dog's hermaticrit (or Red Blood Cell Count) is supposed to be around 30-35% and his was at 5%. Dr. Moseley said he never saw a dog with a percentage that low able to walk around and even wag their tail like Cotton did. We decided to give him a blood transfusion (in which Dr. Moseley rushed his own dog, Albi, up to the clinic to be the donor and we are forever grateful for this.) We were hopeful that this boost would help him start to produce his own RBCs again. And it did work....for a time. 

We got about another month of being with our boy before his body just couldn't fight it anymore. The blood transfusion lasted as long as it could. We pampered him even more than normal and "normal" was a significant amount. He was so spoiled! We noticed him starting to go down again, but waited until he told us it was time. Well, that came on a day when Bryant and I decided to go out for a couple of hours to run some errands. We walked into our apartment to Cotton up on our bed and diarrhea *everywhere*. He was whimpering and didn't want to move at all. I knew it was time. He was letting me know. I called Dr. Moseley because I knew I could trust what he would have to tell me. It's like I couldn't make the decision on my own. I had to get confirmation that I was doing the right thing. He confirmed my feelings and I hung up and broke down. My poor boy. 

We took him to a vet clinic called Pets Are People Too and we spent time alone with him in the room until we were ready. Our precious boy passed away with his head in his Mama's lap and his Daddy holding his paw. My heart could barely take it. We only got four short years with him, but even knowing what I know now, I would do it all over again and wouldn't trade those years for anything in the world. When things like this happens I ask myself, Why do we do this to ourselves? Adopt these pets knowing the heartbreak that will inevitably come? But we do it because we know that the love of a dog or a cat or whatever you may have, is worth it. I believe that they give us so much more than we give them. And that is why I will continue to adopt pets not only into my home, but into my heart. 

Life Revelations and Brick Throwing

So, I had another entire blog post written and for some reason I could't press the publish button. I saved it as a draft and kept coming back to it, but could never actually post. Something was stopping me from doing so. Now, I'm actually really glad that I never pressed that button. Because since I wrote that post, I have had a revelation. Cue dramatic music. 

My first draft consisted of me going on and on about not being able to make up my  mind about what to go back to school for. I wrote that I had been hovering over a few ideas but could never quite land on one. I wrote about feeling frustrated because ever since my diagnosis two years ago, I feel as if my life hit a sudden stop. I was told by everyone that I had to make a lot of adjustments to my lifestyle in order to manage this illness. I absolutely did not want to hear any of that. I told myself that I wouldn't have to change anything; that I could still do all of the things I want to do. Basically, I was in denial. I pounded my head against a brink wall for the past two and a half years. Well in the words of the War Doctor.... No More.

First off, I can't take total credit for my life revelation. One of my best friends in the entire world and one of my several soul mates on this earth said something to me in casual conversation that led me to this epiphany. So I have to stop here and say to her....thank you Kristin. You are irreplaceable and I love you with all of my heart. My revelation was that I would never work a traditional or "normal" job ever again. Unless a cure came about for Fibromyalgia sometime down the road, then more than likely I wouldn't. Excuse the cliche statement, but it hit me like a ton of bricks. (I wonder where that saying came from exactly? You know there's a story there. Probably full of drinking and regret.) Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that everyone with this illness will never be able to work traditionally. Each person has to decide and figure out what they can do on an individual level. There are also different levels of FM. It effects everyone differently is what I'm haphazardly trying to say. 

Since I began having problems with my health, I tried working several jobs where people depended on me to be able to do my job. Hell, to just show up! As I've written before, this illness is so unpredictable. Just the other day, I went out exploring our new city with Bryant and the day started out wonderful. I was in minimal pain and had decent energy. Then all of a sudden, BAM! My pain scale rocketed upwards and my energy plummeted. And that was the end of our exploration. I can have the tendency to let people down so those jobs just didn't work. But I was too stubborn to realize it. I kept wracking my brain trying to figure out what I could do that A) I was passionate about, B) Would make me feel like a productive member of society and C) Would make me feel as if I was contributing to  the care of my family. I was spinning my wheels and it was driving me insane. Until my conversation with my friend. I honestly can't remember the exact words that were spoken, maybe she remembers, but after said realization it took me awhile to well.....not cry about it. I felt as if my future was still way up in the air and completely uncertain. But then, something amazing happened. I let it go. (Please forgive the blatant Frozen quote.) And the moment I did that, I felt this huge relief. The world I was carrying on my shoulders and the stress inducing feelings of trying to be "normal" melted away. 

Now instead of having to land on a school goal, I had to land on a 'what non-traditional, possibly work from home' type of career can I do? Truth is, I've always loved to write. The entire reason I began this blog was to have another creative outlet for all of my pint up energy. I've always been afraid of calling myself a writer, or to try to parlay my love of words into an actual career. I mean, the audacity that I could even think that I could be somewhat successful?!?! How dare I?! That was, somewhat hyperbolically, what I would say to myself when I would dare to consider making a career out of this. Kristin said something interesting during that conversation that made me think about fate. Call it God, call it the Universe, call it whatever you want, but what if one reason I have this illness is to force me to do the thing that I've always wanted to do. I'm not 100% how I feel about it, but it does give me another silver lining to all of this. And as you well know, I'm always in the mood for those. For whatever reason, I am now pursuing my dream. So in a sense, I had two life revelations. I think that's about all I can handle at the moment. Too many more of them and those bricks really start to hurt. 

Recent Activities and Virtual Ass Kickings

So a friend recently pointed out to me (a.k.a he called me on my s**t) that I haven't posted a new blog in almost a year. April 24th of 2014 as he so kindly tweets me over and over and over. To be fair, my life has been very busy and I have been working on other writing projects. One such project I am extremely excited about and will reveal at a later date. But I digress. However, even though I feel I have some valid reasons for not posting on this blog, I'm ready to get him off my ass. So here it is, Jason! I'm #justwriting. (P.S. Even though I'm bitching at him at the moment, he is a wonderful writer and I would be remiss if I didn't direct you to his blog at jayjaysentertainment.blogspot.com)

What have I been up to you ask? How kind. Well, let's see. I've just moved to Atlanta, Ga. Which to some may be like, 'meh', but to me is a big deal. Mainly because of the huge changes that have come with it. I'm not a fan of change.Wait. Let me rephrase that. I don't mind change so much, but I have a hard time adjusting to it. I don't assimilate easily. (The Borg would hate me). When I moved from my hometown to Anderson, SC, it took me about six months before I was able to fully adjust. Granted, this was the first time I had ever moved away from home. Since then, Bryant and I have moved five times in six years. People always assume we are military. We aren't. We tell them we are just gluttons for punishment. (Job opportunities were the main reasons for the moves). So for a person who doesn't do so hot with big changes, I sure have been through a lot of them.

 My first weekend in Atlanta, I had a full blown anxiety attack that landed me at urgent care in which I left with a prescription for anxiety medication to help me adjust. I am no longer taking the medication, but it really helped me get through things. (KellieRae, if you're reading this, yes, this was the reason I wasn't able to start work that weekend. I was truly sick, just not in a physiological way). I think I'm doing better than I was, but to be honest I haven't really had time to tell. Since we moved back in October of last year, we have been back to Valdosta several times to help family and for regular visits as well. I am currently in Valdosta and have been for about five weeks now. My mother had major surgery on her spine and my grandmother has recently gone through surgery on her shoulder as well as a few other medical issues. So, I came home to help everyone. I really haven't had time to feel settled there. I will admit, that after the anxiety came a bit of a depression. I missed my hometown again, specifically the people who live here. I kept thinking to myself, 'I have to start over again?! Find a new job and make new friends again?! I'm not sure I have it in me anymore!' I hate depression. Unfortunately, I have dealt with it for about half of my life now. I honestly can't believe I'm revealing all of this in a public forum. But maybe people reading this who have dealt with this issue won't feel as alone. Because if depression is only one thing, it sure is lonely. I believe that you have to let yourself feel it. Wallow in it even. Ask why me. However, I put a time limit on it. I say to myself, 'Alright, Cooley. Wallow in your own self pity and sadness, but only until this day at this time. After that, you have to pull yourself back up and figure out how to deal with what is going on.' This was actually a brilliant suggestion from one of my therapists and it has saved me a thousand times over. I've now already been through that period, and I feel it is time to come out of it. I'm determined not to let myself get bogged down in sadness again when I get back to Atlanta. So, I've made plans. I now have some things to look forward to. I'm excited to finally decorate our apartment since we've had no time to do so. I've got a meeting with an adviser at GSU, who will hopefully be able to quell some of my fears about returning to school and answer some of the burning questions I have about the degree and courses I may be taking. (I hate to get completely off topic here, but I am simultaneously writing this and watching Star Trek: Voyager both on the same computer. It's a freaking split screen! I've *got* to get one of these SurfacePro things). Ok, sorry. I had to physically shake myself out of that one.

As you can see, I actually have been quite busy. I'm also having to deal with some major issues that have cropped up with my BS chronic illness that has slowed me down and have had to go back on a medication that I was previously able to stop taking. That's an entirely different post. Let's just say, I'm not happy about it. But, I don't think I would be able to make it though all of my future plans in my current state and I need the medication at this point in time. Maybe I will be able to come back off of it again. It's a roller coaster ride and nothing is ever dull in my life that's for sure!!! :) There's always something happening in my family that keeps me on my toes. I guess that sort of a silver lining in a way. I do always try to find them. They may be small, but they're always there. And I wouldn't make it through life without them.

And last, but certainly not least, thank you. Thank you for reading all of my blabbering. I was advised by my aforementioned friend, to take my own advice and just write. Even if it's total crap. Even if it's just word vomit. Just. Write. Get my blog post juices flowing again. So again, thank you for bearing with me through all of it. (Happy now, Jason?) Until next time!

-Kel

Good books.

Sometimes I hate to start reading a good book. Because I get the feeling of not wanting to put it down, but at the same time never wanting it to end. For instance, I've recently just finished reading Bad Mother's United, the sequel to Bad Mother's Handbook, written by the brilliant Kate Long. (Side note: if you've never read any of her work then you are seriously missing out. The way Kate writes, its universal. You don't have to be from Lancashire, England to connect with the story or the characters.) I got so involved in the lives of each character. I would create my own little movie in my head and would almost have a visceral reaction to everything they went through. I started reading BMU on Tuesday evening, read until around 2:00 AM! Then I read anytime I had a moment (sitting in carpool waiting to pick my nephew up from school for instance) and finished it up Thursday night. When I get into a story like that, it almost becomes my obsession. And I have a way of tuning everything else around me out when I'm reading. You almost have to slap me in the face to get my attention.


After finishing a book that I have completely immersed myself in, it is like I'm having to pull myself out of a dense fog. I sit there and think "What do I do with my life now?" I can't just snap back to reality. It has to be a slow process. In the meantime, the people around me go on as if I haven't just gone through an emotional trauma. For example, I hadn't finished reading for more than five minutes when Bryant walked in and began trying to carry on a conversation with me. I think I just stared at him blinking for a few seconds thinking to myself, "Don't you realize what I've just gone through?! I can't carry on like nothing happened!" But that's how it is for me, and for other avid readers that I know. The most shattered I think I have ever been is after finishing book 7 of Harry Potter. I had invested a decade of my life in these books. A decade! And when it finally ended I realized I had been holding my breath the entire time. I didn't move from my reading spot for nearly an hour! LOL. And I think it took me about a week to fully come back down to earth. But that's what books are supposed to do to you. If they don't, in my opinion, it means that they weren't written very well.  


I was having a discussion with Heather, my brother's girlfriend, the other night on the topic of life altering books. Books that literally affect you forever and that you will probably revisit several times over and want in nicely bound volumes. Those for me would be The Lord of the Rings series, the Harry Potter series, Say You're One of Them and A Thousand Splendid Suns. According to Heather, I need to read the Ender's Game Series and the Dune series. I will have to add them to my never ending list of books I want to read. *sigh*


So, I am now about to start the Divergent series. I have a feeling I will have them read within a few days. I actually just went to see the movie last night and It. Was. Epic. I loved it! But you know what they always say, the book is always better than the movie! Happy Reading Everyone!!!!

Chronic Illness.

It has been three months since my last confession. I'm kidding...I'm not Catholic. But it has been three months since my last blog post. I'm taking the shame. Honestly, I have had several topic ideas, I just didn't think they were good enough to write about. Then, I noticed the title of my blog. Just. Write. I decided to take my own advice as well as the advice of an amazing group of people that I have me through the internet. That may sound silly to some, but these people have become family to me. I would like to thank you all for your support and encouragement. You know who you are. :)

It may come as a surprise to you that I am actually a very private person. Mainly because I share myself through this blog. But through this blog I control what I do and do not share. What I'm about to share now is very personal.

I have a chronic illness that I have to deal with every day and probably for the rest of my life. I don't know how many of you have heard of Fibromyalgia (which will be shortened to FM for the purposes of this post). I call FM the invisible disease because just to look at me you wouldn't think anything is wrong. However, I deal with pain, amongst many other symptoms, on a daily basis. Ten years ago, people didn't even believe it was a real condition. But now it is quite evident that it is very real. However, doctors still don't understand why people suffer with this illness. They don't know why it strikes us down and so far there is no cure. And there are a lot of people out there who still don't believe we are sick. They think it is a mental thing rather than a physical one. But through extensive studies it has been concluded that it is indeed a physical condition.

It's rather difficult to explain to people what FM is exactly. Especially since I don't fully understand it myself. But I'm going to do my best to try. I'm going to try to explain the pain of FM. Think of the pain signals in the brain like a music amplifier. When pain hits the body in a healthy person, let's say you bump your leg, the pain signals in the brain may go up to a four or five. In someone with FM, the pain signals get confused and the pain level in the brain may go up to ten or even higher. Our bodies are confused as to how to process pain. Weather affects FM pain levels as well. I call myself the human barometer. I can tell when a storm or weather front is coming without so much as a peek at the weather station. Haha! Arthritis also comes along with FM which affects the joints in my body. I deal with some amount of pain every day, but there are times where I have full on flare ups. What flare ups do is make it almost impossible to function. The pain is so bad I have to use a rolling walker just to get to the bathroom and back. I am so fatigued that lifting my pinkie finger literally takes all I can do.

Don't get me wrong. I can have wonderful days where I feel like I can do anything! I tend to over do it on those days, but I enjoy them to the fullest. Recently, the months of December and January have been absolutely amazing. Then came February and March. The flare ups hit me hard and has made it difficult to function and get things accomplished. I push through as hard as I can. In the end, I feel lucky. It sucks having to deal with this every day, but this isn't a disease that will kill me. My Grandmother just went through chemo battling breast cancer. I try to put things into perspective. But it doesn't mean that what I have to deal with isn't rough or any less important. If you have someone in your life that suffers from this illness, please be patient. FM causes so many ups and downs, highs and lows. I can wake up feeling great, then not be able to move by the evening. I now have to limit myself. I used to go hiking, play tag football, soccer, tennis etc. I can still do some of those things only in moderation. It is hard going from a full steam ahead person to having limitations set upon me. But I just deal with it the best I can and push forward. That's really all I can do.

~Kel

I would like to add one more thing. I have an amazing, wonderful, brilliant husband that fully supports me. He takes our wedding vows, for better or for worse, to heart and I couldn't love him any more for it. He is my rock, my safe place. I love you so much. You are my Charming ;) .

Fear, Anxiety and Anticipation

Fist of all, ugh at the painful motivation it has taken to get this post written! I find that the less I have to do, getting things accomplished is much harder. I have discovered that I do not enjoy having all the time in the world; it drives me mental! I need the pressure of having to get things done. Getting that out of the way, I will now stop waisting your time and get to the topic I wish to discuss. 

Growing up, if we couldn't drive there...we didn't travel there. My Mom has always had this deathly fear of flying. And not to blame her (Thanks Mom), but those fears bled over to be a bit. One of my best friends in the entire universe (so close we consider each other family) found out she was having a baby. She and her husband asked my husband and I to be the baby's Godparents. Of course we were thrilled! We shouted yes without even having to think twice! I was dying to be there for the birth of my first Godchild. But, she lives in Washington state...I live in Georgia. You do the math. I had to decide if I was going to let my fears and anxieties get the better of me, or if I was going to woman up, face them and be there for my friend. 

In Lord of the Rings, on the eve of a mighty battle, Pippin and Gandalf are looking out across the battle lands from a balcony. Pippin turned to Gandalf and spoke some of the truest words I have ever heard/read. He said, "I don't want to go into battle, Gandalf. But waiting on the edge of what I can't escape is far worse." The anticipation of an event that causes you anxiety, is usually much worse than the actual event. My ticket was purchased in June; I had six months worth of building anticipation. 

The night before my trip, I found myself filled with so much nervous energy that I couldn't sit still. I kept myself busy by cleaning and making lists and more lists, then making lists of those lists. I Googled 'what to do at an airport, what not to do at an airport, the best thing to wear at an airport' etc. My hair stylist suggested asking my doctor for something to help calm me down for the plane ride. (Yes, I was pouring out my soul to anyone who would listen. My stylist was a captive audience...don't judge me). I seriously considered that at one point, but decided against it. I figured I needed to feel the fear and then face it head on.  Cut to the drive up from Valdosta to Atlanta; it is about a four hour trip. Thankfully, my husband was able to drive me up and until we hit the off-ramp to the airport, I was perfectly ok. We laughed and joked and talked and sang along to music (badly on my part. I just sort of shout the lyrics). The mass scale of the place bowled me over and I was beginning to wish I had taken my stylist's advice. Navigating the airport was stressful for me! Where do I go?! What do I do?! You might be saying to yourself right now, 'God, just calm down and follow the signs!' Which is what I thought I could do until I saw the insane amount of signs they have in an airport! 

First order of business, get my boarding pass. The only signs I saw for checking in were things like 'Sky Miles Blue Ridge Mile High Club' or something like that. I finally stopped an employee and asked him where the normal people checked in. He chuckled and asked if this was my first time flying. I wanted to save face and say no, but he had me clocked. So I admitted to it and he said he would check me in. I checked 'get boarding pass' off my list. You think I'm joking. Anyway, I digress. He then pointed me to the baggage check counter and I got through that with a breeze. We sat down at the IHOP and had a $40 lunch consisting of eggs and juice. Ridiculous I say! I then had to say goodbye to my husband and head through the security check....alone. I felt like I was walking The Green Mile. I was sweating profusely. I took the best piece of advice ever given me when doing something new; play follow the leader. That doesn't mean that my heart wasn't beating out of my chest. I swore that I had the pungent scent of a nervous first time flyer oozing out of my pores and that at any moment I would be discovered. However, nobody seemed to notice. (I think I might put 'calmly getting through security' on my acting resume now). I then made my way to my gate and waited. And waited. And waited some more. I was so worked up about the whole thing that I managed to arrive three hours early!

The thing is, I thought the actual flight would be what I freaked out over the most. But once I got sat in my seat and the plane made its way into the air, I calmed down. All the way down. It was the most relaxing feeling. I was sat next to a lovely man that struck up a nice conversation with me. We chatted for a couple of hours before he took a nap and I watched a movie on the screen in the head rest in front of me. As I often do (seriously, this is just one recent example), I had built up this huge ordeal in my head and was making it into something much worse than it actually was. The point is, is that this was something I was always afraid of doing, but I faced it head on and now I'm in Washington awaiting the birth of my Godchild. I'm naturally an adventurous person if you can believe it. I have so many places I want to go and so many thing I want to do! Some of which scare the ever loving mess out of me. But if I let those fears become the reason I don't try, I will regret it for the rest of my life. And I am bound and determined to never have any more regrets. 

"All we have to do is decide what to do with the time given us." -Gandalf in The Fellowship of the Ring

Inappropriate Behavior

I have been having a difficult time in coming up with an idea, or topic, for this next blog post. And this is what I’ve decided on…I’m in the mood to tell a good story. Now, some of the best stories, in my opinion, involve self-deprecating humor. Some of the most idiotic things I have done have made the best stories; and I am not one who takes herself too seriously. I’ve literally had to ask my husband and my brother for the best ‘incident’. That is how many times I have acted like a complete moron.

There is a song by the Bare Naked Ladies called ‘One Week’. And within that song, there is a line that says, "I’m the kind of guy that laughs at a funeral." Well, I had never considered myself that kind of person…until one unsuspecting day. I don’t know whose funeral it was, but I remember I went with my Mom. Let me digress for a moment. Awkward silences make me laugh. I don’t know why, but they do. So when the preacher asked the family and friends to bow their heads for a moment of silence in honor of the deceased…I lost it. Now, if it had been a short silence, I would have been fine. But the preacher must have fallen asleep at the podium because the ‘moment’ of silence turned into what felt like a bloody lifetime of silence. All of a sudden, the laughter overwhelmed me as I tried to stifle it. Trying to stifle your laughter is almost worse than rearing your head back and letting it go. I was making an amalgamation of weird hog like grunting noises and snake hisses. My eyes began to water as I tried to hold it all in. My mother at this point, noticed the commotion I was causing and began elbowing me in the ribs and silently screaming through her teeth (it actually can be done and my mother is a pro) for me to shut up. This, of course, only made things worse. The hog grunts got louder, the snake hisses got longer and my whole body began to shake. Thanks Mom.

The people in the pews around me eventually began to notice and were giving me looks straight from the Devil himself. A lady in front of me turned and said, "You should be ashamed of yourself." And I was. How was I going to explain to all of these people, that I truly meant no disrespect without furthering the depth of the grave I had begun digging?! Maybe I wouldn’t have to. Maybe my Mom would be so upset and ashamed of me that she would hurry me through the church corridor and out the door as soon as the service was over. At this point, you may be asking yourself…did that indeed happen? Did she get out of the horrible situation virtually unscathed? No. No I did not. My mother decided to hang around after the service to partake in the many types of food and beverage that was provided for us in the church kitchen. Again. Thanks Mom.

Now I was stuck with several dozen people I did not know, who all secretly hated me. Looking back now, I realize that I should have left well enough alone. I should have just kept my head down and ate my macaroni casserole. But the desperation to try and not seem like a total asshole prevailed and I began to try to explain to the people nearest me that I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful, that I was sure their Nana or Aunt, or second cousin twice removed was a wonderful person. Most smiled and nodded and continued on eating the disgusting Jello pudding while others out right ignored me. I don’t blame the people in the latter category, by the way. Boy I was wearing that shovel out. FINALLY, we left. And in case you are wondering, yes I did get an ear full of a lecture on the car ride home. The entire car ride home. And if memory serves me right, it was about a two hour drive. Every funeral I’ve attended since then, I get a shudder inducing fear when the words, "let’s have a moment of silence in honor of the deceased" are uttered. Moral of the story? I should probably never attend another funeral…or any other serious event that may contain an extended moment of silence.

The Doctor Who Experience

So, as many of you probably know (because I have shouted it from the rooftops since I got the tickets), my brother and I went to see the Doctor Who 50th Anniversary at the cinema. I am still spellbound by the entire experience. It was one of those rare moments in life, where the anticipation actually pales in comparison to the actual event. I really couldn't have imagined it any better. There were so many feelings happening all at once, I thought my fangirl heart would explode! So here it goes....GERONIMO!!!!!

First of all, they didn't just project the episode onto a large screen; they made it an experience from beginning to end. Before the movie started, they showed facts about the show onscreen and put up quiz questions that people were shouting out answers to. Then, the lights darkened and we see Strax the Sontaran on the screen telling us, in his unique way, to not use our cell phones or to eat our popcorn too loudly. We go from that to seeing Matt Smith exclaiming his excitement of the *100th anniversary in 12-D*, that is until he realizes he is in 2012 and it is only 3-D. He makes everyone laugh like only he can until he pulls out his sonic screwdriver to start the film, only to be transformed into David Tennant. At this point, the entire audience cheers out loud at his appearance as he warns us about seeing Matt Smith's chin in 3-D. We all laugh and then the film begins with the opening titles of the original 1963 series. There were a ton of Easter Eggs throughout the film, some of them being: The Coal Hill School where Clara is teaching was where companions Ian Chesterton and Barbara Wright taught; The Doctor's phone number is the same one from Season 4's "Stolen Earth"; 11 carves the date and time of the very first show into a stone wall (It was said that the numbers were an activation code for Captain Jack's time vortex jumper); We got a flash of River Song's red heels in the vault and of course 4th's scarf on Osgood the technician.

Then there were the moments that pretty much broke us all. Near the end of the film, we all got to see a flash of Peter Capaldi's eyes as all of The Doctor's incarnations both past, present and at least one into the future, swooped in in their individual TARDISes and tried to save Gallifrey. At that moment, the audience burst into cheers and claps and gasps. Then, we all audibly choked back tears when 10 said "I don't want to go", just as he did right before his regeneration. (Really, Moffat? You just had to go there?!) And I think the final moment that drove the nail into the coffin of all of the fandom's hearts, was when Tom Baker showed up to talk to Matt Smith's 11. That was it. That done us all in.

I do want to take a few sentences to talk about how brilliant John Hurt, Matt Smith and David Tennant were together. It was the great mix of banter and serious moments between them that I loved. Also, in my (unpopular) opinion, Rose Tyler is not the best companion; however, they brought her back in a very clever, unexpected way so I didn't mind so much. (Billie Piper looks amazing, by the way!)

After the film ended, I looked around in the lobby at all of the Whovians in their t-shirts, hats, dresses etc. There were several cosplayers, although none as cute as the seven year old boy dressed up at the 11th. People were asking to take pictures with him and he would whip out his sonic screwdriver and do his best Matt Smith-like pose. I was surrounded by people who, like myself, bleed TARDIS blue. I loved it. This anniversary film brought together people from 94 countries! Few events do that nowadays. I felt like a part of something that was bigger than me.

In the end, Moffat did a bang up job giving honor to 50 years of Doctor Who. He found a way to simultaneously tie up a lot of loose ends while still leaving questions we want answered. So here's to the next 50, Doctor Who! ALLONS-Y! 

Ugh, such a nerd :)

I'm a nerd. Most people know this about me. My husband claims to have not known before he married me; usually after I have squealed for hours about how close the Doctor Who 50th Anniversary is, or he sees that I have Captain Picard as my wallpaper on my phone or my ringtone is a score from Lord of the Rings or that I can quote Harry Potter at the drop of the sorting hat. But, he knew. I have always been this way. I was a fangirl before I even understood what that meant. I wasn't, however, always as proud and vocal about it. I hid it. I kept it to myself because let's face it, kids can be downright mean and would already pick on me about my looks so I felt I didn't need to give them any more ammo. What did they say about me, you ask? Sure, let me share my secret pain with you. No, no...I'm doing it now and you will have to suffer the consequences.

Here's a great example: A group of kids were playing on the jungle gym at school and when I wanted to join in, this kid piped up and said, "Sorry, you have freckles and your hair is a little too red." Seriously? I ignored him and continued to play. He spoke the words as if he could barely stand the taste of them in his mouth. I found out (years and years later), that it was being called what is known as a 'ginger'. If you're not sure what that means, like I was, a 'ginger' is a person with red hair. But not only that, to qualify as a 'ginger', you must also possess pale, ghost-like skin and freckles. My hair wasn't all that red, but I guess along with the other two quailifing factors, that's the category I was lumped into. So God forbid anyone also figure out what a nerd I was!

I was the kid that enjoyed being alone in her room, listening to music and reading books or writing my own. I needed social interaction as well, but an insane amount of alone time to just be in my own head. I haven't changed, by the way. Science Fiction was my absolute favorite thing to write about and also watch on television. I could write an entire book about how brilliant, amazing and bad-ass The X-files was and still is...but I digress. I owned figurines and trading cards and different books about all of my favorite geeky shows. Once the Internet was properly invented, I would get online and write and read fanfics about all of my favorite characters. And by myself, alone in my room, I could lose myself to so many other places, entire worlds even! My imagination has gotten me through a lot of things in life and I'm quite proud of it. I FINALLY grew up to accept my looks (I'm totally cool and proud if people want to think of me as being a ginger) , and my nerdy brain and now you can't stop me from getting outwardly excited about the 50th Doctor Who Anniversary. You can try, you just might accidentally get hurt.
 
"Never apologize for being nerdy, because underdy people never apologize for being assholes" - John Barrowman (Capt. Jack Harkness-Doctor Who and Torchwood)

Having it all.

Yesterday, I was running a few errands and ended up taking a wrong street and had to turn around within a wealthy neighborhood. (Side bar...drop me in the middle of Cambodia and I can navigate my way around the streets...but put me in the middle of the town I grew up in for 23 solid years and I will get turned around in a heartbeat.) As I was driving through this neighborhood, mouth agape at all the richness, the thought entered my head; you're almost 30 and you still don't even own your own home, much less something like this. I then had to shake myself, quite literally, out of that thought process.

Sometime within the last couple of months, I met a woman through an acquaintance of mine...lets call her Suzy. I was out at lunch with my acquaintance and Suzy and after eating our meals and chatting about various random topics, Suzy looked at me and said, "I would have thought you had everything, you know, it all." The statement was jarring. I asked her what she meant by it and she responded with, "Well, until I got to know you better, I assumed you lived in a nice big home, had the marriage, 2.4 kids, white picket fence...you know...it all."  I think I may have just stared at her at first. I wasn't quite sure how to respond to this woman, who was obviously comfortable enough to not only make these assumptions, but to say them out loud to me. Did she not think I would get offended? Upset? How dare she! She didn't know me well enough to say these things to me! Do I not have it all? Because I was just starting to feel comfortable with my life path, and now I'm being told it isn't enough? All of these thoughts and emotions ran through my blood in about .02 seconds. Then, all of a sudden, I felt sorry for this woman. She must be so sad and frustrated and angry because she thinks that all the above mentioned things are what it means to have "it all."(I would like to take this time to point out that my brilliant friend recently wrote and published a book called "Can Spiritual Women Say F*$k: A Jersey Girl's guide to Inner Peace. It's amazing and brilliant and some of things she talks about sort of go along with this post so I would be remiss (and an awful friend) if I didn't mention it. I'm not very tech savvy and can't figure out how to post a link to Amazon, but please check it out. Jess Barrett, you have helped me more than you will ever know.)

I know how tiring it is to try to keep up with what the world tells us is the perfect life, but I had finally woken myself up from that perceived reality; and I wanted desperately to wake Suzy up. When I told her my thoughts on the subject, she looked at me like I belonged in a mental facility for the criminally insane. I asked her if she ever thought that she was forcing an unrealistic ideal upon herself and she gave me a blank look as if to say, "Have you ever thought that you aren't?! And are wrong for not doing so?" My acquaintance was beginning to get antsy with all the tension in the air so I swiftly changed the subject. I know Suzy isn't the only person I'm going to run into who thinks how I'm deciding to live my life is mental, but I don't understand how other people don't understand. Don't get me wrong, I'm not perfect by any means. I still find myself secretly judging others for their choices and then have to slap myself in the face and say, You have no idea what their unique path in life is so cut it out." 

So, there you have it. Kel Cooley calls B.S on this whole "it all" crap. Your "all" may not be the same as mine and that's perfectly ok. We were not all put on this earth for the same exact purpose. How boring would that be?  All we can do is focus on our own passions and paths. And for goodness sake, burn that damn white picket fence in effigy!

Just. Write.

Ok, I haven't written anything on this blog in over a year. Stuff got in the way, sue me. I've decided to chuck the whole bucket list blog...well, maybe I will come back to it later...but for now, I think the best path to walk is to just...write. Write about any and everything that comes to my mind. I'm telling myself that I will be disciplined and put out a new blog every week. Haven't had the best track record so far, but I'm trying not to be negative. I've realized over the past ten years, that I am naturally a negative person. I assume the worst, so when something goes right, or I have any kind of success I just feel relieved. I've had to work on training myself to react to things in a positive way. I'm one of the first people who would say F*&k it, I'm done. And I do that quite often...but then I remind myself that being negative isn't going to get me anywhere in life; and that being positive won't actually kill me. If it can only help, why not try? This is where the amazing, brilliant people I surround myself with come in. They never let me say F*&k it. They encourage me to keep going. Sometimes they can be so damn positive, I want to punch them in the throat and say...it may happen for you that way, but it will never happen to me! Be realistic! But in the end, they are my salvation. I believe that everyone has not only one, but multiple soulmates out in the universe; and if you find one of them you are one of the luckiest people in the world. And if you're like me? Then you are exceptionally lucky, and you should just quit being so damn negative.

Kel

One Down!

Hello Everyone!!! Welcome to my first blog ever....bear with me. So, here's the sitch...I am not the most open person in the world...you could say I'm not much of a sharer of inner most personal dreams and feelings. And I tend to be afraid of putting myself out there too much or to take any big risks. I feel that it is high time to step out of my comfort zone and this blog is only the beginning...

I have fancied myself a writer ever since I learned how to put words together to form a coherent sentence. Instead of the kid sitting up late at night to watch t.v, I was the kid with a flashlight under a blanket coming up with character analysis' and writing their stories until my hand cramped and my fingers bled. I entered every writing fair my school offered. (I wasn't as afraid of sharing my work when I was a child). The older I got, the more I became afraid of criticism, so, I kept my writing to myself...even though one of my dreams has always been to have a piece of work published. Why did I become so afraid? I still have no answer to this question...maybe I never will...but the important thing is that I have recognized this, decided I did not like it, and am taking steps towards change. This brings me to the main topic of this blog...bucket lists.

If you are not familiar with bucket lists, they are a list of things one would like to see, hear, do or accomplish before they die. So far, mine has 107 items that range anywhere from riding a jet ski to hiking the Appalachian Trail. The point is not to be rational, it is to think of any and everything you could ever want to do. So, I sat down and put pen to paper and only came up with about 10 things at first...I was discouraged. I was failing at making a bucket list! I threw my notebook and pen into a drawer with a huff and turned on the television.

About fifteen minutes into watching House Hunters International where a couple were searching for a home in the beautiful country of Italy, it hit me. I have long dreamt of visiting Italy and yet I had not put it on my bucket list.  Oh I thought of it...in fact it was one of the first things I wanted to write down...but I interrupted myself by thinking...why even write this down? I will never be able to do this, I'm afraid of flying and will probably never have the money anyway. After realizing that I was blocking my own imagination by limiting myself to listing only the things I thought would truly be accomplishable, I wanted to punch myself in the face. You're sabotaging yourself before you even get started stupid! It was only after I was able to unblock myself and think without these limitations, that my imagination and creativity was able to burst forth. I hadn't felt that full of life since I was a kid and it was invigorating!

Throughout this blog, I will be talking about different items on my bucket list and my experiences at attempting to cross them off. So far I've completed one thing: start a blog. Until next time!

Kellie :)