Monday, November 10, 2014

Life Rambles

I took benadryl last night for my allergies and to help me sleep and I'm still in that fog. I'm about to have my first cup of coffee and i should probably get ready for work.

Words words words words.

I need to stop worrying about them and just write. Who the fuck cares and reads this anyways. This is mostly for me.

I have been neglecting me.
I need more me time.

I need more time in general to do all the things I want to do.

I need to focus more.

I want help but I don't know what kind of help I want.

I think I just need to go to Starbucks or the library and "work" from there. Would help me get out of the facebook games.

I know where I want to be. I just don't know how to get there.

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Sunday Morning

Muffins in the oven. 
Coffee in my cup.
Still in my pjs, of course. 

Church next door singing the same Hymn they did last week.
Breeze before a (possible) storm. 
Jack's still sleeping, of course. 

I love my quiet Sunday mornings. 

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Sky Saw by Blake Butler

page 24:

I've spent enough years with my face arranged in books. I've read enough to crush my sternum. In each of the books are people talking, saying the same thing, their tongues slim and white and speckled with the words.

page 57:

Behind her eyes were also stairwells, which also led to something gone. 

page 106:

It replaced the definitions of certain words in dictionaries no one would ever open. 

page 176:

Milk all through the years in lather leather held out only by an idea.

page 183:

The man said I am sorry I could not remember but now I remember many things I think and as time progresses I will continue to remember more things and there will be more things to remember. 


He turned around and found the world.

page 191:

[...] time catching time there where time had meant never to be.

page 219:

Curds of syntax mad in old names.

page 245:

I might look down and find my arms there typing language and believe the language and know it was or I would look down and find the words there in my body written always, I could hold my body as a book, [...]

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Rabbit Rabbit (Where'd you put the keys, Girl?)

Holy Fuck.

It's July.

And I still have a bunch of 30 things to do because I'm 30 now to do.

Two years later.


Thursday I apply to grad school ($180 application fee? Really NYU? I'll be paying you enough as it is. I best be getting in)

All I need to do is get one last recommendation in. Then I'm good to go.

I have books to write up. Well Book reviews to write.

2 on the back burner.

Emails to write.
Respond to.

Books to get back.
Movies to give back.

Library fines I need to pay.
Brownies to bake.
(who bakes in the summer? apparently this bitch)

Things to be angry about.

Define "family business." Because the company I work for is run by two brothers. And it's private. Who is to stop them from limiting my access? (I doubt they will mind you. But there's nothing to stop them now)

SCOTUS looks like Scrotum.
We need more ovaries.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

Just some thoughts

"Facts are facts and fiction's fiction."

Been thinking about reality a lot. Blame the self help/creativity books I've been reading. (I'm such a sucker for them.) But not only that, but gender and how it's a construct (or is it?) and what it means to be one's self.

Is our fact the fiction we happen to create and believe in?

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

But Being Loose is Okay

What tying up loose ends means to me: A list

  • Finishing all the books I started
  • Making doctor appointments that I've been putting off for months for no good reason
  • Doing the dishes in a more timely manner
  • Putting laundry away in a more timely manner
  • Going through all this damn paper work that I have lying around that I need to sort through
  • Pay off at least one of my credit cards (I'm trying to make attainable goals here)
  • Start Jack's social media promotion. 
  • Figure out what we are doing for our honeymoon in October.
  • Figure out what we are doing for our vacation in August
  • Get inbox down to 0 most days
  • Write the reviews I have lined up
  • Mail out books to writers quicker

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Time Keeps on Ticking

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about writing and not actually doing it. I keep saying "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow" and then get distracted by wondering what I don't own a copy of that Scottish play. Then I start thinking about Hamlet and how I only own two copies (The Doctor and Captain Picard one and The Ethan Hawke one) of the movie version and how I should really change that. Then is devolves into OMG DOCTOR WHO IS STARTING IN AUGUST.

Then vacation planning. Which we haven't done yet, but we took the time off. And then money and then school and then it's back to writing again. Which then creates this anxiety that I can't deal with so I have a glass or two of wine then fall asleep.

All to do the same the next day.

It's a shame really. Because I used to write all the time. Everything. I didn't care if it sucked or if it was profound. I just wrote. And I had an audience even. (Go go livejournal go!) And here, I don't know if I do. I know a few of you read it. And then Croatian spam bots. But they haven't tried to comment. It would at least make things a bit more interesting.

I feel better after I write too. Getting that shit out of my head so I can start thinking about other things (and consequentially worrying about other things) But hey, at least it's a different thing right?

I've deemed this summer "The Summer of Tying up Loose Ends." That means confronting things head on and actually doing what I said and promised myself that I would do. Writing here is one of them.

Hold me accountable guys. I need the pressure.

Thursday, June 5, 2014

That's Not My Name

I'm having an identity crisis.

I'm changing my last name.
Or I'm not changing my last name.

I said I was going to take Jack's name if only because I really like the sound of it.

But then a friend pointed out that I'm the only "Kelly Spoer" in the world.

Yup. Google my name and you only get me.
Google "Kelly O'Dowd" and you get hundreds.

But I come to an impasse: I've been using "Kelly O'Dowd" as my writing name. Ya know, the name I'm actually attaching to my Book editing gig. (What? I didn't write about that? oh. hmmm. ok)

I asked Twitter. I asked Facebook. Everyone gave their reasons for either changing or not. Or creating a new one. Or if both spouses changed their name or only one.

And it's interesting. A lot of women said that they didn't even think about NOT changing their name. It was just a part of the marriage process.

I can respect that.

But for me, names are so much more.
Names are powerful.
Names are you.
You are your name.

I came across this Ursula K. Le Guin piece in college. Senior year. Postmodern Literature. It was in our textbook. I don't even remember if it was assigned reading or not. I just remember being moved by it.

She Unnames Them

Unnaming is not uncreating.
Although it feels like that.
It's wiping the slate clean.

But it comes to mind now (and whenever I think about how names bind us to things) that I'm attached to my own name. It's my identity. Will I still be the same Kelly if I changed my name? Or will I somehow destroy my individuality because I'm taking another's?

On the surface, people will say (and have said) that it's a silly notion. Of *course* you're the same person. You're the same person with or without your name. But something about that doesn't feel right to me. This bundle of experiences can only be expressed with "Kelly Spoer."

And I know that "Kelly O'Dowd" will have her own bundle of experiences, but....

It's not the same.

I still haven't come to a conclusion on what I'm going to do.
Because keeping my last name seems wrong too. That I'm *too* distinct from my husband. That the only thing we have together is our address and our joint savings account.

So I ask. (not that I think anyone really reads this besides myself and the people who have already read my tweet or facebook post)

Why change your name?

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

2014 is mine, bitch. (but I can share)

This is not to say that 2013 wasn't good for me. I did get married. I did gain a lot of new friends. Gained a new copy editing gig.  But, there's a feeling like I didn't learn enough. That I didn't untap my full potential. 2013 was full of ideas without actually completing the vast majority of them. I got sick a lot. I felt off somehow. Both mentally and physically. Not to mention in this past month alone I have been breaking out like a 16 year old; root canal in one tooth and a brand spanking new broken one; and needless drama that isn't even drama but friends lost all the same.

So for the past couple days I've been convincing myself that 2014 is mine, bitch. Because it is.

I don't have these grand plans about traveling the world or over coming my need at the present time for my bipolar meds. I am not making resolutions that I will beat myself up over in a few weeks because I didn't write every day like I wanted to before the new year. I won't tell myself I NEED to loose these last ten pounds because then I will be happier and my life can start. I am not telling myself to create a to-do list every day to just check off so my life is just a bunch of bullet points that I overwhelm myself with and become anxious that I didn't do the laundry, wash the floors, bake, AND read the 5 books I'm in the middle of.

No. Fuck. That. Shit.

In one of the facebook groups I belong to, a woman mentioned an article that talks about picking a word at the beginning of the year that will be your over all theme. After reading it, instantaneously a word popped in my head:


2014 will be my time to heal. To not be afraid of calling the doctor. To making therapist appointments to talk out all the issues I keep in my head. To dig deep to the places that I should have gone in 2013 but were too scared to. To heal relationship with people that I should have done years ago. To cut out all the toxic waste that sneaks into my life. To heal my desires of external validation.

Just to heal.

Now, I'm not under the impression that I will become magically better by the end of the year. I know this is an on-going process, but hey, I gotta start somewhere.

So here's to 2014. Here's to my "healing" year.

What's yours?