In Which I Am Thankful

Warning: this is another one of those awful end of the year blog posts. My apologies. There’s a new FAQ section up top that is potentially more entertaining than the following.

It’s 75 and sunny as I write this atop my roof, staring at mountains and the Los Angeles skyline. It is Thanksgiving weekend, but it feels like July. If I could say one thing about this year, I would say it feels like July. Time has stopped, the weather is hot, there is suntan lotion on my face: it must be July.

But the turkeys doth protest! It is November. The year is coming to a rapid close.

I am ashamed to note that I have been writing this blog for three years, three years worth of billable hours and insomniac ramblings. At the end of each year, I usually say something to sum up the year. "Well, this year sucked but then everything was okay."

An honest disclosure and then an "it's okay", just in case anyone thought I was ungrateful for my good fortune, or that I failed to realize it could all be so much worse.

I wrote that "everything was alright" even if I was unsure I believed it, because I was in denial, and denial is so very cozy.

Hi Denial! So nice to see you. Is that a drink in your hand?

I've been sick since I was ten months old. I actually don't know anything else. But until a few years ago, I had cried approximately three times about the isolating cycle of doctors, specialists, hospitals and extreme pain. I just didn't cry. It wasn't allowed. I didn't even cry to the shrink my parents sent me to at 16, when they discovered pot under my bed. (I still maintain the marijuana was not mine.) 

Instead of crying, or showing normal emotion, I was a secretive mess of anger and sadness. Three cheers for healthy coping habits!


Sicker than I've ever been, I spent much of the past 18 months bitter I could not relate to the easy, loping gait of my healthy friends and peers. I was jealous of what seemed to be an easy existence. I envied the way they walked quickly and without feeling, how they lifted their legs and moved without pain.

I believed that stoicism equaled strength; that crying constituted weakness; that by divulging the secret that illness devastates, I would not be the Kelly everyone knew. I would not be funny, happy-go-lucky, strong.

It sunk me, this anger and depression. It affected my work, my relationship, my friendships. And my Duane Reade, who got a boost in Xanax sales.

I sought to anesthetize. I drank a lot. I said and did stupid, mean things that I am still struggling to understand and apologize for. I nearly ruined friendships that took years to build. I hurt the person closest to me. I was brutal to myself and I see now that I was brutal to others. (This post should actually be titled: “This year, I’m thankful I was forced into therapy.”)

In August, I moved out of my apartment in New York and came home to recover from July's hospitalization. I went on a trip to Colorado, a trip with fellow cancer survivors that quite literally changed my life. A trip that opened me up to the possibility of living a full life with illness, without denying its existence. And that changed everything.
 
Living your life twice is no easy feat. But I guess that's what I am trying to do. To remove myself from the past me--the Kelly who dealt with this illness in a shitty way, the Kelly who used it as an excuse for bad behavior, the Kelly who hid. 

I am trying to live again so I am still myself, but a better version of me, someone who does not run headfirst toward self-destruction.

This year I found a good way to go down in flames and then I turned around and found out how to stay away. And I wouldn't have done that without you.

So as the year comes to a close, I have a lot to be thankful for. I’m thankful I live here in LA, a place I need to be. I’m grateful to Solo Survivors and Tracy Maxwell, who sent me on that trip down the Colorado River. I’m thankful for everyone who reads this blog and for the daily encouragement I get from you. The cards, emails, tweets, gift baskets--I am thankful for the love that sailed me through the sick this year. I’m also thankful for Friday Night Lights, just because of this:

Thank you to everyone who tried to be the change I desperately needed, who saw when I was flailing and calmed me. I hope to pay all this love forward.

Into the brightness we go.  

Couch to BENGAY: In Which I Plead for Help

I've been running* on and off since August, when I was beginning to recover from my last hospitalization.

I ran for awhile Monday and then I took Tuesday off because I had to work go eat Mexican food and drink margaritas. (They were only a dollar!)

But for the past two days, I haven't had the energy to continue with my routine.

I am aware that it is hard to get back into shape. And the non-denial part of my brain is aware that this may be harder for someone with my, um, colorful medical history.

HOWEVER, I'm extremely competitive and want to be as good or better than everyone else participating in this stupid 5K! Which I am admittedly only running because there's a pancake breakfast at the end.

I mean, I'm so competitive that I once threw a Monopoly board out my second-story window when I lost a game to my cousins. At age 8, I chucked a Ouija board at my sister's head when we failed to bring John Candy back from the dead. I'm basically like Sydney from this week's Parenthood.

In short, I DON'T HANDLE DEFEAT WELL.

And so when I lose a couple of days to, you know, LUPUS and swollen joints and possible kidney problems (more on that later), I get pissed. And whiny.

I need your help, fellow new runners. I need some inspiration. A video of a three-legged dog running a marathon, or a sweet running playlist. (My current one is all Paul Simon, which contributes to the tears streaming down my face, which I lie and say is sweat.)

So please, dear Internet. Gimme what ya got. Show me what runners are made of.

Thanks.

*My 'running' is really me talking/jogging while screaming WHY GOD WHY and SKINNINESS IS THE ONLY WAY TO WIN MOTHER'S LOVE! (JK Mom, love you.)

Things I Said While Watching Beauty and the Beast

1. This was totally my favorite movie as a child. I am sure Walt Disney wasn't a misogynist!
2. Aw, look. Misogyny.
3. Gaston: not bad. I'd hit that.
4. Maurice definitely had Alzheimer's, right? Aw.
5. Do NOT go in the wood, dumbass!
6. Belle had a one hell of a case of Stockholm Syndrome.
7. Wait! The Beast is only supposed to be 21 years old!?
8. THAT is four years younger than me...
9. AND MUCH TOO YOUNG TO MARRY!
10. Man, Belle’s hair is better than mine. Them some chestnut locks!
11. Aw, Chip. I totally had a crush on Chip, A CARTOON TEACUP, as a child...
12. Which explains my current crush on our blender, Bob.
13. Oh God. It’s midnight on a Saturday. The wine store is closed!
14. So Belle just falls in love with him even though he kept her captive. Yeah, that's some Patty Hearst shit right there.
15. This is not as romantic as I once thought--
16. OMG, I LOVE THIS SONG!
17. This is the most beautiful movie ever.
18. You know, aside from the Beast’s mullet, and misogyny, and that really scary tower scene...
19. Oh God. I'm going to die alone.

Four Weeks, One Day: a Non-Poem

Things have changed
so I suppose
I have changed them.
And maybe
I have changed too.
This year's theme might just be change.


The night gets cool here
and smells crisp,
like home.
I'm often without a coat,
because the days are so warm.
I was sunburned yesterday sitting outside,
writing at a cafe,
looking at celebrities.
Or their husbands.

There are a lot of beautiful people here,
but I do not resent the effort it takes to live here,
the way I did in New York.
And it does take effort!
Effort to truck across town,
to wait at a light for twenty minutes.
The traffic here is as bad as they say,
but the moments between moments
are savored.
Forced quiet
forced thought
forced optimism.

There have been bad days,
and last week I was so sick and delirious
I almost booked a flight home.
In the thick of the sick (ness),
I forget life on the outside.
Those days, it doesn't mean anything to me
to feel the burn of the sun marking your skin.
It is forgotten.

But I'm back outside now,
and breathing this different air.
This new air snaking through my body,
whistling and moving.
It feels like my body is
finally settling
into itself.
The house that creaks has history.

I am glad to be here.
Seeing,
hearing,
and feeling
in Los Angeles.

---
That being said, I miss the shit out of NY. Especially after watching this:


A Year in New York from Andrew Clancy on Vimeo.

Kelly California?

Exactly three weeks ago, I arrived at LAX with sixty pounds of overweight baggage and two unnecessary fedoras.

The past three weeks have brought about such change that I could not possibly reflect on it now. The best way to begin writing about an expanse of time that you don’t quite understand yet is to make a list. 

So for you, dear and loyal readers, I have drafted these two little lists as a way to pose the greatest question this blog has ever asked: have I gone California on you?

Ways In Which I Am Different In Los Angeles

1)    I use a toothbrush made from old yogurt containers, because I am trying to be a better person and that means caring for Mother Earth and shopping at Trader Joe’s, a responsible supermarket.

2)    I use toothpaste that tastes like utter shit just because it has no chemicals and that insane Crazy Sexy This Diet Is Going To Kill YOU chick advised us to do so. 2.0!

3)    I run sometimes. Not every day—in fact, I haven’t since Friday but that’s totally because I’m sick and not lazy—but I do run now. And by run, I mean jog while holding my boobs up. The stuff of sports legends.

4)    I signed up for a 5K. A 5K that promotes DARE and NO Drugs! and all this stuff and all I have to say is I’m glad the 5K doesn’t run a drug screen pre-run. (Kidding, everyone! I don't do drugs.)

5)    I’m driving. Sure, it’s Rachel’s car and I have yet to get my own car but I’m driving and it’s with a non-expired license and I went to the DMV all by myself.

6)    While at the DMV, I saw that Jake Gyllenhaal goes to the same DMV as me and I didn’t even screech or ask the cranky DMV lady to take a picture of me next to Jake….’s signed Prince of Persia poster.

Ways In Which I Am Exactly The Same In Los Angeles

1)    I’m working at home, which unfortunately ingrains in me the same exact habits as office bee Kelly 1.0. In case you were wondering what these habits look like, find a YouTube video of a woman spilling coffee down her shirt and watch it on loop.

2)    You know that toothpaste I told you guys about five seconds ago? Yeah, after using that non-toxic crap for three days, I made up an excuse about it not getting my teeth clean enough and threw that shit out. Kelly Two Point NO.

3)    My unhealthy obsession with Hershey’s milk chocolate bars did not magically disappear when I crossed the country. In fact, it’s only gotten worse. I bought a family pack of the bars yesterday that is clearly meant for some family to make s'mores with while they camp and don’t die alone. In other words, they are not meant for me.

4)    Despite my vow to become less sarcastic about life and run toward happiness, I am still as awful as ever. I joked that my running mixtape is my mother’s voice asking me if I’ve gained weight. I made fun of the fact that I often wear my too-tight gym shorts while I run to remind my body why we’re running. I even tweeted that my new CA license picture makes me resemble Rosie O’Donnell. I can’t escape the snark!

5)    I mentioned above about how I’m different because I choose to shop at an environmentally friendly supermarket, but I really went to that Trader Joe’s because I read on Twitter that Jake Gyllenhaal shops there. I WILL MEET HIM.

6)    I had to write out an inspirational quote and tape it over my TV today so I could get some work done/write this blog.

So--does Kelly 2.0 really live in Los Angeles, or is this just a slightly more likely to get skin cancer tanner version of Kelly 1.0?

Do tell.

In Which I Prepare For My First 5K

So even though I've been juicing cucumbers like the 2.0 I am and staring in the mirror every morning saying: "God and a man probably love you", I hadn't actually been running much.

Enter Emily Posts. You guys know Emily, right? She's on Tumblr and is so sweet and nice and has these cute dogs and then...


she proposed that we all run a 5K in a few weeks. A bunch of people joined (you disgust me, you fitness types!) and Emily even told me about a 5K I could join here in LA.

(UGH LA! I hate you, what with your fit people and delicious burgers and HILLS!)

But I signed up. Even as it crashed my computer, which I took to believe is a sign from Steve Gods Jobs that OBVIOUSLY I SHOULD NOT DO THIS.

I paid the fee and I've been "running" ever sine.

Here's a breakdown of me "running".

Minute 1: "Oh, cool. I can do this. Yo, I can totally do this. BITCHES CAN'T STOP ME!"

Minute 5: "Why is...why...this hurts."

Minute 10: "LUPUS DON'T OWN ME. YOU WIN, KELLY! You are a hero! OMG WHERE IS THE EMERGENCY STOP BUTTON?"

Minute 15: (The hallucinations begin) "George Clooney is at the end of my treadmill. I can see Lake Como! And his arms are open, waiting for me!"

Minute 19: "One minute until I'm George's!"

Minute 19 and a half: "I may have a thing for old guys. File this for therapy later."

Minute 21: "George, I'm here!"

And then I collapse on the treadmill. If there's other fitness types in the gym, I skip the collapse. I immediately leave and lay down in the elevator that takes me up to my apartment.

8 more weeks, guys. Eight more until I run my first 5K and cure cancer.

They are both equally improbable.

Wish me luck.

Things I Said During DRIVE

(For all of those who haven't seen DRIVE, I suggest you don't. Unless you like blood. And Ryan Gosling's arms.)

1. I heard this was bloody but I'm sure it's not--oh god...
2. Omg. No. No. NO.
3. I don’t get it!
4. Is it? What? Wait.
5. OMG IS THIS OVER YET?”
6. Look at Ryan Gosling’s arms.
7. I DON’T CARE IF YOU DON’T LIKE MEN. ANY ONE COULD APPRECIATE THEM!
8. AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!
9. I wish I was watching Never Say Never.
10. He’s about to die. Wait...
11. WHAT! No! JUST NO.
12. Thank God. It’s over.
13. IT’S NOT OVER? THAT’S NOT THE END?
14. This is so bloody! Are there any Junior Mints left?
15. OKAY, that’s the end.
16. I’m buying the soundtrack.
17. And marrying Ryan Gosling...'s arms.
18. Oh. Sorry Kristie.