Questions from Inside the Actors Studio.

Have you ever seen Inside the Actors Studio?
At the end of every interview, there is a series of questions asked.
It's 10 questions based upon the Proust Questionnaire, which had more than 10 questions. I may answer all of those questions later.
But for now, I'll settle with the basic 10 questions.

1. What is your favorite word?
1. Liquor. But not for the reasons you may think. Just for how it sounds. It sounds beautiful.
2. What is your least favorite word?
1. Creamer. 
3. What turns you on?
1. Intelligence, a sense of humor, beards. 
4. What turns you off?
1. Cruelty. 
5. What sound or noise do you love?
1. The laughter of a baby or child.
6. What sound or noise do you hate?
1. An alarm clock.
7. What is your favorite curse word?
1. Goddamitsomuch!
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? 
1. Executive assistant, midwife or mortician. 
9. What profession would you not like to do?
1. Slaughter house.
10. If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates?
1. Ha! Told you I was real, bitch! Anyway, get the fuck in here. 

Love you.

Mean it. 

I could never love you more

It was late.
Both of us were in my bed.
My dog was asleep at out feet.
We were watching YouTube videos,
mostly John & Hank Green talking to each other.
I laughed at some joke
and I looked at you.
You were asleep,
but I could feel your heartbeat
in our clenched hands,
gripping so hard,
like our lives depended on it.
I knew then,
I could never love you more.

Love you.
Mean it.

When this Kelly was me.

"We all change when you think about it. We're all different people all through our lives. And that's okay. That's good. You've got to keep moving. So long as you remember all the people you used to be."

—The Doctor

"The Time of the Doctor"

Doctor Who

The last time I posted anything was two days before I was given permission by my landlord to get a dog. That very day, I went down to the Cache Humane Society and adopted Honey, a heeler/corgi mix (Possibly. I'm not entirely sure and neither were they.) She's currently asleep on (literally on) my feet. She's one of the greatest things to ever happen to me and I love her so much, it's hard to describe.

I think the above quote is true. I think about all the different times in my life and how they are linked to different Kellys. The Kelly I was in Cedar City is not the same as the Kelly in Provo pre-college, just as the Provo Kelly pre-college is not the same as the Provo Kelly post-college. 

The other weekend, I found myself in Provo for my mom's birthday. On that Saturday, I went out for a drink with a dear friend. We migrated to a party where I felt so uncomfortable and out of place. It was no one's fault. I just didn't know anybody and I can be quite shy, despite all outward appearances. 

This made me reflect on that above quote. I was a Provo girl but from a different "When," if you will. My Provo had "moved on," as Stephen King would put it. And my Provo is not the same as the Provo that is now. (I hope this is making sense. If not, read "The Gunslinger" by Stephen King)

All of the different Kellys in my life are tied to places that I've lived and significant shifts in my life. I can feel another shift coming on. I have no reason to feel this way. Maybe I just have a sense that it is once again time for me to move on. 

But if it really is time for this Kelly to end and another Kelly to begin, I will not forget one bit of the person that I am. I will not forget one line, the persons I have loved, both intimately and from afar or the triumphs or sorrows. The Logan Kelly is entirely unique. And I will never forget when this Kelly was me. 

Love you.

Mean It. 

The way I was wired

Sometimes I have these moments during the day when I have to stop. It's not cause I'm stressed out or have too much to do but rather I can feel my depression tightening its grip on me.
And I feel I'm never going to be good enough for anything or anyone. It's stupid and futile to keep fighting the inevitable depression that is constant in my life.
And I have to stop.
I have to stop whatever it is I'm doing and remind myself in a very real and literal way that I matter. I am good and I'm doing just fine. And everything is going to be okay.
I wish I didn't have to take the time to stop and remind myself that I have worth, that it'd just be inherent and obvious to me all the time.
But that's not how my brain was wired.
I was born with a defective brain in the sense that I have to make the conscious decision to push against what my brain is wired to do.
Because of the way my DNA decided to line up, my brain's default mode is depressed. I mean this in a very real way. I am always depressed. I have to push myself, force myself out of it and fight against my very nature in order to feel happy. It doesn't always work. And some days are harder than others.
A few weeks ago, I was really happy. I was happy every single day of the week. I didn't feel depressed and I went to bed without any despair. I could focus on my work without having to stop and push down the feeling of hopelessness that is always kept at bay. I felt joy in my interactions with others and didn't feel like it's all pointless. I felt like real connection was possible. That's a very odd thing to happen for me. It was an abnormal week for me.
I wish it could always be like that. I have so many things to be happy about and I know I should be happy. But, like I said, it's just not how it works for me. And so I have to constantly fight to get happiness in my life.
I don't know why I'm telling you all this.

Love you.
Mean it.

Year one at the Herald Journal

Yesterday was my one year anniversary working for the Herald Journal.
Today, the Salt Lake Tribune laid off about 20 percent of its staff.
There's a poignant juxtaposition for you, if I ever heard of one.

My year working as a reporter has been interesting. I've written hundreds of articles, met dozens upon dozens of people, had my fair share of people telling me I'm the worst, more than a few thank you cards and many other experiences that come with the job. Or rather, just sort of happen with this kind of job.

My heart aches for those at the Tribune who were laid off. People talk about how journalism is a dying field, that it's a waste of time and effort to go into journalism. I don't agree with that but I see the argument being made. People will always want to know what's going on. The rough part is people are unwilling to pay someone to write about what's going on.

Many people complain about the paywall up on the Herald Journal's website. I think their complaints are bollocks. We're professionals and as such, we won't do our work for free. Period. People don't seem to realize that and they'd be insulted if we asked them to do their job for free.

Writing is the one thing I know I'm really good at. And finding a way to make money out of that is just awesome. And no matter how frustrated or bored I may feel at my job, I constantly feel lucky that this is my job. I get paid to do what I love and what I know I'm good at. I'm the luckiest girl in the world.

Love you.
Mean it.

You never forget your first

You never forget your first.

Someone gives you a suggestion or a cover catches your eye.

You ask people about their first comic, they get a kind of stupid/nostalgic grin on their face. They recall what it was and how they got it and how it made them feel and little details they hadn't thought about in ages.

My first comic was Batman: The Long Halloween. I was 20 or 21. I was working for an English professor at SUU named Joe. He loved comics and taught classes on them. He recommended TLH to me.

I drove all the way from Cedar City to St. George because I didn't want to wait for it to be mailed to me.

As cliche as it sounds, reading TLH was a turning point in my life. It's what got me to read comics. I kept reading Batman trades that I picked up at random book stores. I moved on to Sandman and Hellboy.

Now five years later, a corner of my apartment has stacks of comics, both trades and weeklies. Comics are a big part of my life and it all started with Joe's recommendation to read TLH.

A few weeks ago, I was on vacation with the family. I was sitting there, reading a Deadpool collection, when my baby sister Cindy, age 19, came up to me and asked me about comics. After a brief conversation, she asked me how she could start reading them. I was so proud, my big sister heart nearly burst.

Cindy will be leaving for Rexburg for her second year of college. I'll be sending her a care package of comics to start her off with.

It will include The Long Halloween because, like I said, you never forget your first.

Love you.
Mean it.

Good luck

She pulled something small and silver out of her pocket and pressed it into his hand, a four-leaf clover that used to be a charm.
"Maybe it'll like you more," she said. "Never did me any good."
And she smiled that sad smile that just broke your heart.