I can't imagine doing anything else.

One thing I love about my job is the variety. When you're a journalist, you never really know what the day is going to bring you. Sure, you may have interviews lined up but sometimes those interviews can be really boring or interesting or life changing or a million other things. Then there's always a chance of breaking news where something happens right then and you have to drop everything to cover it. I absolutely love it.

I've always been slightly weirded out by how perfect being in journalism suits me and my personality, considering I mostly fell into this profession by accident. And the variety is really great for me. One of my flaws is I get bored really easily and with a job that is really repetitive and predictable, I get bored and frustrated. I've never felt that way when I'm working in a newsroom. There are other reasons why I love doing what I do but today I was reminded why variety plays such a huge part in my happiness as a reporter.

Today I had two interviews lined up. The first was with this husband and wife. The husband is dying of cancer. He doesn't know when he's going to die but at this point, the cancer has gotten so bad it's not a matter of if but when. It was one of the hardest interviews I've ever had to do, from an emotional stand point. Here I was, talking to this man who is dying. Really, seriously dying. He has five kids, the youngest being four years old. She was playing in the other room and would dart out occasionally. He told me that while he no longer fears death and is okay with dying, he's so worried about who is going to take care of his "baby." He gestured to the little girl and it took everything I had not to cry. I was trying to be professional about the situation and it was incredibly hard for me. After the interview was over, I got in my car and immediately called my dad. I told him about the interview and burst into tears. I just had to let loose all that emotion that I had kept in check. My dad was sympathetic and listen to me blubber about this man and his situation. After talking to my dad, I got home, made and PB&J and watched the beginning of Toy Story 3 during my lunch break. I had to pull myself together since I had to return to the newsroom and listen to the interview on my recorder and write an article.

A few hours later, I was at the Cache Valley Fairgrounds interviewing another man for our "Making a Living" segment. It features people in the community with interesting jobs. I was interviewing a man who is a horse trainer and farrier. He has a handlebar mustache that goes a good inch and a half past his chin. He was wearing cowboy boots, cowboy hat, Levi jeans and a plaid button down shirt. I asked him how he was and he responded that he was "finer than frogs." The guy was hilarious. He told me about what he does for a living, which is training both horses and kids for rodeos and horse shows (4-H is big in this county) and he always had a joke or a anecdote to go along with everything. He had me rolling. While I was interviewing him, he was training a kid to rope cattle. There were two calves that the boy on the horse would practice chasing down on his horse and lassoing. I felt like such a city girl around the man, the boy and the boy's father. I never grew up around anything like this so it's all very strange to me. But it was obvious that the man knew what he was talking about and was very good at what he did. Not only that, but it was obvious that the man loved his job, absolutely loved what he did.

After the interview was over, I couldn't help but reflect at what my day in my career had brought me. Earlier, I had a brief mini emotional break down from interviewing a man with maybe a year or less to live. Then I was laughing my ass off at the jokes and stories of a real cowboy. The comparison made me laugh. Not every day is like this when you're a reporter. We have our boring days too. But today kind of epitomizes just how random a journalist's life can be. And I can't imagine doing anything else.

Love you.
Mean it.

Life in Logan so far.

Now that I've lived in Logan for one week exactly, I think it's about time I catch the interwebs up with my oh so important life here.

I have a wonderful little one-bedroom apartment that is more spacious than you'd think. It has a washer/dryer and a dish washer and tons of storage. It's clean, modern and cute. As I said, it's one bedroom, one bath and has a rather big living room that feels a bit empty considering the only furniture in it is my desk on one wall and my two bookcases on the adjacent wall.  I finally have a bed (so nice) and my mom came up the other day and bought me a kitchen table and chairs. This was really appreciated considering I had been eating all my meals on the floor like some kind of hobo. The thing I'm really missing now is a couch. If anyone reading this right now currently owns the couch, thank whatever maker you may or may not believe in that you do. I miss couches.

Anyway, my job is just awesome. I've already written about five articles, all of which have been published in the newspaper. I really love my coworkers. They've all been super helpful and friendly. There's far less swearing than I'm used to in newsrooms (see: City Weekly & the UVU Review) but I'm sure I'll adjust just fine. My beat is the K-12 education reporter which gives me plenty of stuff to do. Today I was with the Logan School District Board of Education as they visited Mount Logan Middle School. Seeing all those pre-teen/teens running around made me so grateful that I had the good sense to get out of being a teacher when I did. What was I thinking???

The only real down side to my moving here is I find myself feeling terribly lonely. I don't really know anyone. Thank goodness my old friend Maggie was smart enough to let me know that she lives here and I'm hoping to have dinner with her soon. My aunt Dezi and uncle Scott also live nearby and I know that they'll have me over any time I want. But other than that, I find myself alone at night not really sure what to do with myself. I know I want to somehow go out and meet people but I'm not entirely sure how to go about it. How do adults meet other adults in a non-creepy way? I keep telling myself it's only been a week and I can't be expected to have best buddies by now but it's slightly depressing to be all alone so much. I might just get a dog for company.

Love you.
Mean it.

Growing up is a weird thing

Well, this is it.

I'm currently sitting in my nearly bare bedroom with Randy beside me. My room is bare of nearly all my possessions minus my furniture. Everything else is packed up and in either my garage or in the downstairs living room. It's funny when you pack up everything you own. Two thoughts come into your head. The first is how did I ever acquire so much crap? The second is does all of this add up to my life? I hope the answer to the latter is a firm no. I don't even want to begin to answer the former.

I'm moving up to Logan on Monday. Well, I'm officially moving on Monday. I'm starting to move my stuff in on Sunday. And it looks like I'll be doing it all by myself. My folks are taking a mini vacation to Yellowstone so the plan is that I'll take up as much of my stuff as humanly possible and then my folks will bring up what's left and my furniture, including my bed. Until then, I will be sleeping on a sleeping pad–the same kind we use on camping trips.

I start work at my new job at the Herald Journal on Tuesday. It's an exciting time to be Kelly. I am now a professional reporter, though it is taking my brain a bit of time to wrap around that idea. I'll be working full-time, coming home to my beautiful apartment that I rent by myself, and doing adult type stuff like pay bills and cook dinner. I know it may seem silly for a 24-year-old girl to be dazed by the idea of being an adult but honestly, it's hard to feel like one when you live with your parents.

I feel as if my life has really finally begun. Or rather, that new part of my life that I've been wanting and waiting for desperately for so long has finally begun. I've wanted this so badly. It's a funny thing though. Now that I've started my career, I'm moving out, and finally getting on with my life, I'm feeling a bit daunted. There's this feeling of "now what?" I've wanted this for so long that it's starting to feel a bit weird not having it to look forward to. I guess now the only thing left is to do my job, do it well, settle into my new life, and enjoy it. Should be fun.

Growing up is a weird thing. When we were younger, we saw people who were 24 or whatever and considered them to be "grown up." We even call them "grown-ups." But now I find myself at that age and I certainly don't feel grow up. I feel like I've always felt, that I'm making this up as I go along. I guess when I was younger, I had the impression that grown-ups knew what they were doing, that they had a plan and knew what their life was. I don't feel any of those things. But I don't feel like I've done something wrong or that I'm the exception. Rather, I know that it was the younger me who got it wrong. I don't think any grown-up really knows what's going on or what they're doing with their life, at least, not until they're in they're middle-aged. I'm still fairly young and I think it's okay if I don't know what I'm doing or that I feel like I'm making it up as I'm going because, as the good Doctor once said, I'm doing it brilliantly.

Love you.
Mean it.

Is lazy a style?

As you may or may not know, I am not very good at being humble. I know when I am really good at something and I'm not going to hide that fact just because others may view me as being prideful. In my mind, it's not being prideful if it's true. For instance, I know I am a damn fine writer. I'm also very smart and clever and freaking hilarious and awesome. I'm not prideful. I'm just very self-aware.

However, self-awareness is a double edged sword. I know all of my good qualities and all the things I am really good at but I also am painfully aware of what I am really lousy at. For instance, I took a physics class once and it kicked my trash. The professor would put these multiple choice questions on the board and we'd have to use those little clicker things to select our answer. Not only would I pick the wrong answer but I'd pick the most wrong answer you could possible chose. I am no good at physics. Other things I am really bad at include: basketball, drawing, cooking, riding horses, spelling words out loud, cutting bread straight, and doing math in my head.

But lately I've become ever more aware of one other thing that I am really lousy at and that is fashion. I am really lousy at dressing myself, which is pretty weird considering I've been doing it for most of my life. The reason I've become more aware of how bad I am at this is through watching the show Project Runway. I love this show. I have ever since the first season (it's now on its tenth season. I'm rooting for Dimytri. His stuff is just gorgeous). But every week, I watch these designers make something just beautiful and fashion forward and awesome and then I look down at my own ensemble: red Converse, skinny jeans, and a black Batman t-shirt. My hair is in a single braid down my back with lots of flyaways, my nails are painted a vibrant blue but it chipped, and six of my ten fingers have rings on them.

I'm not even sure you can call why I wear a "style," per-say. I'm just kind of lazy when it comes to my clothing decisions. I wear jeans and a t-shirt nearly every day because it's easy and comfortable. I wear Converse cause sandals hurt my feet and they get cold really easy. My hair is usually curly and tied back cause curly is what my hair wants to do and tied back is out of my way. I'm not sure why I like paining my nails but I like painting them in bright, vibrant colors cause if I'm going to go to all that effort to paint them, people are going to notice them. The rings are my own little way of paying tribute to the memories of my life. So pretty much, if I had to describe my style, the best word is probably lazy.

I just don't like spending that much time worrying about what I wear or putting in a lot of time to look nice. It's just not a priority to me. I've got other stuff I could be doing like hanging out with friends or reading a book or playing with my dog. When I watch shows like Project Runway, part of me wishes I would put more effort into what I wear. And, granted, if I'm going out with the girls or to a party, I will put in a bit more effort and maybe wear a sundress or something. But after a suitable amount of time has passed from watching the show, I just slip back into my old routine. And I'm okay with it. I don't really dress up that often cause that's just not who I am. I'm a pretty laid back kind of girl and my style reflects that in a sense.

Love you.
Mean it.

Unexpected side effects

Remember a bit ago when I said I was trying to go off all my medications? Well, I am proud to announce that I have reduced my medication intake by 66%. And the medications I no longer take just so happen to be the most addictive ones so go me!

The only trouble right now is that those specific medications also happen to be stimulants. And by removing them from my body, I am exhausted all the time. It's pretty bad. On my days off, I'm sleeping in till 2 p.m. without waking up once. And even after that, I'm taking a nap by 5 p.m. It looks like my body is going to need some time adjusting to the lack of stimulants it has relied on for the past eight years.

My entire life, I've always remembered my dreams. And I seem to have them every time I sleep, no matter if it's during the night or just a quick little nap. I always dream and I always remember them. That being said, my dreams have become much more vidid that they have ever been before. It's kind of alarming. I don't necessarily care for it. I won't go into what I dream about (cause there are very few things more boring in this universe than having someone tell you what their dreams were about), but I will say that they seem to physically and mentally wear me out. I'll wake up from a particularly intense dream and I'll feel like I didn't sleep at all. Sometimes the dreams really upset me, mostly because of the subject matter but sometimes just from the oppressive nature of the dream.

I don't regret my decision to go off my medication, even if it is screwing up my body a bit. These are just unexpected side effects. Hopefully they'll go away soon.

Love you.
Mean it.

I don't know what the hell I'm doing

Well, it's official. My sister, Kathy, is engaged. She's marrying this tall, lanky kid from Idaho named Brian. They're getting married Nov. 16 and they couldn't be happier. She's all giggles and smiles. It'd be annoying if I weren't so happy for her. Her first engagement didn't work out too well but I'm pretty sure this one is going to stick. I really like my soon to be brother-in-law, much more so than the other one and I'm happy that Kathy is finally happy.

The only odd think about this whole situation is Kathy is about three years younger than me. It's kind of weird seeing my younger sister get married, especially considering that in the time Kathy broke off her one engagement, found another guy and then got engaged, I dated one guy for less than a month and have been on absolutely no other dates. I think it's time to admit something. When it comes to dating, I don't know what the hell I'm doing.

I've been dating since I was 14 years old. You'd think after 10 years I'd at least have an idea of how to attract a man, flirt, date, etc. But no. I really have no idea how to go about it at all. Whenever I think about my dating life, I get the sudden urge to bang my head against a wall. I feel like it was at one point much easier than it is now. My friends still tease me about how easy it was for me to get a guy back in the day.

This is a true story, told to me by one of my best friends. Once upon a time that was more like senior year of high school, I was coming off a year and a half relationship and I was back on the market. There was this boy I was interested in and he and my friends were over at my house. I was sitting next to the boy and we were listening to music on my iPod. I guess a song I liked came in and I inched closer to said boy and said something like "Oh my gosh! I love [Insert Band Name Here]" My friend then leaned into her twin (also my friend) and said, "And she swoops in for the kill." Back then, catching guys' hearts was a game to me and I was really good at it. These days, catching guys' hearts may still be a game but either the rules have changed or else I one day got really bad at it.

I'd like to think that there are a plethora of guys out there whose hearts I unwittingly hold in my hand but that's just silly daydreams better suited for a 13-year-old girl, not a mature 24-year-old woman. I'm coming slowly to the realization that I may be single my entire life. And while I am a feminist and I don't believe I need a man to feel fulfilled in my life, I do think it'd be nice to have someone there to spend the rest of my life with.

Of course, all this frustration and worry that I'm an old maid may be due to the fact that I live in Utah and by Utah's standards, 24 and single does qualify me for old maid status. Hell, a lot of my friends my age not only are married but have kids (there's a truly terrifying thought). It's hard not to feel like I'm missing something in my life when everyone around has something I don't–a person they care about to come home to. Just add it to the list of reasons why I need to move out of Utah.

Love you.
Mean it.

Paid to pray, sing, & be called names

Right now I'm working three jobs. Two of my jobs involve me writing words, which is pretty awesome considering that's what I love to do and what I want to do for the rest of my life. The other one is a bit rougher to deal with. I work for an organization (which shall remain unnamed. I don't want to get in trouble somehow) that offers in home care to adults with physical/mental/emotional/psychological problems. It's an interesting enough job though I really don't think we get paid enough for the shit we have to deal with and the dangers we put ourselves in.

Yes, you read that correctly. Dangers. Sometimes the clients can become really aggressive and violent for one reason or another and can try to attack you or throw things at you. Everyone has to go through a training program to prepare them for what may happen. I've experience very little of this so far.

The only real time I have to deal with this stuff is when I'm working with this one client. Because of confidentiality stuff, we'll call her "Stacy." Stacy is in her 50s but has the mental capacity of a 1 or 2 year old. She doesn't talk very well but can make herself understood well enough. Stacy can have these fits sometimes when she doesn't want to do something or something upsets her or for some unknown reason. She she has these fits, she yells, screams incoherently, bites herself, hits her head on walls, hits her wrists on walls, and tries to grab other people. The other day the other staff and I were showering Stacy. Stacy HATES to shower and it's a long and difficult process. Despite not having that big of a vocabulary, Stacy knows a lot of swear words and would call us a stream of profanities that I'm too ladylike to repeat here. I know she doesn't really mean it and if she does, she doesn't fully understand what is going on. I'm not offended by what she says and it doesn't bother me. It just is kind of bewildering to me that I get paid to be called these names.

One thing that can calm Stacy down is music and singing. When we got her in bed after showering, she was still in a really bad mood and would scream and bit herself. I sat down at the edge of the bed and rubbed her back. I started singing to her. I started off with the song "If I Had Words" from the movie Babe. 

It's a really pretty song. I learned to play it on the piano when I was younger and I never forgot the lyrics. It's a pretty short song so I started singing it again. After singing it twice, Stacy got wise and started freaking out again. So I scrambled to think of another song to sing. Nothing was coming. She was starting to get really irritated and aggressive so I just started singing and this is what came out:

Yes, I started singing the theme from Firefly. It was the only thing I could think of. But, hey. It did the trick.

Another client I work with is in her late 20s and has too many problems to list here. She's fully functional physically and can talk just fine. The other night when she was in bed, she asked me to come into her room. I sat on her bed and she held my hand. She wanted to say her evening prayer and asked me to say it. I immediately began to squirm. I don't believe in a god so I definitely don't believe in prayer. I didn't want to have to explain to her that if I said the prayer, it probably wouldn't work. It's like a prayer I would say would be instantly void. So I told her I didn't know how to pray, that I never learned, which is a lie but I didn't care at that point. She then began to pray as I awkwardly sat there holding her hand.

Honestly, I cannot wait to get a real journalism job so I can be paid to write words and not pray, sing, and be called names.

Love you.
Mean it.