Monthly Archives: April 2014

I Am Not A “Woo!” Girl

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I have always wanted to jump out of a plane. 

Bungee jumping terrifies me. The ocean terrifies me. Snakes…I won’t even go there. But jumping out of a plane at 10,000 ft always sounded like fun to me. 

So in July of 2009 I did just that. I jumped out of a plane. I’m sorry, I went skydiving, for some reason skydiving sounds less suicidal than saying I jumped out of a plane. 

My aunt Mary Kay was visiting and she mentioned to my dad that she had always wanted to go skydiving, and couldn’t think of a better place to see from a birds-eye view than the Flathead Valley. I would agree, but I think New Zealand would be pretty awesome. That Saturday morning, my brothers, my dad, my aunt, and I loaded into vehicles and headed out to Lost Prairie to go skydiving. 

I remember the morning vividly, by 8:30am it was already well on its way to being a very hot day, and we had nothing but clear blue skies for miles and miles. The drive to Lost Prairie is a beautiful one filled with forests, hills, hidden valleys and fields that are tucked away only to be seen by those who look for them. My brother Mark and I bumped along in our family’s ’87 Nissan truck looking at the sky and speaking very little. Neither of us had ever done this before, whereas my dad and Chris both had, and we were nervous.  

Lost Prairie is about a 45 minute drive from our home in Kalispell and the closer we got to our destination, the more nervous and nauseous I got. I kept thinking about how I was supposed to speak at John Paul II Parish that evening to help raise funds for my upcoming year with Reach. Would I live to be there? I actively tried to not think about the fact that I could die. That would get me no where. So I worried away the time by looking at the scenery, taking in every thing I saw, I didn’t want to take anything for granted. You know, just in case I didn’t see any of it again. I stared at my brother’s face, his square-jaw and fresh shave, his hazel-green eyes and his nose. His nose that looks just like mine. We all have the same nose. Don’t worry I wasn’t driving. I know you were concerned. I also know that if my brother actually reads this he will be mortified to know that I put this out there for the world. I also know that my mom may tear up. Sorry mom. 

By the time we pulled up to the Osprey Parachute Club. My nerves were pretty frayed. We signed the waivers, watched the video and paid the man. Then we decided our jump order. Mark and I first, then Mary Kay, then dad and Chris. We put on our jumpsuits (seriously), met our trained jump partners (that’s a nice name for the person you would be harnessed to for the next hour) and we loaded into the plane. Once we got in the plane and it took off, the nerves eased up, I mean we’d already paid and were off the ground. I’ll spare you the awkward details of having to sit on a stranger’s lap for a 45min plane ride, with your older brother sitting across from you, but this little description should jump-start your imagination. As we circled higher and higher I became very calm. By the time we were opening the door of the plane and I was standing on the wheel outside, I had accepted the fact that I could die, but if this view was the last thing I saw then that was totally fine by me. 

We jumped. Correction, we back flipped out of the plane. Which to be honest is a little disorienting. Then we were in free fall for 30 seconds. About 10 seconds after we jumped my brother and his partner jumped. And I could hear him yell, “Yeah! Ahahahahaha! Woooooo!” 

I am not a woo girl. It’s not a thing I do, even jumping out of planes, I don’t yell. Not on roller coasters or anything. I’d rather take it all in with a giant smile on my face than scream my appreciation. If you want to see me yell, you should have seen me at my brothers’ soccer games. 

30 seconds of free fall and then 15 minutes of a parachute aided float back to earth. I saw the entire valley I called home spread out before me, but in a way I’d never seen it before. Seeing something from 10,000 – 30,000 feet is so vastly different than seeing some from 5,000 feet while you gently drift back to earth. It was exhilarating, breathtaking, and awe-inspiring. I would do it again in a heart beat. 

I recently finished applying to Boston College’s School of Theology and Ministry for a summer graduate studies program. When I say recently, I mean I legitimately pushed submit on the application about two days ago. The month or so it took me of staring at the same questions over and over and finally writing my personal statement was a long month of worry, nerves and nausea. What if I get in? I will be gone for 5 weeks for the next three summers. I will miss out on our justice outreach project, volunteering at camp, witnessing good friends getting married, but in the long run I will gain so much more. So why was I nervous? I am taking an unknown step, granted it’s one that I wanted to take, one that I am excited for, but it is a risk nonetheless. I am stepping out of my comfort zone, hoping that soon I will be standing on the wheel of the airplane, staring at the new endless opportunities ahead of me. The minute I hit “Submit” the nerves and worry went away. It’s out of my hands. 

I am in my 30 second free fall, who knows if the chute will open? I guess I’ll find out in 29, 28, 27…

Sympathy for the Devil

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Please allow me to introduce myself. I realize in terms of blogging that I have left out the necessary introductory post, where I tell all of you about myself and why I have decided to start blogging. Now that I have a somewhat captive audience I figured I would throw it out there.

Here’s the deal, if you’ve read my previous posts (all or some) you hopefully have been getting a pretty good idea of who I am. If you’ve been reading them and are still in the dark, well then read this, then go back and re-read all the other posts and maybe it will begin to make more sense to you. 

So I started this adventure called “my life” back in 1987 with a lot of help from my parents and some support, but more pokes and prods, from my older brother Mark. Almost three years into this new life, Chris came along and RUINED EVERYTHING! I am just kidding, but that was my reaction to basically anything he did post infancy until probably mid-high school. I love my family, seriously, they are the funniest people on earth. You should see our group iMessages. They are also the most supportive and loving people ever, despite the fisticuffs we’ve been known to engage in. Don’t worry it’s been at least a year since the last fisticuff. (I really like using the word fisticuff, I now need to use it on a regular basis.)

I am a fiercely loyal friend. I will engage in fisticuffs (see I told you I liked the word fisticuffs) and bar brawls for my friends. For real. I overuse the term “best friend” because I consider A LOT of people to be my best friends. Deal with it. My friends are just another branch on the Kelly family tree. Even if we don’t talk anymore, there’s still a branch for you, it’s why I have a hard time deleting people from Facebook.  

There are a few friends that I refer to as my brothers or sisters. These people have seen me cry, and I don’t mean just silent tears streaming down my face. I mean full on ugly cry, where I have sought them out to be my rock in the turbulent times of my life. These people are right up there with my brothers and parents, though most of the time they don’t mock me as much. 

It is because of a few of these sister/brother friends that I started writing down my stories and thoughts and put them on the inter webs. They encouraged/bullied me into pursuing my incessant need to share my thoughts and stories. It was 75% encouragement and 5% bullying, and the other 20% came from my bedroom walls and car who were tired of having to listen to me ramble on.

So here it is. I am now blogging. And more so I am now publicly posting the blog on social media. Baby steps. I am a rambler, and I get off on tangents super easily. You should be a fly on the wall when I am writing these things down, one time is all it takes. Also just be happy that the finished products are under a 1000 words, because before I re-read and edit them they only make sense to me…and trust me, no one wants to read my stream of consciousness, I don’t even want to read it. 

So thanks for joining me in this new venture I hope you enjoy the ride. 

If you’re my friend you now know that I would hit someone with a pool cue for you. And now my brothers, parents, and the rest of the world knows that I would straight up punch a person out for them. I am sure my parents would be so proud. 

Apologies to my brothers, Mark and Chris, for posting things about you to the internet without your consent or permission. And to my parents, for not always accurately portraying you. The perspective of a child is vastly different from that of semi-grown up Kelly.

To my friends who’ve seen me ugly cry…yeah…um…let’s just not talk about it.

For those of you who understand the title, congrats, I accept you.

If you haven’t figured out the significance to the title of this post and how it relates, Google it, then let me know what you find out. Enjoy the rabbit hole.

Sorry Not Sorry

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First, let me just start off apologizing for this title. I truly hate this phrase, it started out as just a working title, and then I legitimately couldn’t think of anything better. The only redeeming quality there is to this is that I didn’t hashtag it. Though just using the word hashtag, feels like I just cheapened the moment. My deepest apologies for being so modernly cliche.

I joined Twitter back in the dark ages of 2008…which by the way is a fairly big accomplishment considering Twitter was really just starting to take off at that time in larger metropolitan areas like NYC. Upon signing up I had to pick my Twitter name, a profile picture, and write something in the “about me” section. All of that was relatively easy, my picture is one of my all time favorites…me riding the wooden escalator in the NYC Macy’s in homage to Elf, my username, is basically a nickname from high school with my favorite number attached, and my bio was short to the point, and I thought represented my existential self perfectly. 

“Live, Laugh, Love.”

In other words, my bio, was stupid, cutesy, cliche, and safe.

When I was a kid in elementary school I had no problem liking what I liked and telling everyone in the whole world about it. Heck, I got “married” while on a family camping trip when I was four, and my groom and I skipped around holding hands telling the whole wide world that we were getting married.

Don’t worry, pretty sure it wasn’t legal, unless there is some weird loophole in Montana State Law that says marriages between 4 year old are only made legal if the wedding was witnessed by both families, was presided over by an elder sibling, and a Berenstein Bears book was used in place of a Bible…stranger things have happened.

I was labeled the “weird” girl in 4th grade (Weird by the way was the outcast label of the time…so much has changed) and I was proud of it! I liked listening to the Beatles, and watching old black and white movies with Jimmy Stewart and Cary Grant, I loved watching Star Trek Next Gen, and I lived for the Batman animated cartoon everyday after school and X-Men the animated series every Saturday morning. I also liked watching the Power Rangers…but that wasn’t cool so I blamed my watching it on my younger brother. 

It wasn’t until I was in college that I realized the proper terminology for what I was. NERD. I was and am a huge nerd. However, for some reason, one that I am still trying to figure out, I buried the nerd flag. I was still nerdy about a lot of things, but I wasn’t being truthful about myself and who I was. 

I now strive to be myself all the time, I love the things that I love, and I shouldn’t be ashamed of those things. I know some people will laugh when they find out that I am a proud Kickstarted backer of the Veronica Mars Movie,and others will just pretend they didn’t read that I have recently become addicted to the MTV show Teen Wolf because it’s freaky and amazing and certain character arcs are all the reason you need to watch a teen soap about supernatural beings living in a fictions town in California.

Are you beginning to get my point?

At the end of it all I don’t want to have any regrets, I don’t want to be ashamed of who I was created to be. Which as my new Twitter bio states:

“Pop Culture Nerd, Comic Book Lover, Baseball Fanatic, Middle Child, Youth Minister. ”

In my last post I talked about not being afraid, and this follows right in that same vein. At the end of the day I am not afraid to be me. 

I am unapologetically, 100%, authentically, genuinely, me. And I am not sorry for that. (I also think that somewhere in the space time vortex 10 year old Kelly is cheering and punching the air for me now)

Speaking of Nerdiness…

This is a thing if you like nerds, comics, movies, celebrities, pop culture, ect. that you should check out.

www.iwantmynerdhq.com

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Landshark

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Growing up I had an overwhelmingly vivid and overactive imagination, the only time that this became a problem was when I was going to bed…or to a lake…or to the ocean. 

We’ll get to the lakes and ocean later, but when it came to bed time, there were a few bedtime rituals that had to be adhered to. 

1.) Closet doors completely shut…no cracks allowed.

2.) Everything cleared out from under my bed and a 5 foot radius around my bed.

3.) Night prayers…I couldn’t go to sleep until my mom or dad had come in to hear my night prayers. 

The reason for all of these rules, was fairly simple. Monsters. I don’t really know what they were supposed to look like, but I knew that they were up to no good, and they all but relished the thought of my paralyzing fear. I’m not entirely sure where they were coming from, but I also knew that they could get in through the closet, but they couldn’t enter the sanctity of my room if the doors were shut, they just had to stay in the closet all night. (Which now that I think about it, isn’t such a bad deal…I had all sorts of awesome in my closet, those monsters probably had a blast spending every night playing with my Disney Farm, and be-headed Barbies).  

The bed thing was different…I just didn’t like the idea of having anything around my bed, that I could step on in the middle of the night…and when I did wake up in the middle of the night I would stand on the end of my bed and then jump as far away from the bed as possible, you know just in case one of those closet monsters was sneakier than I knew. Finally the prayers were just a comfort to know that my parents were there for me, and would be all night, and so would Jesus. 

Now when it comes to bodies of water I was afraid of all sorts of things, but especially sharks. I mean seriously have you seen some of the marine life that exists? Terrifying. It didn’t help that my brothers thought it was funny to pull me under the water when we were swimming, or to yell “Shark!” just as I was jumping in. Fear of sharks is fairly rational, they’re scary. What’s irrational about this was I was afraid of sharks in all bodies of water…yes even swimming pools. 

My brother use to tell me that when he would yell, “shark!” I would immediately try to get out of the water, and I hadn’t even touched it yet, apparently it was the most cartoonish I’ve ever looked. 

Thankfully I’ve outgrown the closet thing, and the bed thing (under the bed is important storage space, especially in a college dorm room). I still have a fear of large bodies of water, I still freak out when someone swims up underneath me and pulls me under, which some of my former summer camp co-workers can attest to first hand. (I am not sorry for the bruised faces and bloody noses).

Talking with my roommate about these childhood fears, I had a realization, how did I ever become afraid of monsters in the closet? It’s not like my parents put me to bed as a child and told me to not open the closet or the monsters would suck me back into their circle of hell. So how is it that seemingly all children have some innate fear of the dark, and the monsters that lurk in the shadows?  Is it human nature to fear darkness and the things that can hide there? Is this fear something that is ingrained into our DNA? Can we escape it?

We seem to spend a lot of time fearing things that are inevitable, such as change, we cannot stop change from happening. Sorry team. It’s not possible. But the things we fear as children, like monsters and the dark, we tend to outgrow. Or maybe a better way to say it, is that our fears evolve to suit our maturity. 

Fear is a natural part of life. We should have a healthy fear of certain things. One of the gifts of the Holy Spirit is Fear of the Lord, but not so much in a way that we may fear a spider, or for drastic measure, a serial killer, but more so to be in awe of God’s power. Because the things He can do, should illicit a reaction that is nothing short of jaw-dropping-loss-of-speech awe, and naturally that should also scare us a bit, simply because we cannot begin to wrap our heads around all of His power and mystery. And that is a beautiful thing.

Scripture is filled with different verses about darkness, and Christ being the light of the world (for example check our John 9:5), and most prominently the words “Do not be afraid” appear 365 times in the Bible (that’s basically one for every day of the year-I say basically because we all know that a year is technically 365.25 days) We’re not supposed to fear the monsters that lurk in our closets or in the shadows, because we know that Christ conquers all, but just because we’re not supposed to be afraid, doesn’t mean we aren’t and shouldn’t be wary of what is out there. We know the devil exists, we know he plays on our fears, we know that there is some force of evil in this world that seeks our destruction. AND we as Christians know that evil is fighting a battle that has already been lost. (Hello crucifixion and resurrection)

You might be reading this and thinking, we don’t KNOW any of those things you just stated about evil, but I would ask you to go to the nearest website that shows movie trailers and take a look at the most recent and popular trailers. I bet you see at least 5 trailers for horror movies that deal with the supernatural, and there are at least two of those that talk about some sort of demonic possession. We as a culture are fixated on evil, but that is a conversation for another time. But I do believe society as a whole embraces the idea of evil being present in our world in some way or other. 

As long as we face our fears, and do not let them control us, and we always remember the words of Christ. Our fears cannot conquer us, we will conquer them. 365 days a year, wake up and say it in the mirror and mean it, “Do not be afraid.”

But seriously this is a real thing…Who wouldn’t be afraid of this?

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This is not an April Fools joke…read about it here 

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2007/01/070124-sharks-photo.html