Why Kellyfornia?
I live in Michigan. I have always lived in Michigan. My only trip to California was in 1988, when I was 16 years old. So why name my blog "Kellyfornia"? Well, would you really want to read a blog called "Kellygan"? I didn't think so.
I really want to call it "Bitchigan", but then my mother would boycott my blog. If Mom boycotts my blog, she won't tell any of my aunts, uncles, or cousins about it. She won't tell her friends, or Jenny at the bank, or Thelma at the grocery store. She certainly won't tell the ladies at church. My blog needs readers if I'm going to become the next Jen Lancaster. After all, I have a drawer full of spiral notebooks. If I wanted to talk about myself to myself, I would keep my thoughts confined to the red margins of those college-rule pages. No. This blog is all about talking about myself to an audience. It's all about instant gratification. I can see my musings published online. I can receive instant feedback from readers. I desperately need to be loved, people. And Kellyfornia is my way of asking for it.
Who is Kelly O'Toole?
That is the question, isn't it? I'm a divorced mother of a 9-year-old and a 9-month-old. I have a master's degree but no job. I live in my parents' basement. And I recently turned 40. Basically, I'm Every Woman and No Woman. So why in the heck should anyone be interested in my navel-gazing? Because I happen to have a very attractive navel, that's why. I have a really cute beauty mark two inches to the right of my already cute navel. My midriff really is something to see. But seriously, some dead white guy said, "The unexamined life is not worth living." Or something to that effect. Montaigne? Thoreau? Emerson? One of those, I'm pretty sure. But I'm too lazy to look it up right now.
A Facebook friend recently told me that I "come across as an angry woman who has issues". At first I cried for two days. Then I couldn't stop laughing. What should I come across as? A happy-go-lucky hermaphrodite? It's beyond obvious to observe that everyone has issues. And everyone gets angry now and then, except for those on morphine drips. I could expound upon the many political and social reforms that have ocurred in this country because citizens got angry and said, "We're not gonna take it anymore". (Pardon the Twisted Sister reference.) The US of A would not exist if the early colonists hadn't said, "Look here, King. You're entirely too bossy. We're taking our toys to play in the New World." Or I could complain how unfair it is that men who express their opinions without apology are called leaders, while women who express their opinions without apology are called ballbusters or bitches. . .or worse.
Instead, I'm going to take my friend's description of me and I'm going to run with it. I'm going to talk about my issues. I'm going to get angry. But mostly, I'm going to get funny (I hope). And I hope you'll be along for the ride.
So thanks, Facebook Friend--you know who you are--for calling me an angry woman who has issues and engaging the muse that has lain fast asleep in my brain for the last decade or two.
ko
