There’s been so much writing, traveling, reading, and barking lately—more on that last one in a minute—that this website has been getting the “I’ll call you back” treatment.
It’s not that I haven’t been writing. Oh, have I been writing. Just apparently everywhere except here.
So, consider this your catch-up. My life has entered the chat, and it has several tabs open.
The Write Stuff
Last we left things, I was exploring a new path for my future career as a public speaker. And now I’m thrilled to announce that I’ll be speaking at the PeopleFirst Global Summit about making connections in today’s working world.
It’s virtual. I’ll take it. A public speaking opportunity that doesn’t require me to figure out what shoes go with my outfit? Excellent.
I also wrote an article for Reworked and have another queued up about AI. I’ve been blogging over at EX Impact Studio, and I spent most of the summer working on the first book in a series, focusing on recognition and tying it back to my favorite subject: connection.
All of this has been very thought-provoking. So much so that I started a journal.
Initially, it was a place to collect ideas while I scoured books on the subject. Y’all, I went to the library approximately twelve times in two months. A personal record. At some point, I expected them to assign me a locker.
Eventually, that notebook became a place for memories, career reflections, and thoughts about how I got here. I’ve had so many eureka moments about myself that some may need to go in the book.
Apparently, I went looking for research and accidentally found character development.
MY BRAIN HAS BEEN OUTSOURCED
Hello, my name is Kelly, and I use AI.
Remember when finding your way somewhere required a giant book of maps? You’d unfold something roughly the size of a fitted sheet and hope your destination wasn’t hiding in the crease.
Younger readers might remember printing MapQuest directions. Even younger readers: yes, we printed instructions on paper and took them into the car. Like pioneers, but with cupholders.
Now we punch an address into our phones and wonder how we ever got anywhere.
That’s what AI feels like to me right now.
Although, if I’m being honest, sometimes it feels more like:
Man, I was a shit writer before this!
I know. Dramatic. But having something help organize the traffic jam in my head has been a revelation.
And yes, I know the arguments against AI. This is my story, and I’m talking about how it’s helped me.
Sometimes it makes me sound smarter. Sometimes it helps me realize I already had a good idea; it was just buried under seventeen other thoughts and a reminder to switch the laundry.
Plus, I’m freakin’ tired. I’ve been on this planet four years shy of six decades. My brain is full. Some of the drawers stick. I don’t always have the time—or energy—to sit at a screen wrestling with a blank page. Sometimes I need to barf out everything in my head and let someone help put it in order.
That someone is Jeff.
Yes, I named my chatbot Jeff. If you’re going to spend this much time with someone, introductions seem appropriate.
Anyway, the blogs, books, speeches, and assorted thoughts continue. Jeff’s workload remains unreasonable.
Meanwhile, Offline
As an Employee Experience Manager, I spend an extraordinary amount of time planning fun things.
We’re currently in employee appreciation season, which means traveling to our different locations and hosting social outings. In the past ten days alone, I’ve been to Colorado and Michigan to get together with coworkers.
There’s another event in Arizona toward the end of the year. Perfect timing for this Chicago girl. Please direct me toward warmth and away from anything requiring an ice scraper.
Meanwhile, the personal travel calendar is also filling up. We’re heading to Universal Orlando for Halloween Horror Nights and Vegas for Metallica at the Sphere.
Would you like to know what’s causing me the most anxiety?
Shoes and sickness.
Apparently, my vacation personality is an elderly Victorian woman preparing for a difficult journey.
Thankfully, as of two weeks ago, I've handled the shoes. I found the last pair of On Clouds matching the ones I’ve practically lived in for two years. Shoe shopping is the worst. Once my feet approve something, I would appreciate the manufacturer continuing to make it until I die.
The sickness anxiety is another matter.
I love Universal. I love Halloween Horror Nights. I love Vegas and the Sphere. I do not want to experience any of them through a fever and a box of tissues.
Lord, if something must take me down, please consult my calendar.
So I’ve been stocking up on Emergen-C and saline like I’m opening a very specific convenience store.
Has preparing for every possible sniffle calmed me down?
Absolutely not.
For the past week, my internal dialogue has been:
Does my throat hurt?
Is my nose stuffy?
Is this the beginning of something, or did I simply wake up?
Look up “hypochondriac” in the thesaurus. There’s probably a picture of me checking my forehead.
Should I Change My Goodreads Goal?
There are about eighty days left in the year, which, in adult time, means next Thursday is New Year’s Eve.
I’ve read some darn good books this year, but I’m still eighteen short of my goal.
Do I lower it from forty to twenty-five and finish strong? Is that cheating, or is that a woman making an informed business decision?
Also, despite having a room containing hundreds of unread books, I have NOTHING to read.
Naturally.
Apparently, I collect books for the reader I imagine becoming, while the actual reader stands in front of the shelves saying, “None of these.”
Maybe Turn Off the TV?
A reasonable suggestion. Unfortunately, the television has been making a compelling case for itself.
We’ve watched so many great shows over the past few months that I’m having trouble feeling guilty about the Goodreads situation.
A few favorites—you can IMDb them, right?
Lucky
Silo, season three
The Gentlemen, season two
Paradise, season two
Hacks, the final season
Your Friends & Neighbors, season two
My books have filed a complaint. Their concerns are under review.
What Else Is New?
Between trying to find my next great read, negotiating with my Kindle—I’ll probably still pack two physical books—and monitoring myself for signs of the vacation plague, I’ve been thinking about enjoying the little things.
Which brings us to the barking.
I recently found myself reading reviews for one of those plug-in pheromone things that’s supposed to help dogs stay calm.
I was also hoping it might inspire some renewed interest in the pups to pee outside.
Our dogs do go outside, as proven by the hoodies, poop bag container, and flashlight by the back door. They also do whatever the hell they want. I adore them, but occasionally I would appreciate a little professionalism in the potty-training department.
We send them to daycare a few times a week to “run it out.” Apparently, whatever “it” is has impressive stamina.
Every night, we try to watch TV while Lou barks at us and Fig bites his ears and legs. It’s dinner theater, except we’re the audience, the stage, and occasionally the referee.
My current goal is to restore a little evening peace. Or at least hear the dialogue.
But I’d take the barking and wrestling any day. They’re my babies. And somewhere between wanting them to settle down and watching them be their ridiculous selves, I catch myself appreciating the whole noisy scene.
I’m having more of those moments lately. Stopping. Looking around. Noticing what’s good while it’s happening.
Maybe it’s because the world feels upside down. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older. Maybe all this writing about connection, my career, and what comes next has made me pay closer attention to the life I already have.
There’s plenty I’m still figuring out. But there’s also a lot I want to remember.
Even the barking.
Though, boys, if you’re reading this: outside. We pee outside.
So that’s life lately. I’m excited about what’s next, but I’m also trying to appreciate what’s right here—the people, the possibilities, and the everyday moments that rarely make it onto a calendar but somehow become the best parts.
Life has been a little loud, occasionally chaotic, and dependent upon whether we’ve packed the comfortable shoes. I’m here for it all.