Category Archives: life!

Collected resolutions.


In no particular order and attributed to no one in particular for these purposes…

– Be less judgmental

– Get out of debt (for real this time)

– Quit smoking

– Get a job

– Prove that cigarette smoking is healthy in the New England Journal of Medicine

– Get married (just kidding!)

– Get a divorce (within reason… welcome to America)

– Be better about posting things of worth to my blog

– Listen to my heart

– Stop picking on [my boyfriend] for his clothes and oversized jackets

– Quit fucking smoking

– Get a job

– Keep things I’m proud of going (maintain)

– Figure it out (!!)

– Stop taking work so personally– less anxiousness and terror

– Continue to grow

– Live fearlessly

(an aside: I have no idea what the above picture was doing on my phone. I think it might have something to do with being intoxicated and feeling sorry for myself. And maybe a little bit curious about what happens to people’s taste when they get engaged: does it disappear overnight like their ability to make out with randoms on New Year’s and go to sleep when the sun comes up…?)


Sayonara, 2008.


Love ya, Linds.

I want this kind of happiness.


I know, I know.


I need to update my blog more than twice a season. I’m bugged about it by needling, annoying (very well-intentioned) friends nearly every day. But c’mon, people, things change. I needed a creative outlet like I needed air when I started this thing in January. I felt like I was dying a slow death working for lawyers and living in a big house on a hill. I was aging like a figure from an Edgar Allen Poe tale– spirited and sprightly one minute, withered and sallow the next. I got my culture and creative fix through a computer screen and stack of magazines, and spit it back out in the form of private verbal explosions and the sometimes blog. Unsurprising to anyone who knows me, it ultimately wasn’t enough. As that great sage Yoda might have said, “learn one must but live must one as well.” So I moved back to New York, got a demanding but very cool job, a bright and airy apartment above the beautiful mess and felt like I was again a fleshy, bloody cell in the vein of the City. The importance of the blog waned as the urgency of the job waxed. There was less desperate need to see and do (create) since seeing and doing became a normal part of my life. I was part of it again.

Well, yes and no.

The great and crippling thing about New York is exactly its bounty of possibility. There’s so much to do but you’re never really doing enough of it, are you? It’s enough to keep you up at night. Part of me craves that activity, wants to be in the thick of it, out meeting new people, seeing incredible things, having random adventures, collecting experiences, down the rabbit hole I tumble. And then writing about it, breathe it in and breathe it out. Constant pursuit. It’s an inextricable part of what makes Kelly Kelly. It’s why I had to leave San Francisco. And the other part of me is never happier than inside on a rainy Sunday (or solo Saturday night, as was the case yesterday– those nights both nourish and terrify me, I simultaneously relish them and am wracked with fear and guilt that I should be out Doing) with a couple books, a dozen meaty magazines, a pot of coffee, an innocuous Pandora station, a completely nonsensical French film that makes my brain hurt. It becomes an exercise in gluttonous consumption, see how much I can soak up, stuff in my brain in a single sitting. An intellectual Thanksgiving. This is the me that has always just wanted to lose herself in a trance of learning. No output, all intake. And these two parts – the collector/creator and the learner – are in near-constant violent opposition with each other.

Which is a long-winded way of getting closer to explaining the lapse. The collector/creator has been busy with work and traipsing through New York and any time left over has been greedily snatched up by that curious, cerebral little girl with her nose in a book.

So no promises for now, but I do feel another change coming. I had a birthday recently (28, holy crap), New Years is coming up, we’ll soon have a bright and shiny new president in office. So many arbitrary reasons to shake things up and tip the scales back over in favor of abundant honest expression. Stay tuned…

I guess I should learn how to darn a sock.

Darling Boyfriend sent this charming little chart to me yesterday. Evidently, I would be approximately the worst wife ever. I send shirts missing buttons to the tailor, go to church only for the odd wedding or funeral, have chronically chilly feet and ‘dress’ for breakfast in yoga pants and flip flops, which I would doubt counts in my favor. I guess I’d earn a few points for being quick to bed, loving children and making a mean Velvetta queso for those unexpected guests… but where are the merits for hating chick flicks and loving beer?

Like a foot rub and a lap full of puppies.

At the end of a long weekend of unpacking and holy grail shopping I finally got to enjoy a beer (or 2… okay, 3) in a frosty glass from the big chair in the corner. Wet hair, a cozy robe, a good book (Falling Man, Don Delillo) and All Was Good.

Home sweet 5th floor walk-up.

My moment of eco-genius came when I posted our many boxes and garbage bags full of paper and bubblewrap for free on Craigslist and Freegans, effectively saving myself 10 trips down the stairs, helping a handful of other broke movers out and bettering the environment in one fell swoop. Now if I could just figure out where to put everything that was in the boxes…