kinda domestic.

plagiarization: my experience and what to do if it happens to you.

2012-02-03T15:29:00.000-08:00

I struggled a lot with writing this entry. It still needs to be said, though.

A couple of years ago my writing was plagiarized and misrepresented by several people on DeviantArt. I had only recently become more well-known on the site, and I had posted almost everything I'd written as soon as I wrote it because I still labored under the impression that people are generally honest.

I don't post too often now.

A concerned stranger linked me to several pieces where people plagiarized my poems, and I, being young and naive, flipped out. I made a journal entry with the plagiarizers' dA names, and encouraged the public to tell them how wrong they were. It quickly devolved into strangers uselessly name-calling and threatening each other on my behalf. Ultimately I came off looking like a petty, self-absorbed bitch. Maybe I was. I don't know. I was hurting because my writing is largely nonfiction. If you plagiarize me, you are assuming my identity and, in part, robbing my of my livelihood.

I don't ever want that situation to repeat itself, but I still struggle with my writing being plagiarized on a daily basis. I have people reword my sentences, copy titles/metaphors/formats all in one piece, use my stuff in contests, and even make fake accounts on writing sites using my information.

Please don't do this. It is cruel, creepy, and illegal.

I'm not the only one being plagiarized on DeviantArt. I see other artists struggle with this. Maybe YOU have dealt with people ripping you off on the site.

What should you do?

1. FIRST OFF: Don't freak out. (I ignore my own advice every time.) Remain calm. Take screenshots of your original work and the plagiarizer's piece. Copy links. Have a paper trail that you can present to the powers that be.

2. Seriously, don't freak out. Don't delete your stuff in a fit of rage and fear, because then how can you prove that your work is the original? Use DeviantArt's storage feature if you want the pieces out of the public eye.

3. If applicable, use the "report deviation" button on dA. Ask select people to do the same. Do NOT post the plagiarizer's dA name and encourage others to go give the plagiarizer a piece of their mind. Proper authorities can handle the dirty work.

4. DeviantArt may ask you to file a DMCA (Digital Millennium Copyright Act) takedown notice. If you've never filed one before, they can help you through it.

5. If they delete the pieces, do not harass them into oblivion. Don't call them names on their public page (or in private notes, if you can refrain). Do not contact every single one of their followers to let them know that they're "following a thief omg." Do not post their dA name and encourage people to go write on their page. You are not at fault here, they are. Don't make them a victim by acting less than classy.

6. Don't get upset if your friends or followers also follow them and never notified you of plagiarized work. Chances are your friends never noticed because A. they don't read/look at every deviation in their inbox, and B. even if they DID see both pieces, they haven't spent hours with your work like you have. Things slip by.

7. Google the plagiarizer's username to see if they've used it (and consequently your work) elsewhere. Routinely Google your pieces to see if they're being posted elsewhere. Be vigilant, and alert your friends if you see THEIR work being misrepresented.

-

Ultimately I support experimentation with other people's styles and wording for your personal edification, but please make sure not to pass it off as your own work. Being inspired is awesome, and no one wants to stifle the creativity of others-- just don't claim that someone else's creativity is your own.

Here are some examples of what I consider to be claiming someone else's creativity as your own:

srsly?

the two images on top are from my poetry book. I feel extra violated.

I blacked out the title, but it was a date in the exact same format as mine.

-

Seriously, though. I only have so much time to devote to creating beautiful, color-coded copy collages. I wish plagiarizers would find something else to do so I can read a damn book on Friday nights instead of writing out a blog entry.

writingfamilyjobmarriage

2012-01-29T09:40:00.000-08:00

I was fruitlessly trying to do a pushup (better known as flopping around on the carpet like a beached whale) when it occurred to me that maybe I should post some sort of update on my life. I rarely share about the everyday details of my existence.

Probably because my life will bore you.

Feel free to turn back now.

Marriage

Based on some recent "Oh, you're engaged? Congratulations!" type comments, it seems that either I don't talk about this enough, or people don't creep my facebook as much as I creep theirs. Anyway. So yes. I'm engaged and have been for over a year. I'm getting married in June to this guy I think is pretty neato. Yay me, high five, etc. My wedding cake has THREE DIFFERENT FLAVORS, GUYS. MORE IF YOU COUNT THE FROSTINGS.
And I always count the frostings.

Job

This is something I rarely mention, and something that you likely only know if we are real life acquaintances or Facebook friends. So, hey, surprise. I'm a teacher.

While I'm perfectly happy to talk about me and my past all day, I won't go into much detail about my teaching because it's something I share with my students. Legally I can talk about my job online, but it's just not something I'm comfortable getting into. But I thought you would perhaps be pleased to know that I am gainfully employed and actively shaping the minds of the future generation.

My Little Family

Aaron is well. (Today is his birthday!) He's still plugging away at his fifteen majors and seventy two minors. He should be a fully certified teacher sometime within the next twenty years or so. He has a focus in history, for those who are curious.

Benna is also well. (Let's face it, I know you're mostly interested in her.) She is very pointy.

I still have no dog because Aaron wants to be all fiscally responsible or something. Whatevs.

Writing

Confession: I've been really bad about my dA inbox ever since I made my first account five million years ago. It finally got to the point where I didn't want to deal with 13k messages, so a few days ago I just kinda deleted everything. Since then I have been really good about getting my interaction on. I definitely miss the community aspect and just chatting with people.

Apart from dA dealings, I've also been posting some poetic snippets using Instagram, because clearly I am a hipster (tm). Check me out at @understandably (kelsey rakes) if you aren't yet tired of me spamming you.

Several people have asked when my NaNo novel will beposted to dA/published because they want to read it. Essentially...I could just kiss you people for your kindness. I won't be posting it to dA because A. it's super unedited, B. I want to get it legitimately published, and C. it isn't finished just yet.

I pretty much neglected my novel in December but have trying to get back into the swing of things with it (as in working on it daily). It's at about 70k and I'm all entangled in the major conflicts, which is cool. I should be able to finish it within the next 1-2 months, and then I will begin editing. (This process will consist of giving my novel out and asking people to underline my grammar fails/asking what doesn't make sense, what is boring, what they want more of, etc.) Maybe by summer I can start sending it out to agents and publishers. Cross your fingers for me.

-

So I think that is it.

We will now resume our regularly scheduled programming where I am mysteriously absent from this blog for months at a time.

vote on your favourite cover!

2011-12-31T11:09:00.001-08:00

(rambly gratitude can be found at the bottom, after the poll and pretty pictures!)

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if you've found your way here and want to vote on a cover, please take the time to check out each and every one. these pieces are all excellent and worthy of recognition.

1. the poll is at the bottom.
2. information for each cover is directly beneath it. clicking the artist name will either take you to their page or to the cover as a deviation if it's available. click the cover to see it up close.
3. you may only vote once. friends/family/etc are encouraged to vote!
4. voting ends friday, january 6th, 11:59 PM EST. i will then contact the winner to work out prize details.

1. artist: paranku-mingyuan

2. artist: so-normal

3. artist: oxygenanddreams

4. artist: phil314

5. artist: rachel

6. artist: autio-ainoa (cover on left)

7. artist: shratehawesome

8. artist: emaria-shadowgait

9. artist: sAlright

10. artist: title-registration

11. artist: narakyo

12. artist: westly

13. artist: harry

14. artist: issy

15. artist: anne kathrine

16. artist: craig

17. artist: jackie

18. artist: heather

19. artist: richelle

POLL CLOSED

i am so incredibly grateful to the nineteen talented people who took time out of their busy schedules to create such beautiful covers for me. it means a lot that they would care enough to gratify my (largely selfish) desires. i wish i could send each and every one of them something, but unfortunately that is not within the realm of possibility at this point in time. let's reward them all in other ways! please, if you have the time, check out their deviantart pages. i assumed that, as a writer, i would attract writers. this contest has shown me that the people i interact with online are gifted in more ways than i count.

thank you.

Saving Sensi

2011-12-10T19:00:00.000-08:00

Earlier today I decided that I had finally found my blogging niche: girl who blogs about cats despite not actually having any. Seriously, I thought that description was so clever that I actually wrote it down so I could use it in a blog entry.

I came up with this because the lady two doors down from us feeds all of the neighborhood strays. It's not uncommon to see three or four cats hanging around outside. One of them, a big, fluffy white bruiser, is super friendly and thinks that my apartment belongs to him and is always hovering around outside. Some of you may remember Rudecat, who barged into my previous apartment. This cat is the opposite of Rudecat. It basically knocks politely while wearing a tophat and speaking in a British accent.

So anyway. It's essential that you all know I was petting Nicecat and thinking about how to talk about all of these cats in a blog entry. Nothing was really coming to me, but fortunately life stepped up to the plate and delivered.

SO approximately three hours after petting Nicecat, I went shopping with my parents and came back with approximately 35,233 heavy boxes that needed to be carried one by one inside. It was pitch black and freezing, and Aaron was asleep, so I was performing the manual labor by myself. I eventually noticed a jingling sound, and then a fuzzy black cat in the shadows. It watched me, I watched it, etc etc. I finished carting the stuff inside and decided to come back out and pet the cat. It didn't want to come up to me at first, but I was persistent and eventually we were best friends. It had a collar with a tag, which had a word that looked like "Sense" on it.

Let me backtrack for a second. Every day I drive by this little weathered paper sign that says "MISSING." The sign is too garbled to really make out anything more than a black smear. "How sad," I always think, "to be missing one's little black smear."

Now let me fast forward to just now. I was petting this cat and suddenly certain that it was the missing black smear on that sign. I just knew it. I also knew that the sign was all the way across the apartment complex, and that it was 9:00 at night and I am afraid of everything. I tried to talk the cat into coming with me, but it was unconvinced. I finally just psyched myself up and dashed across the complex (completely forgetting my phone, and consequently my light source) and tried to examine the sign by moonlight. "Answers to the name of Sensi" the sign said. GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME, PLEASE BE THERE WHEN I GET BACK KITTY OKAY GOOD KITTY.

It was. So I coaxed it inside and locked it in my bathroom. (IT WAS A PARTY. But the cat did not think so.) Then I called my dad to doublecheck that I was doing the right thing, and that this wasn't some crazy serial killer luring young women into his grasp by tossing cats out into the wilderness. Let me just cut down on about ten minutes of indecision and reassure you all that I called the number on the sign and the guy came by to get his cat.

He snuggled her fiercely and did not try to serial kill me and tried to offer me some sort of phone upgrade because he works for a phone company. It was all very touching, and I'm glad I trusted my weird intuition and that he got Sensi back.

NOW I MUST GO COME TO TERMS WITH THE FACT THAT I REALLY AM THE GIRL WHO BLOGS ABOUT CATS WITHOUT OWNING ANY HERSELF.

GOOD DAY TO YOU ALL.

Sensi and her poster. Also pictured: things I tried to amuse her with, such as a turtle necklace, an empty toilet paper roll, and what appears to be a compact of bronzer.

FOREVER ALONE.

2011-12-06T19:22:00.000-08:00

I used to have a fiance, honest. Maybe you've see him. Tall, dark hair, seven foot wing-span...

The thing is, I think I lost him. Not sure how that's really possible, but it's true. I haven't seen him in ages. Before you start to point fingers, let me just tell you that I'm a responsible fiance owner. I don't leave the front door open. I buy candy and leave it near his computer. Sometimes I do laundry so that he is appropriately clothed. I care about him being appropriately clothed. I threaten to buy him sweatervests. Despite all of this, he seems to have disappeared.

I haven't called out the dogs yet, because despite his absence, our house shows signs minute signs of life. The floor of the upstairs bathroom is soaking wet sometimes, and it's not from me because i have a meticulous drying regimen. (In case you cared, which clearly you did.) Salad disappears at an alarming rate. And Aaron will probably kill me for telling you this (HAH JOKE'S ON YOU, YOU HAVE TO SEE ME IN PERSON TO KILL ME) but I opened up a drawer the other day and found a package of bacon.

So, um, I think he's alive.

I blame myself. There were warning signs. It started when he got a job that required him to work from 12:00 AM - 8:00 AM. After I got over the fear that the serial killers outside were just waiting for him to leave so that they could murder me, the job thing was okay. (More pillowage for me, suckahhh.) Then fall rolled around and he had to be all responsible and continue getting his degree in secondary education. Okay, cool. I like teachers. I am a teacher. WE CAN BE TEACHERS IN LOVE.

I didn't consider how his classes would keep him out of this house for three billion hours, only for him to come home, write thirteen essays, and then pass out in preparation for work.

This is why I need a dog, Aaron. If you're even reading this. (You shouldn't be reading this. Go write one of your thirteen essays.)

The romance is still alive despite our distance. Sometimes I text him sweet things like "I love you" or "I miss you" or "I just completed the final quest for the Dark Brotherhood, I am a Skyrim master!" and he understands.

Sure do miss him, though. If you see him, tell him to come hug me and watch youtube videos of Italian Greyhound puppies with me, because seriously guys.

(Come to think of it, maybe he's disappeared BECAUSE I threatened to buy him a sweatervest...)

EDITED TO ADD:

Aaron was apparently in the other room when I wrote this entry. He then read it, came into the bedroom, said, "I'm home sometimes!" while making a face, and then brought me a capri sun and advil because he's tired of listening to me whine about my uterus.

in which i compare my NaNoWriMo novel to meyer's twilight.

2011-10-27T07:20:00.000-07:00

if you wrote 1,667 words a day for 30 days, you'd have a >50,000 word novel. and that's the premise for NaNoWriMo, or "national novel writing month," which, as the name suggests, is where crazy people attempt to write the first draft of a novel in the month of november.

and this year, i am one of those crazy people.

SO, as many of you know, i write. and, as many of you know, i EXCLUSIVELY write poems and short stories. no novels. the closest i've come to novel writing was in the first grade. we had journals we had to work on daily, and i decided to turn mine into a story about this girl named kelsey who lived in a haunted house and visited the north pole and had candy for breakfast EVERY DAY. she was such a badass, that kelsey.

i'm getting off-topic.

this year i decided that i could do it. (and my mother and sister decided to do it too. actually, my mom has done it twice already, because she's even more badass than the fictionalized first grade kelsey.) so yes: i'd come up with a novel and write it in one month and sell it to a publishing giant and become more famous than JK Rowling and Stephenie Meyer put together. see, Rowling wrote the beginning of harry potter on a napkin and Meyer was inspired by a dream. i figured if i actually PLANNED and OUTLINED my novel, it would be supremely supreme.

but you know what's hard? planning and outlining. i mean, seriously.

and then i discovered something horrible...my novel basically IS twilight. i mean, no, it doesn't have vampires or werewolves and it doesn't take place in rainy washington and the novel is not explicitly a romance. BUT STILL.

well, let's rewind and talk about twilight for a second and just clear the air: yes, i've read it. yes, the writing is flowery. yes, the plot is...unique. no, i don't think it's the best book in the world. but does it need to be? it's targeted at young adults. it's written to appeal to them. young heterosexual women want romance, and that's what they get. plus, um, sparkly vampires...BUT WHO CARES. i've read those "anti-feminist" critical essays and think people need to calm down. it got kids reading. and i admire the author for doing what i cannot do. she's published and i am not, so GOOD ON HER. (let me just state now that i have zero interest in arguing with you about twilight. so please don't try because i am mean and will ignore you.)

i won't even get into how my main character is basically just a thinly veiled version of myself, just as apparently bella swan is a thinly veiled version of stephenie meyer.

basically, i was worried that the beginnings of our novels were too similar. i needed a reality check from my mother, and that is exactly what i got.

me: mom, i'm worried that my book's beginning is too similar to twilight because my main character moves to a new place, and everyone in her new school stares at her and whispers about her. THE SAME THING HAPPENS IN TWILIGHT.
mom: kelsey...what did people do when harry went to hogwarts?
me: ...stared and whispered.
mom: and what did you do in elementary school whenever there was a new student?
me: ...stared and whispered.
mom: you can't plagiarize human nature.

when i set out to write this blog entry, i had it all structured out. i lost track somewhere along the way, but i think what i was trying to say is that writing a novel is scary and you can't constantly be comparing your work to others. the point of NaNoWriMo is to get 50,000 words down in a month, come hell or high water. quality, and accidental twilight references, be damned. that's what editing is for.

also, for those of you whose mouths have been open in horror for most of this entry, my book is nothing like twilight. promise.

-

that blog entry was 674 words. i have to more than double that EACH DAY for THIRTY DAYS.

see you sometime in december...

say "EW NO WHY" to the dress.

2011-09-27T13:49:00.000-07:00

here are some of the things i like to do in my spare time:

1. sort random people into hogwarts houses based on personal whims. (i know lots of slytherins.)

2. not put the ironing board away.

3. watch shows that deal in "almosts," for example: i almost got away with it, (which, as the name suggests, is a show about criminals who nearly got away with crimes), i shouldn't be alive (aka i ALMOST died), and say yes to the dress, where lots of people ALMOST go bankrupt buying 10,000 dollar dresses.

i myself also like trying on wedding dresses. here are some of the rejects, brought to you by keitha. (keitha is my "personal wedding consultant.")

A. this short wedding dress makes me look like i am going to prom. also i'm tilting my head back, i do not have an abnormally long neck. unfortunately.

B. i actually like this one quite a bit, but it's just not ... enough? i guess?

C. here i fall off a podium wearing a rejected dress.

NO.

D. i saw this one in a bridal magazine and thought i was going to love it and marry it and have children with it. then i actually put it on and realized it looked like i was wearing a white sack. with straps. NO NO NO. way too bulky and chestacular.

there were several that i quite liked, but i obviously cannot post them here because i don't want aaron to see and the surprise to be ruined forever.

in other news, i have nothing else of interest to say. GOODBYE.

earthquake? we had better evacuate to facebook!

2011-08-23T17:34:00.000-07:00

today there was an earthquake and no one died, least of all me.

here is how it happened:

...

actually, i don't know the specifics, despite having taken earth science 101. (i'm glad my college education is serving me well! but i still got a job, so screw you, earth science.) all i know was there was an earthquake that originated not too far from me. it had a magnitude of 5,8, which is big cookies up in these here parts.

here is how it happened to ME:

i was tired. i was hungry. i had been trying to find the police department for twenty minutes and i was FRUSTRATED. what kind of place still requires fingerprinting? i'm not a criminal, cross my heart and hope to die...but fingerprinted i must be, so onwards i trudged.

i finally found the building and dragged myself inside. no friendly police people jumped to my immediate aid, so i decided the best course of action was to wander aimlessly around the building. after pulling an encyclopedia brown and finding out where i needed to go, i elected to use the elevator in order to travel to the basement. as soon as i clicked the button, the whole building started dancing.

naturally i assumed that a train was passing overhead, despite the fact that no train tracks ran overhead. sometimes my stupidity baffles even me. i will blame it on the shock.

this was no massage chair on high or aaron jiggling his foot and shaking the bed. this was a "walls visibly jumping" and a "oh my, the floor is trembling!" type adventure.

i didn't think it was an earthquake because no one was freaking out. it occurs to me, in retrospect, that police peoples are trained to not freak out. since everyone was so calm, i didn't want to spazz out all by my lonesome. i see now that i was denied the opportunity for a good hyperventilation, but such is my life.

naturally i then risked my life by riding the elevator (only i didn't actually know i was risking my life). i paid my five dollars to be fingerprinted only to be told that we needed to evacuate in case the bajillion year old building caved in our heads.

also the earthquake knocked out cell reception...what a douchebag move.

good news: i could still access facebook and read all 500 earthquake status updates!
bad news: i never got frickin' fingerprinted.
good news: i am not a criminal.

i like ending blog entries on good news.

Being Healthy is for Suckers

2011-07-18T22:28:00.000-07:00

Fellow armchair enthusiasts,

Did you miss me? I can't blame you. To make up for my long absence I come bearing pictures.

Kelsey and I have been talking about getting healthy lately in light of numerous health problems with myself, people in my family, and friends close to me.

But then we realized we loved chocolate covered bacon.

Yes please.

But in all reality we probably should make some kind of effort to eat better. Three servings of ramen a week (really) could probably be linked as a cause of some of my issues. Living over the mountain starting next week may help our case, we would have to go pretty far out of our way to eat out on a Saturday night.

Eating probably isn't the biggest part of the problem. It is more likely that lack of exercise is to blame. Kelsey gets a fair amount at camp but I've been losing my attractive feminine figure over the past year or so due to a lack of physical exertion of any kind.

Matt, a good friend of mine who you may have heard of, has recently gotten into great shape after experiencing some major health issues since early last year. He has been a real inspiration these past few weeks when I spontaneously decide to go running at 8:00am and regret it 20 feet later. Apparently he feels much better than he has in several years after he drastically changed his diet to primarily primarily rabbit food and things that grow as opposed to the filth that they fill Jack in the box tacos with.

You are missed.

Oh, and did I mention he is single?

Also an expert zombie slayer.

In any case, moving to a new town seems to be a good excuse to work on some self-improvement. At the very least I can make the effort until I trick Kelsey into saying "I do." next summer.

So long for now, I leave you with a video of our new workout routine.

You're welcome.

-Aaron

neville longbottom and the time i saved everyone from a horrible snake-induced death.

2011-07-17T10:18:00.000-07:00

you know what i love? not being outdoors. that's why on friday my family and i went to see the second part of harry potter seven. it was a perfectly lovely movie, and one of our favourite parts was watching the giant snake SPOILER ALERT OMG thrash snape, chase ronmione, and get chopped by neville longbottom.

remember neville longbottom?

because yeah.

moving on.

today we ("we" consisting of me, my parents, my little sister, and my dog) decided to brave the outdoors and go for a hike up in the mountains. i was the only one who was actually "braving" anything, as the rest of my family is rather outdoorsy and they adventure outside all of the time.

BUT I DIGRESS.

lauren and i were up ahead on the trail following juno, our dog, who was off-leash. my parents were back in the distance. all of the sudden i noticed what appeared to be a long strip of blown out tire. as i walked closer, following lauren, i realized it looked remarkably like the long snake skins we've seen at work.

then i realized several things.

1. it was sort of an alive snake.

2. and not just any snake, but a rattlesnake.

3. juno had somehow darted past the snake on the trail and was looking back at me expectantly, waiting for me to follow her. any movement or call to her would inevitably send her running back to me and the snake might strike her.

4. i know rattlesnake bites can kill dogs because it happened in a saddle club book i read when i was little.

5. also oh yeah, lauren was about to blunder into the snake.

so i did the only thing i could and said "LAUREN OMG RATTLESNAKE DON'T MOVE," hoping juno wouldn't run back to me. fortunately she didn't, and lauren and i were able to slowly retreat. at that moment my parents decided to call out to us. "what's going on up there?"

years of conditioning went into effect and i responded "NOTHING." only of course it wasn't nothing, i was afraid that the sound of their voices would make juno run back to us, crossing the snake's path. my parents had arrived at the site of a giant snake stand-off.

i watched the snake.

the snake watched lauren.

lauren watched juno.

juno watched my family.

my dad attempted to circle left around the snake in order to grab juno, but his movement sent her running back to us and i swear to god i thought she was going to die. every one of us screamed for her to stop but she is kind of the dumbest dog ever. somehow, by some grace of god, she wasn't bitten. the snake reared back but didn't strike.

naturally i decided that the snake was probably a horcrux and i should chop its head off...but then i realized that chopping its head off would be an incredibly drastic and cruel overreaction and i should stop relating everything in my life to harry potter.

instead we gently tossed sticks at it until it slithered off the path.
then everybody, including the snake, lived happily ever after.

this entry brought to you by all of the pictures of neville i got to look at.

ERRATIC UPDATE ON ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

2011-07-07T16:59:00.000-07:00

sometimes people ask me why i am not writing in my blog.
okay, occasionally they ask.
FINE, one person wanted to know.

here is your answer: because i am too busy being very important and exciting somewhere else.
here is the subtext: my life isn't very interesting to people who are not my parents.

thank you, parents, for always being interested. here, have an entry.

PERSONAL LIFE

1. yes, aaron is alive. no, i don't know why he won't write a blog entry. yes, i'll tell him to write one. no, he won't listen.
2. we're getting married next june, which means HOLY SHIT. we actually need to plan a wedding and a honeymoon or something. mostly that just means that we've been googling shark cage diving, because i figured the best time to conquer my debilitating fear of sharks was during the most romantic vacation of my life.
3. look, i used an even number!

WRITING...LIFE

1. i watched a teen mom marathon on mtv (choice viewing, my friends) and it scared the shit out of me. i need to have a valid career like...yesterday. fear of poverty has motivated me to continue working on my novel, which i was really dedicated to about a month ago and then subsequently neglected. i am 54% pleased with the three paragraphs i added. good job, me! now it's time to watch more teen mom.
2. but seriously, me neglecting writing? what else is new?
3. i made myself a legit author page on facebook so you can all get updates on my writing. GOBECOMEAFAN (yes, i just shamelessly plugged myself but this is my blog so i can do what i like.)

MISCELLANEOUS LIFE (BECAUSE THE ONLY ASPECTS OF MY LIFE ARE PERSONAL, WRITING, AND MISCELLANEOUS OBVI).

1. i am about to eat some chocolate cake and it will be freaking glorious.
2. i went to a theme park today and recognized a girl there
from my history class at UVA. it was unsettling and i did not like it. how dare people i vaguely know go to places i also go?
3. here is a picture of me wearing my friend's ironman mask.

GOODBYE.

wait, p.s. if someone wants to make me a fancy header i will love you forever.

sharks, and other reasons i won't go swimming with you.

2011-06-08T17:10:00.000-07:00

i was always the kid in middle school who made up excuses for why i couldn't go to so-and-so's pool party. "sorry, i have to stay home that day and clean my...frogs..." i have never liked swimming, or water in general. don't get me wrong, i do in fact shower daily, it's more that i hate the condition of being wet (gross), pools (double gross), and oceans (SHARKS). now that temperatures are rising and people are relying heavily on pools, oceans, and lakes, i find myself to be an outsider. why do i hate water so much? well, it could be because...

1. i nearly drowned in a pool when i was younger. i was having a swimming lesson and my instructor didn't notice me, you know, slipping beneath the water and doing the full-on HALP I'M DYING flail.

2. when i was around eight i went to the beach and got caught in a riptide.

3. it's not like i've mentioned it five million times or anything, but do you know what lives in the ocean? sharks. sharks have skin that is covered in miniscule teeth. not only that, but they have regular teeth that slice and dice tender flesh, such as my own. i shouldn't need to mention the soulless eyes, but HELLO, SOULLESS EYES. EYES THAT LACK A SOUL. BECAUSE THEY ARE SOULLESS.

4. rivers and lakes are full of creepy fish and poisonous snakes. and sometimes bull sharks, which can live in freshwater. (all the better to eat me, yeah?)

5. my hair is so thick that it weighs about as much as a baby elephant. in the time it takes to dry, a toddler could do a 1000 piece puzzle. or at least a 500 piece.

and, the most important reason:

when i walked outside just now, water started magically spurting out from behind the corner of the house. it turns out that upstairs lady's three year old was RUNNING AROUND ALONE OUTSIDE and decided to cut on the water. the spigot had no hose attached, and i soon had my very own pool in my driveway. thanks little girl!

i guess the point of this diatribe is that i hate water. no, i don't want to swim in your pool. but you should still invite me to your pool party because i like to sit on the deck and bully people into doing belly flops. i won't dangle my feet though, because sharks are serious business.

chats with the childbeast

2011-04-29T16:58:00.001-07:00

there was a barefoot child on my lap. i wasn't sure what it wanted, but i was afraid. so very, very afraid...
but i get ahead of myself.

when i walked out the door, there was no child. when i climbed into my car, there was no child. when i started the engine, there was no child. when i looked behind me to make sure i wasn't about to run over a child, there was no child. when i put the car into reverse--that's when i heard the giggling.

the youngest childbeast was clawing at my car door with muddy fingers. against my better judgment, i turned off the engine and opened the door.

"what's you's name?" it asked, touching my elbow with it's suspiciously sticky fingers.

"kelsey. what's your name?"

"my name is a*******." she smiled and lifted one tiny leg, jabbing me with her foot. "do you live here?" (apparently she didn't remember our previous meeting where she screamed and told me to get out because this was her house.)

"yes," i told her. "i live beneath you. sometimes i can hear you when you scream." in retrospect, this statement was scarier than intended, but she was nonplussed. before i could panic or shout for help, she crawled into my lap and looked around my car.

"where's you's mommy?"

"she doesn't live here. only aaron and i live here. do you know who aaron is?"

she considered my question but didn't answer, instead choosing to pluck a dirt-encrusted ring-pop ring from the bowels of my car. "ohhh, pretty!" she placed it on her finger and i sighed heavily.

"yeah, see, that was once a lollipop and i sort of maybe licked it, so you're wearing m--"

"I HAVE A SHARK TATTOO." (she thrusted her fist into my face and i could see that she did indeed have a shark tattoo.)

"um, yes, you do." (here i deftly removed my trashed ringpop from her finger. she didn't seem to notice.) "wow, look at those shark teeth! i wouldn't want to go swimming with him!"

"yeah, because you have clothes on and your pants would get wet!"

fortunately, at that moment lady chose to appear. she didn't appear worried that her three year old child was wrapped around my face and smearing mud on my dashboard. "thanks for finding her," she said nonchalantly as she removed the infant from my lap. "we were wondering where she was."

a******* struggled fiercely in her mother's arms and reached for me piteously. "but where do you go? will you come back?"

"yes, i'll come back."

"for talks?"

"for talks."

she waved as her mother carried her away, and i was struck with sudden, violent emotions. the small child whose screaming has plagued the past eight months of my life is actually sort of interesting. and crazy. in fact, she's like i was as a child. now i know she's a person, not a noise. she's beautiful and inquisitive and i like her.

...but if she fingerpaints mud on the side of my car again i will CUT SOMEONE.

on being engaged at twenty-one.

2011-04-16T12:39:00.000-07:00

it hit me again today, as it does every day. holy shit guys, i'm engaged. someone loves me enough to marry me, and this is AFTER he ate my undercooked ravioli and i told him to please stop sitting so close to me because i did not feel like being touched that day. (SENSORY OVERLOAD Y'ALL.)

and despite how overwhelmingly happy i am about it, there are still cloudy moments. you know, raincloud thoughts that people insist on thundering all over my happy little ENGAGEDPARADEOMG.

"how old are you?"

"how old is HE?"

"why are you getting married now? i would never get married that young. no point in settling down. you don't even know what you want at twenty-one."

first of all, fuck them and their questions. i know exactly what i want, and it is a milkshake. also aaron jaggers. but for real, i have wanted a milkshake so badly for so long now, possibly three weeks, and aaron tried to get me one two nights ago but the fast food restaurant was closed MY GOD MY LIFE, BUT ADMIRE MY CHARMING FIANCÉ WHO JUST WANTS ME TO BE HAPPY.

why do i feel the need to be so silly about this topic? why can't i just address it head on? eugh.

guess what? those comments sting. i try so hard to be thick-skinned and "different strokes for different folks" about it but they still freaking hurt. it doesn't take much to make me sad or angry (i am "in touch" with my emotions, see) and i'm about one more side eye from throwing a temper tantrum of epic proportions--much like my three-year-old self would do. stop trying to make me doubt myself! stop telling me how i should feel!

incidentally, my three-year-old self once hid in the clothing racks at TJ MAXX and got the store shut down. that's how i feel when people try to give me shit about being in love and being happy--like i want to hide in clothing racks. and wait for aaron to find me and give me a milkshake.

last week i was milling about aimlessly with some classmates and the topic of conversation turned to my engagement. after good naturedly commenting on my ring (consensus: sparkly = good) one of the girls asked how i knew i was in love.

it threw me. the never-ending questions have worn me down, because honestly? there is no good way to tell someone about how aaron knows exactly where to scratch my back, who my least favourite actor is, and when to bring me home a treat (answer: always). you can't put all of the weird connections into words. you can try, usually in a blog post, but you just end up sounding sad and cliché.

fortunately another girl in the class saved me. "if you have to ask if you're in love, you aren't."

i don't ever have ask myself if i'm in love because i AM.

for now i am done with questions, because the most important one has already been asked by aaron.
and i said yes.

please allow me to watch small children for monetary compensation.

2011-04-11T13:33:00.000-07:00

you know, my life really could be an excellent sitcom due to my ability to make a mountain out of every single molehill. the name could be something like "kelsey's blog" (only more clever, DUH) and the intro could be an attractive montage of me brushing my shower-wet hair, putting on a bathrobe (i do not own a bathrobe), and sitting down at my laptop (which would have a blank blogpost open). then you would all get to hear my dulcet tones read aloud my introductory words, such as "dear blog, you won't even believe what happened this past weekend..." and THEN it would segue into the first scene.

dear blog, you won't even believe what happened to me this past weekend...

well, actually, you probably will. i didn't do anything too out of the ordinary.

my brother was in a play and i saw it three times. (my exciting life, let me show you it.) the star was excellent. i was struck with the urge to pat him on the shoulder each time but resisted lest the crowds of people judge me.

i guess the biggest news is that aaron and i are for definitely moving. aaron is transferring to a new college (his third, for those of you playing along at home) and since i'm graduating, there's no reason we shouldn't move closer. unfortunately, this means my mom is regarding me with her suspicious eyes (tm) because apparently moving further away means that i am going to get sperminated at the earliest possible opportunity.

psh, as if. babies are expensive. you know what i could buy with money that would go towards ultrasounds? cheesburgers. PLUS you have to give all these blood and urine samples. for those of you who don't know me, i hate needles. i guess i will not be popping out any babies until they invent some kind of fetal testing that involves eating popsicles instead of analyzing bodily fluids.

we saw a really nice apartment friday, and aar asked the realtor lady if there were any nearby daycares or preschools because i work in the childcare industry. SURPRISE, realtor lady happens to, you know, own one. she told me to give them a call today and speak to B.

here is where my life sucks: i have severe phone anxiety. it's so bad that i have to psych myself up for hours, literally hours, until i can make phonecalls. i spend those hours writing out scripts that feature what i should say (and the other person's predicted response). i guess am nothing if not thorough.

after a half hour of deep breathing (GOOD PRACTICE FOR WHEN I GO INTO LABOR LULZ) i dialed the number.

J: hi, this is J at _____. can i help you?
me: hello, may i please speak to B?
J: i'm sorry, she's on the other line.
me: *mishears* oh, well, can you tell me when she'll come back?
J: um...no? ON THE OTHER LINE.
me: omgqtfbbq (here my visions of a perfect phonecall crumple. THIS IS NOT IN THE SCRIPT).
J: would you like to leave a message?
me: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

(sobs inconsolably for twenty five minutes, then calls back.)

J: hi, this is J at ______. can i help you?
me: (nuuuuu!) hi, i called earlier. is B available?
J: may i ask who's calling?
me: (panic panic panic) kelsey rakes.

B: hi, this is B.
me: *veritablewordsoupomggimmiejobplsokaythanks:(*
B: ummm...let me put you on with our director...

J: hi, this J, director of _____________.
me: ...

YEP, i phone spammed the guy who is apparently the one who actually hires me. i am patting myself on the back right now for a job well done.

sigh. i guess i will stick to being a famous novelist. i mean, once i actually write a novel or whatever. that'll happen any day now. once i, you know, become motivated to write. i am sure i will have plenty of material when J laughs me out of his office when i go in for an interview!

(HERE IS WHERE THE SCENE CHANGES TO ME TYPING AWAY AT MY KEYBOARD. i shut the laptop definitively, then ~fade to black~. NEXT WEEK, ON KELSEY'S BLOG...WILL SHE GO GROCERY SHOPPING? TUNE IN TO FIND OUT.)

blegh. i wrote this blogpost due to peer pressure; i didn't actually have anything to say. i guess i would rather be known as She Who Meanders Aimlessly in Her Personal Blog than She Who Touches People Inappropriately and Writes Scripts for Phone Conversations.

why i gotta be the slug :(

2011-03-13T19:58:00.000-07:00

the magical secret drawer and the time i almost died.

2011-02-21T18:41:00.000-08:00

did any of you ever read that book "the indian in the cupboard?" it was about a useless british kid who obtained a magical secret cupboard that brought to life any plastic toy placed within it.
i freaking loved that book. and i present tense love it, too.

the best part is, i'm sort of like omri, (the aforementioned useless british kid), because i have something very similar: a magical secret drawer.

i haven't tried the plastic toy thing yet, but i know it is magical: it has the power to make me fat.

i never really thought about my weight until i moved in with my boyfriend, he proposed, and then he went all hansel and gretel on me and tried to fatten me up. (okay, fine, i helped.)

BUT NO MORE. i decided to start moving my flabby bits around so that i could dream about going to the olympics and get to be sponsored by subway. the only way to do this was to start running.

i hate running unless i am running downhill and at the bottom of the hill is a cheeseburger and a milkshake--but even then it's pretty iffy. so it was with great aplomb that i set out the other day to "run" around the circle i live on.

i'm running along merrily (it was actually more of semi-tragic, drag-footed shuffle) when i hear barking. cool, okay, my street has many dogs that like to sing me to bed with their dulcet howls. i look up to see what cute little corgi is here to act tough and i see a boxer instead.

NOW. i have grown up with dogs. i know dogs. i love dogs. as a child, i used to read dog care books and books on breed identification. (i still retain the amazing ability to differentiate between bichon frises, malteses, shih tzus, and coton du tulears, and can often determine the lineage of mixed-breed dogs.) i've known sweet pit bulls and evil, evil labs. my cousins own a boxer and it is a perfectly nice dog, albeit a wee bit loco. i've rarely feared dogs.

lately, though, i've been wary of them. they're unpredictable and no matter how sweet the dog seems, you should never let your guard down completely. (my rambunctious aussie, who is completely loyal to my family/aar/nivek and no one else, has bruised me and bled me many times.) thus, when i saw a boxer rushing at me, i stopped running.

i was scared.

you're supposed to stop running, right? so the dog doesn't chase you? or does stopping just make it easier for the dog to take a chunk out of you? I NEVER LEARNED THIS IN MIDDLE SCHOOL, SOMEONE CLARIFY. (eta: facebook clarified. also, my stopping definitely had nothing to do with being tired. nope, no, not me, ya hear.) the dog was barking fiercely and i desperately hoped it was all show.
oh wait, what's that? a "beware of dog sign"? hm. what would omri and his magical cupboard do? i'm pretty sure omri only ever had a cat, so he'd probably just continue to be useless.

fortunately for my tender meaty limbs, the boxer stopped about ten feet short of me and settled on snarling and barking. all i could think was "damn, yo, that boxer's self-control puts mine to shame!" also i thought about peeing my pants. you know. whichever.

i got out of the situation alive and, motivated by the boxer's self control, made myself run the rest of the loop. i think the adrenaline might have helped, too.

and then i ate five cookies from the magical secret drawer. it was a good day.

the gameshow network.

2011-02-09T18:08:00.000-08:00

do you ever worry that you and your significant other will be put onto one of those game shows that tests how well you know each other--and you'll fail horribly and everyone will think your love is a sham?
because i do.

aaron and i went to bed early last night (as in 8:30 pm) so we could read and snuggle and talk, though i don't think he realized that he'd signed up for the panicked conversation that followed.

me: i'm afraid that we'll end up on the gameshow network and they'll question us about each other and we won't know anything.
aaron: what?
me: what's the last book i read?
aaron: jane eyre...?
me: NO, that was two books ago. i read a little bit of a guide to buffy while you were asleep!
aaron: oh, well, tha-
me: WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST WORD. I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOUR FIRST WORD WAS.
aaron: i don't even know what my first word was.
me: why not!? who doesn't know their first word? MY GOD. i'll probably just have to guess if that question comes up.
aaron: kelsey, i-
me: what's my favourite movie?
aaron: high school musical?

well.

i will leave you to imagine my impassioned reply and the resulting conversation that ended with me demanding that aaron name five male names that end in "s." (sometimes i just like to test him on random things.) we finally fell asleep somewhere around julius, darius, and linus.

i guess that's not how many engaged couples spend their nights, but i slept soundly with the knowledge that aaron's favourite season WAS winter but is now fall. i strongly suggest that you go over some basic questions with your lover. as a former girl scout, i like to live by the motto "be prepared." actually, is that boy scouts? whatever.

p.s. my favourite movie is eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. my second favourite animal is the giraffe. i'd rather be cold than hot.

KIDS AND KIDS AND BABIES.

2011-01-25T16:58:00.000-08:00

aaron and i have been talking about kids lately.

for those of you whose hearts just dropped into your stomachs, worry not. i'm not pregnant. the kids i am referring to aren't mine (real or hypothetical), but rather the beloved childbeasts that live upstairs. you know, the three little girls who definitely don't make my uterus recoil in fear, or anything.

sometimes the fiance and i will lie in bed, lulled into an almost-sleep by the melodic stylings of an electric keyboard mashing with a recorder. we are so blessed to live beneath a band of music prodigies. sometimes, listening to the plaintive, harmonic shrieks, i am brought to tears.

we are also so, so proud of those children for being in great shape. they have very rigid exercise regimes that consist of running back and forth across their squeaky wooden floors for three hours, followed by a healthy dose of stair-stomping. you haven't heard of stair-stomping? it's the newest, coolest way to burn calories.

i also truly admire their fashion sense. there's nothing i love more than pulling my clothing out of the dryer and finding tiny purple socks or some bedazzled jeans mixed in. well, maybe i love ice cream more. wait--nope. bedazzled jeans takes the cake. i am so completely happy, giddy even, that i share a washer and dryer with such priceless gems that i don't mind when their mother does laundry at three in the morning while yakking on her phone.

for those of you who wonder if i'm off kids for life, i'm not. i love children. i work with children. living beneath THESE particular children makes me feel thoroughly prepped for my own tummy creatures. which is very easy to say when i've never been kept up by a screaming newborn, but hey. i'm allowed to be acerbic (read: bitchy) about defenseless children because this is my blog, neener neener neener!

so will i have babies? of course. someday. i figure in a couple of years i'll have run out of things to ramble about. kids will fix that issue right quick.

reasons why my life should be made into a movie.

2011-01-22T14:38:00.001-08:00

from the mouth of the faceless mass i am summoned to placate the tumultuous demands of GIVE US MORE. (the subtext is there if you read between the lines.) i am nothing if not obliging.

so do you know what i've decided? it's about time that my life was made into a movie.

no, really.

i figure that once i get famous there will be tons of studios knocking at my door and begging to option my life story. there's just that whole "getting famous" part that stands in my way. that shouldn't be too difficult, i aready figure that about 10% of my followers on here are real people, not internet bots. besides, if kanye could do it, so can i--the fact that he has marketable talent is beside the point.

i need a way to go viral. not like avian flu viral, but good viral. the kind where you may get HPV, but DAMN was he fine.

until i figure out how best to dominate the internet and talk shows, i will settle for providing you with brief snippets of my life in order to demonstrate why a movie ought to be made out of it. see, my everyday experiences are fraught with peril, heartache, hand grenades, and almost-happy endings.

HOWEVER i'm going to do it entirely via pictures. i live dangerously.

picture one: an attractively rendered line drawing of a girl in her wedding dress.

WILL i have a happy weding[sic]? what do the mysterious letters k and a represent? can anyone turn down a movie about marriages? didn't think so.

-

picture two: my and aaron's dry-erase board.

this hints at tension between a pair of lovers. she loves him, he loves...foil and ranch? will their love overcome obstacles against all odds? and wait a minute, is that a fucking hedgehog?! that alone should be enough to earn me a movie.

-

picture three: a text from my fiance.

some questions are better left unanswered.

-

picture four: my window.

WITH A BULLET HOLE, OMG BLAM BLAM BLAM RUN HIDE OMG. also, the foggy effect is probably caused by some imminent danger, not the fact that i just took a shower.

-

so there you have it. my life is officially awesome.

i think i need to have some sort of weekly day in which i talk about how awesome i am. all of the cool bloggers are doing it. i think i'll call "frequently-asked-fridays" which doesn't make a lot of sense, but none of the cool bloggers are making sense.

leave your frequently-asked or never-before-asked question in the comments and i will totally answer it. on a friday. because that is what the cool bloggers (aka me) are doing.

p.s. what do you mean every blogger in the history of forever uses pictures to illustrate their points? I AM AN ORIGINAL AND UNIQUE SNOWFLAKE, YA HURR ME?

bathtime for benna.

2011-01-03T15:51:00.000-08:00

we knew this day would have to come eventually. we'd planned and prepared but nothing truly readied us for the horrific reality.

yes, benna needed a bath.

hedgehogs undergo a series of uncomfortable quillings where they lose their baby quills and grow in adult ones, much as human infants experience teething. and just like human infants, ben was ANGRY AND SAD AND SORE. we decided to be helpful and try to give her an oatmeal bath to combat the itchies.

too bad she thought we were trying to kill her.

i ended up covered in wet hedgehog while she frantically tried to dig her way into my side for safety. aaron rushed to change her tub THREE TIMES after she kept pooping in it. (i guess we should at least be thankful that she doesn't poop on us.) we finally managed to get her into a towel but she was NOT PLEASED AT ALL.

so she made glares at us.

i think she must have decided that we were good people that magically saved her from the evil bath monster and showed her affection by turning into the cutest thing in the entire world. she made cuddles with aaron and i was jealous.

i've been the one taking her out last week while aaron's been at work, why wouldn't she love and appreciate me? why wasn't aaron experiencing the stabbing pain of a hedgehog to the jugular?

nevermind.

threads.

2010-12-29T17:37:00.000-08:00

i never really learned how to sew. it was one of those skills that i saw as useful but unnecessary, like being an expert chess player or making an awesome smoothie. home economics class taught me the basics (though i still can't thread a sewing machine by myself) and in eighth grade i had to design and create a quilt square for geometry.

my first real sewing project wasn't until an ex left me. i decided that the best way to conquer overwhelming grief was to make a pretty dress. here's what i wrote to myself concerning the project: "i found dressmaking more challenging than dominoes, yet less taxing than pining miserably."

after struggling for hours, i posted a picture of me in the resulting garment to facebook.

then something wonderful happened: a boy named aaron saw the picture and thought i was so beautiful that he went to my profile, copied down my screenname, and instant messenged me.

basically aaron and i are together because i really, REALLY wanted to sew a dress despite not having any sewing skills.

though i did have enough skills to make aaron a meatwad pillow.

i saw a tutorial for an adorable quilt online and decided i was going to make it. i went so far as to buy the fabrics, but driving out to my parent's house to use their machine was a drag so i put it off until i unwrapped a lovely present from aar on christmas morning. a sewing machine.

i guess great minds think alike because my parents bought me a sewing machine too.

as my blog title indicates, i'm not a true domestic goddess. i don't know how to cook fancy dinners, i'd rather watch buffy than clean the bathroom, and if i don't know how to do some sewing technique that a dress pattern calls for, i improvise. a lot. i'm trying to learn, though. i want to be a good wife and possess the basic skills that my foremothers in the 50s rocked out, including sewing. (but since we live in a modern world, instead of sewing aprons and jumpers for the children i'll be making seamless hedgiebags for benna. i think that's what feminism is, or something.)

modern knight in shining armor.

2010-12-09T20:02:00.001-08:00

back in ye olden days, men had to prove their worth by fighting dragons or chopping up people with swords. fortunately for aaron, i already think he's very worthy. (also, dragons aren't real, so that's a relief or whatever.)

he has a lot to live up to, though, because my dad is superman. the best thing about my dad is everything. he's one of the smartest people i know and can do pretty much anything, whether it's with regard to his allergy practice or building me a collapsible kayak. is my ipod not charging because i broke some cable? dad'll fix it. did my car's engine break in the middle of an intersection, nearly getting me killed? dad'll fix it. is my laptop (named malachi) turning rainbow colours because i somehow dislodged the motherboard? dad'll fix it. (i apparently don't handle mechanical things well.)

so yesterday malachi got a virus. i don't know how, i wasn't even downloading any porn or pirated music. i immediately panicked (because it of course happened while i was studying for exams) and responded to the situation appropriately: "AARON MY LAPTOP HAS A VIRUS, HALP HALP HALP." i banged fruitlessly on the keyboard while mentally figuring out my dad's schedule and when i could drop off the laptop for him to fix.

"i'll look at it," said aaron.

hrmm.

i left malachi in his custody and went to work. when i returned, i promptly passed out in a chair and woke to aaron grinning triumphantly. there on the table, illuminated in an angelic spotlight (that was potentially imagined) rested a virus-free malachi.
much better than a slain dragon.

so i guess aaron has truly proven his worth.
unfortunately for him, i will now rely on him for everything computer related FOREVER. also my car is making weird squeaking noises when in reverse. i better go wake aaron up and show him.

hedgehogs and how i became best friends with ben kweller.

2010-11-29T19:19:00.001-08:00

i don't even really like concerts--but i'm getting ahead of myself.

aaron and i are getting a hedgehog.
as many of you know, aaron is allergic to, well, everything. despite this, almost two years ago aaron began to ask me if we could have a pet hedgehog. i didn't know anything about hedgehogs as pets, so i was rather loathe to agree. it seemed like some weird, repressed fantasy of a boy that played too much sonic as a kid. despite my continual dismissals of the subject, he never gave up.

"but aaron, what do they even DO?"
"they're like cats with quills!"
"but like...can you play with them?"
"just wait until it balls up and use it as a comb!"

a couple of weeks ago, driven by boredom, i decided to do some research. many hours later i discovered that hedgehogs are pretty much the coolest animals in the world--not that it mattered, our landlord doesn't allow pets. (well, that was the policy until aaron emailed him and got express permission..)

my dad joked that we should name our future pet "ben kwiller" (quill-er) after one of our favourite musicians, ben kweller. it was just corny enough to be absolutely perfect.

-

yesterday we went to richmond to see the aforementioned ben kweller in concert. many who know me understand that i claim to loathe concerts but always end up having a fabulous time. (i think it's that i don't like standing around and waiting.) yesterday's concert was no exception. i was tired and sleepy and grumpy about having to wait an hour and a half to see ben perform. (the theme of all my blog entries is apparently "I AM A SOURPUSS.")

as we were walking to the venue i noticed an adorable little boy running towards us. i looked up to smile at his parents, and, wait, OH MY GOD, HEY THERE BEN KWELLER, I WAS JUST LOOKING AT YOUR CUTE SON. we all exchanged awkward eye contact and aaron and i had HUGE these dopey grins on our faces. next aaron and ben exchanged pleasantries but i was too busy being flabbergasted to interact properly. (sigh, my life.)

we then stood around for 50 kazillion years and spied on hipsters. julia nunes opened and played a cute set, and when she left the few people in front of us followed her. i immediately jumped into their spot, and was FREAKING UP AGAINST THE (SIX INCH TALL) STAGE, MERE FEET FROM WHERE BEN WOULD BE ROCKING OUT WITH HIS MAJESTIC CURLY HAIR. and it was glorious. he played an awesome show and i was actually almost embarrassed by how freaking close i was to him.

he finished his encore and talked to a few people before stepping offstage. i knew that this was my only chance to rectify my earlier mortification, so i did what any sane person would do--i grabbed him and said urgently, "BEN, I HAVE TO TELL YOU SOMETHING."

because he is such an awesome, kind person, he let the strange, crazy girl whisper to him. "ben, my fiance and i are naming our hedgehog after you. we're calling it ben kwiller. get it?"

ben looked at me like i was an alien and told me that no, he certainly did NOT get it. my moment in the sun was slipping between my fingers so i tried desperately to make him understand.

"kwiller, like quills? because hedgehogs have them. like from your song, commerce texas?"
"what do you mean quills?"
"spines! you know how hedgehogs have spines?"
"whatttttt? no? what do you mean?"

at this point aaron took over because i had screwed up my interaction with ben so badly that i had apparently made him forget that hedgehogs are prickly. a few brief explanations later (understand that this all took place in the middle of a crowded bar floor) and ben's face lit up.

"OH, you said hedgehogs! like the animal! all this time i thought you were saying "head-shop," and i didn't know what the fuck a head-shop could have quills!"
"yeah, hedgehog! a head-shop would be...yeahhh..."

ben was absolutely delighted and flattered that aaron and i were choosing to honour our hedgehog with his name. he delightedly pulled us both into an enormous hug while everyone else looked on jealously. or possibly with confusion as to how we managed to captivate his attention for so long.

so...basically the long and short of it is that we're going to own a hedgehog and ben kweller is our new best friend.

-

don't mind me, just taking sketchy photos of my idol.

hunting and pecking and writing and banking.

2010-11-23T08:12:00.000-08:00

when i type, i only use my index fingers and my left thumb. it's a tragic-but-true story that's right up there with "kid loses arm to alligator" and "puppies eventually have to turn into dogs." usually my "disability" doesn't hinder me too much, but i do find that i'm more prone to making typos, particularly when i type quickly.

this means when my essays are handed back, they're usually covered in red marks due to my inability to proofread and catch said typos. it also means that editing my book is taking FOREVER. FOREVER, I TELL YOU. i finally sat down and forced myself to go through the poems, and it's lucky i did because probably around 1/3 of them had a typo of some sort.

i was also double-checking my grammar and ran across the interesting issue of where the apostrophe placement is in the phrase "each other's rooms." more than one person and room, so the apostrophe goes after the 's'? each implies singularity, so the apostrophe goes before the 's'? and anyway, wouldn't it be room, SINGULAR, due to the modifier "each"? i researched the matter thoroughly and did what i do best: changed the wording so that i didn't have to worry about it. problem solving skillz, i haz them.

so the good news is that the book is edited, formatted, and ready to roll.
the bad news is that i now have to worry about boring things like writing a product description and getting some checks so i can be a legit businesswoman. this goes against everything i know. i'm not a businesswoman who writes product descriptions, i am an artist, nay, a poet!

but i can't really complain. i'll just get checks with puppies on them. puppies rule.

in other news, my mom was jealous that everyone except her (minor exaggeration) has a blog, so she created one of her own. you can find it over at www.2010motherofthebride.blogspot.com. she's going to chronicle my wedding planning stuff, and she's pretty adorable. you should check her out. (i'm not biased, she really is awesome. and this way those hopeless romantics can get their fix of my wedding goodies!)

p.s. i'm pretty sure it's "each other's room," but it's not like i'm an english major or anything, so don't ask me.

a proposal.

2010-11-18T14:56:00.001-08:00

who even likes philadelphia? i mean, besides nic cage, alexander hamilton, and the three people who have just read the previous sentence and are about to send me irate messages? i was pretty sure that i didn't like philadelphia even though i'd never actually been, so when aar asked me if i'd like to go see ben folds tour up in pennsylvania, i was less than enthused. i was possibly MAYBE even just the tiniest bit melodramatic about the whole thing.

aaron is nothing if not persistent, so i found myself growing excited about the whole prospect as time progressed. (mostly because we'd get to see one of our favourite musicians, but also because it was a halvsie anniversary, and who doesn't love those?) eventually my feelings gave way to "I CAN'T WAIT FOR PHILADELPHIA," much to aar's amusement.

that all changed the friday before we were slated to leave. i was deathly ill and stressed out by charlottesville's inability to handle traffic. suddenly philadelphia didn't seem like such a hot idea, but my mother frantically insisted that going to philadelphia would be the coolest thing ever™.

when i woke up saturday (at 4:30 am, no less) i still felt incredibly sick so i settled for bemoaning my no doubt horrific fate and flopping about the apartment listlessly while aaron packed. i cheered up considerably when he parked me in the passenger's seat with a box of doughnuts, though. it also helped that i had a captive audience for all of my rambling.

"aar, i wish ben kweller were our best friend!"
"that would be cool."
"aar, lookit!"
"kel, i'm driving.
"BUT AARON THE SKY IS A RAINBOW."
"uh huh."'
"also i really like sharks."

my smiles wore off about the same time the meds did, which also just happened to coincide with the time we took a wrong exit. i was certain we were going to get lost and die, but somehow aar managed to get us safely to our hotel in the middle of historic philadelphia. he let me flop listlessly about our hotel room as we tried to figure out where to visit. "let's see the liberty bell! no, let's go to the aquarium and look at sharks!" i finally got fed up with all of the choices and whined until aar suggested we visit the museum district.

it wasn't far so we walked for a few blocks and stumbled upon a beautiful fountain.

it had turtles and frogs shooting arcs of water out of their mouths, and if anything cheers me up it is turtles and frogs shooting arcs of water out of their mouths. i took great delight in making aaron pose before it while i took his picture. his complacency should have been my first clue that something was up; he normally hates having his picture taken. fortunately for all, i'm dense and oblivious, so when he patted the seat next to him on the fountain's rim, i didn't suspect a thing. i still didn't suspect a thing when he started talking nervously. i still didn't suspect a thing when he reached into his pocket and got down on one knee in front of a group of horrified tourists. then--i'm pretty sure he asked me to marry him and i'm pretty sure i said yes. i can't be certain because my brain shut off when the sun touched the ring, and ohmygod, there are turtles behind me and a hobo to the left in the distance and if this is a joke it is a MEAN joke but it's not a joke, there's a ring on my finger and oh my god, he loves me and i get to marry him and--

"excuse me?"

aar and i broke out of our awkward love trance and noticed a woman standing there and offering to take our picture because she couldn't help but notice that we got engaged. (third party evidence that i said yes!) i am only slightly ashamed that my thoughts throughout everything were more or less "lallalala i like turtles > wut > wut > wut > omg wut > proposal?! > omg > twuuuu wuvvv > omg > omg ♥ > omg, i have to tell facebook and deviantart!"

then my fiance and i went to the rodin museum, the rocky stairs, saw some toynbee tiles, ate famous cheesesteak, and saw ben folds play an awesome show.

THE END.

i made aar promise to write an entry with all the juicy details about deciding to propose, ring shopping, and asking my parents, so be excited. i told him it would be nice for our kids to see, because GUESS WHAT, i get to procreate with him someday! rings are like contracts, right? also i should probably mention that i'm not pregnant. not that we should cast stones, aar's mom gave birth to him at 19 and she's the vice president of an incredibly successful, important company and pretty much charlottesville's most successful businesswoman. also we got engaged on her 40th birthday. happy belated birthday, marijean!

p.s. THERE I FINALLY WROTE IT DOWN, HOPE Y'ALL ARE HAPPY...because i am :)

2010-11-17T18:50:00.000-08:00

if i had a superpower it would be "payingsuperattentiontoneedlessdetails," which is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. occasionally i find it necessary to memorize details about certain situations just in case they will ever come in handy later.

the first instance of this occurred when i was about ten. my mother was driving us home one night when i spied a teenage couple walking on the sidewalk by a gas station.

me: mom, do you think that they just robbed that gas station?

mom: ...no.

me: but what if they did? what if they're escaping and there's someone bleeding inside?

mom: if they just robbed the gas station then why are they walking? they're not very good at escaping.

me: they're probably just tired. but mom, what if the cops are trying to locate them and i'm the only one who knows what they are wearing?

mom: *stares pointedly at road*

me: so you think i should memorize what they're wearing just in case? 'cause i'm gonna. alright, i'm memorizing what they are wearing RIGHT NOW.

mom: *stares pointedly at road*

me: i'm the ONLY one who knows that those criminals were wearing when they robbed that gas station. the police chief is going to put out a bulletin asking if anyone saw the people who robbed the gas station and no one is going to know but me, and i am going to know it BECAUSE I MEMORIZED IT RIGHT NOW. would you like to know what they are wearing? because i can tell you. if you want. because i know what they are wearing. i memorized it.

mom: *stares pointedly at road*

me: ...i am a hero.

and with the glory of that moment illuminating my ten-year-old life and signaling the heroism to come, i began to memorize details about random people and situations. it is probably a critical skill to have. i would say it is even 43% useful.

love,
kelsey.

p.s. aaron's superpower is falling asleep with his hands behind his head and his knees bent. who even does that?
p.p.s aaron asked me to marry him.
p.p.p.s. also my superpower would be eating entire bags of candy in one sitting.

oh hey there, video.

2010-11-07T14:57:00.000-08:00

2010-10-28T15:10:00.000-07:00

things not-so-secret:

1. rudecat has a name. i discovered it through a top-secret mission in which i engaged in conversation with the middle childbeast that lives upstairs. are you ready for it?

jake.

yeah, i'm disappointed too. clearly "rudecat" is a far superior moniker and i will continue to use it. (childbeast did tell me i could refer to jake however i liked, to be fair. i asked if i could call him "princess" and she told me no because boys can't be princesses. what a closeminded little kid.)

3. i'm self-publishing a book. it's name is a secret. it will have secrets in it. i like secrets. secrets, secrets, secrets.

5. it's almost time for the great pumpkin to rise up out of the pumpkin patch. i've done absolutely nothing to ready myself for the glory that is halloween, unless you count eating an entire bag of mini candy bars.

lady has attempted to get in the spirit by decorating her front entryway. please to be seeing exhibit a:

not to be outdone, i asked my mother if i could borrow a hatchet to bury in the tree in the front yard and smear with fake blood. surprisingly she said no because the childbeasts upstairs could cut themselves open or something. (they shouldn't be touching my stuff in the first place, am i right?) . instead we went to the dollar store and bought some delightful decorations that i will use to decorate my side of the house ONLY. i am not good at sharing.

but i'm at least better at sharing than the littlest childbeast (age three) who, upon meeting me, told me to get out because it was her house.

if she tries to trick or treat at my door i'm not going to give her any candy.

love,
kel.

Sekrits.

2010-10-22T15:16:00.000-07:00

Dearest trophy wives,

It has been a while since Kelsey has updated this, so I thought I would take a crack at it. Allow me to divulge our greatest secrets, or rather just stuff that has been going on in our lives lately.

Secret #1: Kelsey, Jack (Kelsey's brother), and I are spontaneously forming a DI team. "What is DI?" you may ask. Well. Heck if I know. You might be able to learn something about it here. Anyway, we are writing a magical play that has to conform to really strict conventions. Kelsey and Jack are fabulous writers and it will probably win the Nobel Prize in Literature, everything else is top secret. Of course, this is all pending we follow through with the whole thing.

Secret #2: There is a spider living in our mailbox. We haven't received much mail lately. Perhaps the mailman and I share a common enemy? Unfortunately I can't convince Kelsey to protect me from the evil eight-legged beast so I am forced to take the most rational step possible and erect a new mailbox.

Secret #3: I will have something more exciting to say next time I make a post. Maybe. Also, here is a song from one of our favorite bands. It is about secrets, sort of.

-Aaron

in which a cat has no manners.

2010-10-07T08:19:00.000-07:00

yesterday morning i heard a resounding "thunk" at the door which sounded like either 1. someone with weak, ineffectual wrists trying to knock, or 2. a bird smashing into the door and falling to the ground to die. realizing that either way this was clearly an emergency situation, i rushed to the door and flung it open.

in walked a cat.

"walked" is the wrong word. it SAUNTERED in. it strolled in like it owned the place. it jumped up on my kitchen table and had the gall to rub its cute kitty head against the accusing finger i pointed at it.

because i am a loving girlfriend who's concerned with the welfare of her sleep deprived boyfriend, i flung open the bedroom door and yelled AARON HALP THERE'S A KITTEH IN OUR APARTMENT. (if you will recall, my boyfriend is extremely allergic to things like intruder kitties, so naturally i required his help to remove it). using impressive teamwork (that consisted of aaron going, "geeze kel, why is there a cat in here? get it out") i managed to get rudecat outside. unfortunately i was also trapped out there with it, as i had been forced to carry it out unceremoniously. whenever i tried to open the door it darted back inside, so i settled for petting it and calling it the cutest, rudest, most evil kitteh in the world. when i finally managed to make it back inside, rudecat protested by meowing loudly outside our door for fifteen minutes while aaron threatened to call animal control. he even knocked on the door of the lady upstairs to see if it was her cat, but no one answered.

when i came back from class rudecat was still there. i had half a mind to just let it in and snuggle it for forever but aaron suggested i go check with the lady upstairs now that she was home. i carted the protesting pet to their front door and, after ringing the bell, was greeted with a chorus of tiny persons yelling "YOU FOUND OUR KITTY OMG THANK YOUUUU."

damnit. rudecat and i had bonded. i didn't want to release him into their custody, but lady showed up and made some mumbles at me, so i relinquished the victim.

i left to go to work and when i returned aaron told me they'd let rudecat back out and he'd been meowing at our door for awhile.
i can't say i blame him, i wouldn't want to live with the upstairs people either.

(an artist's accurate portrayal of rudecat).

so if you want to give me a pair of noise canceling headphones, well...

2010-09-28T14:28:00.000-07:00

a new lady moved in upstairs. she's a professional clogger. i mean, she hasn't actually told me that but i'm pretty intuitive when it comes to new people.

she also brought her three pet elephants with her. they're really cute. again, i haven't actually SEEN these elephants but i'm telling you, i'm intuitive.

her name is "ihatefun" or something like that. i honestly don't remember what her name is because while she was introducing herself i was thinking, "WHY MUST YOU LIVE ABOVE ME AND RUIN MY SACRED PEACE AND QUIET, WHY?"
being passive aggressive and thinking that at her loudly did nothing, though. she is not telepathic. (you don't need to be intuitive to know that). maybe if she were telepathic she wouldn't clomp around until 12:30 am and then wake her screaming kids up at 6:00 am by sliding the dining room table around on the wood floors as though it were some giant, ill-formed hockey puck.

i want my loveshack back. is my bitter showing?

i'm sure my mom's going to say that i should take this blogpost down because she (the new neighbor) could somehow find it and see it. I'M PRETTY SURE THAT'S WHY I'M WRITING IT, MOM. ALSO I LIKE TO WHINE. A LOT.

i know i'm not the first person to have shitty upstairs neighbors, but by god! don't her children get tired of running the length of their new house while wearing iron boots?

In other news, I might start using proper capitalization so as not to offend those who don't understand that my lack of capitals is a stylistic choice

2010-09-16T16:20:00.000-07:00

I want a puppy, OKAY? I figure it's the next logical step in growing up. You move out, get a checkbook, throw around adult phrases like, "Can you pick up some milk?" or "Mmm, the new soap smells like pomegranates!" and then you get a dog.

My puppy plan is problematic because:

1. Our apartment doesn't allow pets. The people upstairs used to have a cat and apparently it went crazy and ate the floor or something, so pets are permanently banned. (MAYBE I SHOULD JUST CATCH SOME CAVE CRICKETS AND NAME THEM, Y/Y?)

2. Aaron is allergic to everything cute. He's not allergic to goldfish but we're not allowed to HAVE a goldfish because he is suffering from fish-induced PTSD. Apparently when he was young his goldfish jumped out of its tank and got stuck to the wall. He later found it all dried and shriveled up, clinging there pathetically.

3. I don't know where we'd put a puppy since our apartment is only slightly bigger than the average jail cell. Potentially in the closet, but that's where we store the box that holds the remote-controlled tarantula my parents got Aaron for Christmas. (Yeah, he doesn't use that closet).

So no puppies for me. I'll have to stick to cuddling bottles of windex and spatulas.
It's just as well because dogs cost money that I could be spending on foods high in fructose corn syrup.

he's currently number one in his league, though.

2010-09-13T18:51:00.000-07:00

my boyfriend plays video games.
now, this is the internet and you can't hear my tone when i say that so you'll just have to use your imagination. "my boyfriend plays video games." like some people might say "there is a spider crawling up my leg," or "i just found out my brother has scabies." don't get me wrong, i love video games. i like popping caps in asses and chopping people up with swords as much as the next person--which is, to say, quite a bit.

the issue is that when aaron plays video games he wears one of those telemarketer-looking headsets and talks to people in missouri about zerglings. often at night i'll hear aaron's faint voice from the next room and will logically assume that, you know, he's talking to me. so i yell, "WHAT DID YOU SAY?" only to have him respond, "I'M TALKING TO MATT." fine. i didn't want to talk to you anyway.

it's especially embarrassing when i'm actually IN the room while he's playing and carrying on conversations with unseen friends. when he asks them questions, i usually (erroneously) respond, assuming he's talking to me. it's like using a public restroom when the person in the next stall is talking on a phone. they say hi and you're left peeing and wondering if they have a phone or if they're making awkward bathroom smalltalk.

he also has the audacity to get upset when i tune him out while he plays. "did you watch it?" he asked me randomly today while i was reading a book.
"watch what?"
"that trailer i told you about when you sat down!"
"oh, i assumed you were talking to steve so i wasn't listening to you..."

it's confusing, but i've mostly gotten used to it. if i walk into the room while he's playing and he looks at me and smiles, i know that smile is all mine. his invisible friends can't see or hear it. sometimes he'll make dramatic kissy noises at me to reassure me that he loves me more than he loves being a diamond player.

but last week when he yelled "hey cutie!" right when i walked in the door? yeah, that was to matt in missouri. my mistake.

sleeping in.

2010-09-01T18:38:00.000-07:00

back in guatemala i woke up when the world was ending.

i can still clearly remember how my entire room shook and the way my teeth clattered together with the impact. my head was exploding with a series of crashes and clangs while the darkness was punctuated by veins of greenblueyellow. i rolled off my bed and covered my ears and i screamed and screamed and screamed.

i thought i was drugged. i thought i was dying. i was dead.
i was inside letting the world tear itself apart while outside my window someone set off fireworks and let them hiss against the drywall.

i guess i've always lived my life waiting for the fireworks. i've woken up with my heart racing and my ears covered and i've waited for the crashing of my worn-out pulse to cease fire. weary, weary.

i guess that now when i wake up and his knee is in my ribcage and the air-conditioner is breathing its quiet hum--i can turn over and close my eyes knowing that he's held the world together for one more night so that i can sleep in peace.

but no, really. sharks are serious business.

2010-08-27T12:04:00.001-07:00

some people are afraid of dying and large guns and their shoes not matching their purse. i am afraid of sharks and electrical outlets and becoming a crazy cat lady when i grow up.

aaron? aaron would say he's not afraid of anything, but he is strongly OPPOSED to heights (he's 6' 8''), spiders, and cave crickets.

what is a cave cricket? hell if i know, but they have taken up residence in our bathroom closet. aaron has (un)lovingly renamed them "cloverfields." for those of you who actually HAVE taste when it comes to movies and have no idea what i'm talking about, cloverfield is a film that focuses on a group of overly-dramatic teens being attacked by a vicious monster that eventually kills them.

this is the cloverfield monster.

this is a cave cricket.

i'm sure you can all see the incredible resemblance.

so far as i can tell, they're relatively harmless. if it turns out that they're not and my apartment starts getting torn to pieces and set on fire and i just HAPPEN to have my video camera on hand to film my dying moments, make sure they don't get made into a terrible movie with shitty cgi. that would just be embarrassing.

i'd rather be a crazy cat lady.

witty window quote here.

2010-08-22T19:23:00.000-07:00

don't be jealous (or alarmed) but i have a window in my shower.

i like to think it's because the original blueprints for the home were devised by someone who was into voyeurism, but everyone has been informing me that it probably serves no other purpose than providing ventilation. clearly they do not understand that it serves many other important purposes as well, such as:

1. allowing me to listen (crisp quality, surround sound) to the neighbor's dog bark at midnight while i'm trying to pee.
2. allowing said neighbor to listen to me trying to pee at midnight when his dog is barking.
3. allowing annoying gusts of wind to affix the shower curtain liner permanently against me while i'm showering.

honorable mention: i can climb inside my shower and spy on various things when the mood strikes me. please note that this, you know, works for every window ever.
try it.

when i was kid i always wanted a skylight. a window in the shower is basically the same thing, yes? i'm sure that seven-year-old kelsey is really excited that twenty-year-old kelsey is reaching for the stars and achieving her dreams.

i have named my alternate personality. i like to think that she has freckles.

2010-08-18T15:17:00.000-07:00

i have a secret to share with you and her name is krankypants mcghee.

see, in addition to being incredibly hilarious, exceedingly intelligent, a fabulous blog writer, and EXTREMELY modest, i am also sometimes a bitch.
most mornings i start out good-natured, but about midday my cheerfulness begins to wilt. by three o' clock i'm dropkicking anyone who looks at me the wrong way, and by the time i finally make it home to the loveshack? i'm downright murderous. usually when i storm in the door my unfortunate boyfriend is home being all adorable and domestic, often washing dishes or making me dinner.
enter krankypants mcghee.

krankypants is a ruthless, cold-blooded girl who says things like, "NO I DO NOT WANT TO CUDDLE." she steals all the blankets when the air conditioning is on, then she laughs. she's been rumored to slam cabinets and whine unattractively, but there's no confirmed account of this behavior.

i'm telling you this because i'm house-sitting, and now when i come home there is no sweet boyfriend. krankypants can have all the blankets she wants and when she slams the cabinets, no one cares. she has no one to ask her about her day and she has no one to torture.

i am lonely.

when i finally get to return home to the loveshack i am going to hug aaron so hard and thank him for being amazing. then i am going to steal all the blankets and laugh.

i'm pretty sure turning sixteen is only fun if you're the protagonist of a movie directed by john hughes.

2010-08-16T15:04:00.000-07:00

today my baby sister turns another year older. it's this horrible habit that she has.

part of me begrudges the fact that, at sixteen, my sister is beautiful, smart, and talented. she's the kind of person i would have been jealous of back in my high school days. (i mean, come on. she got the blonde hair and green eyes). the other part of me can't even remember what it was like to be sixteen, probably because i've blocked it from my memory since my life was SOOOO HARD back then and NO ONE UNDERSTOOD ME, OH MY GOSH YOU GUYS SERIOUSLY.

i'm sure you are all really interested in listening to me hash out my repressed psychosocial issues that are surfacing due to my sister's aging, but i'll save that for another time. i think this blog is only supposed to feature adorable anecdotes in which i attempt to cook something fancy for dinner, fail miserably, end up eating fastfood, and learn a good lesson in the end.

so happy birthday, lauren. i hope that the hot senior, jake ryan, finally notices you despite your complete social incompetence and that you're able to share a dramatic kiss over your birthday cake while a sweet eighties soundtrack blares in the background.
my other hope is that your boyfriend never finds that out i said that.

my apron is white. a panera employee gave it to me.

2010-08-13T18:42:00.000-07:00

"name one thing i haven't followed through on," aaron says indignantly, waving a spatula--and the problem is i can't. the guy follows through, whether it's waking up at five AM to watch a meteor shower or signing a lease with his crazy girlfriend.
but writing a blog? i don't know if i have time to devote to a blog. i'm too busy doing important things like watching fern gully and eating twizzlers. besides, who'd read about the foray into the adult world of paying electric bills, pretending to make healthy dinners, and relegating the boyfriend to the storage room when and if his snoring becomes unbearable?

"i wouldn't have brought up the idea if i wasn't going to follow through," he insists, stirring the pot of macaroni and cheese with a little more vigor than is strictly necessary. watching him assault dinner, i realize that he's right. we do need to do this. if i don't agree then all of these little moments, these forceful spatula jabs and disgruntled exclamations are going to pass by unappreciated.

in fifty years i'm going to want to remember the color of the carpet in my first real apartment. i'm going to want to remember exactly how exciting and scary moving in with someone was. i'm especially going to want to remember the look on aaron's face when his mother suggested "shackin' up" as the name of our blog.