Reverse Hipstering

Hello. Hey. Hi. What's up? Head nod.

I've had three different conversations lately where the question was asked "do you write anymore?"

The short answer is no. The long answer is still no but with a lot more excuses. I write to do lists, weekly menu plans, shopping lists, and irritatingly long instagram posts. Meanwhile in my head all the real words just sit and not just collect dust, but ingest it somehow. So in the rare occasion I try to express anything, the words just sputter and choke.

I told Jon my life was too happy to write. Like a certain amount of tragedy could be useful or inspiring. But there's also the fear that maybe if I did write, allow the words to piece together all these thoughts and feelings, I'd find out I'm not as happy as I thought I was. Maybe not saying anything at all has kept me from feeling what's really there.

A year ago, shortly after Cordelia was born, Jon sent me a text saying "remember this?" with a picture of me holding the journal a story of mine was published in. Facebook had told him that three years ago this event had happened, his wife had published something. I think his text was meant to be inspiring or at the least not cause me to spiral down to a deep abyss of sadness. There I was holding my newborn baby, wreaking of spit up and bleeding into basically a diaper and thinking about the life I used to live. That's not to say I used to live a life of writing and publications, all fancy fance and important. But I did for a small two semester moment, live a life with a voice and confirmation of abilities I hoped to posses.

I hate reading the bright and shiny version of people's lives. So many blogs and instagram accounts tell of only the best parts, making you wonder how much they edit their lives. Or worse, "why isn't my life like theirs?" That's not to say I particularly enjoy reading or hearing about people's complaints or woes of life. But there's a certain amount of reality that's missing, of truth. All the neatly tied up stories, a few complaints glossed over and sweetened by the realization of something grand and wonderful about life. To be honest I rarely have those grand realizations. Sometimes my two year old breaking down about wanting to stay in her pajamas or my baby's sudden discovery of purposefully dropping food off her tray is just that; infuriating and exhausting. But I have to believe that it's ok and that other braless moms going on their 4th cookie of the day exist out there. And that their house isn't tidy and there isn't a teepee in the corner of their child's bare nursery.

So I guess I'm going to be a reverse hipster and blog after it was cool. I'm not going to edit. And I'm not going to pretend I will be in anyway consistent with this. But here's to a small effort at dusted off words and writing.

Jon and Kel Plus Twelve's Winter Season Finale:

Important Lessons Learned

- Even though I use "English Major" threateningly in a game of Bananagrams, it always seems to ring empty to this smarty pants husband.

- Italian Sodas are a must.

- We celebrate our birthdays in completely different ways. Mine involves chocolate and lots of plans. His involves Sushi and no plans.

- We are good at finding yummy places to eat/obsess over in Provo.

- Easter is honestly my Favorite Holiday. (And my husband does listen to me when I talk and talk about childhood Easter baskets full of Sees Candy and a new Swim Suit. He even surprises me with one.)

- Rexburg Trips to see Good Friends are always worth it.

- Having a set Date Night makes us both Happier.

- Jon doesn't do well with sad movies. This was manifested at the end of Life is Beautiful. I tried repeating the title thoughtfully, "Life is Beautiful Jon...Life is Beautiful" but it didn't help.

Look at that distraught face.

- We can actually bring ourselves to buy furniture for our Condo without Buyer's Remorse.

- Jon is deathly afraid of heights and due to my long list of irrational fears we thought I would be no different. No siree. I'm a heights champion and I totally impressed the husband.

Little do you know I had to do some serious coaxing to get him to stand up for this picture. He was convinced we were going to fall off the side the minute we stood up.

-We can not only survive our least favorite season of the year, but we can even enjoy it. Together.

A College Student Now

I'm officially registered for Classes at UVU starting in the Fall.

I'm nervously excited and somehow happily scared.

I had an appointment with a school counselor today and with no knowledge of the campus I begged Jon to come with me. He obliged. When the meeting was over we walked through the halls together with Jon examining/sizing up the place.

He then concluded, "Well it seems like a pretty nice campus, the people do seem a little interesting. But I guess we are in the Liberal Arts Building... English people are weird." He gave me a sideways glance and squeezed my hand hoping get a good rise.

I just smiled and contentedly sighed, "yeah... we are weird"as I watched the girl in a Harry Potter shirt with unwashed hair light up as she discovered what was probably the perfect sentence to end her paper.

I then joined Jon in eating a mediocre pepperoni pizza while chugging awful caffeinated pop. Because I am after all a College Student Now.

Woot Woot.

Springtime?

Spring.
I seem to fall for you every year.
You appear, breath, and dye my heart different pastel colors.
And then, teasingly you stick your tongue out, pull down a cover of snow, and hide.
My red Toms that have been previously established as cheery, now are wet and angry. They keep asking me why I fall for your tricks.
I begin to defend myself and then I remember...
The single pair of socks shared between two sisters cold and unprepared feet for a week. It was April.
The morning I came upstairs to find my roommates lounging instead of class attending, when asked why they opened up the blinds. Snow blinded me. It was June.
You're right, I should have known better Red Toms.
As to you Spring, let's make a deal. You appear and stay for a while, and I'll promise to use you in all the proper ways. I'll picnic in light cardigans, smell the blooming flowers, and drive with the window rolled down.
Deal?

To be honest

Done with Glee's Agenda. Peace out.

daily reminder: I'm going to Mexico in FEBRUARY not tommorrow-bummer

Feels good to hear what kind of missionary my husband was.

Easter is blackened hotdogs and molly's devilled eggs

Don't know what to do with those nice things you said

recycled songs

missing my bright orange watch and pouch

measuring out my Hollandaise Sauce felt like death

"Want to watch an episode of Lie to Me?" or maybe 5?

Dear To Kill a Mockingbird,

I've held you before

breathed on your insides

and bent your corners.

But you were assigned and I was too young;

busy caring less.

My hands were fumbly and you were too delicate,

your words crumbled at my fingertips.

I'm sorry, it should have been grand.

Should have been.

And yet, you gave me a second chance

and this time it was different.

As I turned your pages, I felt steady and you stayed solid.

I cared more.

When your back met your cover in my hands I squeezed

and I felt you squeeze back.

I've been filled.

Filled with characters you made my friends,

the tug of Youth,

the love of innocence,

and the beauty of Life.

Now, I can place you deservingly on the top shelf of my mental bookcase

and say simply this,

Thank you for the second chance, it was Grand.

With Love,

Kelsey

Rooster Talk

When I was younger I spent a lot of time at a good friend's house. Summer was our season and we spent hours swimming in the canal, salting freshly picked cucumbers, and catching the lead singers of their backyard frog Choir. One of my favorite features of this home away from home was the "country" feel. This family had pigs and chickens to feed, apples to pick, sprinklers to move, and wild kittens to tame. I was convinced my dear friend had the life and true to kid nature, she did not agree. So at every opportunity I begged to be the one who got to feed the chickens and gather the eggs. She of course conceded easily and happily, and yet I felt like I had won something precious. I was so fascinated with those funny little chickens with their awkward neck movements and constant babbling. On one particular day I was gathering the eggs while quietly trying to persuade the chickens not to peck at me. My friend and her brother were outside of the coop, watching me through the holes in the wire. I suddenly noticed the backs of some of the chickens. They were missing their feathers and looked like they had been scratched. I was disturbed by the sight and remember urgently coming out of the coop and asking what happened to them. My friend and her brother looked at eachother and laughed. They then proceeded to tell me the Rooster did that to them. I was confused and asked why the Rooster was so mean to them. They laughed some more and then gave me a little talk about the Birds and the Bees- animal style. I was disgusted. I remember clapping my hands over my ears and trying to hum the disturbing away. But the lesson was inevitable and now the chickens weren't that cute and the task of gathering eggs had lost its innocence and charm. I gladly handed the chicken duties back to my friend and spent more time salting and eating cucumbers with hands at the ready if Rooster talk began.

Lately I've learned a lot about the people in my world mostly without any inquiry. Whether it's discovering too much information about ward members, becoming a confidant for the troubled, or having overtalkative coworkers the point is the same. There seems to be a constant stream of reality that's shattering the charm of well, everything. As much as I claim to be a realist, I still appreciate the warm and the fuzzy that keep the hard topics hidden. So in an effort to maintain a love for the human race and in the name of chickens, I will now be slamming my hands over my ears and humming my heart out.

I'm sorry...hummm.... I just can't hear you....hummm
please work.