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Name: Kelsey
Country: United States
State: Missouri
Metro: Columbia
Birthday: 7/29/1985
Gender: Female


Interests: Pretending I know the words to songs. Reading directions. Pink shoes. Poetic license. Chasing storms. Big hoop earrings. Not finishing books. Finishing books that change my life. Thinking my apartment is haunted. Conversations over coffee. Walking on broken glass and not bleeding. Lazy Sundays. Being irrational. Angry girl music. Keeping things for too long. Believing in things for too long. Riding in cars with boys. Playing Scrabble. Pretending that I don't like to write poetry. Pretneding I know exactly what I am talking about when it comes to philosophy. Irony. Musical chairs. Wishing that I had all the right words. Water lit up by moonlight. Diaries. Songs that change your life or at least make you smile. Giving advice, even if it is terrible. Love, especially if it is unconventional. Making someone smile for no reason at all. Being naive enough to think that I could change the world.
Expertise: Being inspired at the most unlikely situations.
Occupation: Student
Industry: Art


Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM: kjneverlies


Member Since: 3/15/2004

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love letters, 3am chats and making out in the rain
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-i write to express not impress-
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::| Mizzou |::
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Into the Infinite Abyss...
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i am jack's broken heart.
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/\/IXA GRADS 2k4
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Thursday, January 04, 2007

Final Page.

I’ll admit it. I’ve neglected Xanga.  It would be easy to blame the boyfriend who usually happens to be by my side during my prime writing hours. But it’s more than that. There are more important things in my life now than regurgitating my life happenings to a high school-based audience.

 

The problem with any online blog is that there is no final page. When I used to be old-fashioned and use paper journals, I took the final page to reflect on my growth and to predict my future. Then when I wrote on my first page of a brand new journal, I knew that I had grown up, even if just a little. I guess what I am saying is that it is time for a last page.

 

I think like everything in college my growth comes fast-paced with little time for reflection. This morning, for instance, I woke up shocked that I lived on my own, even though I have lived on my own for a long time. When I was little I mistakenly thought that the transformation to adulthood was noticeable. But like any natural change, it’s slow enough to startle you only when it’s finished or nearly finished (Think Global Warming)

 

Although I’m not completely an adult (I have no retirement plan and very little to my name), I’m still a lot more grown up than the 18-year-old who started this blog, love sick and idealistic. I have a credit card. And a job where I have to wear professional clothing. And married friends!

 

So here is to you, Xanga. Without you, I might never have made it to adulthood.

 

 

      

Currently Reading
Self-Made Man: One Woman's Journey into Manhood and Back
By Norah Vincent
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Thursday, November 30, 2006

Chocolate is so delicious

It's amazing how when you are in love you have an excuse to notice a pair of hands (or feet) and fall whole heartedly in love with them. They don't have to be manicured to perfection. Nor do they have to perform heroic life-saving tasks. (Well, maybe you will argue that they saved yours.) But they just have to exist, like dandelions and turtles exist.

And maybe that's what I love most about being in love -- this transformation of the ordinary into extraordinary. I would insert something here about the transformation of a caterpillar into a butterfly, but I fear I've reached my cliche potential by simply talking about falling in love.

So when you look at a picture of your dearly loved, realize that there was a day when they weren't discovered by your wee heart. And they were, of course, plain ordinary like the cocoa bean before the chocolate.
Currently Listening
Twin Cinema
By The New Pornographers
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Wednesday, November 22, 2006

MISSING: My Voice

I'm so out of practice with writing that it hurts. I'm not sure how I let it happen. Actually, I know exactly how it happened - the Missourian. They teach you to think about what you are writing. I used to FEEL what I was writing. Now I am in this break, and I feel it is appropriate to at least attempt to rekindle my lost art. But I'm good at making excuses up like sleep deprivation and unfinished books.

And as I try and type tonight, I realize my voice is missing. My Missourian-induced thoughts scared it away with their sharp daggers and cruel intangible ideas. (My voice was never really confident to begin with, but now it's somewhere hiding and possibly having legally changed it's name, just so I won't find it) So because of this, the important and the unimportant details of my life go unwritten. The worse, though, is my passion without voice goes no where.

So Voice, if you are out there reading this, know that I loved you and though I did not always believe in you, I would never have gotten anywhere without you. Voice, come back. I need you.

Love,
Kelsey

Currently Reading
Promises I Can Keep: Why Poor Women Put Motherhood Before Marriage
By Kathryn Edin, Maria Kefalas
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Wednesday, November 08, 2006

CLAIRE WON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YAY


Saturday, October 07, 2006

finding glory in glorious

In my desperation for inspiration, I start to play Frou Frou's "Let Go" for old times sake. My feet are cold, as usual, and I'm thinking of possibilities, as usual. The word of the day is glorious for one or more of any of these reasons: 1) the weather and it's tendency to create prefect piles of leaves that attract my feet 2) Saturdays and the way coffee tastes just right at 2 pm and 3) a certain person and his tendency to make me smile.

Life is chaotic and keeping track of everyone and everything is getting hard, too hard. I went from being absolutely, completely single to being a girlfriend almost over night. (Let's just say he is special to break my year and half single-streak.) The paper does suck my soul, but I don't mind as much as I thought I would. I think I'm actually getting better at it. I have absolutely zero free-time and in fact the entire time while writing this I have been thinking about everything else I should be doing. But sometimes a writer just has to write. Everyone who knows me, should know that by now.

There are a few bumps that could be smoothed out, but otherwise my life is exactly where I would have dreamed it to be two years ago. Sometimes I worry that this luck that I appear to have is going to run out, but then sometimes I tell myself not to believe in luck.



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