The Proverbial Tree in the Forest - Instagram.

I studied abroad in Italy for four months my junior year of college.
The next year, I got a job in the study abroad office of my university in order to help other students figure out if, when, where, why, and how they should study abroad too.
A couple times I was asked to speak at pre-departure meetings and give future study abroad students my opinion on culture shock, reverse culture shock and how to deal with being in another country.

My one piece of advice was...don't take pictures.
Obviously, that was met with, "WHAT!?" Because they had all mentally put themselves in front of the Eiffel Tower holding a baguette like a sword, with the Toaster filter and a caption that said, "Je t'aime" or something equally as clever...

And it's okay, because we all do it and it's fun and makes all our friends jealous...but in becoming so preoccupied with cataloging these memories, that we stand in front of these historic pieces of iconography and meet them with a 21-gun-salute of Point & Shoots, then we miss it.

Because it will never look the same as seeing it with your own eyes.
And it will never feel the same.
And by hiding behind your iPhone and trying to connect this world with the dozen other you belong to, you miss the experience.
You're not in Paris. You're in the web of lies known as Instagram where nothing is real.

And it's amazing to me how a few minutes of Instagram browsing can completely change my outlook on things.

Suddenly, I think, well now no one knows how much fun I had in Vegas, or how cute my tortoise is, or how cute my boyfriend is, or if I even have a boyfriend, or how awesome this burger is, or how clever the foam art on my latte is...

HOW WILL PEOPLE KNOW THIS IF I DON'T SHOW THEM?!

A picture will never prove or disprove that.
In fact, it's my own hypothesis that the more someone posts on Instagram or Facebook, the unhappier they really are.
Or the more validation they are looking for.

Because I see all of these fitness freaks posting pictures of their unhuman-like abs, and girls taking pictures of themselves at red lights and if we were all being honest with ourselves, then we would post the pictures of us taking these pictures.

A picture of you at a dinner party doesn't just appear.
No, you have to take out your phone.
Open the app.
End the conversation.
Shoot all the varying angles, finding the one with the best light.
Try out all the filters twice.
Think of a clever caption.
Post.
And then anxiously anticipate who is going to like it.

Of course your mom does.
And some people you went to college with.
Maybe an ex or two. (Stalkers)
And that creepy person from work you don't even know that well.

And it's like, WHAT ARE WE DOING?

Are we even living lives anymore?

Where are all these dilapidated buildings that everyone is finding and taking photos in like they're a freaking Free People catalog?

Are we capable of doing something, eating something, experiencing something...
Are we capable of living life, I should say, without telling/showing anyone/everyone?

Has Instagram become the proverbial tree in the forest?
Does it not make a sound unless we are all there to witness it?

I'm not saying any of these apps or websites are bad or that I'm going to delete mine.
I just think that maybe before we pull out our phones or cameras or polaroids or whatever...that we just take a moment to be present where we are, because it will never look the same as it does right then and there and I would hate to miss it.

Why Unemployed is the New Single.

Being unemployed is like being single in a world where everyone is taken.

I graduate a week from today and while everyone is off getting engaged to grad schools and betrothed to super awesome, well-paying jobs with benefits, I'm just...waiting for the right one.

Do you see what I'm saying?!

LinkedIn is the new eHarmony.

You build this resume full of half-truths that are masked by the Instagram filters of "people skills" and "self-motivated."
And then people in your area want to connect...
And meet for interviews...

AND THEN NEVER CALL YOU AGAIN.

Because the process of being hired for a job is like going on a really strange date where you're not sure if the other person even likes you.

They say they'll call in a few days, which usually means they won't and if they do, it's definitely more than "a few days."

You're afraid to be needy, so you might send them an email, just to say you were thinking of them, but really to see if they were thinking of you.

You unabashedly stalk their website so you can casually bring up their interests and pretend like they're yours too.

And when (more like if) they do call, they're super obscure because they have commitment issues and don't want to give you the wrong idea.

And then a few months later, you see them with someone else and realize you're gonna die unemployed.

AND THIS IS MY LIFE.

We had a few interviews that (I felt) went really great as well as some really scintillating phone conversations and I STILL DON'T KNOW if I got the job or not.

And I keep thinking, if they really wanted to be with me, they would've hired me by now.

They might say that you are "overqualified" or that "they're jealous of the company that'll hire you" and you'll be thinking, "When would that ever be a problem?" or "That could've been you!"

The moral of the story (and I have to tell myself this too) is that IT WILL HAPPEN.
You'll meet the right job eventually.
Sure, you might date a few crappy jobs here and there.
But if they treat you wrong or don't realize what you're worth, get out of there!
It doesn't have to be forever just yet.

If it's meant to happen, it'll happen.

The Parable of the Nose Ring.

I like to say it was because of the heat and lack of air conditioning in my apartment that led to the great adventure that ended with a hole in my nose.

But if we're being honest, that wasn't it at all.

I was sitting in Starbucks (because I have a problem and it has air conditioning) across from Garrett who is in a band.

School was starting next week, but I had to come early for work training. I had the whole day free and we were deciding what we should do.

Me: I kinda wanna get my nose pierced.
G: Alright, let's do it.

And so we drove to the next town and in a tattoo parlor across from a Forever 21 in a Westfield Mall, I got my nose pierced by some guy who told me I would look like a Lenny Kravitz if I got it pierced by anyone but him.

And then I looked like this...

I didn't tell my mom until I went home nearly a month later.
All she could say was, "Why?"
But she wasn't really mad. And neither was Grandma. Or Grandpa. Or the hordes of family I had to see at Thanksgiving.

Except for they did ask if this meant I was a follower now instead of a leader.

Or something like that.
Whatever.

Here's the thing though, the real reason I got my nose pierced, was because suddenly my entire world seemed so small and I felt even less significant.

It was like Britney when she shaved her head.
Or any girl who decides she wants bangs after getting her heart broken.

I had never wanted a nose ring before. I don't even really like my nose that much.

But after my heart had broken into a million pieces and each of those little bits was just floating around my body, stabbing my internal organs, reminding me that I wasn't whole, I knew I had to do something crazy.
Because I was crazy.

Something was different and I needed to DO something to show that.
Something BIG.
(Or relatively big.)

I was hurt and I wanted to do something that would make it silly and not a big deal.
In a way, I wanted to be able to hide that I was sad.
So I put a hole in my nose and became Kelli Kravitz.

Almost a month ago, I took the ring out to clean it and I couldn't get it back in.
The ring I was wearing didn't have that little ball, so the C shape wasn't fully in my nose and I guess it had closed on the inside.

But I decided to leave it out anyway.
Because I realized that it was something that represented how terribly unhappy and broken I was.

It was a time in my life when I felt irrevocably lost.

And you know what's weird? It was in that time that I had to grow up more than I ever thought I would.
It was when I realized how much God loved me.
And how selfish I was.

I needed that nose ring to teach me how to be a better person.
How to pray.
How to love.

I needed it to remind that it's okay to not be okay.

But the time has come where I have to let it go.
And I did.
And now I realize I am whole and even happy.

And I'm a better Kelli because of it.

It was funny too because though most people have either not noticed or not commented that I don't wear it anymore (despite having it in for 6 months), my roommate, right after I took it out, looked at me and said, "You know, I think I like it better this way."

And so do I.

So farewell, dear nose ring...it's been real.

Youth Novels.

"Sometimes you wanna go...where NObody knows your name." (Song lyrics for the real world)

I'm not trying to sound anti-social by saying this, (because I know we're all thinking it anyway) but sometimes I really hate seeing people I know.
Or rather, people I kinda know.

Like, we know each other's names, but that's about it.
"Hey, whatsyourface."
"Hey, soandso."
"Okay, bye."

C'mon...who wants that?

Here's another thing, sometimes I suffer mild strokes before being forced to interact with another person and am therefore rendered incapable of speaking or even acting like a human being.

I'm not even kidding.
Someone says hi, and I seize up and just kinda, "Hehdofsudfodjs."

Nope.
That was even a word. That was just a sound. I just made sounds at another person in an attempt to greet them like a decent person.

And this happens A LOT.

I'm walking to class and another person is walking toward me, one of those kinda-know kind of people and suddenly it's...

"Hey Kelli."
"Heh." (Just a sound.)

And then we pass each other and I hang my head in shame and they tell all of their friends, so they can put healing hands on me later for being incapable of proper speech.

Can't we just smile at each other?
Or nod?

People in movies do it all the time.
Just bro nod and move on, that's all I'm asking.
Let's avoid the pleasantries. We don't even KNOW each other and it's quite literally causing my brain to short-circuit to the point where I can't even make full WORDS let alone full sentences.

So next time you see me, and I just start making noises at you, just keep walking.

Atlas Hands.

Here's the thing, sometimes the world looks kindly on me.
Just yesterday, my favorite sub place had cheese bread and I just KNEW it was going to be a good day.

Today, not once, but TWICE, I was nominated for some strange, outlandish blogging thing and I don't even feel worthy because I've been severely lacking in funny stories. (This will turn around, I swear.)

So here it is...my nomination as favorite n00b
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/viewform?formkey=dGxCTDBlNGE1RHVyODc4TVVoWGFkemc6MQ
on 20sb! (Who knew?)
I'll never not be a newbie.

And then this lovely lady nominated me for some libertarian award or something...(Just call me Swan Ronson.) http://www.gurlongirlgaming.com/2013/01/the-liebster-award.html :D

I think I'm supposed to respond to that one in some way, but if we're being real here...probably won't. I'm not good with random facts and all that jazz. In class, when the professor makes us go around and say our names and where we're from (gag me) and a random fact, I always lie.

I'm Kelli, I'm from Mordor and when I was a child I had 15 teeth surgically removed. (That part is actually true. How does anyone survive their childhood?)

BeyonC'est la vie, right?

Anywho...

You know how you do stuff (and probably lie about) in high school and you think, "Someday, I'll be able to tell my parents this and we'll all laugh,"?

Right, well. That's kinda how I feel about our cat. (Or the cat we USED to have. His name was Little Bear or Toothless or Aziz, depending on who you were and how he was acting that day.)

I told my parents that we just kinda found him or someone gave him to us or whatever, but that's not exactly true. (Sorry, Mom.)

But now that it's a new year, new semester and little Z is now in a new home, I feel like I can appropriately articulate the true story, without bringing shame and embarrassment to the family.

The day that we decided we wanted a cat, was the day we GOT the cat.
We just went for it.
We scoured the pages of Craigslist until we found someone who could give us a kitten right then and there. (Despite our better judgment.)

So we called up some guy (he sounded about 14) and he said we could come take a look, even though it was almost 10 o' clock at night.

Turns out he lives in Chino. (Not to be confused with the nicer, less industrial Chino Hills, but THE Chino where Ryan Atwood from the OC called home.)

So we roll up to this neighborhood, (turning left at the railroad tracks) and pull into his dark street, where people are outside cleaning shotguns and fixing their cars. (Or something like that.)

By this time, we were pretty scared and starting to think that maybe this wasn't a good idea. (We didn't have any cat stuff and we weren't even allowed to have animals in our apartment.)

Danielle was the one who contacted him, so when we pulled up to what we thought was his house (but across the street, facing the road, so in case we needed to make a quick getaway, we could) she texted him.

Dan: Hey we're here.
Cat Guy: Okay, see you in a sex.

SEE
YOU
IN
A
SEX!!!!!!!!!

Upon reading this text, we all immediately duck down in our seats.
"A SEX?!"
"We're gonna die!"
"Drive away!!"

But then his front door opened, and out pranced the sweetest little black kitten and our hearts melted and we thought, "This little guy is worth almost dying for."

So we took him.
And we didn't die.
And for several months, we were all one big happy family. (Until we had to give him away, because let's face it, getting a cat wasn't the smartest move...but that's life.)

And now he lives in some lady named Amy's sink.

Miss you, Z.

Young Pilgrims.

It has been so long since my last post, that I actually forgot my password.
But in my defense...I have been all kinds of busy during this lovely Christmas break...there was a True Life marathon on MTV.
So now all I can think about is the crazy girl shooting heroin into her neck...as I suck down my iced coffee, in my pajamas at 2 in the afternoon, trying to make noise, so my dad knows I'm not dead.

Moral of the story, things could be worse.

I forget that often.
Especially during the existential crisis that occurred while at a nice steak dinner with my parents a few weeks ago.

Here are the highlights...
-I won't find a job after I graduate.
-Even if I do find a job it will suck.
-And I'll be poor.
-No matter what I'll always be poor.
-And what have I even learned at school?
-I don't feel adequately prepared to find a job.
-Besides, I already know I won't.
-And it doesn't matter, because even if I do, it'll suck.
-And I'll always be poor.

It's a vicious cycle.

And I'm sitting in a Starbucks right now (because I had to get out of my house and the Sex & the City marathon was over) and even this Starbucks kinda sucks.

And I got a B in my poetry class. (Because my teacher is the ocean and I guess I forgot I don't know how to swim.)

I dunno, I guess just one day I woke up and I felt mediocre. I felt so soul-crushingly mediocre, that I panicked and I cried into my dinner roll and my parents just pat my head, because that's what parents do.

But have you ever felt that way?
Have you ever woken up one day and just felt average?
Not even average...normal.
Like you'll find a job because you HAVE to and you'll work because there's nothing else to do and suddenly your life is Office Space without the clever plot-line.

And here's the thing, I'm so beyond not-normal, it almost hurts.
Like someday I am just so weird, I have to go home just to realign my personality. (And watch Golden Girls.)
I could never even do drugs, because I would be too scared they would make me normal.
I'm an odd duck and sometimes I have to stifle that to not frighten the good people of this Starbucks with their 2.50+ reading glasses and mochachinos. (This is my future.)

Did I mention I'm dating someone now?
Yeah.
YEAH.
Which is awesome, but now I have this whole other person to worry about and be relatively sane around, because as I am constantly reminding him, he doesn't really know me. (see Ben Folds feat. Regina Spektor)

And maybe no one really KNOWS you.
Because after your own mother introduces you by the wrong name (twice), you kinda start to wonder.
(I'm just kidding, Mom. Love you!)

So here's the thing, it's just days before I embark on my last semester college, and I, like the rest of the world, am so irrevocably lost, but I refuse to be mediocre.

(This isn't even what I was intending on writing about, but I suppose I shall post it anyway, to let you all know that I'm still here, chief.)

Mimizan.

I woke up in the middle of the night, because I felt a hand on my head.

I had only been a sleep a few hours, but the second I felt little fingers on my forehead, I immediately sat up.

"Someone just touched my head."

My roommate woke up too, either from her nightmare or from my loud proclamation of an intruder in our room, "What?!"

"Someone just touched my head. Did you just touch my head?"

I started to look around my bed, trying to find the person that just laid their hand on my forehead.
I thought maybe someone was hiding under my body pillow.
Or perhaps they were under my bed.
Or in the closet.

"You're scaring me."

"I swear I just felt a hand on my head."

I was freaking out.
Someone touched my head...enough for me to wake up...clearly, something was wrong.

And then I realized, that my whole right arm was starting to tingle, as it was regaining feeling after being numb.

"Wait a minute....my arm is numb..."

That's when I pieced it together.
I fell asleep on my arm weird, and then my arm fell asleep...and I guess when I moved, I accidentally hit myself in the head, but since I couldn't feel my arm, my brain registered it as someone else's arm and that's why I woke up in such a fright.

We immediately fell back asleep and it was quite funny in the morning when I was able to say, "Hey remember when I thought someone touched my head?"

Here's the thing...sometimes we assume things too quickly and they are strange and scary and make no sense.

We wake up and think, "There is definitely someone hiding under my body pillow!"

But once we take a step back, we realize...nope, I just loss all of the blood in my right arm and therefore, need to figure out a new way to sleep...

It's crazy how we can be so convinced of something in life, only to realize we were wrong or to see it a completely different way.

I kind of had a moment like that tonight.
Where I was convinced something was one way, but seeing the bigger picture, realized how miniscule it and how wrong I was.

Moral of the story, life is weird, but it has a beautiful way of working out.