Category Archives: opinion


I feel like the space you inhabit reflects the goings on in one’s life. Your room tends to be messier when your life is more chaotic and busy, and neater when you have more time and prioritize the need to maintain order.

Our little house has been coming together more and more in the past weeks, reflecting my current life. This is particularly true today with the arrival of a magnificent musical instrument. Our living room has transformed into a place designed for gathering–and gather here we have.

It all began with a new couch

I mean come on, how freaking cozy can you get?

A recent trip home provided us with board games!

and silly kitty pictures..

and finally today we (by we I mean boys and RICO!) moved this baby into our livingroom

Obviously some decoration is going to occur in this area BUT it just gives me chills. It cost us forty dollars each–I have bought shoes for more!

And now, it is spring break. Tes and I have compiled a list of things to do–fully aware that much of it is likely to not get done BUT hopeful nonetheless.

–compost in the side yard

–Take all recycling in the basement and move stuff down there

–Buy plastic chairs for outside

–Move litterbox outside

–Plant flowers

–Buy shower caddy

MMM we shall see. I am no doubt sunburned at the moment but I have literally never been happier and I am so grateful for this week off! I see brunch and camping in the near future and I cannot wait :)



Due to my literature class’s current focus on structuralism and deconstructionism, I have been hyper aware of social and cultural structures and how my world fits around them. We all like to think that we are individually unique, and for the most part we all are, but it is still a peculiar feeling when you realize you totally embody a cliche.

One day you look around and get this eerie sensation of pluralism…

You look at your ever-overflowing recycling pile and notice a particular trend..

and that your sink is perpetually full..

and you mix dollar pre-packaged rice with fresh vegetables as a contribution to a barbeque

and you spend your Saturday afternoon AT a barbeque

and yor turn on your camera the morning after attending a reggae concert with friends and you find pictures that you do not recall being taken..


(Scratch that, you simply take into account that you went to a reggae concert.)

Looks like I am a typical college student hahah when did that happen?!


WHY is there always at the very minimum at least one booger particle in my nose? Seriously, I have mucus control problems.

it snot funny!

How grotesque is it that I put that in green font?

So in exciting news, I went on a Saturday cleaning spree that included taking out the recycling. Our glass bottle pile officially only looks minorly alcoholic!

I also mopped. sawweeeet, I know.

Sadly, this effort did nothing to quelch my grouchyness, nor did crepes made by best friend this morning. Possibly a trip to Whole Foods and a nap can save me..

AND SOUP! I made another batch the other night during a romantic evening with two of my favorite people–of course it included the three s’s

Sex and the City, Situps, and Soup. ;)


The fourth “s” was included earlier in that day with some good, old-fashioned silliness! (in conjunction with a fifth “s” SKYPE). Why does everything wonderful begin with an s all of sudden?

Except snot. Definitely not okay with that.


Let me count the ways

I adore stumble upon

Forever its slave

haiku high five?

Seriously though, you know that you are a nerd when a significant portion of the things that come up are related to writing, reading, and/or other geeky factual tidbits.

From me to you, enjoy.

Bernadette Mayer's Writing Experiments

* Systematically eliminate the use of certain kinds of words or phrases from
a piece of writing: eliminate all adjectives from a poem of your own, or
take out all words beginning with 's' in Shakespeare's sonnets.
* Rewrite someone else's writing. Experiment with theft and plagiarism.
* Systematically derange the language: write a work consisting only of
prepositional phrases, or, add a gerund to every line of an already existing
* Get a group of words, either randomly selected or thought up, then form
these words (only) into a piece of writing-whatever the words allow. Let
them demand their own form, or, use some words in a predetermined way.
Design words. 
* Eliminate material systematically from a piece of your own writing until
it is "ultimately" reduced, or, read or write it backwards, line by line or
word by word. Read a novel backwards.
* Using phrases relating to one subject or idea, write about another,
pushing metaphor and simile as far as you can. For example, use science
terms to write about childhood or philosophic language to describe a shirt.
* Take an idea, anything that interests you, or an object, then spend a few
days looking and noticing, perhaps making notes on what comes up about that
idea, or, try to create a situation or surrounding where everything that
happens is in relation.
* Construct a poem as if the words were three-dimensional objects to be
handled in space. Print them on large cards or bricks if necessary.
* Write as you think, as close as you can come to this, that is, put pen to
paper and don't stop. Experiment writing fast and writing slow.
* Attempt tape recorder work, that is, recording without a text, perhaps at
specific times. 
* Make notes on what happens or occurs to you for a limited amount of time,
then make something of it in writing.
* Get someone to write for you, pretending they are you.
* Write in a strict form, or, transform prose into a poetic form.
* Write a poem that reflects another poem, as in a mirror.

100 best first lines from novels

3. A screaming comes across the sky. - Thomas Pynchon, Gravity's Rainbow (1973)
8. It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. - George Orwell, 1984 (1949)
15. The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new. —Samuel Beckett, Murphy (1938)
32. Where now? Who now? When now? - Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable (1953; trans. Patrick Bowles)
35. It was like so, but wasn't. - Richard Powers, Galatea 2.2 (1995)
38. All this happened, more or less. - Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five (1969)
61. I have never begun a novel with more misgiving. - W. Somerset Maugham, The Razor's Edge 

Bedtime calculator


101 ways to arouse your creativity!



The funny thing about taking a class centered around the phenomenon of love is that you start to think about love much more objectively and often.

The funny thing about reading more poetry is that you start to view life in verse.

Put both of those things together and you’ve got a full-blown, cheesed out disaster on your hands. That disaster is currently me.

Hi, my name is Kallie.

Today two things happened–I slipped and fell supremely hard in the morning, and almost cried in class in the afternoon.

And I went to Costco, but that is something entirely different.

My professor of said class said something that just resonated with me so entirely that I was suddenly overcome with emotion and had to fight back tears without consciously knowing why. What is it that he said you might be wondering, and seeing as I exist to satisfy your desires I will comply and promptly inform you.

He essentially said that when you love someone, they inhabit you. They are always with you no matter where you go, and everything that you experience you do so together, physically or otherwise.

He moved onto other related topics and as I glanced around the room all I saw were typical glazed expressions of young adults yearning for freedom from class. I resonated so fully with this idea, however, that I began to jot down my thoughts regarding the concept.

As I wrote, new worlds of realization unfolded before me. If loving someone gives them residence within a portion of your being, then the removal of that person (whether it be a romantic partner, a mother, a friend, a pet, etc) from your life could be equated with an amputation. This amputation hurts in that particular way that we all recognize but is essentially indescribable through language. If you removed an arm, or a liver, you would be given massive doses of medication to stamp out the pain but those afflicted with this disease of being go without such assistance. You might feel that phantom limb perpetually haunting you, an ache for a piece of you that is no more.

It is comforting in a way, to realize that losing a loved one–of any nature–is essentially amputating a portion of your being, yanking out a necessary appendage. It makes me feel better, no doubt.

The following are responses I wrote for aforementioned class:


When you are with everyone but me,

you’re with no one

When you are with no one but me,

you’re with everyone

Instead of being so bound with with everyone,

be everyone

When you become that many, you’re nothing.




The majority of the time I don’t notice.

I remain indoors during sunsets.

I scurry to my destination on sunny days.

I focus on my fatigue instead of scenery on runs.

I shiver with cold, instead of delight at the top of mountain peaks. My sandwich becomes the most beautiful thing in that moment.

Every once in awhile though, I get distracted from whatever endeavor I am currently involved in and allow wonder to creep in the cracks of my consciousness.

Growing up in Albuquerque has spoiled me to some extent, in regards to the fact that everyday is so ludicrously breathtaking that residents tend to develop an immunity to it. This is a horrible, life threatening affliction in my opinion because if you lose the capability of appreciating such beauty–how can you possibly appreciate your existence as a whole?

The colors in Albuquerque are so vivid it seems impossible that they actually exist. It is incomprehensible that everything should exist in such precise clarity and perfection–I feel as though I have grown up in a painting.

We each represent a brushstroke in this grand portrait.


and yet, while ABQ represents a very particular kind of majestic allure–it is an epidemic in the very best way (epidemic is without a doubt the wrong word, but i’m going with it anyways)–that this wonder exists everywhere, in a very individualized way.

The truly astounding thing about the whole deal is that it took the Earth so many stages–three atmospheres, 3.5 billion years–to transform itself into an inhabitable area. This dynamic planet maintains itself, each individual part trained well in its purpose and function, through a system of elaborate natural phenomena.


We were destined for one another–it is as though it was specifically designed for us to live it and we developed through evolution to be able to utilize all that it offers. The universe set us up on a blind date and we hit it off. We should collectively participate in a advertisement–the galaxy’s greatest success.


Today, I remembered


Am I the only one in the habit of attributing personalities to inanimate objects?

Sometimes I will see a plant, bicycle, or a jar and I will just get this overwhelming sense that they know a secret, or a joke and they are trying to share it with me.

Really, everything has a personality on some level. If you treat your belongings well, an observer can sense that. If you drink  juice out of your glasses with love and good thoughts, those glasses gleam a bit brighter; if you adore your car and caress it with polish, it will drive a bit smoother. There is such a focus on treating other people with kindness and respect, which is absolutely necessary as well, but it has occured to me that objects deserve the same respect in a way.

Enjoy your bed, nestle in it with a book and revel it its company. It is your sleeping companion, it knows all your uncensored behavior but refrains from judgement and faithfully holds you as you slumber each evening.

Once you open up this possibility of objects being company, you will realize that you are never truly alone (you can decide if this creeps you out or not). When you are lonely, hug your pillow, or lean against your wall.

While reading Hemingway’s short story, Hills like White Elephants, I really admired the girl’s natural inclination to regard everything as an independent entity with thoughts, feelings, and personality. She looked upon a beaded curtain as though it was saying something to her, and the hills as though they were innocently existing elephants–her environment spoke to her more than her human companion.

As a person requiring immense amounts of personal space at frequent intervals, yet perpetually suffering from an undefinable sort of loneliness, this concept is simultaneously intriguing and comforting to me.

I now look upon my house full of characters, instead of clutter. ;)