music find.

these are my two favorite cocorosie songs right now. i just got their new album, "grey oceans" a few weeks ago, and it hasn't left my cd player in my car. i don't really know how to critique an album musically, but i know what i like and what i don't, and i like their sound very much. highly recommended- go buy it. the second video, featuring the song "lemonade" from their new album, is one of those tunes that i just keep repeating over and over again once it ends. i love songs that are able to capture that much of my attention to where i get super excited once i start my car, knowing i get to listen to music that moves me in some form or fashion. the video is pretty amazing, too. hope you enjoy!






note: at 2:55....i really want to be this woman when i am older. fingers crossed!

USMNT- oh. my. god.

today was epic in the soccer world. i am speechless. i have just been smiling all day. if you saw our boys go to battle against algeria then you know what i am talking about. landon donovan scored the game winning goal in stoppage time in the 91st minute of the match, advancing the usmnt to the second round (a round of 16 teams). for as long as i can remember landon donovan has been a key player, if not the best player, on this team- today he gave american soccer fans such joy through his leadership, tears, and words. what a humble, hardworking athlete! i am so proud of usa in this tournament. not only have they battled through two matches with their heads held high despite disallowed goals, they continue to portray such class on and off the field. this is the usmnt's first world cup group title since 1930, and they will face ghana (easier than germany) this saturday. i guarantee you that clint dempsey will put one in the net. there is no question in my mind. go usa! thank you for the passion and the reminder that there is just so much beauty in the game of soccer.

"merman, pop. merman."

i wanted to write a little about the coney island mermaid parade i checked out last weekend. i wish i had taken more pictures, but i was just mesmerized by the sights and sounds of a world so foreign to me that i kept completely present. growing up in tennessee and then spending several years in south carolina, i wouldn't say i have been too exposed to drag king/queen titans, glittered covered women dressed as sea creatures, and all the spontaneity the coney island boardwalk has to offer including beach bums, carnival rides, blasting music, and your typical crazy here and there shouting about the world coming to an end. with one glance i saw little kiddies eating corn dogs the size of their heads, holding their parents hands while trying to pull away to chase seagulls. right next to this family- a man in dreads drumming away to his own beat on a set of makeshift bongos. i felt like i was in some kind of pee-wee herman movie where every turn leads to vibrant colors and carnival characters. i felt alive. whenever i feel like i'm in a pee-wee herman flick or an indiana jones movie, i know i am on the right path in life. two women on stilts dressed as mermaids with long, blue hair came sweeping past me on either side, and i felt like a six year old who lost her parents, but wanted to keep exploring on the crowded boardwalk. the parade is held annually to celebrate the "sand, the sea, the salt air and the beginning of summer, as well as the history and mythology of Coney Island, Coney Island pride, and artistic self-expression." mission accomplished. there was this little section off the boardwalk where a crowd had gathered. so, of course, i had to make my way in and see what the excitement was all about. "Shoot the Freak." what? in a small quad down below the boardwalk, a man sprinted from barrier to barrier trying not to get hit by two loud hicks (i'll say it) who were rolling with laughter, shooting paintball guns at the "freak." don't get me wrong, i love paintball, but something about this just didn't sit right with me. i mean, the game itself seems fun, but i guess i didn't care for the title of the game. does this condone ignorance? "hey this person is different, a freak, let us shoot him." i know the title is silly and everyone was having a good time, but part of me over analyzed the whole thing. we are all freaks. maybe the point of the title was to embrace our inner freak and make light of the fact that society tends to 'target' the 'freaks.' i like that, if so. that's why i like lady gaga, she is a self-proclaimed freak. i wouldn't shoot paintballs at her though. or would i? anyways, the entire day was amazing. i am so grateful that i got to experience the coney island boardwalk and all its glory on such a beautiful, summer day.

i need coffee before making coffee.

my college roommates shook their heads in dismay when i walked back into our apartment after visiting another friend next door. "are you serious, kaylan?" uh oh. what did i do? hmm...i got nothing. then i noticed my grilled chee- excuse me, my charcoaled, burnt to a crisp grilled cheese sandwich stuck to the pan, smoke everywhere.

30 minutes earlier: kaylan was hungy and started making a grilled cheese sandwich. kaylan ran next door to talk to her friend, allie, for what was suppose to only take a minute, so she could hurry back and flip her sandwich. kaylan totally forgot about her grilled cheese. oops. note: no alcohol was involved in this situation, unfortunately.


i preface this post with my grilled cheese story only to emphasize that i have moronic behavior. i embrace it, but it does make life a little messy. i simply get distracted with things. i woke up this morning and started my routine. first on the list, walk to the coffee pot and get it started. yes, i have the auto button, but making coffee in the morning at least gets me moving, plus i don't like to commit to making coffee in case i want to go somewhere else in the morning for some. who knows how i will feel when i wake up- i sure don't. so here we go. water. check. filter. check. coffee (caffe sanora organic antioxidant dark roast coffee- shout out because it's so good). check. switch the on button. check. back in my comfy bed to read my morning meditation passage. needless to say, all was well, despite the unusual sound of the coffee maker. eh. a few moments go by and while reading i got distracted (shocking) and happened to glance over to where my coffee maker was only to notice that my coffee pot was sitting about a foot away from where it should have been. fuck. coffee was steaming all over my counter and dripping down onto the floor. oh, simple tasks in life. i'm going to say that the moral of the story, the lesson i am taking anyways, is um...how about....don't be an idiot and make sure your pot is clean and in position. ha.

another note: the grilled cheese event happened twice...within the same month. yep. 

where oh where is carter lavin? squids like 'the sex.'

well good afternoon, lovelies. i'm taking a minute to sip on some coffee, black, of course. my father started me off on black coffee near the end of high school, confirming, "you have to start off this way. it's the only way." and that was that. i found this amazing coffee mug in a thrift store (gross, right? ha.) in philadelphia one day that is baby blue and says "i stayed awake during carter lavin's bar mitzvah 10-13-01." i thought it was hilarious for some reason, and find it even more rewarding to test my company when they wake up for a morning cup of coffee. "here you go." not everyone passes the test. those who find it awkward and hilarious ultimately win my heart. i added to my bucket list- find this carter lavin kid. i would love to just show up in front of him, drinking from this mug. maybe i should embrace our worlds greatest tool that is facebook (obviously) and do a quick search. for some reason, i want to find him organically though- through fate. i'm somewhat impractical like that, even though i try and trick myself that i am not. i was in the shower last night and used the soap you gave me. for some reason the last coin-sized amount gave off the strongest fragrance. i didn't want it to end. there were a few bits too small to use for "practical" reasons, so i coldly kicked them down the drain before i realized it was gone completely. after staring at the drain for a few seconds with some flashbacks, i happened to notice a small, golden chunk of karma hidden behind the conditioner. i gently picked it up, and placed it high on the shower shelf where it wouldn't drown, and can always live on. practical? i'm a dichotomy to myself most days- forcefully preaching practical versus impractical, pretending emotion doesn't fall into the mix. i opened up a box of irish spring soap and placed it in the shower...for practical reasons.

i had one of those nights last night where i couldn't sleep. i stayed up researching the most random things. one question just kept leading to the other. colbert turned into 'what is the story behind waterboarding?' which led to 'where is george w. now?' which led to 'youtube's bush's best bloopers' (excluding his entire presidential reign) which then turned into an episode of cops, googling guitar chords, reading about BP, and then ultimately how lady gaga grew up. yeah...there were more embarrassing google and wikipedia searches, but you get the point. i finally fell asleep when the birds started singing me a tune, and woke nearly two hours later. hence, the continuous act of drinking black coffee. despite the lack of sleep, i'm feeling great today. i think it has something to do with learning that squids have sex all day long for two weeks! and...good day to you!

jack.

dear little one, exactly one year ago on this day i got a call about you. on the other side of the line- tears, roars of pain. you had been inside your mommy for 8 months. today, you were gone. no sense reminiscing about the loss and struggle. you wouldn't want that. i know. so, instead, i just wanted to say i love you. i love you because you brought us all such joy in a short amount of time. i love you, because you knew my voice, and would kick and dance in the womb whenever i sang the indiana jones theme song. obviously, you have the best taste. i love you for watching over your family, especially your little sister. your handprints are so tiny, scrap booked and cherished. tiny baby nike shoes still line the closet. i won't lie, it's been very difficult for your mom and dad. nobody has any words of comfort even though we wish we could spit out every eloquent sentence that ever existed in order to make them happy. but, the truth is, they just miss you and wish you were here to celebrate your first birthday. are you celebrating? are you dancing? laughing? i hope so. today, i promise you i will dance- i will dance in your honor. i love you sweet boy.



almost like a pre-game tradition. zoning out, blackberry in hand, focused on what needs to get accomplished. no emotion. eyes on road. driving 85 mph, the cop just sheepishly asks her to slow down after he sees the look of sisterly duty in her authoritative eyes. she called her boss, got out of work, and then called my mother, who didn't pick up. she was...busy.

i remember the doctors and the look on my mother's face when they told her. i felt like i had done something wrong. but, i just needed to go- it's hard to explain. i know it's cliche to say "it's complicated," but it is, and i am sorry for that. but i do promise you one day, you will understand what i mean.

she ran her shuttle back and forth from my uncle's house to the hospital to the airport. constant motion, constant to-do list. she couldn't stop, because she didn't want to feel the immense pain that was on the horizon, growing closer. calls to friends and family- she made them. booking hotels- she made the reservations. all of a sudden the tasks were complete, and she could no longer run.

i remember when my aunt came into the hospital room to see my mother. my body was still inside my mommy, but i was watching from another place. my mother looked like a child, scared, needing comfort. what comfort could you give? she looked at the dark circles under her eyes and her sweet face that had been glowing for 8 months that now seemed colorless. she sat down and slipped her hand into hers. every possible arrangement of words that came to her mind seemed disgustingly stupid. she wanted to be there for my mother for once. my mother has always looked after my aunt- endless advice, constant support and love. time froze as they stared at one another. the hand grip got tighter and tighter. "i don't know," with a head shake, tears forming in her eyes. "it will be okay," comforted my mother.

cake and such.

why is it that it always comes to you two? i am angry. why? shouldn't time account for anything? you preached one way all our lives...preached- maybe that's where you went wrong. nobody talks about it to you. why would we? sitting at a table in an italian restaurant- you are 80% of the conversation, yet nobody tells you this. there is no point in looking into your eyes and twisting them around until the blood covers up a life you think you are living...like you did to us. remember that? i promise you we won't do that to you. we know better. we are better. was it for the money? was it for conformity? settling....did that cross your mind? help me understand how my relationships end, and i cannot even start to feel my own loss, because you are in the forefront of my mind. am i blaming you like a child would? yes. an adult should know better, right? an adult should realize that people change, everything is temporary, "things happen for a reason"....now, i throw up. i throw up cliches of what the therapists say. give me a fucking break- you lied. you both lied. constantly. and now, because it's your birthday, i will swallow all of my feelings and spit out streamers and cake. for christmas, i will make sure you are happier than me, because nothing says "im healed" like a new sweater. stop. seriously, stop pretending. for once, stop citing AA slogans and quotes from jesus christ. jesus christ. just be real. who the fuck are you two? i would like to know. sincerely.


and so...
when she looked at her that one night, a flood arose. black water. grey. red dust. this time, it was much clearer- easily deciphered than past experiences. no. it is done now. she sat smiling, though, looking straight into her eyes, knowing that in the past it took years to pick up on, and now, in an instant, she could see it. i felt it. the guilt, followed by anger and sadness. she knew immediately that such a cruelty could not be justified...and so...she smiled. she smiled for her ability to recognize and love herself for once. but, i love you. i didn't think i did, but i honestly do. i love you purely. her road is just leading in a different direction, and that is okay. can we try and go in peace though? i promise you i will try. you are so beautiful.
and when...


remember when you yelled at me about the wedding cake? i get that it was symbolic of your loss, but you were hurting me. you didn't care to see how scared and hurt i was. i drove away that night so afraid of the monster you turned into. lifetime movies flashed before my eyes. how am i actually witnessing this? did you ever wonder where i drove to? did you care? did you ever ask? no. you didn't. he was waiting for me outside when i returned. i went to our church. did you know that?

remember when you yelled at me on the drive back from college one year? you said, "he's not good enough for you!" i wasn't really talking about him. at all. in fact, i just wanted to listen to the radio to be honest. you kept on him as if you knew more than i did. do you know what i was thinking? why are you doing this to her? why are you mad at yourself? what have you done?

and so...

your laughter.

today, i just felt like sharing one of my favorite poems by neruda. he is, without a doubt, a "torch-bearer" so to speak- one of the most influential poets to turn the tragedies he witnessed in his country into art. he was revolutionary. beyond his poetry, a statement he made has always stuck with me (as in i remember it impacted me, but had to google that shit- cause, um...i definitely cannot remember the word 'unassailable'...or can i? hmmm- quiz me when you see me). upon receiving the nobel prize for literature, neruda commented on his journey: "there is no unassailable solitude. all roads lead to the same point: to the communication of who we are. and we must travel across lonely and rugged terrain, through isolation and solitude, to reach the magic zone where we can dance an awkward dance." a poet so engaged in politics, a leader of freedom for his country, a passionate artist- still....still. still stressed the significance of silence and isolation. how can we consciously leave our footprint in the world unless we know fully each wrinkle, freckle, callous, and size of our own foot? maybe we have to check in every now and then to see if new bruises, hairs, or warts have formed. perhaps we need to check in again to cut our toe nails- or just one- or go into the doctor for an embarrassing, but necessary removal of some sort. slice. blood. bandage. healed. nevertheless, check in. never stop checking in with yourself, learning who you are, what you want, where you are going- otherwise you won't be able to distinguish your own footprint from ones you follow, or worse, ones who have chosen to walk beside you.


your laughter

deprive me of bread, if you want,
deprive me of air, but
don't deprive me of your laughter.

don't deprive me of the rose,
the spear you shed the grains with,
the water splashing
swiftly in your joy,
the sudden silver wave
born in you.

my struggle is painful. as i return
with my eyes sometimes tired
from watching
the unchanging earth,
your laughter enters
and raises to heaven
in search of me,
to open
all the doors of life.

my loved one, in the darkest hour,
unsheath your laughter,
and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the cobblestones,
laugh, for your laughter
will be for my hands
like an unsullied sword.

near the sea in autumn,
your laughter must rise
in its cascade of foam,
and in spring, my love,
i want your laughter
to be like the flower i anticipated,
the blue flower, the rose
of my resonant homeland.

laugh at the night,
all the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at the clumsy
young man who loves you.
yet when i open my eyes
and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for i would die.