homeland.
soulsister.
‘
ethereal.
lovely.
dreamworld.
obsession.
jittery.
womanizer.
disappointment.
mischief.
chuckles.
puppythief.
sassy.
sister.
sunday.
goodbye!
Tag Archives: home
off to the motherland;
off to literally, the land where my mother lives. snorelando orlando, florida. i’m a little bit more than excited to be back in my homeland for the first time in 7 months (?!?!) where it isn’t unusual to do cartwheels outside in early january. have trannies serve you sweet potato fries at midnight. cuddle with your fave lady friends. jump in lakes in november. dance on cardboard dance floors in public. and wear shorts all year round as you pick citrus off your very own orange tree. needless to say, i’m pretty excited.
florida, get ready. i’mma pillage you of all your sweet citrus and cartwheeling space.
{not bringing my lappytoppy home, as i am getting a replacement whilst there, so not sure how much i will be updating. hope you have a lovely first week of the new year, dears!}
i’m a city girl, ma;
rattling off directions and street names for confused tourists.
biking home at 11 pm on my new, hot pink ride, neptune. BEST IMPULSE CRAIGSLIST BUY EVER. i’m really loving biking over the mass. ave bridge from cambridge with the city shining on both my shoulders.
reading anna’s post here and nodding with approval.
the new addition to my vocabulary; the word “wicked”.
genuinely believing that every one walks too slow on the sidewalks.
my new favorite things being replaced with the following: large dogs at the farmers market, food trucks outside the library (best. combination. ever.) sitting and reading books in harvard yard. story time and craft time at work.
talking to my mom about how i feel like going back to the south would feel so foreign right now. sweet tea? no bike lanes? the use of the term ”ma’am”? the wearing of camouflage to be expected? wicked weird.
and she started laughing and said “you’re a city girl now, kenz.”
look at me, guys. i’m a city girl. who would have known?
i carry a home;
i carry a home inside of me. it may not be very large. or filled with ornate furnishings. or play classical music over the sound system. but it is filled with vampire weekend’s “contra”, the soundtrack to all of my travels both permanent and temporary.
each off beat rumble of the drum of that album reminds me of chicago, of late night gallivanting around lincoln park and inside beautiful libraries. of san francisco and being ambushed by bernese mountain dogs at crissy fields. each obscure little reference in the songs brought me back to boston and being so invigorated by the academia and the fiery leaves and the young boys carrying their cellos and large bass cases up and down boylston street.
and even orlando, though i hate to admit it, was a home for such a long time. the reggaeton streaming in the background. and humid, swampy air that greeted me every time i headed home. fanny pack-clad tourists that i both mocked and secretly felt that if they didn’t exist, the world would be thrown off its axis, they were necessary in a sense. though i could do without seeing the sunburnt, distended bellies of some of the male variety.
each of these places have never felt like home organically or instantly. but they did, because i carry that home inside me. whether it was a week, ten days, or my whole life as of a month ago, like my seven year old self ,with a glass mason jar full of lightning bugs, i carry that sort of light and familiarity around wherever i go. oh yes, my home is filled with lightning bugs. more than you could even imagine. lightning bugs and lyrics and drum beats and light.
“i see you shine in your way. go on, go on, go on.”
thanks boston;
business women in pencil skirts and tennis shoes. walks on comm. ave. the tempting of frozen lemonade in boston common. dolling myself in my sunday best for church on park street. brownstones and fenway gardens greeting me on my walk home. this noah and the whales song guiding me through the streets on repeat. catching the glances of various bros on the t. fighting the swarms of asian tourists to find myself a plot of grass to sit upon in harvard yard.
it’s really starting to feel like home.
inching slowly;
-image via
today is one of those days.
it’s been raining for over forty eight hours.
my shoes and heart feel a bit heavy.
i can’t seem to figure out how to go about making advances with a boy in my acting class. or whether he swings for my team. (and isn’t that one of womankind’s greatest challenges?)
i know that my dog is wondering why i haven’t walked in through the door in over ten days. and that hurts my heart a little bit
and this is the point in all of my crazy adventures that i’d be packing up ready to go home. but this time i’m not. this is a one way trip to something better.
but that being said, i’m all out of sorts.
i love boston. i really do. any city that allows for the wearing of trench coats in late june is a winner in my heart.
but sometimes i wonder where the missed glance and grins toward the direction of cute men on the t will get me anywhere.
sometimes i wonder when it will feel like home. when i hopefully get a job at a bakery? when i finally get myself a puppy of my dreams? when a lovely boy on the subway might walk my way? when i actually have my own room and bed in which to sprawl out? when the leaves turn crimson and i can walk arm in arm with someone special?
who knows. that’s all a part of the adventure.
but i do know that i’m inching towards home slowly but surely in my trench coat.
there’s no place like home;
i like to think that dorothy’s little trip to oz might have had a different ending if she had a cell phone texting spree with her mother along the way.
because there really is no place like home when you’re homesick, but texting really does fill the gap between oz and kansas…observe:
(little background: i was on the way to the animal shelter to play with some puppies.)
mom: i was going to bake today but *someone* (passive aggressively referring to her roommate) seems to have used them
me: *sends picture of squadron of geese* i just made some new friends. they’re not very talkative. but i’m sure i can get you a good discount on eggs.
mom: they are not what they are quacked up to be. they won’t lick your face [ like puppies do], i’ve tried.
me: and they don’t like quack-quack jokes either 
mom: that’s some funny sh$% you need to send that to your brother.
me: i will once i finish typing up my memoirs. *
mom: i’m heading into taco bell for a cold beverage and some nachos, yum.
me: how ironic! i’m going to go play with puppies and you’re about to eat puppy meat. just kidding. enjoy your nachos!
mom: *sends picture of taco bell meal* oh yes, cholesterol!
me: take that, lipitor!
mom: yeah, lipitor. try to break down THAT sh$%
me: i’m almost at the puppy place, and by that i don’t mean taco bell. i will call you once i’m done getting smooched by boston puppies.
mom: puppy smooches, they are the best behind matt damons.
mom: this is fun. if we were on twitter we would have so many followers. we are so entertaining.
me: i know, who needs big bootied kardashians when you can have a pancake butt filson?
mom: or as i was known as “pancake chest filson”. **
{later on}
me: it’s free cat friday! time to get crunk!
mom: meows your chance!
me: mom. you are killing me. i can’t stop laughing.
mom: i’m sorry. i just can’t stop i’m on a roll! maybe because it’s free cat friday. you would be in trouble if it was free bernese mountain dog friday.
me: i would run through the streets and praise jesus if it were free bernese mountain dog friday.
mom: you would end up sitting in a corner, drooling all over yourself.
me: you know me too well.
there really is no place like home, but intense texting sprees about taco bell and kittens with your mom are essentially just as great.
*if you were curious, my memoir will be called “ once i’m rich and famous, you’re still not getting a yacht.”
** us poor filsons. we were not as well endowed as our [kardashian] peers.
travels;
-image via
“every traveler has a home of his own, and he learns to appreciate it the more from his wandering."
-charles dickens
for the love of boston;
the red line to harvard square. dancing on squeaky hardwood floors. the boston public library and its fabulous rotundas (homegirl has an impressive rotunda, let me tell ya). so many bros that i’m blinded by the backwards baseball caps and wifebeaters. rose gardens out the wazoo that make me feel corny and sentimental. bad real estate agents that make me and my new roomies feel like we are on an episode of “the office”. the fact that this comparison is true= cambodia: land mines:: boston: goose turds. the fact that i got accepted into my dream school here. thai food and the movie “rock-a-doodle” in quick succession. improv classes in little italy.
come visit me. i have more trader joe’s hummus than i know what to do with.
it’s not christmas without dressing;
meine mutti at the biltmore house,asheville. circa summer 2009
this actually happened today:
(at the grocery store)
Me: *picks up poppy seed salad dressing* Hey mom, is it cool if I get this dressing, it looks good… and stuff.
Mom: ……No. *looks nervous*
Me: *shocked at abrupt answer* Wait, why? ….Wait….DID YOU GET ME POPPY SEED DRESSING FOR CHRISTMAS?
Mom: Um……Yes. HOW DID YOU KNOW?!??!!??!?
and!!!
(yelling from other room)
Mom: MACKENZIE!!!! STUFFING!!!!!
Me: What?! WAIT, IS “THE HISTORY OF STUFFING” ON?!??!??!?!
Mom: HELLZ YEAH.
I love my mother. This is how I know we’re related.
