You see, I think resolutions should be something that enriches our lives. It’s something that we may not necessarily need to do in order to keep having a healthy life; something small that we don’t consider important until we have it in our lives. Last year, I made the New Year’s resolution to see at least one concert a month all year, and with the exception of March (you know, when I went to Mexico for a week), I more than met my resolution. Just a few of the bands I got to see this year:

• Bag Raiders
• Graffiti6
• Electric Guest
• Justice
• The Adicts
• Matt & Kim
• Gotye (It’s not the video you think it is, I promise)
• Marina & the Diamonds
• Murder by Death
• Yeasayer

And SOOOOOOOO many more. Of course, my favorite local band is Bonnie and the Beard, who I discovered at the Underground Music Festival thanks to a buddy of mine. I’m in love with them. No seriously.  All of them.

The point of last year’s resolution was to force me to listen to more music and to listen to it live (obvi) because, well, I love music, but I had gotten in a bit of a musical rut and I wanted out, so what better than to see new music live? If a friend invited me to see a band play and it was under $10 and I was free, I went almost without question. Because of that, I expanded my knowledge of genres and artists and I expanded my mind, soul and heart.

And I totally achieved a goal.

This year, I spent some time thinking about what I wanted to get out of 2013 that was new to me and incorporated my interests. My little gears got going and I thought, “Well, I love street art (so much so that I got a tattoo of the Denver flag “spray painted” on my arm this year) and I love the city and I love the simple pleasures of discovering a new piece of art around a corner or down an alley.”

Plus, since I’m taking off to travel around the country this year, I have all these opportunities to discover the little things in every city, tucked into corners, sprayed on dumpsters and pasted to walls. So I decided that this year, my resolution is to pay attention to the little things.

Sort of.

Paying attention meant I found my skater name sprayed on a dumpster in Cap Hill!

I’m not going to make a resolution so grandiose as that. But I am going to resolve to see a moment every day.

This year, I’m going to post 365 days of street art. I’m going to take a photo of art every single day this year and hashtag it #streetart365 so that at the end of the year, I can go back and see them all at once and remember all of the little moments I took time to document in 2013.

Some days will probably be shit and others, I’ll probably have an abundance, but to make sure I’m always looking is the point and not necessarily the quality each day.

I’ve told a couple people and they’ve looked at me like I’m crazy, but fuck it. If I can remember to take an allergy pill every morning, I can certainly remember to take the time to find something new and unique every day.

So now I’m curious. What are you going to do this year to renew yourself? What are you going to do that lifts you up and expands your heart and mind?

If anyone of you says “lose 30 pounds” I will punch the weight right off you. I think a lot of us want that, but I think it’s easier to accomplish the physical goals when our hearts are happy and our minds are at peace.

Tell me that story, loveys. Tell me that story.

First, I’M NOT PREGNANT. I have a little thingy in my arm that’s rendered me pretty much infertile for the next three years and, well, other physical acts have to take place in order for that to even be a remote possibility and those things aren’t happening. So. Yeah. Now you know too much about my dating life or lack thereof.

I digress. The reason I can’t do all of the fun things is because I’m saving up. Saving up for something very important. That will, I hope, change my life.

NO, I’M NOT ADOPTING A BABY. Come on guys. What’s with the baby questions? Sheesh.

Alright, enough. I’m only renewing my lease in Denver for six more months, then I’ll be moving in with one set of my parents (I should probably tell them, right?) right after I purchase a vintage camper. For the next several months, I’ll spend my time working, saving and refurbishing said camper.

Hopefully, by the middle of next summer, all of my plans will have worked out close to the way I hope and I will be setting off to drive around the country for a year (maybe more, who knows?) while still working from the road. My goal is to hit 48 states in 52 weeks. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

OMGOMGOMG. It’s SOOOO cute!

So why in the sweet fancy fuck am I doing something like this?

Because I need to. I said it out loud several weeks ago and every molecule of my body knew that this was the next big step in my life. I’m at a turning point in my life and I need to have a grand adventure at least once in my life.

But, no, really, a vintage camper? Driving? Kelly, do you even know how to drive anymore?
Yes, really, a vintage camper (canned ham style, to be exact) and, yes, I still drive, asshole. Just because I don’t own a car doesn’t mean I don’t drive from time to time. The reason I want to drive around the country is because I feel like we miss so much of the beauty in our country by hopping a plane from here to there.

Half a century (sheesh) ago, this is what families did. They piled into a camper and hit the road to see this great country and I want to see our beautiful country this way as well. It’s the great American adventure the way it once was.

I also have friends spread around the country that I would love to be able to see and reconnect with. What better way than to drive around saying hello to all the folks I love?

My final goal is to experience the culture and food in a lot of the cities that I’ve never made it to yet and to visit old favorites in the cities I have visited. You can be damned sure I’m spending a whole week in New Orleans because I’m going to eat everything they make there.

This is something that’s extremely important to me to accomplish, so, well, if I want to do this, then Happy Hours and 10-15 concerts a month just have to go. So, please know that if you don’t see me out as much as I normally am, it’s not that I don’t love you all so much. In fact, if it wasn’t for my friends, I wouldn’t be at this wonderful, adventurous part of my life. It’s just that I’m trying to save up for a dream.

BUT, here are things I’m MORE than happy to do with friends:

• Have dinner, drinks games and snacks at homes. Mine or yours.
• Go hiking!
• Meander aimlessly around the city and talk about nothing in particular (it happens to be one of my favorite things to do already)
• Watch a DVD or Netflix together

Thanks to you all for being the kind of people that helped shape me into the fucking kickass chick I am today!

And when that happens, I take to the internets to cheer me up. I have several videos and bits that really make me happy every time I watch them, so I thought I’d just go ahead and share a compendium of the ones that make me laugh and smile so that maybe your Monday gets a little brighter too.

Hold on to your hats, kiddos, because here we go.

This is, in my opinion, one of the best things ever created by humanity.

My little ponies: adorable. Wu-Tang Clan: Bad ass. Method Man’s asthmatic rhymes: mmmmmmmm. This video: Amazeballs.

I want to marry Louis CK. Honestly, I could have put any of his stand up here. I want to have his little ginger babies.

FENTON! OH JESUS CHRIST!

I don’t even need to watch. The sound alone is pure gold. I’m considering making this the ringtone on my phone.

The guy is a total douchenozzle for goading this goat, but the spitting and anger is just hilarious.

Cocaine is a helluva drug.

Oooooooh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit! This is my favorite Patton Oswalt bit.

In my dreams, I’m in the middle of an Eddie Izzard/Louis CK sandwich. I love this man.

I’m a pretty open-minded broad. Yeah, I’m straight, but I could give two fucks about what you like to put where on your body. I mean, if ear sex is your thing, do it to it, bro. Just don’t come crying to me when you get a case of swimmer’s ear.

Damn, that’s one sexy ear.

I use sexual orientation as an example because, well, that’s what’s in the news these days. Hatred, bullying, acceptance, tolerance, love. It runs the spectrum and I like to think that I’m on the love side of it all. I mean, my best friend in the world is a vegetarian, but you don’t see me ordering a big plate of wings when we’re out and then just menacingly eating each one while looking her dead in the eye. I eat my delicious, delicious meat and she doesn’t.

But there’s one divide recently that’s had me thinking a lot about acceptance lately and that is religion versus atheism.

Hey! Yeah, you. I just saw you roll your eyes at me. Yes I’m talking about this shit again. It’s my blog and I’ll do what I want.

Anyway, it’s a pretty weird divide for me, the whole religion (OK, more Christianity than anything else, since that’s what I’m most familiar with) and atheism thing. On the one hand, you’ve got people trying to convert you to religion to “save” you from an afterlife in hell. And a lot of these people are wonderful and sincere in their love. On the other, you have people that are trying to “save” you from a life spent as a slave to dogmatic teachings and faith. And a lot of these people are sincere as well. But there are also a lot of douchebags on both sides of the playing field here.

Do I get angry? Fuck yeah I get angry. I get angry at conservative Christians touting pseudo-science to prove a point. Or, you know, straight up denying science. It makes me bristle. I want to fight back. I want to yell louder than them. I want to “set them straight” about religion.

Then I say to myself, “Kelly, in with the rainbow, out with the storm.”

I calm down and I remember my roots. I was raised the daughter of a pastor, meaning I was brought up in a Christian family. I spent my life surrounded by Christians until I was 18. When I left home, I spent about 10 years reevaluating what I believed and I finally came to the conclusion that I do not believe there is a god in this or any other universe. Because of this decision, I’ve found my life to have much more meaning and I enjoy every day I’m alive because I don’t get a second life.

Here’s the thing. People might say that I’m a good person because I grew up in a good, Christian home. I call bullshit on that. I’m a good person, because I have amazing parents who taught me to think for myself and be kind to everyone around me (Have you seen the meanies that some “Christian” homes can produce?). Thing is, if you’re a good person, you’re a good person. You can use religion (being Christ-like) or non-religion (making sure everyone gets a chance at this life) to back up why you are that way, but the fact of the matter is, I think that part of our lives has VERY little to do with how we turn out.

I’ll get back to my point now. Tolerance.

This Easter, I went to my father’s Easter service at his new church (btw, if you are spiritual in the Christianish way, I highly recommend it. They served mimosas.) because I thought it would be a good chance to spend time with my family. However, I was late, so I sat in the balcony alone and just sort of watched. This was the first time I’d been at a church service in probably 5 years. It felt really uncomfortable, but miraculously, I didn’t catch on fire and my skin didn’t melt. When I relaxed a little, you know what I saw? A lot of love. You know why? Because my pops is a tolerant, loving guy who wanted a church that was open and loving of anyone who wanted to come and do their god thing. So, that’s the kind of congregation he has.

This is Christ’s, well, Christ’s orange juice and champagne. I’m too lazy to try and make a religious mimosa joke.

I get why people want to believe in a god. I’m not going to list them all out here, because, for some reason that seems like it would be really fucking trite. But I get it. Just like I made a conscious decision half a decade ago to reject religion and spirituality for my own reasons, everyone there made their own decision to love god and the bible and follow Christ’s teachings. Who the fuck am I to tell them that they aren’t allowed to be their own, free thinking person? If Christ is what they need, then Christ is what they need and I’m not going to judge a single hair on their head for that, because, you know what; I know exactly how they feel. I just feel it about the exact opposite thing.

It’s called empathy, people. That whole “putting yourself in someone else’s shoes” idea. I highly recommend you try it if you have not already. You’ll find that things on the other side make more sense and your urge to fight the beliefs that are directly opposed to yours suddenly isn’t quite as strong.

Be open. Be respectful. Give love. Be tolerant and accepting. You’d be amazed at what you get back most of the time.

Ugh, I sound like a fucking hippie.

Looking young has mostly been kind of an annoyance in my life thus far. At 21, most bartenders would spend an extra 30 seconds checking my ID. Some even challenged the validity. At 17, most people thought I was in middle school. Though I suspect part of that was the fact that I didn’t get boobies until I was 18. Before that, I was an A cup, so not only did people think I was prepubescent, I also got mistaken for a boy with relative frequency.

Same haircut. Same leggings. Same belt. Fuck. I have the same outfit as he does.

That was awesome and I’m sure that it in no way has anything to do with the fact that I tend to overdo it in the lady sexuality department most of the time. </sarcasm>

I’m getting off track here. The thing is, because I look young, people tend to treat me like I’m younger than I really am. I look 23, so people talk to me like I’m 23-25; but really, I’ve got the mind and experience of a 32 year old. Actually, I’ll go ahead and say I’ve got a lot more experiences under my belt than many people my own age.

However, lately I’ve been feeling like I’m not much of an adult. I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s the fact that I feel pretty strongly that no adult should ever stop playing, and so I keep a pretty lighthearted outlook on life. It could be the fact that I haven’t “settled down” in my age (I actually tried that in my twenties when I was married. I might still be the marrying type, but I am definitely NOT the settling down type. I never will be). Perhaps it’s the fact that I don’t have a 401K or health insurance.

But the more I thought about it, the more I think it comes from the fact that I’m living my life the way I want to live it at such a young age. I mean, I get paid to write! I get paid to plan events and meet new people! I get PAID to do the things I truly love in life. What makes me feel like the kid at the grown-up table is that I’m happy doing what I’m doing. Do I want more clients? Fuck yeah! But do I want more responsibility? Do I want to manage people? Hells no.

Does it make me a freak of nature that, right here, right now, I’m happy being right where I am? I’m happy that I can take a nap in the middle of the day. I love the fact that, most days, I don’t shower until 3 pm. Sometimes I get the feeling it does. Sometimes I start feeling guilty for shirking my duty as an American to work 93 hours a week in a cubicle just so I can make enough money to buy a place that’s way too big for me and own a car I simply don’t need to drive.

I have to remind myself that just because I’m not VP of Marketing for a fortune 500 company by now does not mean that I’m not living a fulfilled life.

Here’s the thing: I’m a pretty smart cookie. A cookie that gets REALLY bored sitting in a cubical or office doing the same thing. I need to be faced with new challenges every day or my brain starts getting pissy. Freelance work gives me a new challenge every. Single. Day. And it’s fucking awesome. I’m not saying I’ll never work for “The Man” again, but it would take a pretty special company to get me to give up my no pants wearing, set my own hours, work with the people I want to work with lifestyle that I currently lead.

So, yeah, sometimes even I still feel like I’m 24 because for some unknown reason, I still have this picture in my head of what an “adult” does with their life and it sure as shit doesn’t involve watching Parks and Recreation at 11 am or writing copy at 11 pm.

But as long as I make enough to pay my rent, pay my bills, feed myself and my dog and have enough left over to spend copious amounts of time with friends and maybe, just maybe, do a little travelling too, then this is the lifestyle I’m going to continue to lead, whether people decide that it makes me an immature chick or they decide that that it makes me the smartest fucking woman on the planet.

But I’m hoping it’s the latter.

Ok, now watch it a few more times.

Now, watch all of the awesome offshoot videos created from this one video.

Then I was bored last night and went onto cafepress.com and designed this awesome shirt:

This began three days of extreme hermitry. The only people I interacted with were clerks as I bought supplies for my voluntary confinement. And so it began.

On Wednesday, while talking to my therapist I described my time alone as being “flat” and drew an imaginary flat line with my fingers. It was neither high nor low, it just was. And for some reason, I chose to define it as a flat line, or being dead.

Beep, beep, beep, booooooooooooooooop.

I didn’t even notice my choice of words until they were pointed out to me. Funny thing is I used to crave this time alone. I used to be introverted. In fact, I described myself as an outgoing introvert. Suddenly, time spent in quiet leaves me feeling, well, feeling nothing.

Have I really spent so much time being stimulated, whether positive or negative, that I don’t know how to feel or what to feel when things are just neutral? What. The. Fuck?

I like to think of myself as a person who takes joy in the simplicity of things. And I really do. It’s the little things that make me smile and create this sort of patchwork of a fulfilled life. How then am I not able to take joy in the simplicity of just being?

This weekend, despite being busy, I felt this creeping feeling of antsiness. I sat in front of my computer on Saturday and tried to be entertained by the internet, but it was all boring to me. Last night, the same thing happened, AND I turned off three movies because they just weren’t interesting enough for me. This led to me becoming almost instantly grouchy.

I felt resentful and dangerous. Suddenly this side of me, the side of me that I have worked VERY hard to keep in a cage, started trying to break free. If this side of me was a dude, it would have an evil mustache. This is the side of me that wants to go into a cafe, order a cup of coffee and then dump it on the ground and walk out. I wanted to punch a wall or have someone punch me.

I just wanted to feel alive. And in the least healthy way possible.

I told a friend how I was feeling and they suggested that maybe I’m not challenged enough right now. Maybe they’re right. Life does feel pretty easy right now. I have a great job(s). I have amazing friends. I’m supporting myself. Where’s the fucking challenge in that?

So, now I’m on a quest to find some new challenges that will make me less… punchy. First up, it’s time to get that whole website thing up and running. Next, I dunno, something to vent all this pent up aggression. Brazilian Ju Jitsu? Capoera? Break dancing? I have no idea, but I’m open to suggestions. Anything but hockey. Hockey and I need some time apart.

In the meantime, I want to apologize if I am in anyway short or rude or aggro with you in the next few weeks. Feel free to punch me in the face if you want. Just be ready to get punched back.

And I have a mean right hook.

Sadly, the one thing that I would love to shop local for, I never can. You see, I can never get any pieces of clothing that the clothing boutiques in Denver have to offer. For me, going into a small clothing store is like taking a diabetic to a candy store and telling them, “You can have anything you want, as long as it doesn’t send your blood sugar through the roof.” It’s cruel and inhumane and I leave the store just hating life.

“Why on earth could that be, Kelly? There are so many talented designers in Denver! How could you not find something you love?!”

The answer is that I find too much to love. I see colors that make my eyes twinkle, I see patterns that make my heart flutter and I usually see price tags that make my pocket book happy. Then I take a look at the tag. Small. Medium. Size 6. Size 4. Size 8. And all of my dreams are dashed.

You see, boutiques, this girl has ample breasts and a ghetto booty, making it impossible to fit into anything under a size 12 or a large (usually an XL). Nothing kills a lovely dress form more than slipping it over my head only to have it smash down my lady pillows more effectively than a fucking sports bra.

Look at that. Beauty doesn't always fit on a dress form.

I understand that they don’t make dress forms for all body types, and that it’s more fun to be creative using fabrics, patterns and lines, but maybe, just maybe, one or two of the designers could challenge themselves in a new avenue and try and design a dress that is meant to fit on a woman with curves and not just a flat dress form.

Also, while we’re on the subject, these double D’s and button tops NEVER work. Just add a zipper on the back and sew the front closed. Seriously, if the girls think there’s a chance of escaping their clothed confines, they will push until buttons go flying.

And, yes, I know I could stand to shed some weight and I’m working on it my loves. But I have a few points along that line. First, the number one rule of dressing well is to dress for the body you have and not the one you want. Weight loss is a long road; it could be a year or more before I could conceivably fit into your largest sizes. Second, even when my shitmuncher of an ex-husband was controlling what I ate every day and making me go to the gym, and I was at my skinny minniest, I was still a size 6-8, and the tits still didn’t fit into a lot of boutique designs and my ass still didn’t work in most typical dress forms. So you see I’ll never be the stick that your dress form wants me to be.

Oh, and before you tell me to shop for family members and friends, my sister is more buxom than I am and this butt is a family trait on both sides. Also, my best friend is near six feet tall and many of my other girlfriends are derby girls, so their muscular booties and legs all defy traditional dress and pant forms. I don’t think I’ll be able to find anything for anyone special to me in your racks.

So, dearest local clothing retailers, much to my chagrin, I won’t be in your stores as much as I would like this holiday season. Why go into a store that’s just going to make me feel like shit about who I am? And that is why I’ll still be shopping in big box clothing stores for most of my clothing.

Accessories and just about everything else will all be local though.

P.S. If anyone knows of a good, local clothing boutique that will not make me feel like a heifer every time I go into the dressing room, please, for the LOVE OF GOD let me know. I will shop the shit out of that store.

I like the way that this sticker tore. I think it's pretty. That's all.

The saying goes, “God is in the details.” To change it around for my fellow atheists, “Beauty is in the details.” We’re so inundated with bright flashing lights, billboards and messages shouting at us from every possible medium, that we’ve stopped noticing all of the small things that make up the beauty in the world around us and give us insight into humanity.

It’s one of the biggest reasons why I love street art so much. It makes people who might not ordinarily pay attention to a drab brick wall, stop and maybe even take a picture of the discovery of a beautiful work of art pasted to the side of an abandoned building. Also, street art rewards those of us that pay attention to our surroundings as we walk. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve pointed out art to friends that they walked right by because it was on the sidewalk or the lower corner of a building or electrical box.

When you look at your surroundings, you start seeing the little things. The pieces of frost clinging to one of the most goddamn stubborn, resilient roses you’ve ever seen. The deep, rich maroon of one singular leaf clinging to a barren branch. The kindness of a homeless man sharing half of his cheeseburger with his dog.

In my opinion, these are the little things that make up a whole that is a pretty wonderful life and I’m always shocked when people don’t see the same things I do. I guess it makes sense. We spend so much time involved in things that take us inward or give us tunnel vision: computers, phones, video games and more. It seems like we’re starting to forget how to look outward for inspiration and awe.

So, here’s my challenge to you. Take a 30 minute walk around your hood. Bring some music if you want, I find having a soundtrack is always nice. But no email, no phone calls. Just re-engage with your senses. Really look at all of the details surrounding you and be grateful for it. Your eyes have so much to look at; your nose, so much to smell, your ears, so much to hear.

Just stop and look and marvel at the world around you.

I actually wrote this review and sent it to a couple buddies the other night after I saw the film, but I kind of made myself laugh with it, so I thought, to hell with it, I’ll post it here too. More glory, less work. My kind of blog post.

ANUS ANUS ANUS ALL I SEE IS ANUS

First of all, that “perfect sound?” What was that, a microphone held up to a boombox? Shakespearean is hard enough to follow when spoken in perfect diction, it’s even harder when it sounds like every actor is speaking through the fucking cowl of a turtleneck sweater.

Along those lines, just because Gerard Butler can open his mouth wide enough to swallow a fucking cantaloupe whole does not mean that his Scottish brogue won’t render every line of his script utterly incomprehensible. It’s OK though. I just imagined him naked every time he was in a scene.

Speaking of anus, what was with the “army scene?” Was it just me or was that the sexiest group head shaving anyone has ever seen? When they set that young cadet in the barber seat, I half expected him to get a lap dance.

Vanessa Redgrave, you are perfect, and ever shall you be this way.

Finally, Ralph Fiennes, I have two things to say to you: One, SPELL IT RAEF OR RAFE, YOU ARROGANT BASTARD! And two, your last monologue in the film terrified me so much, I think I may have shit myself. Your character in this film was so fully complete in his evil, that I will probably never even be able to approach you for an autograph if given the chance.

Additional note to the gentleman seated behind me:
Sir, I believe you probably have gum disease. Please get your mouth checked out.