I'm Kelli. I turned 26 years old last week and live in a big, two story home with my redheaded husband Jimmy, smack in the city of Chicago. We have two fur daughters, Killer Queen and Jubilee and two roommates at present time. I grew up in a map-dot town that was comfortable, cozy, and all I knew until I was 17. I worked at a camp, drove a yellow VW bus, and traveled to Romania for the first time. I came home and went to college. I wanted out.
When I was young, I cared what people thought and yet I didn't care. I've learned to appreciate all human beings. They're more beautiful than I once gave credit for. I'm fascinated with a time I never lived, feel nostalgic for years gone before I arrived, have only recently learned to live in the right now.
I'm a busy person by nature, always immersed in numerous projects, have a mind that seeks to improve any situation, job, environment that I'm in. I like to organize and make lists, sew and clean, sometimes cook and always read. I could browse thrift stores every day of my life.
I'm fascinated with the outdoors, the grass and earth especially in that brief period between winter and spring when green starts to come alive. As I child, I played outside a lot. I've learned to entertain myself too well and most often prefer my own company to that of others. Left to my own devices, I could never get bored.
I have a sister and a brother, a mom and a dad and a stepdad. The former are younger than me, the latter are older. They live "back home." We talk a lot, visit when we can. They're sometimes afraid to drive past the cornfields, enter into a land of expressways and one-way streets. I get that. Entering a new place is hard.
For my whole life, I've believed in myself. I want to work for myself in a way that aches in the depth of every muscle, pit of my stomach, and the valves of my heart. I'd be a good boss to myself and I know it. I could succeed and I know it. Most times I don't think other people do.
Slow things attract me. Drives and talks and late nights and early mornings. Solitude attracts me. Runs and baths and journaling and flipping through old yearbooks. I don't much like to hear my own voice. I'm quiet for the better part of week days. I chat incessantly through the better part of week nights.
I like routines and hate surprises. I believe that creativity exists even in monotony. I'm proud of my hands, they way the work, and the ways in which they show love. I need most people too little and I'm not proud of that. I need a few people too much and I'm not proud of that either. Sometimes I'm small and uncertain. Most times I'm bold, sarcastic, and crass. I swear a lot.
I am a lot of things wrong and a lot of things right. I am dedicated and loyal. I'm poorly timed and properly precise. I've always been slightly to the edge of groups of people, on the left of what's accepted, drawn to carefree, non-conformative counterculture. Protests inspire me. Passion inspires me. Ambition inspires me. Stubbornness, hatred, and self-righteousness disgust me.
My biggest fear is death, no longer existing, doing nothing enough worthwhile that people will soon forget me. I want to be important to the ones I love. I want to tuck Jimmy and I into a little bubble that will allow us to never be separated. He is one person who is truly my other half. I'm my best person with him.
My biggest fear equally is that I could be too powerful if I allowed myself to be. I could accomplish all my dreams, all my goals, and still have time left to do more. I could be the person I want to be. I probably couldn't be more happier than I am now.
I am at peace inside myself.