Dallas does...racism and other gut-wrenching topics.

The topic of my senior seminar class this afternoon was supposed to be environmental racism, or the act of locating less-than-desirable factories and power plants on lands owned by or adjacent to peoples who have little voice in the political system. As I would imagine it does to most of you, this topic evokes in me a general concern with corporate corruption followed, quite frankly, with a few yawns. These yawns are obviously a point of contention when I take time to imagine what type of person I am in the scheme of solving the multitude of problems that face our modern world. These yawns are a viable concern as I begin a journey next fall toward a career that will allow me to speak out against a number of concerns that have haunted me since beginning to take Religious Studies classes in the spring of last year.

But, as is the case in many of Professor Diana Cates' classes, the conversation in this afternoon's seminar was far from yawn-worthy. Much removed from the glazed-over look I expected my eyes to have after the first hour of discussion passed, I found myself viewing the room with eyes pinched by discomfort, straining against an unwelcome realization that my yawns are just as dangerous as the corrupt corporate decision-makers depositing waste where it doesn't belong.

Today's blog post is about the kind of topics that leave us feeling beat-up by harsh truths and stunning social problems. It's about the collective amnesia that I continuously allow myself to fall victim to in order to avoid that extra trip to the recycling center or save the time it takes to call in a complaint to your senator.

I know I'm not alone when I say that over the past few weeks my Facebook feed has been clogged with college students trying to make a difference in the world by harnessing the power of social media. Whether it's a YouTube video announcing KONY 2012 or a Facebook event used to organize the Trayvon Martin rally, people understand that to get to the youth of our nation, you need to get on their friend feed.

I, like many millions of other American youths, watched the videos and responded to the event invitations, but thought little about what actual commitment I could make to see a change in the ever-depressing cycle of wrongs that exists in our world. More often than not, I see a social ill, think very seriously about what I can do to help, and then get distracted by who has broken up whom and the text message light blinking on my cell phone.

It isn't until I sit through a class like I had today with Professor Cates that I'm forced to consciously decide whether I'm going to be a person who continues to avert my gaze from the continuous stream of moral wrongs that are presented to us as mere negative externalities on the pursuit of progress. And the fact is, NO, I don't want to continue down this path of apathy, but I'm also very nervous about opening myself up to a continual reoccurrence of this punched-in-the-gut feeling that I get whenever I think about the world's inequalities.

Because, in the face of Trayvon Martin's untimely death, I have to confront the idea that as a white female, there are very few times in which I would be considered "suspicious" walking around with a hoodie on. And that as a middle-class American college student, it is nearly impossible for me to understand what it is like to be ripped from your bed in the middle of the night and forced into a rebel army. The fact of the matter is that when I take a step toward righting social wrongs, I must continuously confront the idea that even if I took zero steps toward improving my livelihood, I'd still live a life more privileged than millions of people around the world, simply because of the community and social system that I was born into.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that on this 27th day of March in the year 2012, I want to commit myself to being a person who genuinely cares about the way my actions impact the lives of the people around me. I want to be more like my friends who take the time to attend rallies in the Ped Mall for causes they believe in and stay up-to-date on world news even though the latest episode of Jersey Shore is on. I want to be more like my professors who have shown me over the past four years that there is true value in having tough conversations, whether you have the tools to make a real change or not.

One of my favorite young adult books, The Secret Life of Bees, features a character who feels so emotionally connected to the people of the world that she becomes hysterical when she hears of any tragedy, no matter how distant from her own sphere of loved ones. She writes down her prayers for the affected people and sticks the little slips of paper into her own personal wailing wall, constantly conscious and pained by global wrongdoings.

I've always seen myself in this character. That is not to say I'm noble enough to spend hours each day wailing for the heartaches of others. I see myself in her own personal heartbreak over issues that are very much out of her control.

Part of the commitment I'm making today is to grow-up and grow out of my fear of the big-bad monster of the global media sphere and the horrifying news it's always dumping on my doorstep. Because, frankly, if I can't even take the time to check out daily headlines, I don't deserve to call myself a student concerned with the course our world is taking.

Now obviously this post reeks of the idealism that plagues so much of my life, but I hope that you were able to find a grain of cold, hard truth in it that will help you navigate this difficult age in which we find ourselves. There's nothing to be gained from burying our head under the distracting rocks that so conveniently fill our American landscape and so much to be valued in a decision to become a more well-informed participant in the global community.

Peace, love and politics,

Kels.

"The time is always right to do what is right." -Martin Luther King, Jr.

Dallas does...can it, cupid.

As I sit surrounded by the sweet sounds of Hootie and his Blowfish brethren, maxed out on the two Java House drinks I have had in as many hours, I can't help but smile about the impact a few weeks of a new outlook can have on the soul.

Just over a month ago I promised to rid myself of the expectations that have for so long ruled my life. I wanted to dive into my last semester at the University of Iowa with the understanding that every day is a day I'll never get to live again, so I shouldn't waste my time playing mental guessing games. And while these one and a half months haven't been without their share of downs to accompany the ups, I have to say that I'm healthier and happier than I was on January 1.

And before I type another word, let me acknowledge that, yes, this is not only a blogged life update; it's also a written acknowledgement of today's particularly Valentinistic qualities. Motivation to write tonight comes not only from a sense that I have something I'd like to say, but also from the knowledge that this time last year I had it all wrong.

If you look at my blog's history, you'll see that on February 14, 2011, I created a lover's manifesto, detailing exactly how'd I'd lead my romantic life over the next year. And though I haven't put together a "Year in Review" for my heart, I can tell you that the end goal of that list certainly was not achieved.

You see, no matter how self-assured these blogs generally appear to be, I'll admit that 90% of the time I'm buying directly into the game plan that if I just play my cards right, I'll reach that ecstatic point of singlehood where a fantastically gorgeous man can't help but ask to be on the guest list for this Kelsey party. Because isn't that how it always goes? You want to be just happy enough to earn a partner in crime.

But I'm DONE with that game, amigos. I'm so sick of angst-ridden if-I-just-keep-smiling-and-dressing-fashionably-then-my-life-has-to-start-following-the-romantic-comedy-plot-of-my-choice mentality that has been ruling my life for the past year.

This Valentine's Day, screw manifestos. I'm declaring lover's anarchy.

Let's face it: since when did anything work out the way we wanted it to?

If you're me? Never. Never in almost 22 years have I provided my heart with a win-win situation. It's comical really. Me, a love doctor? Someone file a malpractice suit.

I am so terrible at relationships that this Valentine's Day my heart couldn't even bring itself to leave the black hole it's crawled into.

And the real kicker is that every single time I'm heartbroken, I have the audacity to explain all the pain away with a reassuring "But think of all the lessons you've learned!"

People, you've got to stop encouraging me. Let's all agree that I know nothing.

But, you know what, when the right guy comes along, I'm pretty sure there won't be a quiz portion of the meet-and-greet. So why am I wasting all this time trying to figure it all out?

I guess it's because we all want to believe that there's something we can do on our own to speed up our happy ending's arrival.

But this year, I'm letting go of that unending urge for that perfect so-romantic-it-makes-your-heart-hurt portion of my life to begin.

Because, gosh dangit, my life is pretty awesome as it is.

In six months, I'll be leaving Iowa City and the Midwest for all the adventures of the East coast. And I couldn't be more excited. I couldn't be more proud of the fact that somewhere in the midst of this never-ending train wreck of a romantic life, I became the type of student that earns a place in the Ivy League.

And if I wasn't so busy despairing over my pathetic singleness, maybe I'd have time to be thankful for all of the blessings my life as solitary Kelsey has brought to me.

All I'm asking is for you, dear reader, to attempt along with me, to let go of that feeling that something is missing, and realize, that maybe, for right now, this is all you need.

A Netflix account.

A stack of books.

And (if you're lucky) a really cute puppy.

This Valentine's Day, I cancelled my annual pity party in favor of a Shut-Up and Smile Java House date.

And it may just be the best February 14 I've ever had.

Peace, love and peppermint tea,

Kels.

"The reason we struggle with insecurity is because we compare our behind-the-scenes with everyone else's highlight reel."

Dallas does...reality versus expectation.

10 days ago an email delivered a message that changed my entire life. Though a 16-year veteran of an academic system that was built for dedicated students just like me, even a 4.0 gpa and shining recommendations felt like they'd fall short of the demands of the Ivy League.

But there it was. The email from the admissions committee of Yale University detailing how, in their eyes, I was special. Special enough to be notified early and offered a position for the Fall of 2012.

And though, as mentioned, 10 days have passed, I still sit in a perpetual state of confusion, as my expectations try desperately to play nice with the reality that arrived in my Hawkmail account.

And with this confusion has come a kind of disgust with the way I often mistrust unexpected blessings. Frustration with the idea that it feels impossible to just believe that this is the way things were meant to happen, no matter how surreal it continues to feel.

I know I'm not the only one who walks around with a general understanding of the way their life will play out. Though disappointments may come in the form of rejection by the junior high crush you were sure was your soulmate or heartache that the only men courting you during your senior year sit on admissions committees at graduate schools, most people, in knowing themselves, know where their life path will most likely lead, at least for the next few years.

I, for one, saw myself spending the next few years walking up and down city streets in confidence-inspiring heels as I make my bosses love me with my witty remarks and flawless press releases.

I have always been a people-pleaser. Meant to get a salaried job and put a downpayment on a house by age 30. Other people are the free spirits, born to roam and positive that, at least their twenties, will be spent without a forwarding address.

But then there was my summer in Colorado, and the way that just a taste of a brand-new place seeped into my understanding of myself. My expected life plan tried to make room for this mountain love, changing that imaging of high heels on Chicago pavement to fall boots in a Boulder coffee shop writing a first draft of an article.

But then came this email. And the realization that this is the kind of joyful surprise that even my spotless report cards from grades 1 through 16 didn't see coming. Because who I am I to say what two years in New Haven, Connecticut could do for my future? Suddenly the timeline of my twenties has gone blank beyond age 23, as I am forced to consider all of the opportunities that I can't even begin to imagine that this degree can bring me.

Is this the last summer I'll spend near my family? Will magazine articles win my love away from my Facebook news feed once and for all? Will my favorite sunsets still sink down behind Colorado mountains?

At a moment in life where I should wear nothing but a smile on my face, I often find it, instead, marred by a scrunched forehead and tight frown, as I try to rearrange and replace the expectations that led me to this confusion in the first place.

And somewhere in this midst of all this self-absorption, I stumbled upon a life lesson that has changed the way I understand the people I come across in my daily life.

You see, whether freshly accepted to graduate school or not, we all live lives filled with the kinds of decisions that slowly but surely chip away at the expectations we hold most dear, amounting to a relocation in reality that will always be able to catch us off-guard.

No matter how frustrating the decisions that define our friends' lives may be to us, we must remember that they are fighting their own battle with the monster of expectation. They are fighting to follow the path that they have laid out for themselves, before reality comes to reassert itself and leave them dazed and confused.

Sure, from your standpoint you may find it easy to believe that I will be at Yale next semester or impossible not to hate that your roommate sees nothing wrong in going after his best friend's girl, but you must always remember that it is only the individual's perception that comes to matter.

Give it time. Soon, I will be signing my first grad school tuition check and it will hit me how very real my acceptance was. Or that roommate will finally grasp just how wrong it is to risk friendship for a crush.

But we all need a while to understand the reality that has arrived on our doorstep.

So let's all take a deep breath. And look at the plan we have for our lives. And realize that there isn't a small enough number in the world to signify the chance that your expected path will actually match reality. But it gets awful hard to admit just how wrong we are.

Take it easy on each other.

Obviously the realty of my Yale acceptance is an easy pill to swallow. But that roommate convinced he's found love with his friend's gal? Not as easy to grasp that pursuing her is not acceptable under some sort of fairytale love exception to the bro code. Because the expectation of love is that hardest to let go of.

Again, take it easy on each other.

It will all make sense in the end.

Peace, love and a peaceful night's sleep,

Kels.

"Day by day, nothing seems to change, but pretty soon everything's different."

Dallas does...the expectation game.

Sticks and stones don't really break my bones, but expectations always hurt me.

Before you ask, no, I have not recently been the target of any nature-based hate crimes, but the quaint little rhyme seemed a fitting way to ease into a discussion that began long before the clock counted us down into 2012.

Expectations.

You can't live with 'em; but I can't live without 'em.

Blessed with a large head that seems to house more than its fair share of complicated thoughts, my overactive imagination has been raising my hopes and subsequently thinking me through their shattered remains after reality takes over for about 21 and a half years now.

I'm just not equipped to pair patience with an open mind.

But maybe 2012 is exactly the year I've been waiting for.

To my December mind, 2012 was the bully lurking in the shadows waiting to destroy any ounce of confidence I had about my future self.

2012. The year of grad school applications...and potential rejection. Job interviews...and potential rejection. College graduation...well, I guess I'm pretty much in the clear with that one.

But anyway, the point is that 2012 was a year I wanted nothing to do with, until, that is, I realized that perhaps 2011 was a year I should be glad to leave behind.

No need to dive any deeper than to say: It simply failed to meet my expectations.

It was a heartbreaking, gut-wrenching kind of year the likes of which I thought I outgrew when I left Lincoln Junior High School.

It was twelve months of complication that left me introspective and confused as I counted down the days until January's fresh start.

And here I am on the other side, and I've got to say, in my starry-eyed way that you've come to know and love, I do feel fresher. And relieved. At the starting line doing energetic jumping jacks instead of laboriously breathing with the finish line off in the distance.

Maybe because in some sort of twisted self-deluding state I've convinced myself that I will remain centered in reality, as expectations ain't no friend of mine no more.

I know, I know, I know, I just said that I can't live without them. And obviously they'll come creeping in from time to time. But just think about it. Think about how much more exciting that happy ending will be when it sneaks up on you while you're busy finding other ways to make yourself smile.

I'm through with that formulaic mindset that says if A and B happen then C has to be the result. Because as 2011 has taught me, C offers no guarantee.

Stupid C.

But I digress.

The idea is to stop being Joseph Gordon-Levitt in (500) Days of Summer as he watches his expectation of a romantic evening with Zooey unravel in one of favorite movie sequences of all time.

Because we've all been there. And we all know how sucky it is to feel like you've broken your own heart counting your eggs before they hatched.

And not to get caught-up in too many old-fashioned sayings, but, I guess all of this is really centering on the idea of the watched pot that never boils.

Forget the pot. It's 2012. Who wants to be trapped in a kitchen when you can be off chasing your dreams?

You could stand their expecting the pot to boil any minute, or you could just trust that it eventually will when it's good and ready and head off on other adventures in the meantime.

But this is just January 1 talking.

And we all know the dangers of January 1 optimism.

But, as you have many, many times before, I ask that you leave me to my naive trust in positivity.

And I'll leave you to your resolutions.

One day at a time, my friends.

Peace, love and powerful new beginnings,

Kels.

"I think we like to complicate things when it really is quite simple; find what it is that makes you happy and who it is that makes you happy and you're set. Promise."

Dallas does...Comedy Central on Campus

Somewhere in the midst of midterms and essays, student org meetings and reading assignments, Friday nights stand as the symbol of everything that is right about college.

You don't get graded on Friday nights. You don't have to make presentations on Friday nights. Heck, you don't even have to brush your teeth on Friday nights (though I strongly encourage it).

Friday nights mean freedom. They mean crazy nights downtown or just sitting on the couch in sweatpants with your best friends watching movies. They mean Amaretto Sours and Chinese food. They wait for you at the end of each busy week as a reward for five more days of hard work.

And this week, the Campus Activities Board is asking you to spend your Friday night with us.

The problem with Friday nights is that even they can get stuck in a rut. So before you pull out that sparkly dress for yet another trip to Brothers, consider mixing it up with some jeans and a dose of Comedy Central-quality comedy.

Yes, comedy. Because everyone loves a laugh. And because, if your midterms have been anything like mine, you desperately need one.

Okay, okay, okay, I'll admit that Iowa didn't earn its #4 party school ranking by spending Friday nights in the Main Lounge of the IMU. But we did earn it by proving that we know how to have fun.

And I solemnly swear that a night spent with comedians Nick Thune, Rory Scovel and Jermaine Fowler will be one of the best opportunities for fun that this semester has offered.

These three young guys have starred in movies, appeared on every variety of late-night television show, worked with College Humor, recorded award-winning comedy albums and been the face of many of our favorite products for commercial campaigns.

Their names may not be jumping off the page, but their resumes do.

And so, on behalf of CAB, I'm asking you to give them a chance this Friday night. Because I think we sometimes let the siren song of the downtown scene lure us too easily away from on-campus entertainment options.

This is going to be a great show and I want to see you there!

Buy your ticket today at the IMU Box Office. Only $5 for three great acts.

Get yourself out of that rut and invest this Friday night in Comedy Central on Campus. You, and your funny bone, deserve it.

Dallas does...secrets, secrets are no fun.

Allow me to call my own bluff on something.

I'm pretty sure that every single time I've posted a Facebook status that's along the lines of "Life is short. Never miss an opportunity to tell somebody how you feel about them," I've been secretly hoping that my phone will light-up instantly with a proclamation of love from the man of my dreams.

Because I am (and maybe we all are) by nature, extremely impatient.

Because it's hard to understand how we can afford to keep things bottled-up inside when our whole lives can end so suddenly.

But let's be honest here. How often do I come out and tell someone how I'm feeling right there in the moment I'm feeling it?

I'm more of a let-me-imply-my-feelings-over-a-several-month-text-message-exchange type of girl. Which, frankly, sucks.

Because it means I'm not allowed to complain about such frustrations as the anxiety of being unable to know what's on everyone else's mind when I'm not sharing what's on mine.

I am, however, allowed to read into every single piece of communication to create an elaborate picture of the mindscape of others- a picture that inevitably turns out to be miles from the truth.

From the picture I've painted of myself over the last year of blogging, I'm sure you're all confident that you know what I'm referring to: that the world needs to invoke a "must fess-up policy" for crushes.

But what I'm actually talking about is something more than that. Something that encompasses the entire spectrum of emotions.

Because it's not just love that we forget to share. It's anger, too. And it's laughter and it's tears and it's ticklishness.

I like to refer to myself as "non-confrontational," and to me, that has always meant that I will avoid conflict at any cost.

But I think I'm beginning to realize that what I really am is an emotion-avoider. I'll spill out my feelings all over a blog post or to my mom on the phone (which hardly counts as a normal interaction because she literally can't be surprised at this point), but I run like crazy away from situations that require face-to-face, nitty-gritty, heart-to-heart talk.

Because I get scared.

Always considered a perceptive person, I'm scared that I will have entirely misread a situation. I don't want to know that my friend always secretly hated the way I never made her a trophy when she successfully crossed the monkey bars. Or that my dad is getting more and more worried about my grad school plans.

I just want to be proven right when I think that you've missed me just as much as I've missed you.

But somewhere inside, we all know that a situation is never quite how it appears.

And that's why we may never be able to actually say just what's on our mind at any given moment.

So if you stuck with me through this frantic post, let me just ask you one thing: how will we ever break this cycle of confusion?

Okay, okay, maybe I don't need to ask you. Because I've already found the solution, at least for myself.

Stop pretending to have the world figured out.

Sure, I am very good at reading the nonverbal cues of how the people around me are reacting to a particular interaction. But that does not mean I am some kind of licensed master of future affairs. The fact of the matter is that we will never be able to fully understand people who are not ourselves, so we need to stop trying.

So allow me to offer you a revised quote. One that I promise to be offering with a clear conscious:

Life is short. Don't ever miss an opportunity to let people surprise you.

Peace, love and perpetual confusion,

Kels.

Dallas does...Silence Survivor.

It's been a week since the vow. Am I a changed person?

I've certainly still been facebooking like a fiend, texting like a twerp, and gabbing like a true gossip, but was there a lesson learned from those quiet hours?

I like to think so...but then again, I've always given myself the benefit of the doubt.

Because there's definitely doubt. I had moments of clarity within that day and a half (and with thousands of minutes to work with, that was definitely expected). But overall, I can't claim to have walked away with a lasting appreciation of the peace that silence brings.

I'd like to say that my lesson has been learned and that deactivating my Facebook and turning off my phone will be a common occurrence in my life.

But I can't.

Because that's not the real challenge.

Sure, when you separate yourself from your electronic communication outlets, you separate yourself from the power that others have to make you feel ignored or forgotten.

But then again, doesn't the real growth come from being able to leave yourself 'plugged-in' and learn to let go of that part of yourself that finds self-worth in notifications and new texts?

The real lesson I need to learn isn't one of silent stamina; it's one of communication confidence.

Smart phones and social media have opened up a whole new world of opportunities for telling the world about what matters to us. About fears and failures, successes and smiles. Painting a picture of our daily lives by the hour, or maybe even by the minute.

There's value in being unplugged, but maybe even more value in being plugged-in without losing the concrete, real-life aspects of who you are.

So here I am.

One week after the silence ended. Completely free to update my status far too many times in one day (Hey! I have important thoughts to share!) and text extensively about issues that could be much more easily solved in person.

And I'm already back to driving myself crazy waiting for contact from a particularly uncommunicative boy.

But a piece of me wants to believe that I am learning.

Slowly, but surely.

Somewhat struggling, but no longer silent.

Peace, love and party favors,

Kels.