Oh Happy Day.

A week and a day ago, my Mr K. celebrated his birthday.
He wrote about it already so I'm just gonna post snapshots from that lovely day.

It really was a happy day, and from his account of it, I think the birthday boy enjoyed himself too -and his presents !

x, K.


Friday I'm in Love...with Grass Widow.

Grass Widow is badass.
Their song "Tattoo" is even better.

It's what you're listening to as you're speeding on the highway in a stolen pick up truck.

It's the song that plays in the background as you are convulsing on the floor after a particularly bad trip.

It's the song that's playing in your headphones as you decide to go all Lolita on your Professor.
-kidding babe-

It's a song for roadtrips, impromptu parties on the balcony, steamy make out sessions, and well yes, a great song to get tattooed to, though it might hurt if the needle is trying to keep up with the frantic guitars.

I don't know many of Grass Widow's other songs but frankly, I don't need to.
I get my fix of raw voices and guitars with Tattoo and I love it -so will you.

x, K.


Son Of Sam.

Those of you who are fans of the incredibly talented artist that was Elliott Smith will have recognized the reference in this blog's title - taken from his beautiful song Twilight.

I got to know his music thanks to Mr K. who himself owes this discovery to a BMX video.
I loved him from the very beginning.
His melodies and his voice were the perfect soundtrack to a perfect summer, back when we had just moved into our new apartment.
It feels like we listened to Coming Up Roses and Southern Belle for two months straight every day.
Back then though, I didn't really grasp the depth of his music.
To me, he was more a noise in the background, the perfect companion to mellow evenings and bottles of wine on the terrace.

It's only when I started paying attention to his lyrics that I became hooked.
Once you dig up a little and find out stuff about his life, you actually feel like you're hearing his pain in every song.
He seemed to be a tortured soul, which made for gorgeous, emotionally charged songs.

Last summer, N. gave me a great biography of him which all but turned me from fan to groupie.
It feels now like I can link some songs to some events of his life, which makes them even more special to me.

While his life was cut short way too soon, he did manage to get a nice amount of songs out there and I like to discover new ones all the time.
Elliott Smith's discography feels to me like a box filled with all my favorite chocolates : I can pick whichever one without minding the wrapper's color and know that it will be scrumptious.
Even though I'm a sucker for everything he did, his self-titled album is still one of my favorites.

I have lost count of the number of nights where he sang me to sleep.
The scene in The Royal Tenenbaums where Richie slits his wrists to Needle in The Hay might very well be one of my fave movie moments of all time and whenever I reach an all time low, I can't help but think that that's exactly the song that I would pick too.

Contrary to popular belief though, Elliott Smith isn't a gloomy artist suitable only for depressed people.
His songs are great to sing along to when you're cruising in your car and they're even better to slow dance to with your boyfriend.

Below are my 10 favorite Elliott Smith songs, in no particular order :

* Twilight
* Coming Up Roses
* Son Of Sam
* Miss Misery
* Southern Belle
* Angeles
* Needle In The Hay
* Memory Lane
* Let's Get Lost
* Pictures Of Me

My only regret is that I discovered him too late to get to see him perform.
That's definitely the first thing that I'll do once I go up in the air.

x, K.

Post Traumatic Stress.

Two days ago I had a particularly stressful exam.
My teacher wrote each of the 500 pages of his book himself and, believe it or not, he actually wants us to quote them word for word at the exam.
- It's ok if you think that I'm shitting you, I would have never believed it if I hadn't been a victim of his particularly stupid and narcissistic way of interrogating students.

I had already passed two of his classes and I didn't see any reason why this year's one would be different.
Sure, it hurts a bit to try and cram 500 fucking pages of keywords in your head, but then so do a lot of other things that we do every day.
Actually, I was even pretty chill when it came to that exam.
Been there, done that, it would just take a lot of willpower and empty memory space.

Or so I thought.

For reasons unknown, those damned words didn't want to travel from their page to my head.
I gave up two days in a row until it was really a matter of sink or swim and I had to forceps them into my memory.
It's never pleasant.

The night before the exam, I was a hot mess.
For the life of me, I couldn't remember one word of what I had studied. -see previous post
It goes without saying that come bedtime, there were lots of tears and very little sleep.
On the morning of, my sweet Mr K. took precious time out of his own studying to help me go over every damned detail of it.
Picture me sitting on my bed, repeating my lesson with tears in my eyes like a child who didn't do his homework.
Not one of my finest moments.

When I arrived to the exam room, I could barely stop myself from fainting.
All my hard work was gonna be destroyed by one stupid exam which was supposed to be piece of cake.
It's a miracle that I didn't run after Mr K. and ask him to take me far, far way from uni.

Once I saw the questions, things seemed to look up a bit though.
Except from two questions (out of 10) where I went into full freestyle mode, I actually remembered my shit when it came down to answering.
Before giving back my exam, I painstakingly calculated that even if he was very strict in his notation, I should manage to pass.

Getting out, I talked with some friends who miraculously seemed to have answered roughly the same as me.
It seemed that once again, I had worked myself into hysteria for nothing.
Reassured, I left uni to get back to my ball and chain : my piles of study material.
From then on, things took a turn for the worse.

During the ten minutes that it took me to walk home, I went over and over all my answers again, dissecting them mercilessly in my head.
With every step, I became less sure that I had actually done good at the exam.
When I got home and started rereading my notes, every little key word that I had forgotten was one more nail into my coffin.

By the time I called my parents to tell them my impressions, I was sure that I had miserably failed.
I was so distraught that it took me a second to realize that my dad was mocking me when he wondered whether or not I'd actually have a negative grade.Ah ah.

Two days on and I'm not only certain that I failed that one, I'm also convinced that I'm gonna fail all the others which will then result in my failing Uni and failing my life.
I've actually gotta run : I have to see if any of the sleazy bars next to the train station are hiring.
God knows that I won't find work anywhere else.

x, K.


Where Is My Mind ?

My head collapsed and there was nothing in it so I ask myself:
Where is my mind?

I know that it happens every time.
I know that as long as I have exams, it will keep on happening.
Still, it doesn't make it less scary.
At all.

See, I seem to suffer from stress induced post study amnesia.
One second, here I am, reciting -chanting even- what I just learned to Mr K.
I do my best parrot impersonation and make sure that I say word what is written on my sheet.
Sheet of paper after sheet of paper, I go through what I have to study for my upcoming exam and I get more pumped with each one that I recite correctly.

Then comes the night before my exam.
All of a sudden, I couldn't say what I studied for the life of me and I then proceed to impersonate a fish instead of a parrot.
Blub blub blub.

The -veeeery tiny- rational part of my brain knows that all my working has paid off and that it is actually stored somewhere in the back of my head but that rational part doesn't talk quite as loud as the other part.
That's when my fish impersonation turns into a headless chicken one.
Not a good look.

Tomorrow, hopefully, I will get out of that exam room and admit to Mr K. that yes, again, he was right and I remembered my shit.
Hell, so far I haven't gotten out of an exam in tears, wailing that I had indeed forgotten everything.

The mere thought of it happening, the mere vision of me giving black a blank copy will probably always ensure that I work myself into a frenzy the night before any exam.

Oh well.
As long as the only thing that I OD on to calm my nerves is pasta, I should be fine.

x, K.

(btw, I'm not an idiot.I know that the original song is from The Pixies which I also happen to love but the 13 year old inside me will always love any song sung by Brian Molko better )


Letters to my boys.

Dear Mr K. ,

I'm sorry that I gave you a guitar right as exam period was starting.
Believe me when I say that I had very good intentions, but I see now how desperate you are to play while you're stuck at our table studying.
I'm also very sorry that when I encouraged you to enroll at my school, I forgot to mention how draining and exhausting exam period was.My bad.

I must admit, it kind of feels surreal that I, the neurotic permanently stressed basket case, have to reassure you.
I will keep on doing it until you see yourself through my eyes though : you're incredibly smart and hard working and really, if you resist the call of your guitar, you're probably going to succeed way better than I do -again.

Dear baby brother ,

I've been there.
I know that no matter what you see or hear, nothing can really prepare you to having to study your ass off for a scandalous amount of hours a day while it feels like everyone else is outside enjoying the sun.
Even though you hate the sun, it must be annoying for you too.
I also know that you're probably drinking your weight in coffee these days but it's not that bad : I read that it even prevents prostate cancer -woohoo !
Also, you need to stop convincing yourself that you're gonna fail.
Never forget that YOU are the smart one of the family.
-and that you are the little chemist.

Dear beloved stinkers ,

I miss our WBST adventures.
I miss adventures actually, now one the most exciting part of my day is when I allow myself to drink some Coke Light out of my precious stash.
It kind of doesn't compare to cross country biking or road trips.At all.
I know that you guys are down and I wish that I could make your exams go away or pass them in your place but my plate is kind of full right now, so here's the best I can do : I compiled a list of adventures/fun things that we have to do after the exams.

I hope this list cheers you up.


  • Go to the beach with our dogs and hunt jellyfishes with them.The first one that gets stung loses.Ah!

  • Eat Pauls at RW + find Paul !

  • Watch Somewhere with cold cider and hot -homemade- nachos.

  • At least 3 bike trips to at least 3 different cities.

  • Shopping for crazy sales + a break for delicious sandwiches and fruit juices

  • KAYAK ! ! !

  • Barbecues at bonpa's

  • La Noyée jam sessions

    There will also be long walks at night with our dogs, endless talks on the terrace with chilled rosé wine and a lot of other things that I can't think of right now.
    The great thing though, is that soon, we'll have time to think about it together !

I love you and I can't wait to reunite the WBST.

x, K.


23 candles.

Birthday breakfast last year.

Today is Mr K.'s birthday.
I can hardly believe that he's turning 23.

When I met him, he was fresh out of high school and I felt so cool for having an older boyfriend.
Back then he had just turned 18 and to me he was the kindest, handsomest, funniest, smartest boy around.
I still feel that way by the way.
Since then we've celebrated our share of birthdays together, but really not much has changed.
(I mean, look at how HOT Mr K. is !)

He is now old enough to drink in any country but really, he's just an overgrown kid.
Over the years, his hair seems to get shorter as his body gets more inked and he gets hotter and hotter.
As his beard gets thicker with each birthday that passes, he gets called Mister more and more.
He's still my babe though.
To me, even when he's 62, he'll always be the handsome boy who came to pick me at the train station in his jeans jacket.
That will never change, no matter how many candles he blows.

One thing does change though : every year, I love him more and more.

Gelukkige verjaardag schatje.
Jij bent mijn wereld en ik hou van u tot de maan en terug.

x, K.

Can you tell that I love his old bones to death ?


Bones ! Bones ! Bones, bones, bones, bones !

Dead Man's Bones is awesome.

Actually, Dead Man's Bones is one of my current favorite bands and it has nothing to do with the fact that Ryan Gosling is in it.
No sir.

If my poor overheated brain remembers good, I discovered them thanks to a really cool mixtape I found online.
Back then, they had only released "My body's a zombie for you" and the combination of the genius title/bandname really made me want to know more about them.
also the fact that that song was really great.

After patiently waiting for what seemed like forever, I finally got my hands on their eponymous album.
Let me just say : Pure magic.

Dead Man's Bones feels like a mix of all my favorite things : Halloween, Nightmare on Christmas, poetry and bizarre-ness.
It summons images of cabinet of curiosities, taxidermy and venenous flowers.

I'm pretty sure Edgar Allan Poe would have loved it if the old fella was still around and there is no doubt in my mind that the Ghasthycrumb tinies would twirl to the sound of "Flowers go out of my grave".

Dead Man's Bones will kick start your day with "Pa Pa Power", keep you energized with "Dead Man's Bones", make you fear bedtime with "In The Room Where You Sleep" yet still take you off to dreamland with the hypnotic beauty that is "Buried in Water".

The album achieves something not unlike what Neil Yound did with Harvest : there really are no songs to throw away on it and you can listen to it over and over again without getting sick of it, the songs melting perfectly into one another.

I could talk about that band for another shitload of paragraphs but instead, I will end this post with a quote from the one and only Mr K. :
"Actually, it is pretty obvious that Ryan Gosling is a musician that also acts, and not the opposite."

x, K.

Hell, even their cover art kicks ass.


Vitamin D.

Today was going to be just another study day.
There was German grammar to learn and a strict planning to follow.
There would be breaks of course, but by the time we would call it a day, so would have the sun.
-not like we work until it's dark outside but we do work long enough for the sun to be decorative instead of warming.
A month of hard work might seem a small price to pay to hopefully get to spend three blissful months doing nothing, but believe me, when you're in it, it sucks ass.

My day started really bad because of a beginner's mistake : I looked at the bigger picture.
Nothing ruins your mood like listing all you'll have to do over the next four weeks.
Here I was, trying to keep my head out of the water when I all but knocked myself unconscious with the amount of work that still needed to be done.
I'm not gonna lie, there was pouting and teary eyes involved.

My knight in shining hoodie came back.
Just one look and he had understood what was happening.
He did not try to give me a pep talk.
He did not encourage me to try and resume my studying.

Instead, he calmly suggested that we do nothing.
Needless to say, he did not need to tell it to me twice.

It did not take long for me to forget all about my work load.
As I lay on our terrace, soaking up sun with the avidity of a thirsty alcoholic, I came to the realization that sometimes, all you really need in life is a good dose of vitamin D.

Thanks for making me understand that babe. I really needed it.
x, K.

Where's Bonnie ?


Hoarder, Hoarder, Pants on Fire.

My e-mail address is a bona fide slut.
She'll give herself to any and every stranger and then forget about it, leaving me to wonder who on earth feels that I need pills to enlarge my penis.
Today, one of her mysterious acquaintances put his finger on a very sensible subject though.

Here I was, cleaning up after her mess when, on the way to Spamville, a mail caught my attention.
Its title, "The Heartbreak of Hoarding", immediately increased my heart rate.
Had I been unmasked?
Had it become bad enough that even my e-mail address was trying to save me ?

See, it all started harmlessly enough.
In the beginning of our relationship, me and Mr K. were living in different cities and seeing each other way too little to our liking.
Add to that the fact that I was a desperately romantic teenager and soon enough I was filling a box with little tokens of his affection, then dates memorabilia, which soon included everything that he had touched when I saw him.
I'm not gonna go in detail about the contents of that box for fear of sounding like a crazy stalker but let's just say that gum wrappers were among the most normal stuff that I "collected".

You'd think that it would have stopped once we moved in together.
Why would I still compulsively keep anything remotely linked to him now that I had him all for myself all the time, right?
The hoarding seed had been planted and wasn't going anywhere.
If anything, it actually got worse.

I was now living away from home and so, on top of my Mr K. collection, I soon had a family one.
My pockets are overflowing with treasures -one of my vests' pockets is filled with mummified daisies my brother had plucked for me.
Next to my study books is an ever growing pile of envelopes from the daily postcards my grand-parents send us - how could I throw them, when I'm sure that they spend so much time picking the stamps ???
Let's not even talk about all the bottles that I keep -what monster would throw an empty bottle which once contained wine carefully chosen for them by their dad?Not me.

My hoarding habit is made all the more crazy by the fact that it is (well, was) a secret one.
At our place, you can actually walk freely without stumbling onto piles of stuff and you won't see any clutter anywhere.
Don't open that lovely little cabinet that we proudly painted though : its drawers are overflowing with my "keepsakes" ranging from city maps to brochures for hotels I've never been to but which were in some other hotel's lobby, waiting to be taken by me.
If you want a snack, better ask me for it : it just so happens that our pantry is filled with empty plastic cups and carton boxes (you'd be surprised if you knew how much meaning an old box of ice cones has to me).

One day, in a near future, my hiding places are going to be full.
Then, small pile of stuff by small pile of stuff, our place will begin to be filled with junk until we are confined to one safe clutter free room as our apartment turns into a raccoon's wet dream, all because of me.
I'm not sure that it's how I envision my dream house though.

Gotta run now, there's an important mail in my inbox that I need to read.

x, K.


Liszt #3

A list of 5 awesome websites for the University student on the edge of a nervous breakdown.
Caution: some of them are highly addictive.

* Animals with Stuffed Animals

If this website doesn't cheer you up, I strongly suggest that you check yourself into a psychiatric hospital as I am afraid that nothing else will do the trick for you.

* This is Why You're Fat

If like me you are a frustrated stress eater who can't get her sugar fix because it makes you sluggish and is bad for the brain blablablah, looking at incredibly decadent creations has something weirdly soothing.

I'll make sure to toast to the end of my exams with a bacon mug.


Thank God my high school teachers never had that idea.

I don't want to be remembered as the girl who said that the head of India was a maharajah.

I can totally relate with the below picture.

I wouldn't want to be the person that messes with my Diet Coke stash.

Don't say you weren't warned though.

These websites will always win over whatever you're studying.

x, K.


The D.A. Badger Project // Metallic Lullaby °1

Mr K. is awesome.
He is gorgeous, funny, smart, great at any given extreme sports (that's sexy in my book) and he's also very talented.
See, Mr K. has that gift that few musicians have to be able to pick up any instrument.
Officially, he's a bassist, but there isn't a set of strings that will resist him.
Contrabass, electric guitar, acoustic bass...He's the man.

I'm always happy to listen to him rock out to the classics (we initially bonded over our mutual love for the great Lemmy) but sometimes, it gets a little head crushing to listen to speed rock or metal on repeat for a couple of hours.
Which is why I challenged him : he would have to turn those bitchin' songs into lullabies.
Anyways, everyone knows that some of those bands' best stuff is their slower, deeper material (hello Nothing Else Matters and God Was Never On Your Side).

Mr K. happily accepted and that's how the D.A. Badger Project started.
Today, his fingers were itching and he sat down with his Harley Benton to work on a classic.
An hour later, he had totally made the song his own AND had turned it into something to listen to on those nights where your Ipod is singing you to sleep.

I am deeply in love with Mr K. which some might see as me being partial but not anymore after they've listened to his cover.
Loved up or not, I can recognize a pretty bass line and a raw voice when I hear them.

Thanks for the cover babe.
I am so very proud of you.

x, K.


* Like any talented mofo, Mr K. is also a huge perfectionnist.
He wants me to let you know that this is only a draft version.

Friday I'm in Love...with Lissie.

To be perfectly honest, I'm actually in love with Lissie every day of the week.
I love her voice, I love her record and yeah, ok, I'm crazy jealous of her long blond hair.

Her beautiful song Everywhere I go had been featured on the soundtrack of one of my secret addictions (which does involve scrubs, but never involved George Clooney) and I was completely blown away by her powerful voice.
After a bit of searching the internet, I found out who that voice belonged to and that it was even featured on an EP.
It was love at first sight, and not only because the cover art was so pretty.
* Happy Lissie Surprise °1

Just as I was itching for more songs to listen to (am I the only one who gets frustrated with EPs?I get that it acts as a teaser of sorts, but to me it's kind of like eating a microscopic bite of red velvet cupcake.Torture.) I found out that Ms Maurus had just come out with a new album.
At first I was a bit torn, after the raw beauty of Everywhere I go which showcased her voice so amazingly, her album seemed a bit...tame.
It did grow on me very quickly though, even more so after I started reading interviews and getting the meaning behind every song.
* Cue Happy Lissie Surprise °2

A short while after her record got out, I almost had a heart attack when I found out by checking our favorite concert hall's website that Lissie was performing there in two days.
In less time than it takes to say cuckoo, we had booked our tickets and off we were to the front row to watch her perform.
* And this, my friends, is when Happy Lissie Surprise °3 happened.
We were blown away by her performance.
She is one of those artist that you should definitely check out live, in part because her band is so awesome.
Her guitarist is a dreadlocked bearded beast who would certainly make Jimmy Page proud with some of his insane solos and her bassist is also her drummer so that makes him a badass.
Her songs really come alive, mostly because she makes sure to tell her audience the story behind them before she starts singing them.
When we left, we had been Lissied (and believe me, it's hard for me to get Mr K. to like a long blond haired singer who's not in a hair metal band).

I had a hard time picking a song to post here but I finally settled on Bully.
That's the perfect song if like me these days, you're feeling a bit down but don't want to indulge into your weepy songs cravings.
It starts out pretty mellow, building up slowly until at the end of the song you feel empowered again -Perfect for the exam blues.
Have a listen below and make sure to check her out if she ever performs close to where you
live !

x, K.

* We found out not to long ago that she would be performing at a festival we're going to this summer.
Yup, that would be Happy Lissie Surprise °4 !


Bloody Hell.

Bonnie parading on the terrace with one of her finds.

Bonnie is a hoarder.
Our daily walks turn into a never ending search for her next treasure and our neighborhood seems to be the equivalent of a top notch canine flea market.

There isn't a park where she won't find a ball left somewhere by some careless dog.
Her trained nose will find an old tennis ball everywhere.
Thanks to Bonnie, it's Roland Garros all year round at our place.

Some previous prized finds have included a teddy bear (may he rest in peace, God knows she was ruthless with him), a half eaten sandwich and, her pride and joy : a Osso Bucco bone.

Somehow, the mere fact of finding it allowed her to turn all Sid on this poor stuffed raccoon.

Like any good hoarder, she sees treasures where us mere mortal only see garbage.
Sometimes, you can see it in her eyes that she thinks we're out of our mind for forcing her to part with her loot.
What on earth is wrong with us for not seeing the potential of a greasy, dirty sandwich wrapper ???
You can tell that she's never seen wasters like us.

Today, she snatched a mysterious object right before we entered our building.
It was hard to recognize at first, which is never a good thing, so I took my courage in both hands and urged Mr K. to find out what it was.

Turns out that what was bringing her such ecstasy as she was chewing it with her eyes half closed was an old tampon.
I don't know who said "like master, like dog", but in this particular case*, I feel obliged to say that that saying is bullshit.

x, K.

* I also feel that way when she eats "street truffles".


Three letters and one recipe.

Dear K,

Yes I'm talking to you (i.e. myself).
Do you really think that now is the time to be tired and crash for 4 hours ?
Are you maybe under the impression that your lessons are gonna study themselves?
Because they won't.
Now, stop being a big wuss, sit at your table and destroy those piles of school subjects with the power of your brain, just like Chuck Norris would.
And get away from that damn computer.

Only one exam in, and already showing signs of a breakdown.Ugh.

Dear Hummus,

Thank you thank you thank you.
I love you for being calorific as fuck but still managing to make me feel as if I'm eating healthy.
Anyways, everyone knows that food that you make yourself doesn't count.
I also love you for looking so pretty on my plate, next to my cucumber and my cherry tomatoes.
I'm sorry I'm such an asshole and I forgot to take a picture of you.
Truth be told, I had devoured you long before the thought crossed my mind.
No worries though.
Everyone knows that you looked way prettier than the one on this random picture.

Who pours oil in the middle of their hummus though?
Just because you didn't get it at the drive-in doesn't mean that it's light, people.

Dear Mr K,

I swear to God, the next time that you sample my food and that you pout, I will stab you in the face.
Yes, hummus tastes lemony, like it should.
No, you don't hate lemon.
If you certify me that you do, it's good to know, more Napoleons for me.

I still love you though, you annoying picky eater.

You know babe, in life, it's not always fajitas and butterflies.

So, as you might have gathered from the beginning of this post, my day so far hasn't been that productive.
I looked something up on the computer, which was conveniently on the bed, mmm comfy bed, mmm quick power nap, SHIT how is it 2pm already ???
I woke up pretty grumpy that I got fooled again (really, when will I learn that your bed conspires against you during exam period ??).
I was also starving and in dire need of comfort food.
Seeing how close I am from bikini time, I wasn't about to schlepp my ass to the nearest fast food joint to get it, so hummus was the next best thing.

If, like me, you feel sinister and you're hungry, here's how to get your own hummus fix :

* Gather 400 grams of chickpeas, the juice of one lemon, three tablespoons of olive oil and 4 smashed garlic cloves.
* Blend it until smooth.
* Stuff your face.

Promise, my next recipe won't be as complicated as this one.

x, K.



The sun never shines brighter than when you're stuck inside.
To be perfectly honest, we did study outside yesterday but still, can't say that we were really enjoying the weather to its full potential.

Once the temperatures cooled down a bit (read : once the thought of wearing anything else than a sundress was bearable) and our goals for the day were reached, we needed to make the maximum of whatever sun was left.
With that thought in mind, we put Mr K.'s BMX in the trunk and off we were to a nearby spine ramp.
The promise of an adventure to come seemed like heaven after what felt like a never ending day of school work.

Once we arrived there, we were greeted with friendly locals who were happy to let Mr K. own the ramp.
Not to gloat our anything, but I was a proud girlfriend when I heard a kid talk about how happy he would be the day that he could do that as Mr K. was acing a transfer.

I felt quite proud too when he let me ride his bike a bit -to be perfectly honest, I'm already planning to steal it to go practice .

N. gave it a try too but mostly, he again took some great action pictures at the park.
Watch out for that kid, when he'll finally realize that an additional 13 years of studying (med school + psychiatry) is torture, it won't be long before his pictures are prominently featured in sub culture magazines.

Again, the WBST managed to turn what would have otherwise been a pretty boring day into a memorable one.
There's something about the combination of sweating in the park and my two beloved stinkers that always brightens my mood.
I'm already looking forward to our next adventure !

x, K.

* Props to anyone who got the AWESOME reference in this post's title.
Cru is my 2nd favorite BMX rider.No kidding.


Home Alone.

This week end, we are coming one last time to my parents' before we lock ourselves into our study bunker and tonight, my parents have to go someplace.
You would think that, seeing that I've been living away from home for 4 years now, I wouldn't care, but actually, I feel like a 14 year old all over again.

It's a funny feeling.
It's exciting, exhilarating even and it's the promise of an adventure.
I remember loving evenings alone with my brother because we got to pick what we ate, what we watched and when we went to sleep.
None of it has changed and it still feels as awesome to eat chinese take out on the couch, as we watch TV.
The mere thought of how many rules we're breaking as we do that almost gives me the chills.

I'm not sure my mom would consider us to be too old for a good spanking if she knew what we're up to when they leave.
Past shenanigans have included a food fight (not sure N. has really forgiven me for the slice of pizza that I painted his face with), a secret party, and a crazy dance-off around the house among others.

Tonight, we're gonna keep it low key though.
Mr K. has heard of a spine ramp in the neighborhood (me?ashamed that I've lived here for 18 years and never knew about it?Course not !) and we're gonna go check that out for an evening session. -expect pictures of that coming soon.

When we come back, we might just eat our dessert on the couch though.
If we're feeling exceptionally bad, who knows, we might even eat TWO ice cream cones EACH...

x, K.

The last time my parents left us alone for a day, we literally rode our bikes to another country.
Good thing they'll only be gone for some hours tonight.


Friday I'm in Love...with Oh Land.

My brother N. is a pretty quiet person.
He will answer you if you talk to him, but other than that, he's happy to be chilling somewhere with his cup of coffee.
Why talk when you can just listen ?

His rather silent demeanor means that whenever he says something, you not only listen, you know that it is going to be interesting.
To be perfectly honest with you, I literally drop everything I'm doing any time that my brother decides to strike up a conversation with me.
He's that interesting.

The other day, I was wasting time on Youtube when, on his way to make himself a cup of coffee, he glanced over my shoulder and mentioned that I really ought to check out Oh Land's "White Nights" because it reminded him of me.
When I saw the video, I was curious.
Was it the blond hair ? The long legs ? (one can hope...) The drumming skills maybe ?

Admittedly, my drumsticks/hair/legs are a bit shorter than hers.

Turns out that her weird dance moves reminded him of me when I've had too much sugar to eat.
Oh well.

All long legs and trippy dancing apart, he actually made me discover a really cool song.
It's really refreshing to hear a new-ish band that don't take themselves too seriously or try overly to be the next big thing.
Instead, Oh Land puts together catchy songs, kind of as if Emiliana Torrini and The Knife had an illegitimate child.

I've been listening to it over and over again ever since I discovered it and soon, Im pretty sure you will too.
Thanks N. !

x, K.


My name is K., I'm 22 and I am a CoSTA.
Yeah, you read that right, I'm a Compulsive Stresser Anonymous.

I can still trace back precisely when I had my first stress.
I must have been all of 7 years all and I was a pretty confident kid until the "cool girl" in our class told us that the key to succeeding at a test was to think that you failed it.
I guess that the point that she was trying to make was that you'll always be pleasantly surprised with your results if you think that you bombed an exam.
To my naive, influenceable brain though, what she was saying is that seeing yourself as a failure was the key to success.
Sadly, I'm afraid that thought has never really left me even though, over the years, it has morphed into something else :
a deep belief that I'm bound to fail.

Take last year.
I got pretty good grades at all my exams, yet, if you had asked me after each one of them, I would have told you that I didn't know how good it had been but that hopefully I had managed to safe face.

Do not even get me started on my mental state before my exams.
I have been known to cry myself to sleep (figure of speech, I actually manage to sleep very little) and to pop medicine like it's candy to soothe my terrible cramps.
Can you say wreck ?

I stress before and after an exam, until I get my grades.
If my grades are too close from 12/20, I stress that I won't have my average.
Hell, I even stress when I'm not stressing because if I'm so chilled, it obviously means that I'm not preparing myself good enough and that I'm gonna fail.

This year though, I'm gonna have to change my years because all my usual patient listeners will be M.I.A.
My parents think that I'm a bit crazy after I had a particularly nasty meltdown in January, convinced that I was going to fail my year then of course, my life.
Mind you, I hadn't had any exams then and my closest ones were 6 months away.
N. has started Med school and will have slightly more important things to do come finals than to listen to me wail on the phone.

Still, the biggest change this year is gonna come from Mr K.
For the past 4 years, come exam session he becomes my caregiver / psychiatrist / cheerleader and all around mama bear.
Sadly those days have come to an end.
Mr K. is now also studying for a Master's degree and he will be in his very own pile of shit.
There will be no crying my eyes out come bedtime because Mr K. will need his rest, no endless complaining because he will need to study...At 22, I'm finally going to have to be a big, independent, responsible girl and this might be what stresses me the most about this exam session.

I can't say that I remember how I felt when I started to ride my bike without training wheels, but I'm pretty sure that I'm feeling the same right now.

x, K.


Santa's Little Helper.

If like me, you've had a rough day, this picture is guaranteed to put a smile on your face.
If it doesn't, honestly, I don't know what will.

x, K.