Nothing Is Ever Absolutely True.
There are no choices in life. 

There are no choices in life. 

Not ok. 
Thanks for sharing Lindsey!

Not ok. 

Thanks for sharing Lindsey!

Back to school sucks. 

Back to school sucks. 

Some Assembly Required

Some Assembly Required

Today I bought my first vacuum cleaner… ever. It’s funny, I don’t remember growing up ever having to assemble a vacuum cleaner - or anything for that matter. Things were just presented whole.

Amazingly, in my 23 years of life, my list of hand-assembled items is short. And, until my recent move, that list was virtually non existent. Say for instance I needed storage during college - plastic Tupperware bins from Walmart were always favored over investing in Kelsey-built dressers.

I bought my first screwdriver on my return trip to KMart after purchasing my air conditioning unit. They want me to mount it into my window with what? Go figure. Of course, about 75% of the screws that came with the unit lie untouched - still, my room is cold and my air conditioner is snug, jammed in my window.

These little handy-projects continued as I realized I needed to acquire furniture in order to build a comfortable living space. A couch with puzzle pieces that won’t fit through my door. A 63 lb wardrobe closet dragged from Brooklyn - one that now leans about 10 degrees forward after a quick shuffle to the opposite side of my room. And, now, my vacuum cleaner graces the self-assembled, Kelsey-made, malfunctioning equipment in my apartment. Sure, it spits cat little out from behind… all I know is that my floor is about 80% cleaner than before.

I often resist purchasing items that require assembly. Which is why, if you ever visit my apartment, you’ll find little organized piles of my belongings in various huddles on the floor. I have been avoiding purchasing such necessities as a table, chairs, shelving, book shelves, desk equipment, etc. because I simply cannot deal with that many set of instructions in one sitting.

The only memory I have of assembling anything in my childhood is the Christmas I got the three-story Barbie house. More so, I remember my father’s face as he opened the box to about 1,000 pieces. Playing, I never thought back to how all the pieces came together. The kitchen kettle whistled, the elevator ran up and down, and it looked like the house on the picture from the packaging.

But then again, do we ever realize the assembly that goes into the life we play in? I think my main problem with things that need to be assembled is that when I purchase them, I know I will need to build them. It’s like a barrier. A taunt. Whenever I enter IKEA and I see the warehouse of potential furniture, all those boxes say to me is, “Look at what I am… if you’ve got some screws, some tools, 10 hours, and some spare frustration.”

When we’re building our lives - our careers, relationships, wardrobes - there are no instructions. So what if you don’t use some of the screws? You can use a nail instead. I guess that in a world of “some assembly required,” it’s nice to know you can fuck up and still come up with something beautiful. As for my malfunctioning Kelsey-built pieces - if you knew the effort, patience, and conquering of hatred for products that come in pieces that went into the final products - you’d think they were beautiful too.

The Tuck in Time

When I was too scared to sleep without light,
I sat with you for hours,
hoping strangers wouldn’t rob us as we slept
and you’d tell me stories.

I sat with you for hours,
glued to the fibers of the corduroy couch
where you’d start your story
about when milk was delivered in glass bottles.

Glued to the fibers of our corduroy couch,
you and I, together ate cashews from the can
always sipping from our glasses of milk
sometimes adding chocolate as we washed away the salt.

You and I, together, always ate cashews from the can,
and then we’d play hide and seek around the house,
and you’d give me chocolate to wash away the salt from the day
as you tucked me into my pink-rosed bed.

It’s always a game of hide and seek, from
the strangers in our lives who rob us as we sleep
and we tuck ourselves in our pink rose beds
too scared to sleep without light.

Walk the Line

In 1973 E F Schumacher wrote: “All real human problems arise from the antinomy of order and freedom.” If true, what are the implications for parents and managements?

By intuition we discover and by logic we prove, therefore this antinomy is about finding balance between intuition and logic.

With two sides of the brain, three mindsets exist. One needs schedules and efficiency, another needs wild freedom, and a hybrid walks the line between the two. 

Those of us who walk the line struggle like Jekle and Hyde. Those who are controlled by one side see conflict when pushed into the other side, which creates a realm of thinking that is counterintuitive. 

Those in the middle have the ability to see both sides with a balanced approach; a mind that dissects human truth.

For parents, this is evidenced in finding balance between a child’s instinctive behavior and a parent’s protective nature. In managements, especially communication organizations, it’s about effectively determining a proposition’s potential success. While a creative might see a campaign as inexplicably beautiful, a client will want to see that a campaign will grow their business.

Real human problems exist when you try to force nature against its path, when you cannot see from another perspective. To manage this requires trust that a certain level of expectation will be met. Without trust you have a dictatorship. With a dictatorship you have no intuition, no discovery, and no innovation.

Balancing order and freedom is like a kaleidoscope. Although its beauty comes from the planned patterns of its shapes, if you try to understand that order, it’s inevitable that you’ll loose its magnificence.