Kelly's Blog
Velma & Scooby: A Night of Unexpected Turns
October 31st rolled in, wrapped in excitement. And cold wind, blowing leafs.
Get ready, this is going to be a LONG post. Big night.
Anna and I, in the spirit of adventure, decided on a coordinated costume: Velma and Scooby from Scooby-Doo. I pulled on the orange turtleneck and red skirt, the thick glasses perched on my nose adding the finishing touch as Velma.
Anna, in a snug brown leotard, bodysuit and brown turtleneck, her face painted with playful dog features, embraced her inner Scooby, her amazing natural brown hair mimicking Scooby’s fur perfectly. Only Anna could pull off a glam Scooby-Doo.
As Anna and I crossed the threshold into her office, the atmosphere instantaneously transformed. The dull, everyday workspace was now a vibrant realm of fantasy and celebration. The air buzzed, electrified with unrestrained laughter and the euphoric rhythms of a lively dance track.
We entered a sea of inventive and colorful costumes, each one more eye-catching and imaginative than the last. What a blast!
We navigated through clusters of colleagues, unrecognizable as they assumed their Halloween alter-egos.
A trio of witches, draped in ominous black, cackled while stirring imaginary potions.
Pirates, adorned with tricorn hats and fake, hefty swords, gallantly traversed the crowded space, intermittently breaking character to share a joke or two. Characters ripped from comic book pages and blockbuster films added a modern flair to the festive tableau. Ghosts of 80s pop stars floated by, their vibrant attire clashing brilliantly with the subdued office decor.
I didn’t know much about Anna’s work, but they seemed like a pretty creative bunch, tbh. They also weren’t shy about dancing and drinking with co-workers.
Amidst this lively maze, Anna and I danced and mingled, our own costumes getting constant nods of approval.
As we moved together through the sea of color and pulsing beat of dance music, we were flagged down by one of Anna’s favorite coworkers, Mike, a tall guy dressed as a hippie. Not exactly a Shaggy look-a-like, but close enough for us after a few drinks.
Mike’s eyes were lit up as he recognized our themed outfits, and he playfully challenged Anna to do her best Scooby impersonation.
With a laugh and a roll of her eyes, Anna agreed. She gamely got down on all fours on the office floor, her Scooby outfit making the act all the more hilarious. She crawled around with exaggerated, goofy movements, imitating the beloved cartoon dog with a playful “Ruh-roh!” sending bursts of laughter through the nearby crowd.
I couldn’t help but get drawn into the playful act, patting Anna on her head in affectionate amusement, mimicking the way Shaggy would to Scooby. Anna’s willingness to embrace the silliness brought a new layer of affection in my eyes for her. Her face, painted with the endearing makeup of Scooby-Doo, beamed as she rose from the floor to applause from her entertained coworkers.
But then, the unexpected struck amidst the revelry.
After a bit, we found ourselves alone in the office kitchen, away from the bustle.
The dark, wanna-be creepy lighting cast a soft glow, highlighting the specks of gold in Anna’s eyes, transformed into a friendly canine for the night. Our drunk laughter echoed in the quiet space as we exchanged stories about things we’d seen so far at the party.
But a sudden shift, a fleeting yet intense look from Anna, stopped the laughter. The air seemed to hum with a different energy, a palpable tension wrapping around us in a gentle embrace.
She was giving me an intense look.
In that lingering silence, our eyes held a conversation of their own, a dialogue beyond words, filled with surprise, uncertainty, and the whisper of unexplored delights.
The party around us seemed to fade, the laughter and music a distant hum as we stood enveloped in the bubble of shared connection and unexpected warmth. I noticed a little floating dust mote settle on the black part of her nose, and gently nudged it away with the back of my knuckle. I didn’t want anything spoiling the way Anna looked to me in that moment.
Buuuuut, the moment dissolved as swiftly as it had formed.
The kitchen door swung open, a couple of zombies barging in, shattering the delicate silence with laughter and chatter. Anna and I exchanged a soft, knowing smile, an unspoken agreement to let the night roll on, keeping the shared moment tucked away. For now.
We rejoined the dance and laughter, the insanely loud dance music. The night unfolded in a dance of shadows and lights, the moments of connection and shared laughter adding hues of warmth and depth.
By around 2 am, tired as zombies, the party winding down, we headed out to grab the subway home. We took opposite trains, but she came to my platform to wait with me for my train.
In the embrace of our friendship – and the hint of something more, Anna and I sat together on the platform bench, waiting for my train, leaning close to each other just to stay upright
K.
Kelly's Blog
Making the Choice
Hey lovelies…
A week out from Thanksgiving. Yikes.
Every time I would notice the date this week, it seemed to ratchet up my anxiety, each second pushing me closer to the familial battlefield of Turkey Day.
It was on one such anxiety-ridden night that Anna came over, our shared dread pulling us together like magnets.
We sat in my apartment – roommate blessedly absent. I had unfurled two yoga mats on the living room floor, the soft hum of a meditation playlist wafting through the air.
The idea was to wrestle Anna into some semblance of yoga poses, a quest met with much giggling and good-natured complaints from her side. As I gently nudged her limbs into a downward dog, the conversation steered towards the approaching holiday.
Our laughter and light-hearted chat slowly melted into a serious discussion about the consequences of our budding plan.
The potential fallout from our families loomed over us. We would be breaking traditions, unhinging expectations, and sending a crystal-clear message of autonomy to our families. We knew it wouldn’t be met with open arms or understanding nods.
No one skips Thanksgiving and gets away with it.
In between the stretching and laughing, we laid out the pros and cons on the table. We didn’t need to say it out loud, but we knew: we had made our choice.
Done with yoga for the time being, I grabbed us both a ice water to cool down with.
Sitting silently, both of us felt it — the colossal task of informing our families of our decision. Anna’s fingers drummed a nervous rhythm on her glass while I fidgeted with a loose thread on my cushion. Akward.
Then, as if on cue, Anna blurted out, “Dare you to text your mom right now and break the news.”
I was caught off guard. “Are you serious? Right this second?”
She smirked, a playful glint in her eyes. “Scared?”
I wanted to match her moxie, she’s so contagious. “Only if you do it too,” I said half-laughing.
There was a silent stand-off , our eyes locked, searching for signs of hesitation. But the weight of it all collapsed on us, and we both burst into laughter.
“What if we swap phones?” Anna suggested, her eyebrows raised in challenge. “I’ll type out the message for your mom, and you do mine. Deal?”
It was a ridiculous plan, something schoolgirls would do, but in its absurdity there was some comfort. And perhaps, a touch of plausible deniability.
“Alright, but be nice,” I said, handing over my phone, while she passed me hers with a cheeky grin.
As our fingers danced on each other’s screens, there were giggles, a couple of false starts, and even a few playful jabs.
“Nope, you can’t use that emoji,” Anna cautioned, peeking at my screen. “My mom will think I’m being sarcastic.”
Minutes felt like hours, but finally, with one last glance at each other for reassurance, we hit ‘send’ simultaneously.
Two messages flew towards our families, and no doubt explanations and grief and guilt trips.
But in the gap of time before any replies came, in, it felt amazing.
Hell, my family was told I wasn’t coming home for Thanksgiving and I didn’t even need to be the one to do it. Anna’s my rock.
We were in this together. And as the replies from our moms began to beep and twinkle on our phones, we knew we had each other’s backs, come what may.
K.
Kelly's Blog
In the Same Boat
Hey fam
Sorry for that downer of a post last time. This autumn has been going great, seeing lots of friends, and Anna but realizing Thanksgiving was basically right around the corner, up really hit me.
But good news, Anna and I met for a coffee catch-up earlier tonight. It’s so cozy hanging with her, no matter where we end up.
I told her how much I wasn’t looking forward to Thanksgiving.
Anna’s response really settled me … she feels the same way about seeing her family…See, she’s got her own storm brewing – her family unfairly laying the blame of her divorce at her feet, as if the end of her marriage was a one-woman show.
That nagging dread that had been hanging over me like a cloud started to back off, making space for a bit of calm in that shared moment.
We talked, like really talked. About all those heavy expectations, the letdown from the people who should have had our backs. I let out all my frustrations about the silent, and not so silent, judgments for bailing on grad school, for choosing a path that strayed from the family plan.
Anna dished her hurt, the cold shoulders, the low-key digs about her divorce, as though she installed Tinder on her husband’s phone for him.
We didn’t really resolve anything. Didn’t find the magic key to lock up our families’ expectations and judgments. But it was nice to share this with Anna. We shared some cringe stories from previous years’ family get-togethers and laughed at each other’s suffering. It felt freeing.
And Anna’s laugh? Totally catchy. Her spirit, holding strong despite her battles, lit up my night.
(Back — just had to yell at my roommate to clean up his mess for once, ffs)
Anna and I swapped tales from past holidays. The insane comments from out-of-touch aunts, the overcooked turkeys resulting in impromptu pizza meals, the accidental revelations of family secrets, each anecdote adding a hue of humor and perspective to our chat. It’s like we were weaving together the past and present, a reminder that we had survived those moments, and this upcoming one wouldn’t be any different. Maybe 2023 would just be another year to laugh about, down the road.
As much as I couldn’t shake my own personal dread…poor Anna.
Anna really opened up, about her anxieties about the whispers, the pitying glances,, the uninvited opinions on her personal life. It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down at the swirl of chaos below.
But as we talked, we both started to feel a bit better – we were in this together.
We played out the worst and best-case scenarios. There’s something liberating in sharing your fears,, especially with someone non-judgey, who probably shares similar fears.
We might not have the perfect map for the journey ahead, but we had something better – our friendship, someone to share the bumps with, the rude family questions, and the just wanting the holiday to be over.
When we were settling up the bill, a plan sort of developed spontaneously…
What if we just said no?
No to the family dinners steeped in judgment and unsolicited advice. No to the polite nods at uninvited opinions about our lives. And for Anna, no questions about, any more word on the reasons her husband left her?
What if we chose to celebrate the holiday our way, free from expectations and judgment.
What if we did it our way – said no it all. And found our own way to redefine Thanksgiving. To hell with family traditions, this year.
And you know what? It felt just right.
K.
Kelly's Blog
Thanksgiving Looms
Hey y’all…
November almost halfway done, winter’s knocking on the door and, man oh man, that old, familiar cloud of dread is rolling in with it.
Thanksgiving is rounding the corner, like an unwanted avalanche of snow, aiming to knock me over with reminders of family get-togethers and all that judgment.
I spent most of the day writing for work — getting some good stuff done. Dreading family visits can be a great motivation to clear the to-do list, apparently.
I’m aching for freedom this holiday season. Freedom from expectations, from the judgment-laden questions about my abandoned grad school journey and my “unconventional” career choice as an online writer.
I can already hear the questions brewing a storm in my mind: “Kelly, when are you going back to school?” “Why this job?” As much as I love the gig, it’s like I can never dodge those questions from aunts and uncles, cousins, and grandparents.
It sounds corny but I’m dreaming of a Thanksgiving redefined.
A holiday where I’m not boxed into traditional family expectations, where I don’t have to dodge awkward questions, shield myself from judgment, or navigate tense conversations.
How will I even handle the traditional family Thanksgiving this year? It’s always been awkward but, since I moved further away, its gotten way worse.
For me, Thanksgiving, with all its trimmings, still fills me with anxiety. The pressure to conform, the judgment wrapped in smiles and the awkward dance around topics I’d rather leave untouched – it’s all there, waiting to be served up on a silver platter along with the turkey and cranberry sauce.
I’m wrapping up for the night.
K.
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