The June before I moved to Brooklyn, a friend of mine passed away. She wasn't necessarily one of my closest friends, but we had worked together and ran in many of the same circles. She had undying spirit and energy and amazing talent. She was one of the closest friends to a woman that I will always count amongst my closest friends, my non-blood related family.
It was recently the 5th anniversary of her untimely death, and I've been thinking about her a lot lately. About conversations we had in the last few weeks of her life. About the changes we were both going through at the time. And about the expectations of the future. One that didn't go as either of us planned.
And as I have embarked onto the world of online dating, I have been thinking about an art project that she had done in the early 2000s (I think it was around 2002/2003). It was called The Love Resume Project (you can still find it here online). In it, Kirsten listed all her ex-boyfriends and the experience that she had gained through their ups and downs (knowing a handful of the guys, I can attest to the truth of it!). I have been wondering, as I look for a job and as I look for a man, about resumes and how one represents themselves. I wonder about how my profile online represents me and if it's reaching the "right" kind of man. Perhaps if I made my profile more like a resume?
Anyway. Kirsten was ahead of her time with the whole thing.
If you want to know more, you can read her obituary, donate to the scholarship fund that is in her name at MassArt, see an unfinished art project and some more art here.
As I think about her, and as I sometimes wallow in what I think of as my own crappy life, I realize that at least I am alive, to stumble through it all. And I will keep perfecting my own resume (my job resume and my love resume) until I figure it all out. And the last conversation I had with her, about all the real and hard stuff in our pre-30s lives, will always stay in my head (if I close my eyes, I am back in my kitchen in Allston, an after-party from a dance night, our mutual best girlfriend visiting from Cali, and just she and I in the kitchen, in the dark, drinking beer and talking about our next steps in life - she was killed exactly one week later). And that conversation, which seemed not so big at the time, will continue to push me forward and appreciate all the things that I do have, as opposed to all the things that are lacking.
I know it's a lot.