April 16th, 2014

Sometimes, you just want to hand a bottle back and forth with someone, with the lights low, feet brushing against each other, as you sit on the floor. You want to read paragraphs aloud from philosophy books, and smile. You want to kiss their neck, just behind their ear. Their cheek just southwest of their eye. You want to whisper french terms of endearment. You want to tell them about the last time you cut yourself, or accidentally looked down to find blood from a scratch on your knuckle. 

You want to play the music a little too loud. You want to whisper the lyrics. You want to lose sleep. You want to cry a bit, from laughing so hard. You want to not touch at all except for fingertips. You want to dance, throwing your arms around, your hair a mess. Collapse with joy etched on your face. 

You want to lift the bottle up to your mouth and notice them watching your lips. You want them to want. You want to want. You want to mourn the 30 degree drop in temperature, and the week ahead. You want to tell them what you fear the most.

But most of all, you want to get drunk off the taste of them. Lips on lips. Drunk off the night, and the whiskey. The secrets, the laughter. Drunk off the idea that you didn’t have to be anything other than yourself. 

April 3rd, 2014

You can’t save ‘em all, Katharine. 

April 3rd, 2014

Just a couple things from over on my instagram: @tkowkat

Dressing up like “Carmen San Dindigo” as a friend said, had me laughing most of the day. Next, a pot of pulled pork with herbs a favorite as the weather is changing. Haha, who am I kidding, a favorite all the time. A bottle of Bulleit Rye, now stocked at my local spirits store I had to bring home. Finally, my Eastland Mocs, which I am having a difficult time not styling outfits around constantly.

March 30th, 2014
Spent some of today giving areas of my apartment TLC, really coming along for being the utmost cozy. 

Spent some of today giving areas of my apartment TLC, really coming along for being the utmost cozy. 

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

February 28th, 2014

I am round where others are flat, flat where others are round. 
I have rough skin on the bottoms of my feet, soft skin on the backs of my knees.
I have freckles, marks, scars and bruises. I breath deep gulps of air. 
I am not like anyone before or anyone who is to come, other than our ends.
I have no reason to compare myself to others.
Not the rounding of my thighs, or the set of my eyes. 
Not my train of thought, nor the way my hands flutter through the air when I talk. 
These are possessions that are unconditionally mine.
I didn’t have to pay for them, I didn’t have to bargain, haggle and scrimp for them.
I didn’t have to pine after them on the pages of magazines. 
Nor desire them from the pages of books. 
My eyes do not see them elsewhere.
I do somethings better than others, I do many things worse than others.
I need not compare my talents to others. 
I need not compare accomplishments or failures of  others to my accomplishments and failures.
So, my curves, my imperfections, are not imperfect. 
I am perfect. I am a perfect me. 
Selfish, perhaps. 
However, I have to repeat these words each time I feel the doubt and fear creeping in. 
I am a perfect me.  

Reading this right now, you are the perfect you.
The set of your eyes, the hitch of your stride.
The scars you have or don’t have.
You are the perfect you. 
Relish in your perfection, often. 
Praise your perfection. 
Worship your soft, your rough.
The curve, the hollow, the point, the flat.  
Let’s agree you are perfect, I am perfect.
Live in your perfection. 
Stop comparisons. 
Start self praise. 

I am a perfect me. 

-Kat Keegan March 12th, 2012

From the past, re-reading my writing, which is making my heart a little lighter.

Reblogged from That Kind Of Woman
February 28th, 2014

This and that, and everything in between. I’m on instagram @tkowkat.

Very anxious for the summer yellows and oranges, cocktails with citrus, and breaking bread outside.


Boots at Vagabond in Old City | Glasses from Warby Parker they are the Finch | Shirt from Madewell |Thrifted sign | Rug Purchased from Vagabond | Fresh Baked French Bread based on Julia Child’s Recipe

February 27th, 2014
Today on North 3rd St I saw this lovely little picture in my mind before I even captured it.

Today on North 3rd St I saw this lovely little picture in my mind before I even captured it.

February 25th, 2014

Some beautiful things in my life for the past few weeks from New York to Philadelphia to Home which is in between…

For more follow me on instagram: @tkowkat

February 22nd, 2014

My life… recently..

Still living in rural PA, still working full time in Old City Philadelphia as an Assistant store manager. Still seeing Mike, which means splitting “off” time in Jim Thorpe.

Coming to NYC tomorrow for Capsule and a couple other women’s market week shows. It’ll be my first hands on buying experience as an assistant buyer and I am pretty excited. 

Also, in other news, I was recently given another position under Quaker City Mercantile / Art in the Age. I was appointed the social media community manager for AITA’s sister company Tamworth Lyceum & Distillery. Very exciting, as you may or may not know Social Media is something I truly enjoy and find challenging.

Also, I am looking into possibly making my summer into one that includes taking classes on carpentry, learning how to make and fix things ( thanks to having a boyfriend who can literally make or fix anything). Also gardening with my mother, which is something I dearly miss. 

No exaggeration, I have become mildly depressed (all of the emotions) due to the limiting activities that commuting, as well as this horrid season/weather have established in my schedule. Spring can not come soon enough in my opinion.  

Recently I’ve been  working on… well myself. I am realizing many things by settling down into a relationship. Mike is, well, nearly a decade older and his life is established in such a different way than mine. Mostly with our experiences. I am so optimistic and hopeful. I have nothing tying me down, no specific path. He keeps laughing when I jump from wanting to do one thing to another. It’s hard dating at a distance in the winter. We end up being very opinionated as to what works and what doesn’t for each of us.

I’ve also begun to realize that my independent nature is a wonderful and lovely thing, and in fact makes us both work towards expressing what we each need. Me in my alone time, and him in needing me to perhaps initiate texts and phone calls more often when we are apart.  

I need to be more productive. I need to stop just saying things and start doing them. I need to pull people closer to me rather than pushing them away as a means of protecting myself. 

Hmmm…. I need to write more often because my voice is rather scattered…. 

February 1st, 2014

sometimes, i think that a person can look at another person and peel back all the things that shut us off from others. that one person is able to lovingly part the armor way from our skin, from our fear, from our love, from our hate, from our self.

i think it’s love. not fondness, or love, or adoration, or pink little emoji hearts. it’s love, the manifestation of the ache and need to nurture. I want to peel away the layers of disdain you have for the world and pour a little love into you with my words of encouragement, of congratulation, of understanding. 

It’s not bought in jewels, or meals at fancy restaurants. it’s showing that person something you don’t share with others. 

i see the hurt in myself reflected in other people’s eyes. the doubt, the fidgeting . I see it reflected in wildly different colors. in reds and blues, in that beautiful charcoal grey that reminds me of salt, or sand. 

i want to hold you close. i want to make sure you’re okay. i want to feed you and wrap you up in a cloak of warmth. I want to make you laugh. I want you all to know I love you, from a far.

when i get too tipsy. when i’m near tears with frustration. when I panic, frozen and gut lurching. trying to convince myself it’s fine when it’s not. 

I love you. I love you. I love you. You strangers, you my love, you my friend, you my past, you my present, you my future. I fucking love you. and here’s the thing, i’m teaching myself not to need you to love me back. I just love you. 

January 28th, 2014

Today I went back into the first city I ever fell in love with, New York. I was asked by the ever amazing Marketing crew at Club Monaco to come down and see the newest location they have opened in NYC.

On Spring and Broadway, this gem awaits. Everything outside was blistering winds and chilling cold, but inside were spring whites, blooming flowers and merchandising a shop girl dreams of. Inspired by the traditional SoHo style, the whole shop had a homie boutique feel mixed with modern touches.

It was, in one word, enchanting. 

January 7th, 2014

Recently I have been arranging all the things I have accumulated over the years to make my home into what seemingly resulted in an extension of a Wes Anderson film set. Especially as I have been home less and less working full time in Philadelphia. 

I’ve decided a couple things. One of them being I’m not a city girl. Second, I haven’t traveled this amaziing country I love in enough. And third that I need to become my own boss, eventually. So, I have a general idea in mind (aka in the daydream section of my brain), and now it’s about making it all into a reality, with the help of everyone in my life, family, friends, and kindreds. We’ll see how fast/slow/ painful it all may be. How many tears I may shed, and how many times I get back on my feet. I need to stop being so damn scared of things. The first things being making everyplace I am feel like home. 

Here’s to the new year, everyone. I’m going to do something terrifying, and exhausting, but amazingly fun.

December 22nd, 2013

24 years ago, I was born and brought a whole lot of trouble into the world. For everyone involved.

At 6 I decided I wanted to be an equestrian, at 16 I wanted to be a writer, and at 19 I decided to be an english teacher. Now, at 24, I realize that no matter what I do I should follow my head and heart and try to have as much fun doing what I’m good at. 

This year has been unbelievable in showing me my talents, and my weaknesses. Some more prominent than others. Above is a picture of my sister and I, me on the left. I’m not the little girl I once was, maybe as my parents still see me, but I’m pretty proud of the woman I am. Here’s to more years of becoming a better version of myself then the year before. 

And, I’m hoping to take you with me everyday.

November 24th, 2013

We keep promising each other that we deserve better. That when a certain person walks into your life you’ll know exactly why all the other people walked out.

I am in a great transition. I was raised in a house 3 streets away from where I now sit, I grew in a house of a farm 45 minutes away, 30 if I speed. I’ve sped, home. To the house that holds all the love that has ever been given to me freely. I’ve lived in an apartment above my father’s business off and on for the last 6 years. 

I commute now, just like I did to New York. But it’s different. It’s longer and harder. It’s scarier. Women being beaten, raped, knocked out. I’m exhausted by fear, fear of a foreign city, of being alone in a vast place. Walking alone in the dark neighborhoods. Past homeless people, past faceless people. Trust is such a foreign concept to me these days.

I broke up with my best friend and she lives in California now. I thought I was loved by people I gave a part of myself too. Instead, I am realizing that things don’t last. That maybe I should have enjoyed them a little more while they were happening.

Friends I have now are coming in and out. Revolving door. Because I end up getting hurt. So, what once was a deep understanding of each other becomes a shallow acquaintance. I want to yell. I want to shake them and ask them why we didn’t take care of each other’s feelings better. I want to ask if I mattered to them. I want to know why I ache for the loss and yet they seem just fine.

A lot of the people in my life have someone. Someone to laugh with over stupid things, to weep over painful things. To hold their hand. To rest a a hand on their shoulder. To gently uncurl your fisted hands, or your body when you grasp your knees and hide your face. They spread love into you with affection. With thoughts. With care. Slowly carefully, like the way my mom lotions her hands at night, gently and lovingly. With intent.

Intent. Intend. 

I want to hold someone. I want someone to hold me. Not just in my arms but in my heart. In my mind. In my memories. In my present. In my future. 

I don’t really have friends, do I? Or at least it just feels like people just come in then leave. I need people to stay. I need people to look at me and tell me the truth if they can’t stay.

I need someone to pour my love into because my heart feels like it’s about to overflow and drown me in it.

Instead I shake my head, I try to pour the love back into myself knowing that only time will be the answer. Time. Because over time people come and go. But I will always have myself. Overtime I will meet people who see that love and who pour their love into me, so that I can stop spilling my love on people who don’t seem to want it. 

November 14th, 2013

This lady’s got a job in Philadelphia, If you ever want to meet for lunch or after work drink, or just stop in to say hi, I work at Art in The Age in Old City. That being said, thank you for all the support and love, my wonderful followers!

You make your own luck, remember that. 

A website dedicated to the things that inspire a young woman with a good head on her shoulders, an overactive imagination and a constant question on her mind: what kind of woman is she?