Kalli Angel
Kalli Angel
Recent Stories
Ich, auf Wiedersehen
I was in Vienna once before, six years ago, on a whirlwind Central Europe spring break tour with the art teachers and nine of my new high school friends. We were fifteen years old and abroad, many of us, for the first time. And yet, somewhere between then and now, I got bogged down in the past. I’ve spent a lot of the last four years renovating and restoring the various identities that I defined in my college applications.
In my biopic, Natalie Portman will play me
After spending a few weeks in Europe, I’ve begun to realize that my semester off is less about needing a break from Yale and more about needing a break from America in general. Yet despite this fact, or maybe because of it, each time that I discover a custom or worldview that I prefer to its American counterpart, it feels like a betrayal to the society that has undeniably shaped my identity.
How to do it alone
Last Saturday night, sitting on a scarred wooden barstool, watching the dimly-lit room fill slowly, I tried to strike a pose that said, “I’m alone on purpose.”
A roadmap for homesickness
You are alone in Germany. In Berlin, your German Lehrerin will introduce the concept of mobility. When she asks, “What does it make you think of?”, don’t think about how you can’t go home.
Language combinatorics: what matters more
Last Friday night, Mélodie, my roommate, asked if she could invite some friends over from our language school. Emphatically, I assured her she should. It was only my second day in Berlin and I was eager to meet a few friendly faces. It quickly became clear to me that there was no one language we all knew. But that didn’t seem to matter.
Round Trip
Personal Essay
Jake and I were standing on the northbound platform. It was a raw October evening, six months into our biweekly New Haven-Princeton commutes, and as he waited with me for my train back to Connecticut, an Acela wooshed by on the inner set of tracks, whipping my hair against both of our faces and making me burrow my nose deeper into his shoulder against the cold.
Faith and Fault Lines
Almost every summer when I was growing up, my family piled into our Chevrolet Suburban and made a pilgrimage to the Rocky Mountains.
ANGEL: The Mac and Cheese Blues
Family Weekend could not have come soon enough.
"Here's to the crazy ones..."
Last Wednesday night, my boyfriend, Jake, woke me up from a nap. His voice floated through the phone with something that was not quite excitement. “Did you see who died?” he asked.