...long, cold, lonely winter...

[kristaphone]

It evaporated...see?

Since I was 15, when I was offered my first dance job, I have felt the pressure of one decision effecting my entire life. A lot of this was just me being over-dramatic. But the fact is that I had to become a professional at a young age--not in the sense that I got paid for what I did, but in the sense that I wasn't allowed to fuck around.

I was heavily involved in dance. I decided in the seventh grade to become a professional dancer. I conducted myself in a professional fashion from that point on. My attitude made it easy for me to excel. But with the growth came the worry. Instead of worrying about going to the mall, I worried if the raking of the stage was going to throw off my center resulting in a shitty performance. I should have been making out with boys. Instead, I was getting naked to see if I had gained weight--I was sick, by the way and I can see that, now.

What does this have to do with my journal? here goes. Recently, there have been pools open to me that I feel I am too young to jump into. Especially given recent events, I am starting to realize that I don't know myself as well as I thought I did. I am facing decisions that will effect the rest of my life. But now I not only have the power to fuck myself up--I can fuck up the lives of those I love. This isn't me thinking I'm the center of the universe. This is me being open to the truth that there are certain people that think the world of me and I of them. What is keeping me from feeling confident about jumping into these pools of oppertunity? I am only 23 years old.

I am only 23 years old.

Holy shit. I mean, I am too young to be deciding the rest of my life. I was much more self-assured and focused when I was 15. I am no longer 15. I am 23 years old. I am a very young, confused, angry, scared 23 years old.

I am not as mature as a 15 year old.

 

[kristaphone]

I wanna ride

I woke up at 9:55. I'm supposed to be at work at 10. So, I took a taxi up to work. I love being the passanger in a car that is speeding. I get some weird thrill from it--I always have. I will clarify that I do not like to drive--let alone fast. But, put me in the passanger seat and take off.

I am forever amused at how people seem to happen upon me at just the right time. In hindsight (which is best sight) I can see how fate was giving me a new door to open from my first day in NYC. Yet, I didn't open it for 13 months. See, my first pay-my-bills job was through a family friend. I was doing costuming on West 22nd St. That's right kids--UCBT Ave--or as I like to call it The Street of Broken Dreams--due to the MANY homeless people that I have seen live on it. I also remember that my first apartment subway stop, way in Rego Park, was adorned with a UCB sticker. That's how I originally got the phone number. Looking back, it's almost as if they were signs for me to start taking classes. However, it took 9.11 and the urge to get out of the city to get me to sign up. Why am I telling you this? Because looking back I am so glad I waited those 13 months.

If I took a class even eight weeks sooner, I would not have befriended the people I have. I would have different friends--or possibly, no friends at all. The friends I have made are wonderful. Not only that, some are going through difficult transitions in their lives, like me. We will PM each other words of encouragement or understanding.
I am realizing that every single person is going to be faced with challenges and disappointments. The pain I am feeling is nothing special. Because it is nothing special it doesn't deserve my undivided attention. Nor does it deserve my passion or energy. I am learning to simultaneously embrace the pain and throw it to the ground.

Why embrace it, you ask? Well, first of all, the pain is real. What happened is real. I cannot forget that. But I am also embracing the pain because art is shit without it. Nobody goes to the museums just to see sunny still-lifes of flowers.
At the same time, I can't imagine that even the most devoted Van Gogh fan doesn't appreciate some Warhol. Does that make scence? Do I sound like an asshole? Yep. I do. Oh, well. No worries.

 

[kristaphone]

Oh boy

Things I learned this weekend:

1.) Upon going back and reading my journal from the beginning, I realized that a steady flow of thought does not include correct spelling or grammar. Does that make "scence"? No?

2.) Holy shit! My journal can be really dark.

3.) Ryan Adams and I have the same birthday, November 5. We, according to those annoying astrology birthday books, were both born during the week of depth. That means that we are the most depressed and soul-searching of anyone that ever lived EVER. Yeah for saddness? We're also sexual dynamos. On that note...

**Ryan, again I plead with you to take me away. Lift me up from my cousin's couch of insomnia and we shall ride to a distant land--or maybe we could just walk to some place secluded and you could talk dirty to me with that drawl of yours. Can you feel me biting your lips? No? Oh, I'm biting my own lip. Sorry.
Yeah, I know you have a girlfriend.
Will you just yes-and me a bit?
Play along, Ryan.
You want me really, really bad.
You love me.
Well, just want me really, really bad for the time being.

4.) Ross, the Frick to my Frack, is a wonderful wizard.

5.) I heart sketch.

6.) I can have relapses into 'what-if' land.

7.) I am getting better everyday!

8.) For some reason, while struggling with pilates abdominal exercises you can still get horny.

9.) Four upper respiratory infections since 9.11 may be something I should look into.

10.) Stress doesn't help your complexion.

11.) Worry is a waste of the imagination.

12.) How you appear to others is always a surprise.

13.) Some people may not be able to take your jokes--but you should still laugh if you think you're funny.

I didn't learn all those things this weekend, but 13 is my lucky number.

:blush:

 

[kristaphone]

Like Mr. Hoffman said...

A while back mrhoffma, or as I know him, Mark, put up a post demonstrating how life and improv seem to have the same rules and invoke the same feelings. I agreed with him back then and I am living with the truth now.

Sometimes with improv I get so afraid to say the wrong thing, do the wrong action, that I get tongue tied and frozen. Yes, I know in improv there are no mistakes blah, blah, blah. But sometimes I get so scared because I really do not want to fuck up my teammates. I care for them. And although they can take care of themselves, I feel a responsibility to do everything to the best of my ability no matter what. I never want to cause anyone an ounce of trouble. My fear of being a bother freezes me up. These are occasional ruts. But now this improv rut is infiltrating my everyday life.

I am in a rut. I am so worried about hurting someone I love through my actions, my ideas, my feelings, that I am frozen. I cannot vociferate what I am feeling and I am standing in the back line of my life, watching others play out my scenes. I am the wallflower player of my own Harold.

(Oh my gosh. I just re-read what I wrote and I am sounding like a huge, melodrama asshole. Are you there God? It's me, Margaret.)

I am being ellusive because, as much as posting this journal has opened me up, I am still a little guarded. I feel like if I put everything in metaphor, I can lie about what I'm really talking about.
Sure, I'm talking about dance.
Of course.

I said earlier that I will no longer apologize for being the only person laughing--I've lived up to that. But nowhere did I say I would no longer apologize for not living up to what others have expected of me. I am still the over-achiever and perfectionist. I am still feeling like Atlas, if I shrug, I will ruin everything.

(Are you there Ayn Rand? I'm stealing your idea.)

:exp:

 

[kristaphone]

I Will Break My Own Heart

I saw Monsieur Shrink today. I honestly like the guy. I really do.

It ends up Kids, that Madamoiselle Phone is not as over this whole ordeal as she once thought. I'm starting to see how, although I am a strong motha fucka, I am at a very delicate state. My thoughts and actions are not what I would normally do. So I asked, Well Shrink, why am I acting and thinking so Cray-zee? He said that when someone finds that positive establishments in their lives are shattered, they long to escape their lives. People look for new things or people to change their life. So, subconsciously, I am the 1950's teenage daughter hanging out her window--too afraid to jump on the rebels bike for a ride--waiting for a rebel to strap on my helmut for me.

I suck.

I had my New Team last night. I had fun. I enjoy letting the peaceful, old fisherman inside, come out. I honestly have one. When I dance, I dance for him. He sits in the back of the auditorium. I dance big so he can see me. I flirt with him so that he thinks we're going to hook-up at the cast party. I never make out with him, though.

You guys think I'm cray-zee, don't you? Oh yes.

I am really excited that I have found a brethren in vulgarity with ameygirl. That came out of nowhere, but it is so true.

It is amazing how the wild streets of NYC came become quiet places where people can have fun doing spy-missions. That came out of nowhere, but it is so true.

This entry is seemingly out of control, but in all honesty Kids, I am not doing too well today. I am feeling very confused. Shrink explained it, but explaination doesn't necessarity bring comfort--nor clarity. It's like in the eigth grade and you learned about the Holocaust. The teacher explained why it happened, but you didn't leave feeling any wiser. You left feeling like shit.

My Mom is right--I need a hug.

 

[kristaphone]

I can feel it

Well, I can't think of a better way to start the day: A gross man staring at me, grabbing his dick through his parachut pants on the subway.

IT'S HAMMER TIME!!!

I love erections. I love them. Nothing is more of a compliment or turn-on than getting a hug from your other and feeling one. But I only like them if I willfully cause them. I don't think that is an odd opinion.

Anyways, this is just another peg in the board marking this week as an onslaught of strangers with hormones. On Monday, a Private Investigator came to my office to get my statement for the negligence case that will soon be put against my former landlord--see, he never fixed the lock on the front door after numerous requests for him to do so. The Rapist simply pushed his way through the front door of our building. This PI started looking at my chest from our handshake. Here are some of the wonderful things he said to me:
"If I knew you played D&D, I would ask you to join me and my wife."
"If we spend any more time together, we're going to have to start dating."
"That's a pretty shirt. Kind of see through."
And the cake...
"Yeah, I'm a great P.I. I couldn't get paid for the other thing I do best. My wife wouldn't appreciate me being a porn star."

What the fuck, Kids.
Seriously. I am at a loss. Especially considering the nature of the crime--you'd think he'd not be trying to soak the sight of my breasts in for his masterbatory needs.

Regardless, I still love this fucking city. I still am finding that there is something pulling me forever forward. I am still amazed at the kindness of the freakiest people, the peace of the dirtiest places, and the release found in walking through the streets at night. With the shade of the park trees protecting you from the glow of the city, you'd be surprised how good it feels to be young and alive.

 

[kristaphone]

Sexpot

I think it's in the movie, The Seven Year Itch, when Marilyn Monroe is standing over the subway vent and her skirt goes flying up. Well, that was almost me this morning.

I didn't think that could actually happen. I thought it was only a Hollywood thing. I was able to save myself due to my cat-like reflexes. So, Ladies, be careful.

I don't have much to say today, Kids. I will say that I am continually surprising myself--and not necessarily in good ways. Patterns of behavior and feelings that I never thought I'd have are absolutely bombarding me. I have always found myself to be very grounded and I have always prided myself in interspection. Up until now, I thought I knew what I needed in life.
Now, toute a coup, I am feeling this weight of mortality. The feeling that this is the only chance I have and that I need to do what I have to do to find my path. I mean, although raised Catholic, I do believe in reincarnation, so why this sudden urgency?

I think it may have to do with the events that I have been a front row observer for. Seeing how one day a person may actually have to decide whether to jump to their death, or burn to death. Seeing how people have to decide between being raped and being shot in the head. I guess, I am realizing that no matter how often you wish others well, things are not always going to be so wonderful for you or for them.

No amount of being a good semaritan is going to guarentee a good life. But while you are here, you do have a life to live. Live it. But, here's another question: to what extent should you chose to follow your hunches at the expense of your loved one's needs?

I need to live alone for a while; I need to take a break from auditioning for a while; I need to go out with friends. I know that at the end of the day, the only person that you should ask if they are satisfied is yourself. But love! If you love someone and someone loves you, shouldn't you also try to keep them happy? The balance between selflessness and selfishness is a delicate one.

 

[kristaphone]

Like Mick said...

"Turn-head livin' is easy to do."

Yeah, don't I wish. It seems like everytime I feel like the past is behind me, it pinches my nose really hard. I realized today that I have to have an new living situation--as in long-term by August 1st. Preferably, July 15th. I went to my first roomate interview today. It sucked. I honestly don't want to live with people I don't know. It may come down to that, though.

The event lead me to walk from Chelsea down to Alphabet City in my brutal flip-flops alone. I started to do that "Desperate Dialing", I think we're all familiar with. It's much like "drunk dialing" but without the alcohol. I called some people up, but my cell phone kept giving out right when they'd answer the phone. So, to my friends: I'm not stalking any of you.

It's a good thing my signal kept giving out--I was a wreck. I hate the fact that I'm homeless and tonight really pushed my living status in my face. I have been reluctant to look only because my cousin's couch has been the only consistant thing in the past two months.

I come home from class--couch.
I come home a little tipsy--couch.
I come home (insert feeling here)--couch.
Couch.
Couch.
Couch.

Now I have to give up this small safety. Can I not get one fucking break EVAH!!!

FUCK ME!!!

I hate that I can't forget what I happened. I hate that I want to. My roomate was the victim. She will never forget. It's only out of my love for her that I remember. If I didn't love her--I would have blacked out all this shit a long time ago. No, that's not true. I'm just trying to sound REALLY FUCKIN' TOUGH.

FUCK ME!!!

This is such a bad start following such a terrific weekend. I saw The Office and Girl on A Couch at Flipside and left inspired. I ate a quaesadia (sp?), I had a wonerfully peaceful walk home.
I went to the race track on Sunday and I won $15.50. Matt won a journal entry, Charlie won a haircut, Andy won a dream wife, Dave Martin won a jocky, Jynne Martin won the Betty Crocker Award. I mean, really, why does Monday always fuck me.

FUCK ME!!!

 

[kristaphone]

Like Janis said...

"You're taking a gamble on a little song."

I saw Shrink today. We're starting to develope dialogues as opposed to monologues. I like dialogues better. We started to discuss how I am so over-protective and worrisome when it comes to people I love. I don't love just anyone. I mean, I love everyone, but I'm talking about that deeper love.
Anyways, we started to talk about how the price of truly loving someone is losing them. To quote someone, "If two people are in love, there can be no happy end to it."

Whether it be death, deadlines, or circumstances, there will come a time when you lose the thing or person you love. I'm inclined to believe that love is never really lost--but to lose that tangable thing--my heart is breaking just thinking about it. So, I guess it's true when people say that everything has a price--not necessarily to buy it, but just to have it by your side.

TONIGHT EVERYONE MUST GO OUT AND HUG THEIR FRIENDS!!!

I'm changing the subject.

I was talking to our accountant today and told him that Kyle, the boyfriend, was moving to NYC soon, but I wasn't ready to live with him. Basically John the accountant gave me this look that only a wise Irishman can give you and then said, "Well, are you serious about him?"
I do seriously love him. But the fact is I am an emotional wreck. I have been putting on a happy face for my friends because I am too damn proud and it just makes it easier to get by. Deep down I am a fucking loon.
This year, many good establishments in my life have been destroyed. I am not using "destroyed" incorrectly: My parents are now divorced; I have no home to go back to; the safety I felt in NYC died in September; I had two close friends to share NY with and now both have gone away; my religion is no longer undeniable.
I am scared to move in with him. With this track record, I can only assume that that would end suddenly as well.
Also, how can a kid move in with someone? I'm only a kid. I just want to be a kid, dammit.

I wish I was in the park right now. I'd be walking with my head dropped back and my eyes closed, letting the sun kiss my face and wondering where my unguided feet would take me. :blush:

 

[kristaphone]

Tick-Tick-BOOM

I hadn't been impressed with fireworks for a very long time. Last night, I was in awe. In fact, I was so in awe, I remembered when I was younger I used to say that I wanted to be a firecracker--burn bright and be loud, even if only for a second. (I was an only-child.) I honestly used to think that.
I don't know why I stopped.

I think living like a firecracker is the best way to live--if you live moment by moment. Every oppertunity that comes your way, do the best you can in that moment. Burn hard, make noise, freak people out. Do it. I'm not preaching--I'm typing these things more for myself.
But love like the stars: Steadfast, hot, strong and let the your love be so great that it's light still exists long after you're gone.

I have come to the concept--not conclusion--that in my time of doubt, I can only believe in myself. It's like Descartes--I have doubt/ Doubt is real/ I am real--something like that. It's like Lennon--I don't believe in Beatles, I just believe in me.
[Side note: Also when I was a kid, I used to worry if John Lennon was in Hell because he said he didn't believe in God.] haha
If I only know that I exist, I guess the most important thing is who I love and who loves me. That's all that matters. Again I will quote the Beatles, "All You Need is Love". The Beatles were so fucking on the ball this whole time.

Basically, my recovery path is still a long one. Below all the doubt of a higher power is a steadfast, hot, strong love of God. However, I've decided I'm going to traverse different paths to find him. So, Mr. Lennon, wherever you are, I will be meeting you someday.:angel:

 

[kristaphone]

Oh my gosh!!!!

Guess who's posting from the UCB Office?
It's the marathon and I'm volunteering.
I just met Rhubardking and Cpt. USA.
ameygirl says 'hi'.

I have nothing to say--this was just an oppertunity I couldn't pass up.

Love--Krista:love:

 

[kristaphone]

Don't you cry tonight

The marathon was amazing. Somehow, my life still found a way of making me feel like shit.
I was set to get a room on the UWS when at the last minute the woman decided to give the room to a friend. fuck you.
I could care less. I mean, I'm one of those people that (regardless of this years events) believes things happen for a reason. I wanted to get something downtown anyway. Being homeless, however, is just the cherry on top of a sundae of gooey that my life has become.

I am not being true to myself and it is not just causing me emotional pain--but now physical as well. i am suffering from chest pains. I am a 23 year old, physically fit, non-smoking, rarely drinking girl and I have had chest pains for the past week. Basically, the one thing that has been putting a genuine smile on my face can't be shared. I'd like to be able to enjoy myself openly. But the fact is that there are other people in this world whose heart I have in my teeth. I feel like the only way to "do the right thing" is to deny myself. I know that's wrong. I know.

My life is becoming way too dramatic for my taste. I don't like to live like a drama queen and yet I can't get this fucking crown off my head. I just want to be a princess--nice clothes, comfortable chairs to perch on, a bedroom all my own, good food to eat, a knight with scars. Just your standard wishlist--nothing too girly. Princesses also have the luxury of not being depended on. I am too confused for anyone to expect anything great from me. I will only dissappoint you. Leave me to my grief and the occasional storming out of alcoholic establishments.

 

[kristaphone]

Saw you last night/ Danced by the light of the moon...

Guess who the police found?

THAT'S RIGHT!!!!

The DNA verification will be coming soon, but last night I identified four personal items the fucker had of mine. His bail is set at 150,000.00 cash. Cold, hard cash. Cold and hard like the bars of a prison cell. The guy had so much hot stuff in his apartment he has been linked to two robberies in Brooklyn, three in Queens and three in Manhattan. In some cases there was a sexual assault, but I don't know to what extent.

You are going to get yours, asshole. Hope you dig being a bitch!!!

On a lighter note, I was supposed to be in a music video today. It was for some European D.J. Anyways, the check the record company cut for production bounced--like a fish on a deck. Here's the funny part of the story, I was told to come dressed like I was going to a club--I never go to clubs--so I went to Yellow Rat Bastard in SOHO and bought these huge pants. They were kind of pricey but I was supposed to be the featured dancer--they were going to let me choreograph on other girls and shit. So, I wanted to look the part. Well, I'm wearing them anyways--unapologetically. My roomate and I always thought it'd be funny to buy pants like these. So, in honor of the hightened state of justice, I wear the pants.

I will be razzed in practice group tonight, but I don't care.

As far as everything else that is going on in my head--it's still there.

As far as the chest pains are concerned--they're still there, but an increase in horniness is overshadowing them. My mind is in my over-sized raver pants.
:up:

 

[kristaphone]

Self-assured--oh no, I know a dirty word

I saw Shrink this morning. We both exchanged hoorays at the news of my roomate's attacker--then it was on to other issues.

Kids, I have a huge task ahead of me. I need to change my life. I can't go into details because I am having a hard time admitting things to myself--let alone all of you.

I will say this, however. It is hard enough to write in-code, let alone live in-code.

It will be interesting to see how I am doing in a week, a month, a year. In order to calm myself down I keep repeating cliche phrases in my head:

Wherever you go, there you are.
When you've hit bottom, the only way is up.
There are no mistakes.

They give temporary satisfaction, but they still don't take away the reality that I am not happy. I have to make myslef happy--blissfully, yet consciously happy.

Shrink explained that when you are in conflict, neither decision seems appealing. There seems to be a draw-back to everything. It makes us uncomfortable and you can't avoid that feeling. He also said that I should take my time in doing what I need to do--to wait til I feel ready. However, i am feeling an urgency. If I wait until I feel I am ready, I will never get anything accomplished.

I will sink back into code-speak and say that I have been driving to the west coast. I have made it to the Mississippi. Before I go any further I have to get more gas and perhaps even change my road.

Does that make sence? (how come that word never looks like it's spelled correctly, to me?)

 

[kristaphone]

Your drug is a heartbreaker

Kyle is in town. We went to McManus, but by the time we got there most of my friends had left. My apartment interview took much longer than anticipated--an hour, if you can believe that. I think I got it, though. I won't find out for a bit.

I'm happy Kyle's in town. He has a very calming effect on me. His presence is making me realize, however, that I have changed more in these past two months than I have in the past two years being in NYC. I haven't just changed toward him, I've changed toward everything. I think it's a good thing. I am finding my path, my voice, my art, you name it.

I am beginning to feel more stable than ever. I hate the word 'stable'. I think of being passive, complacent, barefoot and preggers. But I seriously feel stable. I feel like whatever things I have to do to get on my path are possible. I will take my time, but I will take those leaps and bounds. I am not so afraid of living my life, anymore.

I will say it again, I am happily surprised at how my life is nothing like i planned. If nothing else, I will have stories to tell. But as wonderful as reality can be, i am forever living in my head: walking with the thought of performance, walking faster with the thought of contentment, falling asleep to long walks through abandoned city streets.
Never underestimate the power of imagination.

 

[kristaphone]

My love is a life-taker

I had told close friends but realized I failed to mention it in the journal:

Positive DNA Verification

I would even go so far as to share the basyards name with you, but I don't know if I should do that. There is still a possibility we will have to go to trial. I hope we don't. I don't want my roomate to have to tell that story again. let alone in an open court room with the fucker thirty feet from her, staring at her. Also, I can't hear it again. There are so many details that are forever emblazoned (sp?) in my mind. I wish I could get a memory enema.

Kyle has his interview today. I want him to be happy, so if this job will make him happy, I hope he gets it. If the job sucks--well, you know.

As for me, I have been somewhat releaved from my woes now that the rapist is caught. So now that the catalyst has been irradicated, I have to assess what changes have been made to the host. Holy shit guys. I thought that once this guy was caught things would return to "normal". The dust has settled, however, and things are still different. I don't mind the change in scenery.

 

[kristaphone]

...On This Harvest Moon

Yesterday confirmed that I am the monster I always knew I was.
I asked Kyle for a break. This did many things:

1.) Reconfirmed I needed a break.
2.) Reconfirmed I am in love with Kyle.
3.) Reconfirmed that I would rather kill myself than hurt someone I love.

As I walked to class last night a part of me prayed for death. Perhaps that taxi just won't stop?!? I am too chicken shit to actually kill myself. I also think it's selfish--I couldn't do that to my parents.

Someone once told me that there are no wrong choices. I guess I believe that. No. I know I believe that. But, I still feel like shit. In all honesty I think I love Kyle more than I love myself--me being the rip-out-the-heart-and-eat-it type. The rape was a catalyst for me to look at my life and embrace it. To quote the Butthole Surfers, "It's better to regret something you did than something you didn't do."
Even as I said it to him I knew it was right to tell him. But I still feel like shit. I already miss him.

 

[kristaphone]

...you have to learn how to die if you wanna be alive

I am the crazy drunk at the bar who won't stop yelling and is begging for a kiss.
I am the homeless woman on the train who falls to her knees half way through the car--not to be dramatic, but because her legs have gone out.
I am the old woman who will not let kids on her lawn when the sprinkler is on during a hot summer day.

Everything that I hate has resided in me and now is surfacing.

I am indecisicive, manipulative, and tired of both.

If you want to change your life, I recommend not doing it by turning those that love you away.
If you want to change your life, I recommend not throwing away the things that really make you happy.
If you want to change your life, stop feeling so damn sorry for yourself, pull up your britches and keep your chin up.

I wrote Kyle in two in the morning last night.
I miss him terribly.
I don't know what I am doing.

 

[kristaphone]

Call me on you way back home, Dear...

So, I talked to Kyle last night. The break is over. 48 hours of not having my best friend was hell.

Something good did come out of this, he admitted that the only reason he was moving to NYC was to be with me. Although flattering, that is not healthy for either of us. He also admitted that he may be staying in Indy (that's short for Indianapolis, for all you city folk).
As much as we love each other, we may not happen. It feels good to know this. Not because the thought of really losing him appeals to me. Rather, I just know that we really love each other. If it doesn't work out we will still love each other.

A part of me is also releaved to be alone a bit longer. There are some serious issues I have to work out. Namely, my constant need to take the people I love and put them on my shoulders--even when they are perfectly capable of carrying themselves. I think I'm addicted to suffering and so I try to take on everyone's problems. It's kind of altruistic when you think about it--I'm using the mask of charity to get myself off.

Speaking of which...
No, I'll save my naughty thoughts for my evening walks.

Speaking of walking, I'm seeing an old dancer friend tonight. We're going to take class together. His name is Cory. He is flamming and therefore has great taste. So, of course I got a little dressy today and wore the most uncomfortable shoes. Living in Alphabet city I had to walk a lot and now I have blisters on the bottom of both feet. I'm going to have to beg for my boss to let me leave for lunch so I can go to the Gap and buy flipflops. The flipflops probably won't match and Cory will call me out on it.
Will I ever win?

Anyways, hairprov is tonight. If anyone wants to come, I would love it.:cop:

 

[kristaphone]

...I live my life like I bleed...

I love my haircut. Delaney is awesome.

My roomate is coming here on Sunday for a week. She has to identify the guy. I can't imagine how hard this is going to be. I've talked about it with her and we both had the same opinion of his capture:
In a way, this all started to seem like a bad nightmare. It didn't really happen. But, all of the sudden they caught the guy. So, if he's real, it must have really happened. I can't pretend it was only a nightmare.

I would do anything to steal her away from having to be in the same room as that man, but she has to so it.

I don't know if I am going to go to the hearing. I don't know if I actually want to see him. I know he exists and a part of me is crying, please, that's enough.
I mean, do I want to put an actual face to this horrible crime? Do I really want to fill in that shadow in that horrible nightmare that I had two months and three days ago?
Shadowed faced men are not as scary as fully defined monsters.