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

[kristaphone]

For those of y'all that wear fannypacks...

I have been relapsing a bit. It hits me either in the early morning or the late evening and I will think about my roomate and play the 'what if' game. i have had some bad nightmares recently, too.

I told Shrink. I told him how sick I am about it. How i am sick to hear myself talk about it. How I should be over it by now. He said that maybe I am lucky.
I am lucky that things affect me so strongly and so deeply. I am lucky to truly care for what I care for, fear what I fear, and at a very strong level.
It makes sense, I guess. I mean, I know I would hate to be J.

I don't think I've told you about her. She was the third romate. She decided not to help out with the DA. If there is a trial, she will not be there.
When the cops called to ask if one of us could come down and identify things, I did. All the pressure to deal with the cops was put on my shoulders. J was supposed to stick by me. She left me alone. J moved back to Indianapolis in August.
When S, the victim, runs into J in Indianapolis, the only thing J says to her is, "So, how are you doing?"

She is in complete denial. I'd rather be depressed than be numb.

Some people I am close to don't like my journal. They think it's too dark. They think it's not a good reflection of who I am. But this part of me exists. I'd rather admit to having this dark side than to pretend that everything is O.K. I unleash all my fears and my anger in this journal so that I can go on with my everyday life a little brighter.

At least I didn't start a fight club.

 

[kristaphone]

...she tastes like the real thing...

Today is better.

Today is sunny and bright. Today I have set plans to advance my career. Today my sinuses are clearer. Today I discovered i have the oppertunity to make a celebrity crush my actual lover. hehe.

There is nothing wrong with letting go of crutches. You may walk crooked--but you will walk.

I'm coming to get you, Boy. I drink a Tangueray Tom Collins

 

[kristaphone]

...tomorrow will be different, so that is why I'm leavin'...

Oh boy.
So, I've decided when I see Shrink on Monday I'll ask him about anti-depressants. I honestly am not depressed. However, I am relapsing into my anxious feelings once again. i think it started when S told me we may not go to trial after all.
This is the better situation--she won't have to tell it again and I won't have to hear it again. However, as much as I was fearing going on the stand, there was a part of me that really wanted to.
there was a part of me that was running against my cowardness. there was a part of me that was planning on dead-staring that fucker right in his souless eyes the whole time I'd be up there. There was a part of me that was looking forward to being held in comtempt when I'd spit on him on my way out.
Now, i won't be able to do that. I probably would lose the nerve to do it, anyway. But it's the fact i'm losing the oppertunity to see him suffer with my own eyes that angers me. this anger has made me fight with my Mom for two weeks on the phone and had an outburst with my friends on Monday night that i was brutally embarassed by when I woke up the next day.

I have never been such a hot/cold person. I don't want to be. maybe just by talking about it and recognizing where it comes from--maybe I won't have to go on meds. But, I've decided if Shrink sees it fit, I may do it.

Otherwise, I really am doing so much better. Dream Team is having great rehearsals. i am loving my team and the work we are doing. My friends in The Office are enjoying a great success. I am dancing for a 6'3" German man who is convinced he dances more like a woman than I do--please, show me how a woman expesses horniness. Oh, like that? I don't think so.

Speaking of which, I have to get my sex drive back up. When you're getting yourself off just to help you fall asleep, you have a problem.

It is still hot outside, but it's not the summer. I miss this summer.

 

[kristaphone]

...I got you in my heart, I got you in my head...

I am busy and at this particular moment, hungry.
Busy=happy. I am happy.

I got a call at work yesterday from the DA. I have to go testify against the driver of the get-away car. So that's this afternoon. Wish me luck.
I have to go all the way out to Kew Gardens. It'd be really cool if someone could drive me back to the city, but the DA doesn't do that. The cops I've befriended always drive me back into the city.
I don't know if that's customary or if it's because I make them laugh.

After my testimony I have to go to dance rehearsal and then I'm off to DREAM TEAM! Tuesday nights are my favorite night of the week.

The dance thing is such a piece of shit. Here's this great choreographer wasting my time on a piece he has admitted not giving a shit about. Amidst real choreography i do the macarena, the electirc slide, the bus-stop, a back walk-over, a couple cartwheels, i mime looking for a contact on the floor, and i ride a man off stage--no shit.

I don't ride him sexually speaking. He is on all fours and I get on his back and literally ride him off stage. My respect for jockeys was already great--now even more so. It's hard to balance on something that keeps shifting. But here's what takes the cake, throughout the entire piece there is someone on stage that is supposed to be a dead bug--lying on their back with their appendages dangling in the air. Does this have any relation to the rest of the piece--you guessed it--no. Don't get me wrong, i am dancing onstage. I am going to give the piece everything I've got.

I was going to invite my friends to this performance. Now, I don't know. Not that I'm afraid to look stupid--I'm not. But I know that some of my friends have never seen a dance performance. I don't want their first time to suck asshole.

 

[kristaphone]

...September '75, I was 47 inches high...

Remind me to never get involved with a crime, again. Taking the stand sucks.
They prep you before hand, but to be up there is nerve-racking. I not only have more respect for prosecuters, but also the people who successfully lie on the stand.
I had no reason to lie. I represented the victim. But if I wanted to lie--there is no way I could've pulled it off.
The weirdest part is being sworn in. They don't use a bible--they use a photocopy of that customary blurb.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God..."

Yeah, help me God. I was so not cute up there. I had a hard time breathing rehashing certain details and when I was sworn in, my ass hit the microphone causing a huge noise to echo around.

My ass. My ass and me.

I was just so worried that I would phrase something the wrong way that would set the men free. Not that a blubbering girl could discount DNA evidence, but being the eternal pessimist, I'd rather assume the worst.

The Corrections Officer was asleep. I had the inclination to yell into the mic for him to wake the fuck up. I'm surprise my ass didn't do it.

Afterwards I called my parents. That's when i realized i hadn't even told them i had to go testify. I'm noticing a trend in my behavior: The things that are most important to share, I keep to myself. The things no one gives a shit about I will hound you with.

My intentions are so good. But I am wanting other things.

 

[kristaphone]

...no matter how much Peter loved her, what made the Pan refuse to grow?

Inspired by spacedani...

What I like:

Peach roses
Banana Pancakes
Star Gazing
Walks alone with my walkman on
Fresh Sheets
Warm Houses when it's storming outside
When either of my parents put their hand on my head
Hearing my Dad say, "You're fine."
Hearing my Mom say, "Oh, Krista would you stop it! You're fine."
My Walley
My Casey
Dancing alone
Dancing onstage
Feeling a boy I like look at me
Talking to animals
Kissing

Things I don't like:

Stupid People
Diseases
Government Warnings
Urinary tract Infections
Cramps
Holding back my opinion
Saying 'yes' when I want to say 'no'--because I am afraid
Missing You
My feet being cold ALL THE TIME
My Dad saying, "I don't like this new negative attitude."
My Mom saying, "You're going to make yourself sick."
People that don't swallow when they talk
Men that always try to look at me with sexy eyes when we talk--I'm not going to do you.

I'm feeling weird today. No biggie. I'm wearing brand new sexy underwear.
Sexy underwear under the most normal outfit--something I really, really like

 

[kristaphone]

...you broke another mirror, turning into something you are not...

I am heartbroken.

Before I was born, my father smoked three packs a day. On the day he decided to quit he was buying his fifth pack. He looked down at the newly bought pack and said, "I'm sick of smoking". He threw out the pack and quit cold turkey without relapsing once.

Well, I am sick of being angry. I was angry with my parents divorce; angry at 9.11; angry at the rape; and I am tired of being angry. I am just too tired. I feel like my heart will just give out if I am angry anymore.

So, when you approach me, confirming that my trust in you has been betrayed--as my intuition told me, I can't get angry. I can only hurt so badly that i don't know what to do with myself. The sanctity of a long walk with my walkman won't even help me escape the hurt I feel.

This too shall pass. This too shall pass. This too shall pass.

What is the good of surviving anything if you can't use it? It's like being given paints and a bare canvas and not at least trying to create something. Even the ugliest paints, gathered from the ugliest of experiences can create something beautiful. It's all in how you look at it. Anything born is beautiful.

To Ross--I miss you and need your counsel more than ever.

To G--Remember: "In every relationship there is always one person who loves the other more. It goes back and forth between the two. But the one who loves more is the one touched by God."

Everything happens for a reason.

There is no poem for you.

 

[kristaphone]

...vanilla smile and a gorgeous strawberry kiss...

Things have been resolved. Well, resolved in a neosporin kind of way. But resolved none-the-less.
If I care for someone to any degree, it's virtually impossible for me to maintain any sort of anger regarding them. Saddness, yes. Anger, no.

I think saddness gets a bad rap. There is nothing wrong with saddness. It is an outward demonstration of inner turmoil. The inner turmoil is what creates art, makes someone a person worth knowing, and distinguishes us from the heartless--because there do exist heartless people.

I think saddness started to get a bad rap because it's not the most attractive emotion. Sure, men find it acttractive in a, "I'm going to save her. I'll make her smile" kind of way. But when the saddness is more than they can cure, I think it turns most guys off. It's almost as if the saddness made said woman her own person--HEAVENS!!! It is as if the saddness gave said woman liberation--HEAVENS!!!
Granted, i have not run across any man in my life that felt this way towards me. I'm thinking of a Renaissance painting. The artist wanted to capture the sad girl and then wanted to seduce her as the paint dried. But he couldn't seduce her.

Sad girls can't get wet.

That is perhaps why saddness is something our mothers told us to abstain from. They feared the saddness would make us spinsters.
That is perhaps why saddness is something our fathers told us to abstain from. They feared we wouldn't be married off and remain under their finances.

Wow. This entry is CRA-ZEE. Yeah, wicked crazy stupid.

I am glossing over the fact that I am still sad. The issue is resolved, but I am still sad.

Whatever.

I'm flying to san Diego tomorrow to see my cousin get hitched. I've never been to San Diego.

I am forever gazing at the stars, waiting for my mint car.

 

[kristaphone]

...although you never knew you were my Queen, dear...

San Diego is no NYC. It truly was beautiful. The wedding was held at a private ranch near the Del Mar Racetracks. (SEABISCUIT!) So, we were able to spend most of the weekend around the ocean and palm trees. Not bad.

I appreciated the fact that everyone out there drives at 80 mph. I've said this before, but speeding exhilarates me. Put me in the passenger seat of a speeding car and I can feel the blood rush in my body, arousing the hell out of me.

But as far as the city itself is concerned--it's no better than any mid-western town that I have ever stayed in. This just confirmed that New York City is my city. Smog, urine, graffiti--I lap you up with a biscuit.

Fortunately Pops didn't bring the girlfriend. Yippee Skippee! So i was able to enjoy myself. In fact, I even drank. No one in my family had ever seen me drunk. They thought it was hilarious and so did I--up until my uncle asked me when I was going to get married. I replied with a slumped shouldered, twisted mouth, "Dude, what the fuck?". That was Daddy-O's que to take my third champaigne flute away.

Shucks.

My cousin Lauren was beautiful. She is the only one of all of the cousins (we're all girls and extremely close) that is choosing to take her husband's last name. That is something I think no woman should do--but I don't begrudge anyone of anything. The ceremony was great, too. Unfortunately, I couldn't help but fantasize about the garlic emminating from the ranch kitchen the entire time. While everyone cried happy tears, my stomach growled.

Another instance in my life proving that i am truly heartless. What can I say? I was hungry.

On my flight back I had a lay-over in Boston. It was wonderful to fly over the ocean. I saw something that I truly cannot describe but I will sum it up with this statement, "Everything is going to be O.K."

My heart is yelling CRASH! SPLASH!

 

[kristaphone]

...disposable dixie cup drinker...

Sometimes the largest cut only needs a small band-aid.








Thank you.

 

[kristaphone]

...still dazzled by her smile while I steal things there...

True, some idiosyncracies are cute, but a majority of them should be feared.

I'm scared that I miss people most when I'm happy.
I'm scared that not only will I take a risk a minute too late--but that I will take the wrong risk.
I'm scared that when I am truly upset I can't eat--nor can I talk.
I'm scared that I am horribly mis-understood when my intentions are so good.
I'm scared that in my efforts to be a good friend, I am appearing detatched and awkward.

I think it's a shared emotion that when things go wrong we think that life isn't fair. While I was dressing this morning the thought occured to me that "fairness" is relative. Even a person who cheats at cards will say his/her win was "fair" because he/she was more cunning than the rest.

So, of course I can be down about a situation, but I have no right to complain.
The fact is that while someone is losing, someone else is winning. While someone is finding their path, another is losing it. While someone is finding validation, another is in the shadows.

The ebb and flow of life sucks--not that I'm complaining.

Speaking of flowing, the Dream Team had a great show last night. We're focusing on slowing down and truly earning our laughs. There is much work to be done, but for the first time in a while, I felt like we were walking pretty solid.

I am the horse that needs blinders to keep moving ahead.

 

[kristaphone]

...from being too pent-up and proud...

I had an interesting conversation this weekend.
It was 3 am, I was drunk, and I started talking to someone I hold dear about how they take-on life.

(incredibly trite. yeah, i know.)

I didn't realize that there are people out there that don't look at life as a series of challenges.
I always feel that I am fighting something; that I have to prove something; succeed when I am told I will fail, blah, blah, blah. It has gotten to the point where I have done things I didn't want to do soley because someone told me I couldn't--nothing morally degrading.

I guess I always feel that it is me against whatever God exists--if at all. I feel empowered by being defiant. I feel brave by being "rebellious". Granted I am addicted to pain and hard work, by why do I feel that life is an uphill battle?
It simply doesn't have to be.
My friend said he takes everything as a sign that he's on the right path. This was a shock to me--a girl that has felt completely alone in her most trying times.
I just didn't realize I had such a negative view. I knew I was a pessimist--but c'mon.

I have been awakening some old guilty pleasures of mine--things that would always cheer me up. For instance, I am remembering how relaxing it is to sit in bed, pull up your shirt and poud out songs on your stomach. You can't help but smile. I have also been relishing the cathartic quality of doing dishes and cleaning out my closet--such simple activities with such immediate results! I've also been interviewing myself a lot. I know this is kind of crazy. But if I couldn't sleep i use to pretend I was on a panel of people discussing books, sex and whatever. I started that up again. I am so articulate when no one is listening to me!

I am bummed but I am so happy. I really am happy.

When I spoke I wanted you to hear oboes and steel guitars. Instead, you heard castanettes.

 

[kristaphone]

...the mountains win again...

I had a timeline in my head of how long I'd be allowed to stay in NYC. It's constant pressence was an annoyance. Although it really made me appreciate the city for all it is worth, it simultaneously created saddness. I'd hear about plans for a 2nd Ave subway line and think to myself, "I'll never be able to ride on it."

Well, I recently let go of the timeline. I am allowing myself to stay in NYC as long as I damn well please. I have let go of my ties.

It's scary when you achieve independence. It is so coveted and then once you have it, it overwhelms you. It scares you, in fact. I love freedom. I love the fact that i don't have to answer to anyone about where I've been or what I've been doing. But then again, I miss knowing someone is concerned enough to wait up for my call. I miss letting someone know that I am o.k.

My cards are broken down the center, folded at the corners and dirty--but they are mine. They aren't pretty. I have put them on the table.
My hands are up. I'll walk away.

 

[kristaphone]

...it's my birthday, too, yeah...

I have never wanted a birthday so badly. I hated 23 with a passion. PASSION! It got to the point that I was telling friends about my birthday over a month ago--this coming from a girl who normally never tells anyone about her birthday.
23 just sucked soooo much. Holy shit.

I normally treat myself to a little something on my birthday. Seeing that Kyle and I aren't together now, I had been flirting with the idea of a vibrator. I have many friends that rave about them. Being that I have the libido of an 18 year old boy, I started thinking that a vibrator might be a nice pick me up--seeing as I won't be having sex for a very long time.

But then I got to thinking about what really makes me happy--tetris. I love tetris. I'm good at it--although presently out of shape. The fucking rapist stole my N64 so my New Tetris cartridge is lonely--wait, did he steal that, too? I should check that.

So with tetris in mind I figured I would buy myself a gameboy. Then I looked in my wallet. hehe. Je suis broke. So, i got a manicure last night, instead. Candy apple red--just like Jezebel.

God bless her.

I am hoping to get a gameboy, though. I'll save a little dough and buy myself one for Thanksgiving, maybe. The fact is, the zen-like state I achieve while playing tetris can last for hours. Getting off is only rewarding for like six seconds. Zen is better.

The ladder is silver and my calouses are platinum. Rodeo clowns help me forget.

 

[kristaphone]

...come back and haunt me...

I had chosen not to write about Kyle and me getting back together. When people don't think you are struggling through a long-distance relationship they don't pester you about it.
But Kyle and I did really break up about two weeks ago. We are still writing, but we have broken up.

There were a number of small reasons I felt i needed to do it, but the main reason was for me. i have never been an adult without him. I started dating him at 19. He is the only man I've ever had sex with.
I just wanted to be alone, again. I wanted to kind of get to know myself, again. (I sound like a girl.)

I was thinking that i would go on a couple dates, blah, blah, blah. But now i'm realizing that going on a date is unappetizing to me. I don't want to date anyone. I don't want to 'get-to-know' anyone. I just want to hang out. I just want to have fun doing silly dances and eating bad food without the over-bearing pressure of knowing someone would like to kiss me at the end of the night. Because even if I did kiss someone, i'd be thinking about a boy who lives miles and miles away.

I have said it before and I will say it again--freedom is scary.

BOO.

When you let go of lust, worry, etc, it is easier to see things as they are. Your emotions put gorgeous affectations on everything and it is easy to feel like you need it all. You only need what you already have.
I don't think I'm going through a personal renaissance, but it's something. It's not that I am over-whelmed with love right now. And I have no hate. What I'm feeling about my life is more personal and happy than the staleness of indifference. I'm pleasantly aware.

Points of heat make ugly shapes. Point three exists stage left. There. RODEO!

Edited because I spell like shit.

 

[kristaphone]

...Bleed a little while tonight...

I was talking with P (don't even speculate, he's not an improvisor). P falls in love all the time. P falls in love with every girl he dates and every girl that is in his life. He even was crushing on me a bit.

I told him I have only ever been in love with Kyle. Only two other times in my life did I feel a closeness to a person where I felt I could fall in love with them--but ultimately did not--chose not.
P thinks this is just another sign that I am too closed off to people.

This isn't the first time I've heard this. I've heard this throughout my life from people who are worth listenting to. I never have taken offense to the comment because it is completely true. I am a very closed, guarded person.

True, for someone claiming to be closed, this journal is very personal. The fact is, I will talk about anything. I don't think there exists a tabu topic and I am not ashamed of myself or my opinions. Therefore I can share freely what I think and feel.

But to quote the Sneaker Pimps, "Don't think cause I'm talking we're friends."

Granted, if I've met you, I probably would sacrifice my life to push you out of the way of a speeding car. I would.
But it takes me an extremely long time to trust people with that one part of me that only Kyle and my parents know.
I have tried to open up completely and I am just too afraid.
It's not you, it's me.

hehe

People get concerned for their friends that sleep around a lot--for very good reasons. I get more concerned for friends that are constatly doting on others. If you get some STD--most likely you can get some cure. But if you are constantly exposing your heart--there's no cure for that shit except time. Being that I don't have an ounce of patience, time is a cure I can't afford.
I'd rather just be closed.

How do you get over a mountain? Watch it from the corner of your eye. It'll move out of your way.
Sugar, the opera is over. Take your fucking costume off.

 

[kristaphone]

...And saw you dancin' with Elijuh up on Leemore's bed...

I haven't been this happy in months.

*giggle, blush of cheek*

I am at a place right now where I can see both the good and bad things about me. Of course, this will only last until my next phase of thinking I'm the greatest thing on the planet.
I am a cactus standing next to a ladder of notches--seeing the ones both above and below me. The ones below me are acknowledged but dismissed and the ones above me are infinite and inviting. Each is made of sunlight.
You are your own very special plant-life. There is no other plant like you, no matter how hard you look or how many similarities you find.

I am simultaneously flattered and guilty for recent displays of affection I have recieved. Flattered, because who doesn't love affection? Guilty, because I feel like I have never reached out as much as people have recently been reaching out to me. By the way, I'm not talking about sex. I'm talking about honest affection. The kind that surprises you and makes you feel like an asshole for ever feeling like you were alone.

I'm attempting to lay off the skepticism. I am always trying to find people's alterior motives. I always feel like people's impetus for action is more often than not an altruistic one. Maybe that's because I have found myself guilty of performing the like? Yep. That's it.
So, anyways, I'm trying not to do that so much--both moving for myself and figuring out exactly what you want from me.

I am a sponge of love right now. Yippee Skippee.

I point and laugh with my left hand. I slap my face for doing so with my right.

 

[kristaphone]

...Would you like me better if I was?...

Anne Sexton's poem, "Admissions to a Special Person" is very bland and simple in comparisson to her other works. However, the poem hit a spot with me when I first read it.

Sometimes there is nothing you can do but watch the goings on of your loved ones. You cannot prevent them from looking like fools, falling on their face and hurting themselves. Sometimes having all the love in the world doesn't amount to shit.
I think that also goes for when you are looking at yourself. You can hear a voice that knows you better than you know yourself; a voice that already knows what's going to happen. The voice will tell you that it will work out, that it will be seen, that it'll come around, that you were right. And yet you ignore that voice because pain seems to be so much more enjoyable than happiness. Without anything in writing, I flat out don't trust it. Even in writing, I don't trust.
Wires traversing state lines are thin and weak. S, are you really doing o.k. out there?
Look in the mirror. Those eyes of yours have been around. They already know, Sweety.

Fine.

I have gotten in the habit of watch pendulums dangle in circles to help me relax when I feel a panic attack coming on. I am too broke and too proud to ask Shrink for anti-depressants.
But, I'm not depressed, anyway. I am happy. I am desperate for some sort of beaming face from the side and I am happy.
She told me things when I slept.

 

[kristaphone]

Epitaph

I tried to read this journal from the beginning. I couldn't do it. It's so dark to me.
Saturday was the sixth month anniversary of the rape. The past six months have been the worst six months of my life. The worst was brought out of me. My newly acquired anger and hate was packaged in various pretty boxes: glutony, jealousy, lust, blah, blah, blah.
But here I am at the six month mark and those packages have been explored and discarded as I wisened up.

Deep down I always knew I would survive this.
But this journey of self-destruction, lip-biting, voice-raising and fist-clenching was a necessity.

I don't regret it.

I wanted to end this journal numerous times. But everytime I entertained the thought someone I had never met would pm me, telling me that they had been through a similar battle, that they hoped I kept writing, or simply to help me with words I spelled wrong.

To all of you--You have a piece of my heart.

I needed this outlet. It has helped me to rant and be open and honest.
But it is time to put the Journal to bed. She and I are both tired. It's time to rest this dark part of me--not obliterate it, nor forget it.
She and I are also embarassed at how incredibly trite and melo-dramatic we can be and we apologize half-heartedly.

So, to everyone who has travelled with me: I am forever grateful. Thank you.
I will only open this journal again if we go to trial. So hopefully you will never be hearing me through this thread, again.

The following chorus from the song, "The Mighty K.C." by the band For Squirrels sums up a lot of what I'm feeling right now:
"And by the grace of God go I/ Into the great unknown/ Things are gonna change in our favor/ And if we gather, if we fall/ Into the great unknown/ Things are gonna change in our favor."

God bless Improv. Improv, my saving grace.
God bless dance for leading me to improv.

And so, like all things in life, I will end this journal like it started.

Love Always,
Krista

Here comes the Sun...